10: Legacy's Burden

After Lal had finished her shower the next day, she found new clothes laid out on her bed. She held up a tunic of Durosian polyfiber; it flickered gently in the light, shifting through a subtle range of color from a muted sand to a pulsing yellow. She slipped into it, and the polyfiber adjusted immediately to her form, fitting her perfectly. It was nice enough, given the only other clothes she had were torn to shreds and soaked in blood, but it seemed rather like something Davik would have bought for her. The length wasn't exactly modest, and revealed much of her curved thighs. It left her arms completely bare, and she had recalled a chill in the Dantooine air.

But she also noticed a pair of long black gloves, bracers, really, that left her hands uncovered. And beside them a matching pair of boots. She sat down she shoved her feet into them, and pulled the boots all the way up her thighs.

Definitely something more to Davik's tastes than her own.

Better than striding about naked, but only just.

Lal stepped out of her room in the Jedi enclave and went outside. From the height of the sun, she guessed it must have been afternoon, which meant she had slept quite a good deal. But she felt anything but rested. There was an odd tremor in her jaw, a tightness in the muscles along her shoulders. Nothing she could put her finger on. But her nerves were jittery, like she had just gotten out of a fight.

She entered the plaza that the Ebon Hawk rested in, and saw Zaalbar towering over a food kiosk where a Quarren threw up pungent clouds of steam from a pan of stir-fry. Every so often Zaalbar barked out cooking instructions, drawing a scowl from the Quarren chef. Not far away, Mission and Carth sat at a table in the sun, huddled over plates of food. The two of them were laughing and smiling; Carth was teasing the young Twi'lek about something. Mission offered a grinning, token protest.

The smiles fell as Lal approached. Mission glanced away and pretended to find a very interesting patch of dirt on the ground. Carth released a sigh as he glanced up at Lal. He dabbed a napkin to the corner of his mouth and leaned back in his chair.

"You look like you saw the same ghost Bastila did," Carth remarked. "Didn't sleep well? Bad dreams?"

"Um…yes…"

Zaalbar glanced over at them and barked sharply.

"What message?" Lal asked the Wookiee.

"Bastila came out and all…ordered us to tell you the Council wanted to talk to you and junk," Mission growled, turning a cool glare at Lal. Mission's eyes hurt Lal; the way she stared up at her. "Like somebody died and made her queen…"

"Yeah," Carth said. "The Council wants to see you."

"Well," Lal murmured, her eyes lingering painfully on Mission, "I suppose it is time we had a little chat…"

Inside the Jedi Compound at the Enclave, Lal found herself standing in a broad, rounded plaza, lined with trees that reached their dun-colored fronds towards a domed skylight. Native grasses hemmed in a slab of permacrete set up with stone benches. A massive twisting tree dominated the center of the plaza, looming above the ground. The muted earthen paneling seemed designed to dull the passions; to inject calm into the troubled mind. Lal supposed it probably worked most of the time, but her mind was a bit more troubled than most.

A young woman stood waiting by one of the benches. Her hair was pulled tightly back into an uninspired queue, and her athletic figure was wrapped in the customary brown robes Lal had seen the Jedi wear. The woman turned her sharp, severe face towards Lal and took a step in her direction.

"I was told to expect you, Lal Sideen," the Jedi said in a crisp and curt voice. She glanced down at Lal's clothing with a disparaging eye. "The Council awaits you."

She immediately turned and walked down a side corridor. Lal wondered if she was supposed to follow. It seemed likely, but the young woman certainly wasn't disposed to waiting. Lal followed her path and caught up, deciding to engage the woman in conversation.

"The, uh…décor is really…soothing, isn't it?" Lal pointed out. When the woman didn't respond, Lal rolled her eyes and mumbled, "quite mind-numbing. So…what's your name?"

"I am Belaya. You will forgive me if I seem occupied. I am."

"Oh. Of course. Occupied by what, if I might ask?"

Belaya stopped with a heavy sigh and turned to face Lal. "Occupied by matters other than escorting a tourist into the Council chambers. Now, if you would step up, please? The Council should not be kept waiting any longer."

"Right. Sorry. Waiting." Lal wondered if the woman had been talking to Carth.

Belaya led Lal in silence into another wide, circular chamber. Standing in the middle of the chamber were three men in Jedi robes. One of them was the Twi'lek master Bastila had greeted yesterday. The other two were humans who seemed just as aged. A fourth Jedi stood amidst them, standing no taller than their knees. Lal had never seen an alien quite like him; impossibly tiny and wizened, with yellowed flesh and a pair of tapered, long ears stretching from either side of his small skull. Bastila waited off to the side, now wearing her own set of robes. She nodded almost imperceptibly to Lal.

Lal came to a stop before the assemblage and glanced around. Beside her, Belaya nodded to the ancient Jedi and spun on her heel to leave.

"Honored Masters," Bastila began reverently, "this is Lal Sideen, the…the woman who assisted my escape from Taris."

"Greetings, Lal Sideen," the tiny alien said in a voice that made Lal think of curdled milk. "A pleasure it is to meet you. I am Master Vandar." He gestured to his right, to the brown-skinned human, "Master Dorak, and Master Vrook. I believe, encountered Master Zhar you did. Aware we are of what Bastila told you. A mistake it was."

Lal glanced at Bastila, and had a brief moment of hope that this was all one big mistake. But the dread inside her did not lessen any. Lal opened her mouth to demand some answers, but immediately thought better of it. She was certain these old beings would speak in their own measured time, and no one else's. And, as if measuring her, Vandar nodded.

"Hmm," he grunted sagely, deciding whatever he had decided about her. "Bastila's words to you were true, yes. But…premature were they. Better it would have been had we discussed this matter with you. Hmm. Unavoidable it was, I suppose," he continued, eyeing Bastila briefly. "Unlikely that you would have come with her…if told you she had not."

"Unavoidable, yes," Master Zhar agreed. "But…it is good that you have returned to us, Lal. You have been sorely missed. Yes."

Bastila could not contain a loving smile at Lal. "You are among friends, Lal…among…family…"

Lal nodded, thinking at first Bastila was merely speaking in metaphor. But then, it dawned on her; the same hair. The same eyes. The same stilted inflections when she spoke…

"Bastila…what are you…saying…?"

"You know it, Lal. You've known it since we first met," Bastila said.

"No. That's just not…are you telling me you're my…sister?"

"Well do your feelings serve you, Lal," Master Vandar nodded in approval.

"I didn't tell you because…well…" Bastila fished for the proper words.

"Because I would have accused you of lying," Lal supplied.

Bastila shrugged and nodded. "Yes…In your dream, Lal…the little girl? That was me. You were protecting me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I…how did you know what I dreamed? How could you know that?"

Vandar spoke up with a grunt. "Hmm. Strong in the Force the two of you are. Sisters. And Jedi. A bond do you share. Always has it been so."

Lal nodded absently, trying to accept what she was being told. But her mind raced with questions. "We…what about our parents? My parents? Are they…Jedi? As well?"

"Our parents, Lal…no, they are not Jedi. The Force is strong in our family, but we are the first to ever receive training. You must understand…we were brought to the Academy when we were very young. I was still a baby when you were first accepted to the Academy. When I was of sufficient age, I was accepted as well."

"Are they…alive? Where are they? What do they do? Have you told them…anything?"

"Lal," Master Zhar said softly, "these are matters best left between you and your sister. For another time. For now, there are other…more pressing matters."

"Other matters?" Lal frowned. "What could be that important? For three years, I have been…I haven't known who I am! Now you tell me…I find out…I…I want to know everything! I deserve to know!"

"Calm yourself, child," Master Vrook growled harshly, scowling at Lal. "Such outbursts do not befit a Jedi Knight. If…indeed, that's what you are."

She stared at Vrook for the first time, examining his gruff demeanor. He stared back at her with undisguised distaste. "What do you mean by that? Am I a Jedi, or not?"

"Without a doubt, you once were," Master Zhar said. "But in these past three years, you have been in the wilderness. Untethered to the teachings of the Jedi. Without the guidance of the Council, you have…drifted from the path, Lal. Dangerously far."

"Because of…what I have done…" Lal murmured, her eyes drifting to the floor beneath her boots.

"Many have you slain, Lal," Master Vandar said gravely. "Death is strong upon you. But also have you been a champion of life. Sense the struggle in you we do. It is this struggle, Lal, which win you must. For desperately needed…you are."

"You have dreamed again," Master Zhar announced. "We know this, because Bastila has shared your dream, child. A dream of the past. Revan and Malak."

"I…yes," Lal whispered. "Why…why would I dream about them?"

Master Dorak spoke up to reply; "When Revan and Malak defied the Council in order to fight the Mandalorians, you were among the Jedi who…who followed them. At the time, you were stationed on Taris, handling a labor dispute that had erupted into terrible violence."

"Yes," Vrook hissed. "You abandoned your duties to join Revan and Malak. To make war."

"I don't…remember, obviously…but the war…it's my understanding that Revan and Malak prevented the Mandalorians from enslaving the entire galaxy. Why was that…wrong?"

