A/N YesI know 'incapacitator' is not a word and nor is 'wounder'. But they should be damn it!
Another chapter of my little saga...so glad you're still reading. And thank you for all the lovely, the nit picky and the pithy comments and reviews. Keep em coming please!
Lucee
Sith Kids
Sterile corridors scrubbed clean of character twisted off to the stark signs that proclaimed in Galactic Basic; office, cantina, store and the other amenities. Ahead a group of Sith students loitered by the entrance to the Dreshdae cantina.
Self-assured brash and righteous they were governed by a blonde vixen. Her hair was cropped to a militant coif and her gaze was cruel as she regarded the pampered Jedi dropout and her heavily burdened servant. Emboldened by numbers and bolstered by her status amongst the trainee Sith, Lashowe confronted the newcomers.
"Oh good-y new hopefuls," she scathed with a snicker as she assessed the cosseted ex Jedi. Lady Anju had not yet reached the crowd when the students began their tirade of insults. Revan snagged at her thoughts impatiently, without Bastila's force bond it had become harder to renounce her and more difficult to refute her arguments.
"Looks pretty fresh to me Lashowe," another student sneered before catching glimpse of Lady Anju's lightsaber. He adjusted his tone, "Ex Jedi are the worst." He delivered with disdain, and a laugh for his companions.
"So tell me Jedi," Lashowe contemptuously lengthened the word Jedi as she glared at the oncoming woman, "did it hurt when you fell from your vaunted Jedi code and landed on your royal rump?"
Lady Anju sighed wearily, and threw a stasis field about the group. It claimed all but the blonde girl, who by her rigorous training was able to resist it easily. A status bound and stocky young male blocked the entrance to the cantina. Anju frowned at the obstacle and turned back to her footman, "Get that one for me will you Vlad?"
"Mistress," he acknowledged her staunchly and set down his bundles to heft the stiff human out of her path.
Lashowe glowered at the older woman, "Who do you think you are?" and sized her up.
Genuinely insulted by the young girls taunt, Pol lapsed in concentration submitting momentarily to Revan, ok fine O'star I've had enough of these Sith Kids' you can handle this one. Pol had addressed the war hero Revan O'star, who still resided in the catacombs of her mind, but against her will it was Darth Revan that assumed control with vigor, "If you persist in wasting my time I shall be forced to punish you, petulant whelp." Her hands flew to the lightsaber reflexively, ready and eager to slay the insolent blonde.
Vlad did a double take and so did the blonde. Something in the woman's indomitable voice and fierce stance made Lashowe back down, Force how much training has she had? She wondered with a shiver, hmm more than me, she will have to wait. "You'll keep," she sneered over her shoulder at the hellish specter of the ex Jedi, rapidly distancing herself from the impermanent statuettes of her peers.
Pol snapped back to herself and mentally charged, calling out Revan O'star for enlightenment, What the hell was that? Shocked by what she had felt, she strove for answers. Why did you have to go so far?
'That' wasn't me and you know it, the Veteran Revan O'star responded. 'That' was what happens when you don't give her time, the Veteran explained succinctly. 'That' was bound to happen without Bastila around. Pol realized without elaboration from O'star that 'that' was the third element of their triad, Darth Revan.
Pol froze, watching Canderous picking up the bags, he had noticed her momentary change in demeanor but was oblivious to her rumination. I do give you time O'star, I spent an hour with Juhani this morning trawling through your fracking damage! Pol fumed at the accusation.
You give me time, but not her, don't distance her Pol; Darth Revan is also part of who you are. Continue as you are. Gag her, hold her down and shut her out for all I care but do not expect her to heal in the tomb you built for her. The anger in the war heroine's words troubled Pol, and she considered the notion carefully as she trod the spotless halls of Dreshdae.
……….
Upon entering the cantina Lady Anju secured a seat with a reasonable view of the room. The patrons therein were a typical cross-section of the Dreshdae community. Archeologists' fresh from the ruins easily branded by the silt upon their knees and boots mingled with off duty Czerka employees, Sith students and hopeful initiates.
The striking Lady prowled the room with her eyes and the Force weighing up its sentient content for ability. There has to be a Sith, worth their salt here somewhere. Pol rationalized.
Revan O'star nudged at Pol's mind, ask her...ask Darth Revan, we need her, don't deny us this victory with your misplaced pride.
Go away, thought Pol anxiously. I let you both have too much space, that encounter just now is a classic example and you near drowned me on the Leviathan.
