A/N: This was the hardest one to write thus far. There's not a whole lot you can do with swoop racing, especially since I avoid it at all costs. So now, onto the theme music for this chapter! For the swoop race, selected music is "The Chase Through Coruscant" from Attack of the Clones. For Bastila's escape and the subsequent fight, "Here She Comes" from Xenosaga II. And for the dialogue afterwards to the end, "I Am Free" also from Xenosaga II, which is Bastila's theme song.

Kagi followed the Rodian Bek member into the swoop track, already plotting escape routes and objects that could provide cover; he mentally recited one of the combat laws of the universe: If your attack is going too well, you're probably walking into an ambush.

Worse yet, he didn't even have his blaster rifle; such blatantly-offensive weapons weren't allowed on the course, lest some hapless rider be tempted to 'improve' the standings in his, her, or its favor. All he had was his trusty vibroblade, strapped securely into its sheath on his right boot.

The Rodian led the commando over to an area where several Hidden Beks swoop bikes and their riders were gearing up, waiting for their turns on the race course. The mechanic, a hammer-headed Ithorian, approached Kagi.

"So you're the one who's going to ride this swoop bike, eh?" he asked in his own language. "Don't worry. I've been working on the accelerator and stability won't be a problem. I hope."

Kagi raised an eyebrow. "You hope?"

"I give you my word that the bike won't fail on you," the Ithorian answered. "Now, Gadon said you've flown military swoops before. Do you want me to give you the basics on race swoops?"

"Are the controls much different than standard military swoops?" Kagi asked.

"No. They're remarkably similar."

"Then no thanks, I don't need a refresher course."

The Ithorian nodded. "Very well, then let me explain the rules. You may have been expecting all the riders to go out at once, and whichever finishes first wins, correct?"

"You mean it doesn't work like that?"

"No. Each rider goes out one at a time, and their heats are timed. Whoever has the best heat wins."

"Ah." Kagi smirked. "Well, that just makes it all the easier for me. Any tips?"

"Yes. Beware of the debris on the track. It won't destroy your swoop, but it will slow you down marginally. I suggest hitting as many accelerator pads as you can. They'll boost your speed significantly."

The commando nodded. "Got it."

"Go talk to the race announcer when you want to run a heat," the mechanic said, then returned to tweaking the Hidden Beks' swoop bikes.

Kagi turned away and began to walk around the waiting area, taking careful stock of the other racers. He saw an Aqualish, a female Twi'lek, a Rodian, and one of the Vulkar aliens. He couldn't guess which gang the others belonged to, and so rated them as high probable threats. Assuming that there were more racers either out running heats or in readiness to run them, he began to make his way toward the race announcer.

The Rodian looked over and nodded to him as he passed. He returned it, not knowing whether it was a simple greeting or if there was some hidden meaning behind it.

As he approached the announcer, a male Duros, he saw a force cage, guarded by a Vulkar alien wielding a nasty-looking double-vibroblade. He glanced at the figure inside the cage, started to speak to the announcer, then stopped, looking back in the direction of the cage.

Holding up a hand to signify the announcer to wait, he stepped around the counter and stopped about two meters away from the cage. The Vulkar alien grumbled inarticulately at him, but otherwise did nothing.

The figure contained within the cage was a human female, as evinced by the…rather revealing attire she was clad in, which consisted of no more than undergarments. She was swaying slightly in place, as if stunned. He wondered at the cause of that for a moment, then his eyes fell on her throat.

A collar was secured around her throat, somewhat bronze in color, with a display monitor on the right side of her throat and a small row of blinking lights. The collar went all the way around her throat, and a section of it rose up to wrap around and cover her ears.

He nodded slowly as he realized what he was seeing. Neural disruptor. They were pretty much outlawed by Republic security forces, but they were big in the criminal underworld. Capable of keeping the unlucky wearer in a dazed stupor for days at a time, several claims have been made about neural disruptors causing permanent brain damage.

Then his analytical mind shut off as he suddenly realized… He recognized this woman!

Tilting his head to the right, he bent forward, trying to look up underneath her loose-hanging hair to see her face. Her eyes were closed, rendering him unable to determine their color, but the shape of her nose and lips, as well as the color, and the style and color of her hair…

The woman from my dream, my vision, he thought, unconsciously reaching out his left hand to try and touch her, see if she was real.

The Vulkar alien growled, reaching out and slapping his hand away. "You try touch prisoner again, you lose finger," the alien said in very poor Basic.

Kagi glared at the alien, envisioning a nice new home for that double-vibroblade he was wielding. He obediently lowered his hand, but did not lean back.