"Well, Lal," Dorak went on, "it was a complicated time in the history of the Republic. For millennia, thousands of systems have sought the benefit of membership within the Republic. Though a largely democratic body, the Republic can still be technically classified as an expansionist power. An empire, if you will. Now, the Mandalorians…they were also a race of conquerors. Like all conquerors, they had an imperative to expand. Until the first few conflicts arose, due to vast differences in technological advances…space travel, primarily, the Mandalorians were largely contained within their own area of the galaxy. It was the Republic that first intruded on their territory. They sent peaceful envoys, mind you, but always with the intention of adding the Mandalorian territories to the Republic.

"Well, of course, knowing the Mandalorians as we do, they resisted," Dorak continued. "Conflicts arose here and there; political maneuvering. That sort of thing. It continued for many years, Lal. The Republic suspected the Mandalorians were preparing a large offensive against Outer Rim systems, and decided to counter this threat. The battle occurred near the singularity known as Kalor Rim. It was the first shot that truly sparked the war."

Lal glanced at them all as the old man fell silent. "I'm…sorry, but what has that to do with what Revan and Malak did?"

"Well, Lal," Dorak sighed, "the point of my…ahem, admittedly lengthy overview of the war's start was to show you that it's really rather highly debatable that the war would have even raged as heatedly and as long as it did, had not the Republic engaged the Mandalorians in battle at Kalor Rim. I trust you can guess why the Republic forces made this attack, Lal?"

She didn't even need to think about it. "They wanted to make the enemy commit prematurely, waste their forces and show their tactical strength."

Dorak smiled and tossed a crafty wink at Vrook. "Very good, Lal. You were always an apt pupil. Yes, it was tactically sound. And the strategy might have weakened any other foe. But the Mandalorians are nothing if not…tenacious. It only heartened them for battle. It showed the Republic to be, in their eyes, a worthy foe. Instead of eliminating the prospect of a war, the Republic actually fanned the fire. In light of this, when the Republic came to the Jedi Council for aid, we initially refused. The judgement of the Republic's leaders…could not be trusted in this matter. We had our reasons, of course. And we had a solution to the problem. Our goal was to avoid the needless slaughter of billions which followed in the course of the war. In the meantime, the Mandalorians did engage in wholesale slaughter. Jedi like…like Revan believed that, while we were deciding what to do, people were dying needlessly. Instead of trusting in the wisdom of the council, Revan acted hastily."

"War, Lal," Vrook cut in sharply, "is always a matter of attrition. Where there is death, there can be no true victory. When faced with war, the wise man does his best to minimize the death which will occur. Revan's sensibilities held sway over logic. Though Revan's actions saved the Republic from Mandalorian rule, the number of deaths involved were…incalculable. Revan's actions never gave the Council a chance to try another solution. One that would have spilled far less blood. It was foolish and short-sighted. And, it had a side effect Revan did not foresee. The stress of the war, the bloodshed, the straining of morality and ethics…it plunged Revan on a course to the Dark Side."

"Hmm," Vandar grunted. "Revan returned angry. Full of hate. War makes monsters of men. While men fight, kill they must. Instincts they build. And well do these instincts serve them on the battlefield. But these sensibilities, when war ends, do not die so easily. Revan had become cruel. A…a beast. And so, shun our aid, Revan did. And Malak too. Always the follower was Malak. Loyal to a fault. Emotions guided him more than reason. Left the Inner Systems did those two, and a handful of loyalists. Beyond the Outer Rim did they travel, and there, sought dark truths did they. Dark truths. It is…no one truly knows the horrors they did encounter beyond known space. But, when return they did, Revan and Malak had embraced the profane ways of the Sith. And a great fleet did they command."

"Several years ago, Lal," Dorak said, "Revan's fleet engaged the forces of the Republic and the Jedi. A new Sith War began. And the Sith Lord, Revan, was all but unstoppable. No one knew how Revan had built such a massive fleet in so short a time. Within a few short months, they threatened the Core Systems, and Coruscant itself. Worlds once thought unassailable now lay bare before the teeth of Revan's dark fleet; Alderaan, Commenor, even Coruscant. In a terrible battle on the edge of the Koornacht Cluster, the Republic Fleet and the Sith fleet clashed. We sent a special team of Jedi to infiltrate Revan's forces, to engage the Dark Lord in single combat and throw the Sith forces into disarray. This was accomplished, Lal, largely because of your sister."

"Basi? I mean…Bastila?" Lal asked. "Why?"

"Bastila has been gifted with a rare talent, Lal," Zhar explained. "Battle Meditation. By entering a deep trance, she can…affect minds on a great scale. She can…compromise the morale and tactics of an enemy, or inspire a friendly force to greater efforts. In the heat of battle, one moment's indecision can bring ruin to the best laid plan. The effect was devastating to Revan's forces."

"I…I remember…" Lal murmured, recalling an old dream. "It was Bastila! And…someone named…Jan…Janna? Her…her brother…Reeno…"

Bastila stepped forward and gripped Lal's shoulder in surprise. "Yes, Lal! It…that's a nightmare I have sometimes…I still see it…like I'm still there…what else do you recall?"

Lal glanced up at Bastila with widened eyes. "You were there to kill Revan, weren't you?"

Bastila swallowed and glanced nervously to the Masters. "Lal…"

"Only you didn't. Couldn't. Something stopped you…"

"Malak chose that moment to turn on his Lord, Lal," Vrook said. "It is the treacherous nature of the Sith. He wanted the power for himself. From his flagship, he fired on the bridge of Revan's ship. On that day, Revan died. Bastila barely escaped with her life. She spent a long time recovering from her injuries."

Lal frowned at her younger sister, her baby sister. Basi. A tear rolled down Lal's cheek and she held Bastila's shoulders. "Wh-why wasn't I there? I should have been there, shouldn't I?"

"Oh, Lal…"

"Lal," Zhar said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, "had you been able, certainly you would have been there. But…the war had not…left you well. You were…you were not yourself. Battle stress. Psychological trauma. Perhaps it was guilt over…over what you had done. Been forced to do. You required…care. Here, safe on Dantooine."

"Oh," Lal whispered softly. She could feel the room beginning to spin around her. Her head dropped onto Bastila's shoulder and the younger woman cradled her skull to her.

"Masters," Bastila said, "this is too much for her to hear now…she needs rest…time to--"

"We do not have time, Bastila," Vrook cut in. "And you know this. Malak is now the Dark Lord of the Sith. And his cruelties know no bounds. He has the same power Revan once had, the power of an unstoppable fleet. He must be stopped."

Lal leaned on Bastila and forced herself to focus. She gazed deeply into Bastila's eyes and saw herself reflected. Her skin, her flesh. Her blood and bones and thoughts and feelings. She saw her dreams, her nightmares. But all of this was clouded in darkness. A veil she could not feel her way through. None of them could.

'You need me to remember," she muttered in a broken voice. "But why? So I can fight a war singlehandedly?"

"You are needed, Lal," Bastila told her, cupping Lal's face in both her hands. "I need my sister. And the Council…the Council needs the one Jedi Knight who knows what Malak's…and Revan's secrets are."

"Sister," Lal said, nodding weakly. "Yes…I can…I can feel it. Sister. Bastila…I don't know if I…if I'm up to this…"

"You won't be alone, Lal," Bastila smiled. "Will you at least try?"

"I…I will try, Bastila…"

"Trying," Vrook growled, "is insufficient. When you take a step along a path, you do not try. You either do, or you fall. It is that simple. A Jedi does not try, Lal. A Jedi acts. When a Jedi acts, his course must be decided within the space of a heartbeat. Is that understood?"

"I…I understand." Of course she understood. It was how Lal had lived in the shadows of Taris for three dark years.

Vrook narrowed his eyes at her. "I wonder that you do."

"Perhaps," Zhar interrupted, "perhaps Bastila is correct. Lal, please return to your quarters to rest. We will reconvene in the morning at First Sun. Perhaps now you should spend time with your sister."

"I don't want to sleep anymore, Bastila," Lal said as they stepped into the brassy afternoon sunlight. "I don't know what I want…I wish I could remember the things you say. I can feel them…like they're pushing at me…in a dark room or something…I can feel them there. But I can't…"

"Don't worry about it, Lal," Bastila told her. "Perhaps…maybe we should go for a walk, Lal. For three years, all you've seen have been the shadows of Taris. You forgot the planet where you were happiest."

Lal chuckled. "You said I had a garden somewhere?"

Bastila smiled at her and nodded. "We'll need to rent a speeder."

Twenty minutes later, they were coursing out of a hangar built at the base of the plateau; skimming the grassy surface in a sleek Aratech late model landspeeder. Lal wasn't sure, but thought it might have been the A-31. It was a slim-bodied two-seater coupe, with a tear drop taper that ran from the front to the pointed cowling at the rear. Beneath the open rear cowling screamed a pair of oversized thrusters that hurled the speeder faster than the wind.