That wasn't me, Revan O'star veteran of the Mandalorian wars slammed angrily inside Pol's head. Her storming burned Pol's skull like the precursor to a headache.
Then it's worse, I won't walk Darth Revan's path again. Pol determined, squaring her shoulders as she resumed her evaluation of the cantina's crowd.
Revan O'star impelled the ex Jedi carefully, You don't have to, she's not asking either of us to change sides. All she wants is Malak's death and some acknowledgment… from you.
I won't bargain with her I will give you both time, years and years of it but not now... Pol frowned, the crowd was becoming less distinct visually as her internal dialogue dimmed her sight. She was grateful for the Mandalorians reassuring presence at her back; the distraction of her cerebral debate was overwhelming; so much so that she was barely aware of her surroundings at times. She felt safe under his guard.
O'star's voice returned to Pol's mind. Then let me talk to her, for Force sake, unless we unify your mission will surely fail. I will keep her from you for now, but she will not wait forever. You know why we fell, deny us and you will fall again.
After a final persistent prompting from O'star, Pol let her guard down. As the Veteran had promised, the data came secondhand in the form of a twice relayed lesson about status, the Academy and class structure of the Dark Jedi. It passed from the memory bank allotted to Darth Revan to the internal voice of the Veteran O'star to the consciousness of Pol who accepted the knowledge, enmeshing it with her own. With an aching head she dusted the taint off her soul, took a cleansing breath and found her mark.
………
It was her uniform rather than her unique strength that identified the sweetly tattooed and lilac hued Twi'lek as a Sith Mentor. Anju cast an inquiring smile, underscored with recognition in the Dark Jedi's direction. The Dark Jedi responded with a knowing look, drawn out by her ethereal appraisal of the new hopeful.
Within minutes of the women's visual and ethereal tête-à-tête, a drinks waiter arrived at Lady Anju's elbow. "Compliments of Master Yuthura Ban of the Sith Academy," the server announced blandly setting the wine in front of her.
Pol breathed a discreet sigh of relief, though she hated the unguided and dirty mental dealings with her past, it paid off. It was as Darth Revan had promised, far better she notice you, than for you to debase yourself by approaching her. Your strength is your justification, your power is your authority, be accepted and do so without question or application. Even weakened by your scruples, and with another name you are still Revan; and you are stronger than all.
Ebon Hawk
"And this is my son, Dustil," Carth concluded the introductions and looked at his son expectantly.
Dustil squared his jaw refusing to shake hands with his father'scollection ofbizarre colleagues.
Jolee withdrew his outstretched hand when it became apparent the sullen youth was not about to take it. With a wiggle of his white eyebrows at Mission who was winding up a hand of Pazaak with Zaalbar, he poured another cup of caffa and took a seat on the man-eating couch to begin what Juhani referred to as his 'unorthodox' form of meditation.
Dustil watched the Twi'lek and the Wookiee, frowning at their competition and the assortment of objects, mostly component parts, that they were gambling for. "You play?" Mission asked the inaccessible youth, indicating the cards.
"Yeah I used to," he admitted sourly looking away from his father.
"I'll deal you in when I beat Big Z if you like," Mission made the offer of inclusion without her usual pep. Zaalbar woofled lowly at her change in attitude, and hoped the newcomer's, 'cooler than you,' attitude wouldn't be adopted by his eclectic young friend.
With his hands in his pockets Dustil eyed the Hawks common room with distaste. There didn't appear to be anything else worth his while, and anything is better than another lecture from father. He shrugged a shoulder, "sure."
…………..
HK was behaving erratically. During his nineteenth circuit of the ship he began to alter his route. Knowing that a droid who alters a pattern has a problem Zaalbar followed him. He can't be doing it to break monotony, thought Zaalbar sagaciously, and why does he keep coming back to the swoop hanger?
Zaalbar informed the crew, (Something is wrong with the droid.)
"Which one?" Asked Mission looking up from her latest round of Pazaak with Dustil. She had won six times out of seven and the only loss had been a pity loss. The way her hand was shaping up it looked as though she would be winning again. She suppressed a smug little smile and self consciously rearranged her lekku.
Dustil had taken the subsequent losses badly. Hell bent on beating her he looked up from his side deck at the sound of the Wookiee's grumbling and his opponent's reply. "Wait you understand that?"