By the Force, she's a looker, he thought to himself, smirking slightly. If she really is Commander Shan, this might not be such a bad assignment after all…

Shaking himself free of those thoughts, Kagi turned to the announcer, smirk still in place, and said, "I'm here to race."

The Duros nodded. "Okay, let's see who your sponsor is. Ah, the Hidden Beks. Very well, just give me a moment to make sure the track is cleared…" The blue-skinned alien's hands ran across the keys of the station before him, then he nodded. "Okay, nobody's running a heat right now. You ready?"

"What's the best time?" Kagi asked, his gaze slipping over to the bound woman. He forcibly returned his attention to the announcer.

"Redros of the Vulkars has the best time so far," the Duros answered. "Thirty-eight forty-three. Good, but not the best we've seen. I doubt it'll stand up."

The commando grinned. "Oh, I intend to see to that personally."

The race announcer chuckled. "Ready to run your heat, then?"

"You bet."

"Right this way."

---

Back inside the Hidden Beks base, Carth, Mission, and Zaalbar were gathered with Gadon around a monitor displaying the race track. They'd watched half a dozen competitors so far, but Gadon hadn't seemed impressed with any of them.

The gang leader glanced to a side panel as new information appeared. "Ah, your friend is going to run his heat next. Let's see what he's capable of, shall we?"

---

Kagi settled himself into the seat of the swoop bike, letting himself sink into its well-worn contours. As he pulled down on his gloves to tighten them, he found himself thinking back to the Vulkars' prisoner, being auctioned off as a prize to whoever won this swoop race.

A flash of anger shot through him. Animals, he thought, growling low in his throat. To disgrace a woman like her by handing her out like some pleasure slave. I swear, by the Force, I will be the one to carry this day.

With a sensation of finality, the commando slammed down the visor of his helmet and wrapped his hands around the handlebars of the swoop bike, gripping them tightly. His eyes went to the starting lamp blazing from the ceiling above him. He twisted the accelerator in his right hand, revving up the bike's engine. He could feel the raw power roaring through the vehicle.

The starting lamp flashed green. He released the swoop's brakes.

The race was on.

---

Despite herself, Mission let out a squeal of excitement as Kagi's swoop bike tore out of the gates, accelerating rapidly at a pace no normal swoop bike could match. As they watched, the commando shifted his weight to the left, sending the bike slipping deftly pass a protruding piece of debris on the track. He immediately traversed back to the right, avoiding more obstacles.

"Now he needs to hit one of those acceleration pads to pick up a boost of speed," Gadon said. "It'll shave a few fractions of a second off his time, but those fractions count."

The group watched, expecting the commando to soar over a magnetic accelerator, but he slipped past it as though it were a piece of debris to be avoided. The pitch of the engine revved up as he switched gears, drowning out Gadon's groan.

"Oh, you cocky bastard," he said.

"What's going on?" Carth asked, blinking between the race and the gang leader.

"That son of a Hutt's purposely cutting it close," Gadon replied. "He's going to just barely beat the best time so far, that way if somebody else beats the new time he sets, he won't have to work so hard to surpass them."

"But that could backfire on him," Mission said. "Somebody else could set a new time way higher than his."

Gadon nodded. "Therein lies the problem." He reached out and tapped the display screen. "Well, he's finished with that heat, and he beat the best time. Here's hoping his little game pays off."

---

Kagi couldn't help but grin as he sauntered back into the waiting area after his heat. The Rodian racer regarded him steadily; he noticed that the Vulkar the alien had previously been talking to was now gone, probably out running his own heat.

"You did it!" the Ithorian mechanic exclaimed. "You got the top time! Your military training surely has paid off in this. Are you sure you haven't raced swoops before?"

"Raced for time and fame, no." The commando grinned. "But maybe I'll tell you about the time on Dxun, when I was racing for my life."

"Wait a minute," the Ithorian said, his attention behind Kagi. The commando turned. "Look at the board! One of the Vulkars just beat your time. Gah, Redros. I should've known."

"It'll be fine," Kagi replied nonchalantly. "The accelerator still holding together?"

"Beautifully," the Ithorian answered. "You're good for two or three more heats."

As he made his way back to the announcer, the commando saw the Vulkar thug giving him a condescending expression. He stopped in his tracks, turned and walked right up to the alien, and watched with satisfaction as the smug look wavered.

"Okay, listen up partner, because I'm only going to say this once," he said. "You may have a little bit of skill on a swoop, but you're talking to a guy who spent five years cutting the guts out of Mandalorians and hanging them from trees on Dxun. So if you think, even for a second, that you're even remotely on the same level as me, I invite you into the nearest back alley where I can introduce you to my friend, Mister Seven-Inch." He patted his sheathed vibroblade. "You dig?"