Lal brushed a whipping strand of hair from her eyes and watched the smooth, grassy slopes churn past. Once, long ago, Dantooine had been shrouded in great mountains of ice, chained together across the surface of the planet. Those frozen titans had carved great scars into the land in the wake of their agelessly slow passage.

When the ice melted and formed the shallow, low lying seas of Dantooine, great scoops had been carved from the land in long, broad swaths. Mountains had been whittled away into rounded stacks and lonely plateaus ruling shallow valleys and flattened bottoms. Broad floodplains cut deep inland, and when the seas receded, rich, arable soil was left in the waters' wake.

Now the wide vales of Dantooine were seeded throughout the year with tall grasses colored gold and green. Squat towers of chalky white stone peeked up from the grass and short canyons guarded ancient riverbeds, now run riot with tall grass and wild yellow weeds.

Lal marveled at how open and broad the plains were; unspoiled by the touch of durasteel and glass. She felt almost naked within the lone speeder, cruising across the flat land, with no towering skyscrapers or mountainous Arcologies to crowd away the sunlight. Here, she could see for miles, and bask free and openly in the sun. The air tasted moist with the unchained scent of living things, of vibrant fertile soil. She could even smell water in the air, rushed across the lowlands from the oceans, and unhindered by any mountains.

The plateau bearing the Enclave fell swiftly behind them as they entered a series of low, broad hillocks. Dotting the crests of these squat hills were low walled dwellings; settlements of farmers and ranchers. Every so often, Lal would see sophisticated communications relay towers blinking with crimson lights at their crowns. And a few dwellings hosted landing pads for private ships atop their broad roofs. But for the most part, Dantooine was free of the spreading virus of man's touch.

A half hour later, they slipped into a small vale where a single dwelling clung to a gentle slope. It was a single story building with long, low running walls that angled back against the valley wall behind the house. A small landing pad stood at the top of the slope, and stone stairs carved down from it to the house. Alongside the house, in tiered terraces lay the garden Bastila had promised. Gardens, to be sure, since each terrace held its own bed of bright yellow and red and lavender flowers. Bastila drew the speeder along the base of the slope and shut down the engines.

"This is it," she said, hopping out of the speeder and bouncing up a series of steps that lead to the front door. Lal climbed out and followed Bastila up. The entrance was sunken into the white walls, creating a break from the whipping breeze. Bastila pressed her palm against a clear panel to the side of the door and it slid open to admit them.

Inside, lights automatically snapped on, running in tracks along the ceiling. Lal couldn't see a single hard angle anywhere in the house. The walls literally curved around them in gentle arcs that made Lal feel like she was cuddled in a warm embrace. As she stepped down into the sunken living room, she brushed a hand over the cushion of a low, curved couch and knew she was home.

Bastila walked into the kitchen and dialed up two glasses of fressa-flavored water. She came back out to the living room and handed a glass to Lal. Bastila sank down into the couch before Lal and kicked her boots off.

"I've always loved this place," Bastila told Lal. Lal sat down, folding one leg beneath her and let herself sink into the cushions beside Bastila.

"My apartment on Taris was so…crowded…tiny," Lal purred. "This place is so…soft…"

Bastila smiled faintly as she stared at the tunic Lal wore. "There are some clothes in your bedroom. Something a bit more…or perhaps, less…"

"What's wrong with this?" Lal asked, glancing down at herself.

"Oh Lal, you look as if Mission had dressed you. Come to think of it, she probably laid that out for you."

"I like it," Lal said defensively as her thoughts turned towards the Twi'lek that might as well have been another sister.

Bastila chuckled and rose from the couch. "Your thoughts betray you, sister."

"Alright," Lal sighed. "Perhaps it does seem a bit…slutty."

"I'm sure Mission had the best intentions," Bastila said, disappearing down a hallway.

Lal leaned forward to tug her boots off. Her gloves went next, and she hugged herself absently, glancing around. She rose and walked bare-footed over the thick carpet to a shelf of holodisks that dominated an entire wall. She looked over the titles on the spines, noting that books on gardening rested next to studies on tactics and history. "I suppose I must have varied interests," she murmured.

"What was that?" Bastila called from down the hall.

"Nothing. I…" Lal turned to an end table and saw a holopic. "I was just…talking to myself…" She reached down and picked up the base of the holopic. The crystal image emitter threw forth an image of a man and a woman, both smiling. The woman held a tiny little girl with Bastila's eyes. An older girl stood before the man, and wore a crooked smile. Lal touched her own lips, wondering if that smile belonged to her.

Bastila came out from the hallway, holding up two dark colored tunics. "This one is a bit more your style. A tad more modest. But this one…well, you always liked to show off your…" She laid the outfits on the couch and walked up to peer over Lal's shoulder at the picture.

"Mother and Father," she said. "I think you were…four, maybe? Five? I don't really recall. I think it was taken right before they sent you to the Academy, so you couldn't have been more than six. I have no idea how old I was in that."

"How old am I, Bastila?"

"I'm twenty-five," Bastila said, "so that makes you thirty, dear old lady."

"Thirty? That's not old!"

"Older than me is old," Bastila told her.

"I'm guessing I also tended to smack you a lot," Lal muttered.

Bastila just smiled and flicked her eyes back to the picture. "That picture was taken on Ord Mantell, as I recall."

"Is that where we're from?"

Bastila shook her head. "We're from…all over. Father is an archeologist. Rather…he was. He was a professor at the University on Coruscant. By the time I was born, Mother had convinced him there was more money in treasure hunting. So, because of her, we moved from planet to planet, always on the look-out for that next dig site."

"Mother," Lal whispered, staring at the pretty woman holding Bastila. "Tell me about them, Basi."

"Not much to tell really. You got your poor sense of fashion from mother. She was a socialite. Came from wealth. Some corporate family. We were never allowed to talk about it because they apparently disowned her for marrying Father. She was born on Kuat, I believe."

"Are you telling me we're heir to the Kuat fortune?" Lal gasped. "That's almost a death sentence!"

"She was disowned, remember? Shunned but safely removed from their corporate politics. But, she's always clung to the old trappings of her former life. Very materialistic woman. Father, however…he's a scholar. A genius. He was chair of the department at University. Before we were born, he led the dig on Duros which uncovered the connections between a series of ancient runic tablets scattered across the Inner Core. He's…he's a great man, Lal."

"How…how do I get in touch with them, Basi?"

"Hmm? How do you mean, Lal?"

Lal turned a confused frown at her sister. "I mean I'd like to see them, Bastila! Don't you talk to them? Don't you have a way to contact them?"

Bastila sighed and sat down on the couch. "Lal…this may be difficult to understand…"

"Bastila…are they dead?"

"I…no. I mean…I shouldn't think so…Lal, when a child is placed into the Academy, all contact with family is…well…severed. You and I were a rare exception…"

"Wait a second, Bastila…allow me to understand this; you're saying you haven't spoke to our parents….since you were six years old? Are you joking?"

"Lal…a Jedi must not be bound by emotional attachments. Emotional attachments cloud a Jedi's judgment. There is no emotion, Lal. There is peace. It is the very foundation of our beliefs."

"Bastila…that…that doesn't make any bloody sense! You tell me I have a family, and then you tell me I can't have a family? That is absolutely…absurd!"

"Lal," Bastila reached out and took Lal's hands in her own. "The Jedi have these disciplines for a reason. An important one. Emotion can lead to anger. Anger can lead to hate. Hate is the path to the Dark Side."

Lal shook her head angrily and tugged her hands free of Bastila's grasp. "Dark Side, Dark Side! I keep hearing this! It makes no sense to me and you people are flinging it about as if it's some universal law that no one told me about! Revan turned to the Dark Side! Malak turned to the Dark Side! Is that the Jedi way of saying they're both complete nutters? Many men have become psychopathic lunatics and there was less…less ceremony involved in it! The Dark Side! What is that supposed to mean? You make it sound as if they simply went to play for a rival team!"

"Men become seduced by evil. By…the ease of killing. By the lure of power. You're absolutely right, Lal; it happens all over the Galaxy. It becomes easier to kill after you've taken that first life. It becomes easier to steal after that first robbery. No one disputes that, sister. But…how to put this…imagine a politician. He begins his first term of office with a clear desire to do good for his constituents. But he finds that there are, in the halls of power, certain ways to accomplish certain things. In order to do the greatest good, he must turn a blind eye to a minor evil. Perhaps he must bribe another official to accomplish his noble goals. And there, the downward spiral begins. In order for him to continue his work, he must find a way to stay in power. Perhaps more bribes. Perhaps this time, he must intimidate another candidate out of the race. And by the time he is re-elected, he has grown accustomed to doing things in that certain way. And also by this time, maintaining his power becomes more important than using it to help others. I'm sure you've seen this happen, haven't you?"

"Of course, Basi. It was business as usual on Taris." I often helped them down that spiral…

"In the case of a politician, or a corrupt constable, or a killer, their…seduction is a dark tragedy, yes. But they will always be limited by the fact that…that they are still normal beings. Without his office, the politician is a simple man. Without his badge, the constable is a man. Without his knife, the murderer is just a simple person.