"Well yeah, he's my friend." Mission tried not to bite; her conversations with Dustil had been civil but edged with corrosion. It was hard going, the crew had left her to make friends with the young man and they had little in common aside from an age group. He's cute but he's kinda fratchy and rude, thought Mission.
"I didn't mean anything by that. It's just none of my friends are eight foot tree fiends." Dustil quipped throwing down a /- 5 to equalize the round.
"Well then maybe you need some new friends" Mission suggested superciliously. Expecting her opponent to lose it Mission braced herself, he's Carth's son, you could try to be nicer to him even if he is a nerf herder.
Dustil laughed, he was astounded by her daring. For a second she had reminded him of Selene. The sound was a shock even to him and he covered his mouth wiping the smile away with his fingers. "Maybe I should," he conceded with a voice that was less disdainful that it had been in months. So the pretty little Twi'lek has some guts after all.
Mission gave him a smile. Her eyes darted to the red durasteel droid as it traversed the room, "What's the matter HK?" Mission asked the droid who had doubled back on the garage five times this circuit.
HK came to a halt beside a blank screened monitor. Even unarmed the durasteel monstrosity looked treacherous. His torso reflected in the screen's inactive surface bending and distorting into a terrifying, but slightly stumpy version of the real droid. It responded in mechanical monotone, "Statement: I miss the Master. Qualification: Droids are exemplary servants. I do not understand why she chose to take a meatbag, over her faithful droid."
(I told you something was wrong,) Zaalbar moaned throwing his head back.
"He's not just any meatbag HK," Carth chuckled. Pol had shared the working dog analogy she had for HK with him and he was often struck by the aptness. Mission had her moments but HK was the biggest pest around while awaiting instructions. Worse than that, when he was given a task that he believed was beneath him, he complained loudly.
"Qualification: And I am not just any droid meatbag." HK-47 pivoted his head to glare at T3 with what could only be described as expressionless droidprejudice. T3 responded with an indignat volley of blarfz and frotzs'.
Unbeknownst to much of the crew T3 also complained loudly when given a task that did not utilize his functionality to the optimum ratio. However, as most of the crew either ignored or misunderstood his binary 'bleeps' his complaints went unnoticed. HK understood him perfectly and emitted an injurious low sonic vibe that silenced the browbeaten utility droid's cursing and impared it's aural sensors.
Sensing the discord, Jolee broke his meditations. He set the caffa cup on the table and uncrossed his legs, giving them a stretch and a shake, "What Carth is trying to say is that Canderous is special to Pol."
"Rhetorical query: Am I not special to the Master? Do I not have over 2000 languages and forms of communication with which to commune with the Master? Am I not able to perform over 16000 functions, with unerring precision? Speculative theory: The Master is unwell; she may have some meatbaggy sickness."
Jolee laughed, counseling a droid, what have I come to? "Yes yes you're a nifty robot. I hear what you are saying HK and it almost sounds like: What does he have that I don't?" The ex Jedi cackled.
"Proud answer: Droid precision that's what!"
Jolee appealed to the droids defence parabola, hoping to placate the rusted sentry before it got really annoying. "HK Canderous is a decorated warrior; he was a General during the wars. It's not as though Pol has walked into this mission without solid backup. You know, I'm sure, just like 'yours truly' here that the old 'meatbag' still has his uses," Jolee gave a wink.
"Even if certain key components' are worse for ware…" Carth mumbled into his sleeve. Immersed in their competition Mission and Dustil had missed the gag but Juhani shot him an outraged but amused look that grew into a full-blown guffaw. The usually unflappable but intense Jedi tried to sip her caffa without blowing bubbles into it.
The ex Jedi had also caught the gibe at his expense, his bald head snapped up, "Hey now, don't you be disrespecting your elders. You're not too little to put over my knee Padawan Juhani. And I wouldn't look so self-satisfied if I were you Captain Positive." He waggled a bony finger in their direction.
Carth gave a laugh at the nickname Jolee had awarded him after tiring of his bleak outlook. The old man was right, a fight was only a fight if you kept battling it, and Jolee had been the first to see that Carth had almost given up. From anyone else it would have been met with abhorrence, but the ex Jedi had a kindly and unassuming way of putting people in their place, and sustaining their faith in the little things.
Mission was willing to give any sentient being a 'fair go'. It was one of the reasons Carth had been happy to let the discussion with Dustil slide for a time. He watched his son lose game after game as the Twi'lek beat down his hand and the icy wall of his Sith forged superiority. Mission piped up, "Hey HK, didn't you call C-note an ingenious incapacitator?"