There was a moment's delay before the Vulkar shot back, "After I wipe the track with you, your words won't be so big, outsider."

Kagi laughed aloud, then shook his head and turned to the Duros. "Announcer! Time for my next heat. I'm going to smoke this clown like a deathstick."

---

"Looks like he's getting serious this time," Carth said.

"He'd better be!" Gadon replied. "He just insulted the Vulkars' best swoop rider and fighter."

"They're so going to get in a fight," Mission groaned.

---

Things seemed to be going a lot slower on this run. Or at least, he was perceiving things slower. Perhaps he had gotten into the groove of racing and could react faster. Either way, some would view his performance as nothing less than stunning.

He sideslipped left around a piece of debris, then angled immediately for the magnetic accelerator beyond it. There was another debris pile almost directly in his path; most sane riders wouldn't have touched that accelerator. But Kagi wasn't most riders.

Inertia slammed him back into the seat as the accelerator rocketed his swoop forward, directly toward the debris pile. He didn't even try to avoid it. Instead, he pumped up the repulsor field of the bike, causing him to bounce into the air, sailing over the debris instead of around it.

Once clear, he reduced the repulsor field and held tight, bracing himself against the jolt of the bike's reduced field hitting the ground again. He landed directly on top of a magnetic accelerator, boosting his speed again.

In the middle of his speed boost, he shifted gears on the swoop, further increasing his speed. He leaned forward into the wind, the finishing line in sight. He knew that he had blown away the Vulkar's time, but that wasn't his concern.

He smiled beneath the helmet, relishing in the feeling of absolute freedom born by speed and inertia. Nothing in the galaxy that he had ever experienced could match it.

And then he was over the finish line, and his hands instinctively cranked back the gears, gripping the brake on the left handle. He swung the swoop's rear end around, bleeding off inertia. As he doffed his helmet, he grinned, imagining the infuriated face of the Vulkar back on the other side of the track.

Ah, the sweet aroma of victory…

---

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Duros announcer said, "I would like to announce the winner of this year's swoop race! Put your hands together and show your appreciation for one of the most daring riders this swoop track has ever seen!"

As the other riders applauded, Kagi slowly, theatrically raised his arms out to his sides, angling them off-center, his smirk widening. He spun slowly in place, adding to the effect of his little victory pose.

"Through your skill and courage," the announcer continued, "you have proven yourself the premier swoop rider on Taris, and brought great glory to the Hidden Bek gang. Now, here to present the champion's prize, Brejik of the Black Vulkars."

Kagi narrowed his eyes as the so-called leader of the Vulkars, a man who looked like he'd been too close to a misfiring ion engine, puffed up his chest. This idiot was going to try and pull a fast one…

"People, hear me!" Brejik called, his voice grating on Kagi's nerves already. The boy's voice sounded like somebody trying to skin a gurr-kat. "Before I present the so-called champion of the Beks with their prize, there is something you must know: the winning rider cheated!"

As the other riders looked to him, Kagi calmly straightened, pointing his finger threateningly at the smaller man. "You'd better not be trying to cheat me, Brejik," he said quietly. "I'd hate to have to gut you on the tracks." The commando paused, then shook his head. "Eh, I take it back. I'd gut you anywhere, with pleasure."

"Your swoop bike was using a prototype accelerator, clearly an unfair advantage!" Brejik said, pointing an accusing finger back at him. "Because of this Hidden Bek treachery, I'm withdrawing the Vulkars' share of the prize."

"You can't do this, Brejik," the announcer said, stepping in before Kagi could reply. "You know the rules. Nobody's allowed to withdraw a victory prize after the race. It goes against all our most sacred traditions."

"You old fool!" Brejik snapped imperiously. "Your traditions are nothing to me. I am the wave of the future! If I want to withdraw the prize and sell this woman on the slave market myself, nobody can stop me!"

Just about the time when Kagi was deciding whether to continue with the banter or simply start playing the Stabbity Game, a cultured female voice calmly stated, "I might have something to say about that, Brejik."

All eyes in the racing pit turned toward the force cage and the trapped woman. Only, she wasn't as trapped as everyone thought. Her left hand reached up and clenched into a fist, and some invisible force seized the Vulkar guarding her, slamming him back into her cage. As he hit, his double-vibroblade smashed the locking mechanism, causing the front of the cage to flip open.

As the Vulkar tried to stand, the woman's foot impacted solidly with the alien's face, shattering his nose and shoving fragments of bone up into his brain. Stretching out her left hand, the double-vibroblade leapt up into it, and she spun the twin-bladed weapon around her hands before holding it in a ready stance on her right side.