"But…a Jedi, Lal…a Jedi is quite different. A Jedi learns to master the Force. He gains abilities that no one else can know. With the Force, a Jedi could…could kill with a simple gesture, Lal. He could change a man's thoughts. A Jedi is rather more than some soldier who is trained to use a lightsaber; he is…a being connected to the most powerful of energies. A Jedi must be disciplined to use these abilities wisely. For, if he is not…like all simple beings, he will abuse that power. And it becomes easier and easier as time passes. But the power a Jedi can abuse…it can destroy a Galaxy, Lal. And so it will be with Malak. Revan and Malak…they were great Jedi. Compassionate, just, noble, brave. But they saw the suffering of those the Mandalorians attacked and enslaved. They saw it and deemed it a tragedy. They were correct. But they let their emotions get in the way of their discipline. And because of this, they fought a war in which billions of people died. And because they were led by their emotions, Lal, they found it prudent to use savagery against the savagery of the Mandalorians. Savagery became easier. And easier. Emotion led them along this path, Lal."

"Emotion didn't led them to evil, Bastila. That's absurd. Emotion is…it's what makes us…well…it connects us. It gives us compassion…understanding for others! It binds us, Bastila!"

"Listen to yourself," Bastila smiled sadly.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You said these same things once before, Lal. Actually, you said them quite often. But you told me these words right before you left to join the war. It's quite ironic, Lal. You may not remember who you were, but every moment you become more yourself. Tell me something: when you were still the assassin, the weapon of Davik, how would you have viewed compassion? As a strength? Or as a weakness?"

Lal closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. "A weakness," she sighed.

"The obvious love you have for Mission…have you not seen it as a liability?"

"Yes. Mission…she is dear to me. Fool girl that she is. And it's damn well nearly gotten me killed. A year ago…I wouldn't have…allowed myself to feel anything for her…"

"Perhaps. But you have always been so very full of love, Lal. You've never hesitated to protect those weaker than you…It's a virtue that shows you are truly my sister; the Jedi who was lost to us. But like all things, that virtue must be tempered by discipline."

"Maybe…I suppose, Bastila. How can I argue? How can I defend myself when…when you already know more about me than I do? How am I supposed to accept this? To...to be okay with it?"

"Lal, it's not about arguments. It's not about winning or losing between us. You are who you are. I'm not trying to prove you wrong."

"But…Bastila…listen to me; I know I'm…a monster. When I fought Davik, I…I wanted to die. I wanted to kill him so badly…And I didn't care if I had to die in order to do it."

"Lal…"

"No, let me finish. I had to kill him because I knew what he would do to Mission…to Carth, to you…to Zaalbar. But, I figured…it was alright…to die…because of all the things I've done…"

"Lal, that's all in the past."

"Basi, please!" Lal cried, turning away from her sister. "I did see compassion as a weakness, Bastila. And it made me into…into a killer. Divorcing myself from my compassion allowed me to…do the things I did. My feelings for Mission…and the Carpet…those were the only things about me that…that I don't really regret. I would have let Mission die if I hadn't cared about her. Don't you see?"

"Yes, Lal. I understand. And…don't take this the wrong way, but you mistake me. A Jedi does need compassion. But not just compassion for a sister…or a mother. Compassion for everyone around her. To focus on a single emotional bond to the exclusion of all others…that is what leads to…well, it leads to a lack of perspective. When you devised your plot to rescue Mission, Lal…she was all you were thinking about in that moment. If you had distanced yourself a bit from that blinding emotion, you would have realized that Carth and I could be trusted to know your plan. To help you! To keep you from nearly dying as you did! That was why I was upset with you on the Ebon Hawk, Lal. Not because I'd felt you tried to betray me. I knew who you were, and I knew better than that. I was upset because I could have kept you from being hurt…if I had known what you were planning."

Lal released a gasping sigh, and felt the tears coming again. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop them, but they came none the less in a heaving tide that sent her shoulders shuddering. Bastila rose to her feet behind Lal and slipped her arms around Lal's waist. She laid her head against Lal's shoulder and held her tightly.

"Lal, that life…it's gone, now. What you were forced to be…that person is gone. I know it will be difficult for you to accept. But…I also know…you'll feel better. You still don't remember the events…the moments, but I know that you feel them, Lal. We argued like this all the time. But we always made up, too. I was afraid…this time…I wouldn't get the chance…but I've found you. And I love you."

"Bastila…I want to see my parents. It might…not be…standard…"

"But these are not standard circumstances," Bastila finished for her, patting Lal's shoulder. "I understand. Perhaps the Council will understand as well. I suggest we make a pact, Lal. When this is over, when we have defeated Malak…we'll go and see our parents."

Lal turned around in Bastila's grasp and looked down into her eyes. "I…alright, Bastila."

Bastila smiled and pulled away. She took a sip of her water and sighed deeply. "You will never be alone. I will always be at your side, Lal. Oh! I just remembered something! Stay right there." Bastila dashed back down the hallway.

Lal sat down on the couch again, and stared down at her feet. She clenched her toes in the thick rug, losing her thoughts in the plush softness. So, now, all of a sudden, she was no longer a killer. She was a Jedi. A guardian of life. So, why didn't she feel any different? What exactly did these people expect her to do?

Bastila came back down the hall and said, "These are yours, Lal."

Lal rose and walked over. Bastila held up two gleaming metal cylinders. A pair of identical lightsabers. A cold tingle trickled down her spine as Lal stared at the weapons; weapons of a Jedi. She reached out a trembling hand, but then snatched it back. She glanced at Bastila uncertainly. "Which one?"

Bastila smiled. She held both cylinders end to end and screwed them together with a single twist. She handed the joined lightsaber over and Lal gingerly took it.

Lal felt her hand slipping into an unseen groove, locking strangely into place upon the surface of the hilt. It fit within her palm like a lost piece of a puzzle; like her hand had been forged to mate with the hilt. Two lightsabers locked together to form one; each identical. Her eyes coursed over the surface, found the trigger plate that would ignite one blade…and the twin trigger that ignited the second blade, from the opposite end. She unscrewed the hilt and separated it again into two weapons. She hefted both in her hands; felt the weight of each.

"When you became a Padawan learner, you made this," Bastila explained, stepping back and folding her arms across her breasts. Over the years, you modified it….so that it could break down into two separate weapons."

"Does yours break down as well?" Lal asked.

Bastila nodded. "You gave me this one as a gift…before you left. I've never since used another one. When it was…returned to me…on Taris…I knew you had gotten it back for me…"

Lal smiled. She held one of them away from Bastila and thumbed the trigger plate. Her breath caught in her throat as a stream of lavender light thrust forth with a crackling hiss. She stared at the blade and felt her heart pounding. The lavender energy blade hummed as it kissed the air around it. She waved it about and listened as the hum changed pitch…as it sang. "It feels different than a vibroblade," she told Bastila. "The balance is different."

"It has no resistance as it moves. No friction. It does not so much cut through the air as it does…utterly disregard it. Anyone who is not a Jedi…to simply hold the weapon is almost as dangerous as being attacked by one."

Lal recalled how clumsily Brejik had used Bastila's stolen lightsaber. She remembered turning her swoop rig back to go and search for it after he'd dropped it.

She closed the blade down and glanced up at Bastila. "I don't think--"

"Exactly! Do not think! Just do!"

Lal glanced at her in surprise. She looked back down at the lightsabers in her hand and sucked in a deep breath. "Alright, Basi. Show me…"

"Nice ship," Calo growled, glancing around the dimly lit bridge of the Leviathan. He tried his best to ignore the pain hissing down his back and arms; the flesh was still raw where his clothes had been ignited by that scum, Canderous. Calo had spent several days floating in a Kolto Bath in the Leviathan's sick bay. They'd scraped him up off the smoldering ground of Taris. At first, he didn't know why. Calo had never known anything like charity. They hadn't saved his life and nursed him back to health for his personality.

They needed him.

The Naval Adjutant who had escorted him to the bridge gave him a sour glare. "Wait here," she told him. The Adjutant walked to the forecastle of the bridge where two figures stood gazing out the forward screen at the stars. One he recognized. Admiral Karath. He'd been in to see Calo in sick bay. Not a social call, of course. Just there to check out the newest merchandise. Calo hadn't particularly appreciated that thought, especially now that he saw the other man at the forecastle.

Darth Malak was a mountain draped in crimson. He towered above every other man on the bridge, and his shoulders were like jagged cliffs. A dark red cloak swept down from one of those shoulders, fluttering in a gust of air that Calo could not feel. His shaven skull bore a set of slave brands burned into the flesh. Malak wore them almost like a badge. He turned and laid slitted eyes of coal upon Calo. Calo almost released a gasp when he saw the strange breathing apparatus clamped around the lower half of Malak's face. It made the flesh and bone above the mask seem like nothing so much as a skull bearing a steel rictus grin; like the metal mask, the angles of his face were sharp and cold.