"Admission: Yes my records indicate that those were the words I used at the time…"
"And didn't you say yesterday that he was a wily wounder?" Carth asked with an eyebrow ascending his forehead. It hid behind a wayward lock of hair for a second before returning to its rightful place.
"Weary admission: Yes my records also indicate that I complimented him in that fashion." HK altered his pose in agitation.
Mission took the wad of gum from her mouth and surreptitiously ensconced it between the cushions on the couch with a thoughtful little frown, "and didn't you call him an expert eradicator? What else…a proficient punisher, a skillful killer, an able disabler, and a cunning little meatbag?" She slapped down a game closing card triumphantly and Dustil folded with a groan.
HK regarded the Twi'lek. The motivators in his neck gave a whirr, with the sound of the gears activating as he turned to face her, "Correction: The term I used was cunning little 'meathag', not 'meatbag' and the sentient I was referring to was you."
"Aw HK you say the sweetest things," Mission screwed her face up at the droid affectionately, blowing him a smoochy kiss. HK repaired an inexplicable break in his programming as he calculated the correct protocol for such a communication. Finding no apt course of reaction he determined to solicit an upgrade to his interactions from the Master at the next available opportunity. Out of habit he recorded the scene; adjusted his estimation of the Twi'lek and added the whole lot to his data file on Mission Vao.
"So what is it you are worried about HK?" Juhani questioned the droid. She decided the Wookiee was right, there was something amiss.
"Explanation: I am not worried…"
Carth faced the Jedi beside him, "He's bored." He answered for the droid. Juhani sighed and nodded, it was obvious to her as soon as the words were out of Carth's mouth. Of course, the droid is in one of his moods. She chided herself for not seeing it sooner.
"Statement: The meatbag Carth is correct. I am without purpose. Poetic correlation: I am adrift in a torrential river of passivity." Mission giggled at the droids spontaneous anti peace poetry. Dustil looked wary as he agreed to another hand.
"He wants to shoot things up," Carth continued his translation, this time for Dustil's benefit.
"Admission: Preferably meaty things." Hk-47's photoreceptors lit up giving the mechanical being more life than he was strictly entitled to.
Carth laughed seizing the opportunity to dig at the old ex Jedi once more, "Maybe you could give him some target practice Jolee? I mean deflecting his blaster fire with your lightsaber, it should be easy... you know, since you're still so capable in your dotage." He smirked cheekily at the older man who laughed in reply.
"Oh ho, you're good aren't you?" He stroked his smooth cranium and looked up sheepishly. "I'm not living that down am I?"
Juhani smiled fondly, "Not so quickly it seems."
"Well it's not like Pol to go on a killing spree but if she were going to I am pretty sure she would want you there HK." Carth tried to console the frustrated automaton as a means to ease his own disquiet about Dustil, who was now viewing the whole discussion with car crash fascination.
Dustil tried in vain to focus on his side deck. They're all fracking mad, he surmised glaring at his side deck in frustration. He looked at the pretty blue girl suspiciously. He was certain she was cheating but couldn't see how.
"Query: What do you think the Master is doing?"
Jolee stared at the droid in alarm the whites of his eyes almost doubling in surface area, "Are you trying to visualize something?" He asked with grimace of consternation. Only one person in the room was more preturbed by the un-droid like behavior.
That one person spoke up, "He's a droid!" Dustil proclaimed loudly. What's wrong with these people? Dustil wondered for the fortieth time as he signed himself up for another round of Pazaak, at least the girl's normal, for a Twi'lek swindler.
Jolee held out an arm like a barricade as if to hold Dustil's comments back as he frowned at the droid in fascination, "Whoa wait, that's awfully advanced stuff for a droid to be doing, even one with learning capabilities like yours HK."
Zaalbar agreed, (It's almost like feeling.)
"Proud declaration: I learn better than most meatbags. Cheerless admission: The validity of my learning is dependant on the reliability of the source material, which in this case is you meatbag. Repeat query: What do you think the Master is doing?"
Luckily for Carth, Juhani was the only one close enough to hear his mumblings, the words were out before he could think, "Probably giving the Mandalorian a lesson in Deralian tongue," he regretted the unfair accusation instantly, putting it down to the strange air of the Sith world, "I don't know HK." He amended aloud with a shake of his head. I all hate this waiting; it can't be long before she finds the Star Map and the proof I need. Oh Bastila, space I miss you girl. I hope you're ok, I could really do with your advice about now.