"What?" Brejik exclaimed. "Impossible! You were restrained by a neural disruptor! How could you have possibly summoned the will to free yourself?"

The gang leader's answer came in the form of an open-palm slap across his face, delivered by one head-shaking commando. "Idiot," Kagi spat. "Did you not see the mystical hand-waving?"

"You underestimate the strength of a Jedi's mind," the woman affirmed. "A mistake you won't live to regret."

"Vulkars, to me!" Brejik cried. "Kill this woman! Kill the swoop rider! Kill them–"

"Less talk, more beat-your-ass!" Kagi shouted, diving on Brejik.

The two of them went down in a tangle of limbs and armor. The gang leader immediately tried to bring his blaster around to fry the commando, a situation that was remedied by taking Brejik's blaster hand firmly and slamming the offending limb down hard on Kagi's bent knee. Something in Brejik's arm snapped, accompanied by the man's shrill shriek, and the blaster clattered to the ground.

Behind him, Kagi heard the sound of metal tearing through flesh, and the rumbling scream of one of the Vulkar aliens. He ignored it, batted Brejik's grasping left hand aside, and closed his hand around the man's throat, began applying pressure.

Before he could satisfyingly choke the life out of the irritating idiot, he felt strong alien hands grab him by the throat and lift him bodily into the air, cutting off his own supply of oxygen. From behind him, he could hear chuckling, and knew immediately that it was the alien he'd threatened who had him. Oh what a way to go, not even able to make good on your threats.

Then, suddenly, the alien grunted, its grip slackening. Kagi heard a thud as he started to fall out of the air, but he never quite hit the ground. He fell back against something soft, felt something equally soft, and slender, secure itself around his waist. Looking down, he saw it was a woman's arm. And not just any woman's arm.

What the hell? he thought. She saved me? I'd rather have died!

Then he realized that he was staring down the barrel of Brejik's blaster.

Damn, should've kept my mouth shut.

Suddenly, he felt the weight of his vibroblade leave his boot sheath, and the weapon shot past his head a moment later, imbedding itself into the gang leader's forehead. His blaster shot wildly off to the side as the man collapsed back to the permacrete, quite dead.

Kagi instantly pushed off the woman, taking the two steps to get to Brejik's side, where he extracted his vibroblade from the man's skull. He wiped the blood off, then started to stand, when he suddenly found himself staring at the point of a double vibroblade. At the other end, the woman's expression was something less than grateful.

"What in the…"

"As for you," she hissed, her voice full of venom. "If you think you can collect me as some prize…"

She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening to the point that he thought they were going to fall out of her head. She almost dropped her weapon, but she recovered herself in time.

"You," she uttered, as though not believing. "You're R…ed Five. One of the commandos from the Endar Spire."

'Red Five'? he thought sardonically, raising an eyebrow. Lady, I didn't fall off the back of a gravtruck yesterday. You were about to call me something else.

"Yeah," he said, pointedly eying the weapon still aimed at his throat. "Mind pointing your pointy somewhere else?"

Shaking off her shock, she quickly lowered the weapon, switching it to her left hand, holding out her right in an offer to help him to his feet. Nodding, he grabbed her hand and pushed up off the balls of his feet, coming up to his full height.

It didn't really amuse him as much as he thought it would that she had to look up at him.

"How did you end up racing for these swoop gangs?" she asked.

"It's a long story," he answered, then stuck out his right hand. "Vayun. Kagi Vayun. SpecForces commando."

She looked at him for a moment, stunned, as though expecting him to know her. At his narrowed eyes, she shook herself free of it and shook his hand firmly. "Bastila Shan," she said. "I'll hear about your misadventures later. We have to get out of here before the Sith show up to sort out this mess. Is there somewhere safe we can go?"

He narrowed his eyes further as he knelt down to start searching Brejik's corpse. Something in her tone had changed, something he didn't like. But it wasn't his place to question her. A few moments' prodding in Brejik's corpse produced something of interest.

He held the double-bladed lightsaber up toward her. "Yours?"

She all but snatched it back from him, nearly taking off his fingers in the process. He sighed. This was going to be a long assignment.

"Yeah, I've got an apartment in the Upper City," he replied tonelessly, suddenly feeling like somebody had compressed his innards with a gravity well. "That was going to be the safe house once I saved you from this clown." He nudged Brejik's body with his boot as he stood up.

"Save me?" she repeated, scoffing. "Is that what you were trying to accomplish by riding in that swoop race? Well as far as rescues go, this is a pretty poor example."