Karath gestured Calo forward. Like all men of power, Karath was obviously accustomed to being obeyed instantly. And his crew-cut lackeys probably fell over themselves to be the first to kiss his spit shined boots. But Calo knew who the real power was. He walked over slowly, glancing briefly at Karath before inclining his head to Malak.

"Lord Malak," Karath said pridefully, "the bounty hunter I mentioned. Calo Nord. He was, of late, employed by Davik Kang."

Malak scraped his cold gaze over Calo and glanced back at the stars. "Admiral, I trust you are not wasting my time. Is the combined might of the Sith fleet suddenly insufficient to the task of tracking one ship?"

"Er…Nord has some interesting information to share, My Lord…"

Calo shrugged and made Karath sweat for a moment or two. But not too long. He'd heard enough tales about the Sith. "I take it you want to locate the Ebon Hawk, Lord Malak," Calo said. "Your soldier boys ain't gonna have much luck, I guarantee. I don't know how resourceful that Jedi girl is, but she's got herself some special help. Lal Sideen and Canderous Ordo. There's enough cunning and experience between the two of them to run your fleet in circles trying to pin them down."

Malak slowly turned to gaze down at Calo. "Who did you say?"

"Lal Sideen…Canderous Ordo. Both were hitters for Davik."

Karath nodded, with a tiny, nervous smile. "It is her, Lord Malak…She yet lives."

That surprised Calo. Obviously, the Sith Lord had some business with Lal. He had no idea what sort of business, and doubted they'd tell him. But he suddenly knew he was exactly where he needed to be. "You can tear the galaxy apart from one end to the other," Calo said casually, "but if she doesn't want to be found, you never will."

"Am I to gather that you know where she is?" Malak hissed.

'"Not at all," Calo admitted. "But, while your officers are wasting time trying to track down ion trails, I'm already a step ahead." He tapped the side of his skull and nodded. "I know how she thinks. I can find her."

Malak turned a glare at Karath and nodded once.

"Mr. Nord, We will place your services on retainer," Karath said to Calo. "We require the Jedi, Bastila Shan and Lal Sideen. Alive."

Calo nodded. "I'll need a ship, of course. And a little bit of latitude."

"Latitude?" Karath chuckled incredulously.

"Yeah, Sarge," Calo growled at him. "Space. Leeway. Room to do my job."

Karath's brow beetled and his hollow cheeks flushed. "Now you listen here--"

"You will have your latitude, bounty hunter," Malak said. "But be mindful of this, Calo Nord: the price for failure is very steep. Very steep indeed."

"I can't imagine this is actually the best way to go about this," Lal complained, rubbing her numb bottom. Her backside was beginning to feel like a pincushion. A tiny spherical training drone gusted about her head, hovering and spinning. Up until about five minutes ago, the drone had been peppering her arms and legs and her bottom with low yield stun blasts. They lanced out like needles, evading her best efforts to deflect them with the blade of her lightsaber.

"Perhaps it would be more productive to use an assault droid," Bastila suggested. Lal threw a scowl her way. The two of them stood atop the landing platform above Lal's house, and as the sun set, the wind began whipping at their clothes and hair.

Lal began to regret the fact she was wearing only a thin tunic. Not only had the temperature dropped significantly, but it left her lower delicates quite vulnerable to the merciless accuracy of the damned drone. After an hour of this nonsense, she was almost certain both the drone and Bastila were gaining some hidden amusement at both her distress and obvious clumsiness.

"What I wouldn't give for a blaster," Lal growled under her breath, choking up her grip on the long hilt of her lightsaber.

"The point of the exercise is not to shoot the drone, Lal," Bastila reminded her for perhaps the twentieth time. "It's not even to destroy it with your lightsaber."

"I know, I know," Lal groaned irritably. "It's to avoid being hit."

"No. It's to give yourself in to the embrace of the Force, Lal. Close down your weapon, please."

Lal sighed and deactivated her lightsaber. The lavender beam shrank down into the hilt with a hiss. She balled a fist on her hip and glared at Bastila.

"Lal…when you use your blaster…or…when you ball up your fist to strike an opponent…tell me: are you actively calculating the distance to your target? Determining the pitch of your weapon in relation to the target? Of course not. You learn the skills and then let your body put them into practice. You…surrender your active thought to trained instinct. When you walk, do you think about placing one foot in front of the other? Or do you just do it? Your training is already there, Lal; think about this for a moment. Why do you think you were so…proficient as…well…"

"As a killer," Lal finished, lowering her eyes.

"Yes. Forgive my bluntness, sister. You didn't stop to question your talents, your…your whims of cunning, did you? So it must be now. I grant that this is…difficult for you. Things are much more complicated for you, now. You have these skills, but you must remember that you have already mastered them. Not an easy task. Your body knows, but your mind…does not."

"Maybe…maybe I bit off more than I can chew, Bastila…Perhaps we should--"

Bastila flashed into a whirl, and golden light spilled forth from her hand with a sharp crackle. Lal felt her body moving and her mind distantly shrieking as Bastila's lightsaber blistered towards her face. The golden light flared mercilessly before her eyes, smothering her vision. For the briefest of seconds, Lal thought Bastila was going to tear her throat out with her weapon. But her sister had stopped her blade only a few inches from Lal's throat.

And then, Lal's mind caught up with her body. Bastila hadn't stopped her strike at all; Lal's own lightsaber had. It hummed and crackled in her hand, grinding against Bastila's golden beam. Lal glanced down, and saw her own hands, holding the lightsaber before her body, blocking Bastila's strike.

"How did I--"

"Do not think!" Bastila snarled, whipping around in a tight circle. As she spun, she ripped her lightsaber into a reverse arc, and slashed at Lal from the opposite side.

Terror flooded Lal as she heard Bastila's lightsaber scream eagerly. Her muscles clenched, and snapped her lightsaber across to bounce against Bastila's with a bright flash. Bastila spun her blade in both hands and thrust forward towards Lal's chest. Lal pivoted to the outside of Bastila's thrust and batted her sister's attack up and to the left. Now standing slightly behind Bastila, Lal's heart hammered against her chest. Instinct urged her to drive the heel of her boot down into Bastila's knee. She would have done so in any other fight…

Bastila noted Lal's hesitation and unleashed a back-kick into Lal's belly. It hurled the older woman down onto her bottom. Lal flexed her legs against the deck of the landing platform and shoved her body backwards into a roll. As she did, Bastila surged forward in a liquid movement, sweeping low with her lightsaber to tear sparks from the deck in Lal's wake.

Lal came up on one knee as Bastila's blade crashed down atop hers. Lal unscrewed the hilt with a swift twist and stabbed underneath Bastila's guard with the second section of the hilt. She pummeled Bastila in the belly with the second hilt, driving her sister backward. She charged forward with a snarl, stabbing her blade in at Bastila's face. Bastila moved frantically backwards and planted her rear foot suddenly. She flexed and launched into a flip above Lal's head.

Lal's eyes narrowed and she spun around low beneath Bastila's leap. As Bastila landed, Lal's foot extended and slammed into the back of her knee. Bastila folded up with a gasp and fell onto her bottom. She wrenched her lightsaber up just in time as Lal crashed down atop her with her own lightsaber. Their weapons met with a shriek and a splash of bright light. Lal bared her teeth as she shoved down against Bastila's trembling muscles.

"Lal!" Bastila cried as their lightsabers hissed and gnashed inches from her face.

Bastila's voice injected a tiny spike of realization into Lal's thoughts. Terror again surged within her as she saw what she was about to do. She hurled herself away from Bastila and closed down her lightsaber. Bastila closed down her weapon and picked herself up.

"That was…unexpected," Bastila gasped, desperately fighting to control her breathing.

"I wasn't thinking, Basi! I'm sorry! I nearly…"

"No," Bastila sighed, forcing calm back into her voice. "I'm quite fine, Lal. You needn't worry."

"But I…I lost control…"

"So I noticed. Luckily, I did not…"

"I'm so sorry, Bastila…I got so angry…"

Concern wrinkled Bastila's smooth brow. She quested for her words, her feelings. "No, it wasn't anger I sensed in you, Lal. You were…quite serene…What were you thinking about, Lal?"

"I…I wasn't! I don't know…I was…"

"You were thinking you were in an actual battle…You let go of your conscious self," Bastila continued, wondering aloud, "and you tried your best to kill me…"

"I didn't mean to, Basi…"

Bastila frowned in thought and the two of them stood in the whipping silence of the wind. Lal could…feel something boiling inside of Bastila. She would have called it nothing more than an intuition a week ago. But now, perhaps she really could sense what Bastila was feeling. It felt no different than an intuition, of course. If this was what a Jedi could sense, it certainly didn't feel special to Lal.

But she could feel the doubt and uncertainty welling up in Bastila. More than that, she seemed afraid. Afraid of Lal? Or afraid for her?

"I suppose it's my fault," Bastila finally said, noticing Lal's stare. "I shouldn't have pushed you as I did. I suppose I'm not actually qualified to instruct you on anything. I am still merely a Padawan Learner, myself."

Lal decided not to mention Bastila's unease. "All these new terms…I suppose there will be a vocabulary test in the morning?"

Bastila smiled. "A Padawan is…a student. A…novice."

"You're hardly a novice, Bastila," Lal said, hooking her lightsaber reflexively upon her belt. "You're obviously important to the council. Why would they have trusted you on that mission to Taris otherwise?"

"I wasn't the only Jedi on board the Endar Spire, Lal. The others…they were killed when the ship was destroyed. Carth and I were the only survivors. No, I'm hardly experienced, and certainly not qualified to teach you what you need to know. It's simple arrogance to think otherwise."

"I'd rather it be you, Bastila…I'm…I'm comfortable…with you. I wouldn't want one of those…Masters trying to teach me…and judging me with every look…"

"Lal, you must trust in the judgment of the Council. Learning from me…well…it could be dangerous. For both of us."

"Because of the Dark Side, Basi? Listen…I want to know who and what I am. I…I don't feel as if there's anything else for me anymore…I must know. And you…you're my sister. If anyone knows who I am, you do. You have to help me through this…"

Bastila frowned at Lal, indecision clouding her features. Lal, I cannot--"

"Basi, I--" Lal fell abruptly silent as a chill washed across her skin and sank into her body. She shivered as a cold prickle curdled the flesh at the base of her neck. She glanced sharply at Bastila; the younger woman stared away from her, gazing into the darkness spreading across the valley. "I just got a chill, standing up here…"

Bastila shook her head and squinted, her eyes struggling to pierce the descending folds of night. "It wasn't a chill, Lal. Look!"

Lal's eyes followed as Bastila's arm shot out to point across the valley to the opposite wall. She saw a flicker of movement along the top of the valley, grasses painted black shifting and whipping; thrust aside in the desperate passage of someone running full tilt. Lal could only capture the barest of glimpses of the person, every time he dashed in front of a still-bright patch of darkening sky.

"Someone…in…in…trouble…" Lal murmured. And as soon as she said that, a cold, trembling wail sliced across the grasslands, rising in pitch into a keening howl. Spit forth from the throats of a pack of predators, Lal imagined, though in all her days on Taris, she had never heard such a haunting cry. She could hear the howling spread out like a fluttering cloak, ringing across the plains beyond her vale, closing in. Whatever those creatures were, they were literally herding the runner to the edge of the valley.

"It's Belaya!" Bastila exclaimed. "Come on, Lal, we've got to help her!"

Minutes later, their sleek Aratech tore across the floor of the valley towards the gentle rise that led in and out of the canyon. They had to swing around to the right in a long, wide arc to reach Belaya's position. Lal leaned on the throttle, tearing it wide open as the sounds of baying and howling grew near. She could see flashes of light splashing through the cold gloom; Belaya must have been using her lightsaber. Beside Lal, Bastila crouched upon the passenger seat, gathering her legs beneath her body. She clutched her lightsaber in one hand and held onto the dashboard with the other.

Lal sliced the Aratech speeder along the edge of the valley wall, vectoring in towards the source of the flashes. She could hear the muted hum of a lightsaber, and could see a silhouette flickering at the heart of the explosions of light. Suddenly, something slammed into the left side of the speeder, jarring the entire vehicle. Lal glanced around in shock and saw a massive, dark form slide away behind them.

"What the hell was that?" Lal cried out, struggling to maintain her course beneath the force of the impact.

"Kath hounds!" Bastila pointed, aiming Lal's gaze towards a pack of huge canine bodies dashing around Belaya. The creatures issued sharp barks and snarls from their barrel chests and blunted snapping muzzles. Thick, gnarled fur bristled from their powerful necks, spreading in dark brown clumps across their humped shoulders. Some of the creatures bore white coats along their narrow flanks and hindquarters. They swarmed around Belaya, driving her back against the ledge of the valley. "Drive right into their midst, Lal!"

"Not a problem, Basi!" Lal replied. As they drew near, several of the hounds turned slavering snarls upon them and Lal's blood ran cold when she saw their eyes; like distant red lights flickering through a dank fog on some nightmare moor. She was certain there was nothing natural about these beasts when she saw those hellish eyes blazing furiously at her, eager to drive fangs deep into her muscles, to rip and tear…

Lal slammed back on the right control stick and jammed the air brakes to whip the speeder around in a flat spin. She aimed the massive thrusters at the rear of the Aratech towards the bulk of the swarming pack, and felt a trill of satisfaction when she heard the hounds screaming and yipping beneath the blistering heat. Her spin carved a ribbon out of the pack, and the thrusters hurled half a dozen of the baying beasts away like dolls.

Lal caught a ragged bloodied glimpse of Belaya, desperately swinging her lightsaber at anything that moved. The woman's eyes were wide saucers, and she grunted and gasped in the wild desperation of survival. "Get in!" Lal screamed at Belaya. Beside her, Bastila snapped on her lightsaber with a hiss and slashed at several kath hounds that charged the speeder.

Belaya glanced at Lal with wild, unreasoning eyes, but did not hesitate to hurl her torn, bleeding body head-first into the passenger compartment behind Lal and Bastila. A snapping muzzle dashed in behind Belaya, tearing at her legs and spraying Lal's neck with hot spittle. Belaya screamed as fangs ripped through her boot and into her leg.

The kath hound latched its powerful claws onto the top of the speeder and hauled its body upwards to lash at Belaya once more. Lal could feel the pressing heat of its body looming upwards behind her. She jerked the control sharply and shoved the throttle open. The speeder spun wildly beneath her as she tried to shake the snapping, growling beast.

"Lal!" Bastila cried.

"I know!"

"Behind you!"

"I know!" Lal slid the speeder to the left and spun right, aiming the nose over the side of the valley wall. "Hold on to something," she warned, clenching her teeth.

And then the speeder roared over the edge.

The sudden downward snap of the speeder as it fell hurled the kath hound into the air. That was one problem solved, at least…

Beside her, Bastila gripped onto the seat with white knuckles. She swallowed as the ground loomed upwards at them. "Lal, have you considered gravity in this plan of yours?"

Lal suppressed a wild grin and struggled with the repulsorlifts controls to keep a bed of gravitons beneath the speeder's nose. She tuned the repulsor gain up as high as she could, and felt the nose swinging upwards. "Relax!" she cried out with a whoop. "This is what I do best, Basi!"

The bottom of the speeder slapped against the floor of the valley and bounced back up into the air as the graviton field pushed off from the ground. The tail of the speeder waggled defiantly, but Lal wrenched their course back into a straight line. But red lights blazed across her displays and the manifold display spun wildly.

"Drat…" Lal hissed. She glanced over her shoulder at a cloud of white smoke pouring from one of the thrusters. She could see from the read-outs that the speeder was losing fuel pressure, and power was bleeding from the thrusters. She supposed they could limp back to the Jedi Enclave, but didn't want to get caught out in the open if the speeder decided to stop on them. And then, she saw how badly Belaya was bleeding all over the back seat.

"She needs patching up," Bastila cried, mirroring Lal's own thoughts.

Lal simply nodded and aimed the stumbling speeder towards her house. The Aratech ground to a sputtering, smoking halt in front of the steps and Lal leaped out. Together, she and Bastila hauled Belaya's limp body up the stairs and inside.

"House, secure all doors and windows," Lal ordered without thinking. Locks and security panels hissed into place all throughout the dwelling, sealing them safely within. But, through the walls, they could hear the baying of the hounds drifting near.

"She's bleeding badly," Bastila grunted, hefting the barely conscious Belaya towards the couch.

"C-came out of n-nowhere," Belaya moaned weakly.

"Medkit?" Lal asked Bastila.

"In the fresher. I'll try to stabilize her…"

Lal dashed down the hall and found the fresher…with the lights still one…immediately to her left. She dove into the closet and came up with a large emergency medical kit. She hustled it back to the living room and laid it down beside Belaya. Most of her cuts and gashes looked largely superficial, but Lal saw a few strategically inflicted, deep lacerations; the kath hounds knew where to strike to bring down prey, and that knowledge seemed to extend to human physiology, as well…

Lal tore open a pressure bandage and pressed it tightly against a long tear in Belaya's thigh. Blood pumped out against the bandage, and Lal could feel the throb of Belaya's pulse beneath her hand. The bandage self-sealed against the wound, slathering it with Kolto. "She needs to stay awake, Basi," Lal said, draw a stimulant Syrette from the kit. She slapped it against Belaya's throat, and it pumped a small dose into her body. Belaya's eyes snapped wide open against the shock that was already knotting her belly up and tugging her down into unconsciousness.

"Unnatural!" Belaya hissed, gripping the collar of Lal's tunic. Lal ignored the woman while Bastila gripped the sides of Belaya's face. Her eyes were closed and her body was stiff in concentration. As Bastila did…whatever she was doing, Lal began cleaning and dressing Belaya's other wounds.

Belaya then coughed up a spray of blood, and Lal knew something inside her was torn or broken or both. "Damn," she hissed, knowing there was nothing she could do.

Bastila gasped and fell back from Belaya. She glanced helplessly at Lal. "I…I don't have…I don't think I can help her, Lal! It's beyond me!" she moaned.