A hot surge of anger rushed through him, and he had to physically restrain himself from going for his vibroblade. "Well maybe you'd like it back in your cell, your highness."

The bitter tone in his reply reached through to her, and only fueled her own aggression. "Brejik and his Vulkars would've left you for dead if I hadn't stepped into that fight. You're lucky I was here to get you out of this mess."

He was more or less at his breaking point. Chances were high that one of them would be getting stabbed within the next five seconds. But instead, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stalked away five paces, to the edge of the track, looking down into the nothingness of the Undercity.

"SCHUTTA!" he screamed suddenly into the void, venting as much rage and frustration as he could.

When he turned back toward her, his expression was that of a worker resigning himself to a long day in the mines. "You know what, you can keep your high and mighty attitude. To blazes with you and whatever mission you're on. Wander around the Lower City in just your underwear. I'm sure Carth will find you before some lowlife thug manages to over­–"

"Carth Onasi is alive?" she asked, her tone completely changing. "Finally, some good news. Carth is one of the Republic's best soldiers. He sent you to save me?"

Growling low in his throat, the commando turned and glared lasers at her. "Listen woman, you are about five words from getting two lightsabers' worth of dental work. You want to scrap, you keep pushing my buttons like this. But I guaran-damn-tee you, you would have much better preferred it if I hadn't come to win this blasted race to free you."

Something in his expression, in his stance, or in his voice got through to her; she suddenly looked very scared. She turned away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I…forgive me," she whispered, and he wasn't entirely sure she meant it. "Despite my Jedi training, I still tend to act rashly sometimes."

He didn't immediately respond. Once again, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, feeling the rage slowly bleed away. He was silent for several minutes, eventually causing her to look in his direction, questioning his silence.

"Forgiven," he said finally, quietly. "Please try to be mindful of your statements in the future. Being a Jedi, it's not hard for you to influence people, either positively or negatively."

She nodded and gave him a game smile. "I'll try. Now please, take me to see Carth. Between the three of us, I'm sure we can figure out some way to get off this planet before the Sith realize we're here."

He didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he began looking around the area, poking and prodding at several bodies. She raised her eyebrow.

"Just what are you doing?"

"Looking for something for you to cover yourself with," he replied, then shrugged and slid off his jacket, holding it out to her.

She glanced down at herself, gasped, and then quickly accepted the jacket, blushing furiously. "Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea…"

---

A short time later, the pair had made their way to the abandoned Upper City apartment that Kagi had woken up in he knew not how long ago. He immediately dropped his pack by the door, kicked his boots across the room, and dove face-first onto the couch.

"Where is Carth?" Bastila asked, looking around the room.

"On his way back," the commando replied, his voice muffled by the cushions, "or out getting supplies, or something. The bomb guy votes that we all sleep until he gets back."

"Sleep?" she repeated, turning to scowl at him. "How can you think of sleep at a time like this? We have to get off this planet before the Sith find us!"

He pushed himself up off the couch with his hands, glaring at her. "Hey, you may not appreciate the fact that Carth and I ran around the Upper City playing tag with Sith patrols, getting shot at by disgruntled alien gangs in the Lower City, having bloody monsters try and take nice hunks of flesh out of us in the Undercity, then crawled through the sewers for hours, fought off the nastiest-smelling piggies I have ever had the misfortune of crossing, and then had to play stealth ninja action all over the Vulkar's base just so that we could get back a damn prototype accelerator and win the swoop race to save your sorry backside, but I, for one, believe that all that effort deserves at least one hour of uninterrupted unconsciousness. Now, you're welcome to go wandering around out in the open, with the entire Sith force looking for you, but don't count on me to come save you if you get busted!"

She stared at him in open-mouthed shock for a moment, then snapped her jaw shut, crossed her arms, and turned away. "Fine," she said, projecting arrogance into her voice. "You can sleep until Carth gets back, but once he does, we're going to…"

It was then that she realized he was already asleep, his gentle snores resonating in the small room. Looking around, she located a small closet, and reached into it. After a moment, she produced a thermal blanket, which she unfolded and carefully draped over the sleeping soldier.

Once that was done, she crouched down by his head, staring at his peaceful face. There was no trace of the hate or anger she was expecting. Just a soldier catching a brief respite from war.

She shook her head. That wasn't what he was. He never was, and never would be a mere soldier.

Tilting her head to the side, she gently traced the scar cutting through his right eyebrow with her fingers, pulling back when his head twitched slightly in response to her feather touch.

Slowly, she ran her hand over his military-cropped hair. Not even that had changed. "You don't even know, do you?" she asked quietly to no one in particular. "You don't even remember what we once were…"