Lal nodded grimly. "Alright, Bastila. We're going to have to get her to the Enclave, then." But even as she spoke, she knew Belaya didn't have the time. Even at full speed, it would take at least thirty minutes to get back to the Jedi compound. Belaya didn't have another twenty minutes left in her body. Still, there was no other choice. "Let's get her back to the speeder…"

"Lal, no!" Bastila hissed, grabbing her sister's arm. "She won't make it…You…you have to save her…"

"Excuse me? I can't…what are you talking about?"

"Lal, it is within a Jedi's power to sustain a lifeforce with her own…I know how to do it, but Belaya's injuries are…are beyond me…"

Lal frowned and simply stared at Bastila. She wasn't entirely sure she understood what Bastila was telling her.

"Lal, a Jedi is not just a warrior, but also a healer! Before you learn how to take life…you must know how to save it! Listen, I know you do not remember! But your skills are…are far greater than my own, Lal! You are her only chance!"

"Bastila, I don't know what to do! I…How do I make it work?"

Bastila yanked Lal down before Belaya and placed Lal's hands against the dying Jedi's cheeks. "Do not let go, Lal…Now…close your eyes…release your conscious self…Open your feelings and stretch out with them. Feel the throbbing of her heart, to pulse of her breathing…"

Lal closed her eyes as she gripped the sides of Belaya's face. She steadied her breathing, ordering each inhale and exhale, forcing them to climb steps carved from her thoughts. Tiny sparks of light fired behind Lal's eyelids, shooting liquid patterns across her darkened sight. She felt her heartbeat hammering away in her throat and tried to still that ceaseless pounding as well. As she breathed deeply, in and out, she felt her heart calm its raging. The beating slowed to a steady throb and Lal felt her sense of balance slipping. Her body swayed, like a ship tossed on white-capped waves, and a hollow chill filled her belly, as if she was falling.

She became aware, by a matter of thumping degrees of her steady heartbeat, echoing in her ears…accompanied…by a second beating! Slower…weaker…Lal gradually realized what it was she was hearing; Belaya's own dying heart, clenching and shuddering as her life oozed out of her wounds…

Lal gasped and nearly leaped away, But Bastila cried out somewhere in her mind: "No! This is what you are, Lal!"

Lal swallowed her fear and pressed onward, seeking out that weak heartbeat with her thoughts. She could almost see it…a pulsing red glow against her eyelids, flashing weakly in the darkness. In her ears, she felt a wet thrushing, as of a stream rushing within its channel. Nausea churned up from her intestines, burning the lower edges of her throat. She could feel herself spinning, the room around her whirling madly, and the inertia of her spin pressed against her eyes like fists.

The pulsing heartbeat pressed its rhythm against her own, matching it, mirroring it. She felt her own heart clamp down against Belaya's, and ice crystallized the inside of her skin. She released a tiny moan as the air scraped along her brittle flesh, and the sickness raging in her belly fought its way up into her mouth. There, it evaporated, parching her tongue utterly dry. As the nausea disintegrated inside her, the spinning stopped abruptly.

And she fell; fell into her own skin as sharply as if she'd struck a wall.

She opened her eyes and saw Belaya's eyelids fluttering. The woman looked up weakly at Lal and murmured something beneath her breath. Lal nearly collapsed atop her as her muscles turned to water. But Bastila gripped her tightly, holding her up.

Lal glanced around suddenly, to make sure the room had stopped spinning, she stared down at her arms expecting to see cracked flesh, but saw only smooth unbroken skin. "Wh-what happened?" Lal gasped, her tongue scraping the roof of her mouth like sandpaper.

"You did it, Lal," Bastila whispered in breathless shock. "You did it! Her bleeding has stopped…Look!"

Lal's eyes rolled weakly downward; the blood running freely from Belaya's terrible wounds had ceased; A pinkness tinged Belaya's pale brow and ashen cheeks. Lal staggered heavily against Bastila and fought to regain her balance. She pressed a hand to her forehead and found it drenched with cool sweat.

"I…I can't believe it," Lal croaked as Bastila guided her to a seat.

"You don't have to, sister," Bastila whispered, smoothing Lal's hair back from her face. "You don't have to."

Lal awoke some time later, without having known she was asleep. She sat up with a start, hearing a distant, crooning howl as it sliced through the walls of her house. Bastila stood at a window peering outside through a narrow slit in the security panel. She clutched her lightsaber in her fist; her body tensed like a coiled spring. Belaya sat on the couch, her battered body covered more in bandages than her shredded, bloody robes. She propped her arm weakly against the armrest, and clutched her own lightsaber in a white-knuckled grip. Her heavily hooded eyes flickered towards Lal every so often, and Lal could feel fear and uncertainty spraying from the woman's mind.

"What's happening?" Lal asked, pushing herself up from the chair she'd collapsed in.

Bastila glanced over at her. "Kath Hounds," she said in a chill whisper. "They're all around the house…just…waiting…"

Lal staggered over to her sister and peered out into the night. It took her eyes a moment to adjust, but she could see them; the dark bodies prowling on powerful legs, muscles flexing anxiously beneath ragged coats. They seemed to stare right back at Lal with eyes like hot coals.

"This is…unnatural," Bastila hissed. "Kath hounds do not behave in this fashion…"

Lal felt a chill trundle along her arms and spine and she hugged herself tightly.

"Can you feel it?" Belaya whispered hoarsely. "The Dark Side…"

Bastila turned to look at Belaya. "Yes, I feel it, Belaya. But you must try and remain calm. We are quite safe here, I assure you…"

"We're not safe, Bastila," Belaya cried frantically, her eyes bulging wildly. "No one is safe!"

Bastila went to Belaya's side to calm the woman down, but Lal noticed something beyond the window. It seemed, at first nothing more than a wisp of darkness; a flutter of grass in the night wind. But Lal's eyes focused, and she could almost feel the night being lifted before her eyes like a veil. It remained dark…but things seemed to catch light easier. A glint of moonlight turned into a glare, spilling illuminance over the shifting, pacing bodies of kath hounds. A dim reflection became a torchlight, bathing the whipping grasses in a splash of brightness. Lal searched the night with her new eyes, greedily drinking up the details she tore from the shadows.

But her gaze rested uncomfortably on a darkened rustle she could not penetrate. She imagined more than saw a tall figure composed of billowing darkness; a crooked shape shrouded in rags and tatters the same color as the night sky. Lal squinted at the shape and tried to determine if she was really seeing something there…or if her mind was playing tricks.

Then, the figure turned a pair of slitted red eyes on her, staring back at Lal. Lal released a gasp. As she watched, kath hounds swarmed around the figure like a loyal pack of trained dogs. The figure then turned and drifted away, melting back into the surrounding shadow. With a collective howl, the kath hounds dashed off, blazing wild trails through the grass.

Lal leaned back from the window, and felt the chill dissipate. Warmth again suffused her muscles and bones. She had to remind herself to breathe…

She whipped her head towards Bastila and Belaya, and saw both women blanched and pale; Belaya trembled in Bastila's arms.

"You felt it…" Belaya murmured in a tiny voice, "didn't you?"

Lal looked at Bastila for some explanation, but Bastila's face held no answers. Bastila's eyes were side with fear. Lal needed no so-called Jedi senses to tell her that; she felt it as well…

The next morning when they arrived back at the Jedi Enclave, Lal could have almost bathed in the sunlight. Never had she hungered so much for warmth and sunshine as she had during that long night. The soothing fire of the morning sun seemed to wash away the fear that still prickled the skin on her arms and legs. Perhaps it was the purity of the day; the first light to blaze across the world's breast. It was the first light to touch the ground after night had released its cold rictus grasp.

Maybe Lal was just imagining it. She would never have had such…sentimental thoughts on Taris. But then again, she had never known such unreasoning frantic fear on Taris. Even while trudging through the wet darkness of Undercity. Terror had been all too tangible on Taris. Too commonplace. Fear had never scared her as it had last night. And as a result, the grasslands lounging in the morning looked newly sketched, and the distant plateaus and columns of white stone seemed newly sculpted. Unspoiled.

She felt new.

Bastila and Belaya immediately went to request a meeting with the Council. Lal was left to wait for their summons. But she didn't feel like waiting. Instead, she made her way to the plaza where the Ebon Hawk was moored. She heard Zaalbar's trembling growl, and saw AyVee dashing madly into the air for safety from the Wookiee's long sweeping arms. She heard Mission complaining about the two of them and smiled. Mission was watching AyVee buzz around with her hands on her hips. Surprisingly, the young Twi'lek wore a blaster on her hip…Lal's blaster.

"I told you Wookiees don't like having their teeth brushed!"

AyVee whistled shrilly down at them while Zaalbar strained to grab the little droid. Mission just shook her head and said, "I don't care if they're asleep! They still don't like it!"

Zaalbar took the opportunity to snarl again and spit out a mouthful of foam. Lal covered her mouth in disbelief and stifled a laugh. He howled indignantly about the taste of toothpaste and the honor of a Wookiee and leaped furiously after the droid.

Carth came down the ramp and squinted after Mission, Zaalbar and AyVee. He had a toothbrush jammed into his mouth, and wore a confused scowl. "What the hell is all that ruckus?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Now you've done it!" Mission sighed. "You woke Carth up and he's all…grumpy…"

"I swear this is like a traveling sideshow," Carth growled, shaking his head. He was about to head back onto the Ebon Hawk when he caught sight of the blaster on Mission's hip. "Mission…why the hell are you wearing a blaster?"

Mission dragged over to stand before him and rocked from one heel to the other. "Um…me and Zaalbar were just…he was teaching me how to shoot is all, and…"

"And you just decided that this was a good idea in the middle of the Jedi Enclave? Take it off."

Mission stuck her tongue out at him. "Oooh, I love it when you talk dirty like that, Carth…"

"Mission…do I look like I'm in the mood? Now put it back where you got it."

"Alright, alright!" Mission cried, stomping up the ramp. "Good thing you didn't overreact or anything…"

Zaalbar forgot his hatred of AyVee and shuffled his feet guiltily beneath Carth's withering glare. "You're encouraging her," Carth accused. "You know that, right?"

In reply, Zaalbar barked that he had no idea what Carth was talking about. The Wookiee immediately thundered up the ramp after Mission. Carth stood there for a moment, absently brushing his teeth. Lal watched him for a bit, her eyes tracing the battered slabs of muscle standing out starkly beneath the tee-shirt he wore. A morning stubble darkened his sharply carved jowls and his hair stood in spiked disarray, inviting her fingers to run through…

She sighed and stepped into his line of sight. His surprise gusted out from him and bathed her senses. There was also the shrill tinge of anger, prickling the edge of her thoughts. For a moment, she almost forgot that she was standing there; she was so amazed that she could sense his emotions. He saw her then, and a wall suddenly slammed down over his thoughts. She felt it as keenly as a door slamming in her face.

"Well, imagine that," he said, placing his fists on his hips as she slowly approached. "I was just thinking about you."

"Pleasant thoughts, I trust?" she said hopefully, clasping her hands behind her.

His eyes coursed up and down her frame and he frowned. "Look like you been through hell, Lal…"

She had changed out of her blood-soaked skirt earlier in the morning, but she hadn't slept more than an hour. Normally, she wouldn't have cared, but she was suddenly certain her hair was a mess…

"I had a rough night," she decided to say, unsure exactly what he would and would not believe.

He waited for more, but she couldn't form any other words at that exact moment. He snorted in disgust and glanced away.

"Carth…what's wrong? Why are you so…upset?"

"Upset? Is that what I am? Upset? Nah. This isn't upset, Lal. I'm perfectly fine. I have absolutely no problem whatsoever with being ignored and kept out of the loop. No, I'm not upset at all, Lal."

"Carth…why are you yelling at me?"

"You take off without any hint of where you're going…you and Bastila both! I try to get answers from these Jedi, but I swear…"

"Carth," she said softly, moving close to him and laying a hand on his chest, "calm down. I went to spend the day with my sister. It was no great secret or anything. We weren't trying to keep you out of the loop. I…the Jedi probably didn't tell you anything because they didn't know. I…I don't know what else to say, Carth…I mean, I'm sorry…I didn't intend it as an insult to you. I…I thought you told me not to bother you anymore…"

Carth's eyes narrowed at her as she spoke. "Lal, this is serious."

"And what you said to me wasn't?"

"Lal…what I said to you…Don't play dumb with me, okay? I'm not in the mood."

"Well, neither am I, Carth!" she snapped, without meaning to. She sighed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to remain calm. "I…I had a very…rare night. I learned I have parents that I'm not bloody allowed to even see…A woman nearly bled to death in my arms…we spent the night barricaded in my house against…I don't even know what they were…"

Carth stared at her for a moment longer, trying to read her face. She felt him make an active decision to put aside his anger; felt him lock it tightly away. His face softened and he released a sigh. "Alright. I'm sorry for yelling at you, Lal. It's not your fault, I reckon…It's just…well, I received word from Command yesterday. Seems they want me to wait for further orders. I'm sure the Jedi have something to do with this…But I'm not doing anyone any damn good just sitting here and cooling my heels…"

"I'm afraid I know about as much as you do, Carth," she told him, brushing her fingertips down the hardened surface of his arm. "But…I am rather glad you're here…"

"Lal…"

"No, let me speak…I…what I've learned, Carth…I wish I could…put it into words! I don't know what's going to happen to me…but being away from Taris…being…here…I feel so strange. I have a sister, Carth! I'm…happy…and afraid…all at the same time…"

He arched an eyebrow at her and released a crooked smile. "Alright, what have you done with Lal, imposter?"

Lal closed her eyes and smiled. "Very funny, Carth. But I'm being serious."

"Serious? Well, that's different then. I don't know what to tell you, Lal. This entire business is…well, it's a little out of my experience. Anytime Jedi are involved in something, you can bet it's gonna be…strange. My life has been pretty strange ever since I met you."

She squinted up at him, the sun spilling past his shoulder into her eyes. "Is that an entirely bad thing, Carth?"

"It hasn't exactly been fun, Lal…"

"No," she admitted with a sigh, "it hasn't been. I…" she closed her mouth and shook her head.

Carth stood in front of her in silence for a long moment, searching her eyes. She lifted her chin to return his gaze as openly as she could manage. Again, she could feel his thoughts surging freely from him. The wall had tumbled down. His fear strained and tugged away from her; his anger jabbed lightly; and his desire warmed her, even though he hid it beneath the cloud of his thoughts.

Lal smiled and lifted a hand to brush his hair from his brow. The movement tugged her against his chest, and she felt very much like crushing herself into his arms. She resisted the urge for some reason; she wasn't entirely sure why. She knew he wanted her. But perhaps the desire he felt for her was the simple idiot desire that all men felt for women. She knew that animal lust well. It meant nothing to her; nothing to them. It was just chemical. She wondered if that was the only lure she held over him, or if there was some depth to that longing. She had never been known to inspire such depth or complexity. No. She was a master of coaxing forth dull-witted lust. But something, anything more…that was beyond her abilities.

Feeling suddenly foolish, she stepped back from him and glanced down at the toes of her boots. Confusion drifted forth from his mind, but he gave no voice to it.

Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his wooly hair. "So, when are you leaving, Lal?"

"Leaving?"

"To get on with your business. Dantooine is still just a pit stop for you after all."

"I…I don't know," she muttered, feeling even more foolish. "Business…business will keep for a bit, I should think."

"Now I know you can't be the real Lal."

"Carth, why are you giving me such a hard time about this?"

"Payback," he chuckled. "I seem to remember a certain lady giving me the business a short while back…"

"That's because I…well. It certainly seems a long while ago, doesn't it?"

"Not to me."

"I should think it would be obvious that things have changed from what they were when we first met, Carth."

"If that means you're no longer a mercenary," he said, "I'm all for it. If it just means you're killing time…"

"I don't know exactly what it means, Carth," she said, feeling heat rise in her voice. "And to be fully honest, I think I'm rather tired of you judging me based upon three years of my life. And might I add, you've only seen into a tiny window of those three years. I'm truly sorry about your family, Carth; about all that you've lost…I really am. But I'm not to blame for it, Carth. And whatever I was on Taris…whatever I did on Taris, had nothing whatsoever to do with…with what you've had to suffer. I'm sorry I treated you so badly, but I also helped you! Perhaps I had my own reasons for it, but when it came down to it, I stood with you. Not against you."

Carth sighed heavily and nodded. "Alright. Maybe you're, uh, you're right. Maybe I haven't been exactly…fair to you…But I am grateful, Lal."

"And I'm grateful to you for saving my life at Davik's estate," she told him. "Perhaps…I was thinking about something: maybe we could pretend…no. That's not what I…maybe we could…do you think we could just sort of…start over?"

"Start over," he repeated. "You mean from when you walked in here this morning? Or like…start over over?"

She couldn't help but smile at him. "Over over. From the beginning over…"

"I suppose that's possible."

"Well, let me get one more thing out of the way before we do."

"Uh…okay…"

She reached around and turned his chin towards her. She stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. At first, he nearly leaped back in surprise. But then, his mouth softened against hers and his hands slid around her back. She pressed her hands against his shoulders and leaned into his body. When their lips parted, she sighed and brushed his cheek with her own. She rested in his arms for a long moment and turned a grin up to him.

"I always keep the promises I make, Carth," she murmured against his chest.

"Uhm-hmm…I'm glad…By the way, the name's Carth. Carth Onasi…"

"Mmm. Lal."

"Pleased to meet you, Lal."

"Lal!" Bastila called out, stepping into the plaza. "The Council is meeting. They wish to speak with you."

Lal sighed and glanced up into Carth's eyes. "Pleased to be met, Mr. Onasi." She grinned at him and tugged free of his arms to join Bastila.

"It's actually 'Captain Onasi'…"

"Oh…come on, Lal," Bastila groaned. "You're bloody incorrigible…"