The Endar Spire was dying.
Carth Onasi knew this, could feel it in his bones. Decades of space flight had given him a sixth sense when it came to starships, and though he was no engineer able to tell the speed of the ship from the vibrations of the deck, he knew matters of battle and survival. And the Spire's life was leaving her. She was holding together, just barely, for the sake of her crew, but time was running out. Bastila was away, after so much protest. Now he just had to wait for the last of the Spire's crew.
Right now, her crew consisted of only two people. Two out of a hundred. A quarter had managed to get away on the escape pods; the rest were dead, murdered by the Sith currently infesting the Spire's corridors. All gone, except for Carth himself, and the one red dot currently moving across the deck schematic, trying to get to the escape pods.
A power conduit blew behind him, and Carth shuffled nervously. He wouldn't leave a man behind; but dying along with that man didn't much make sense either.
He hit the comm. "Ulgo, faster would be better!"
"Aye sir, I'm hurrying sir. Pair of Sith tried to pin me down."
"I understand Ensign, but we're running out of time."
"Aye. Hmm... there's something behind this door. I... oh, oh damn." The panic was obvious in Ulgo's voice. "Get out! Get out, sir, don't wait for me..."
"What? What is it, Ensign?"
"Dark Jedi! Go, sir!" The link was suddenly cut.
"Ulgo! Ulgo!" Carth jammed the call button again. "Respond, damn it!"
Helpless, he watched the red dot on his screen suddenly fade. In its place was left a blue dot... one of the enemy. According to Trask Ulgo, a blue dot indicating a Dark Jedi.
The dot started to move toward the escape pods. And Carth was alone.
Cursing, Carth turned and jumped into the last remaining escape pod, silently begging the Endar Spire to last just a bit longer... but not too much longer. If she was going to die, it was only right that she take as many of the Sith as she could with her.
He pulled the launch lever before even taking his seat, the sudden G-forces of launch slamming him into his seat as the pod was fired from the side of the Republic cruiser. He scrambled to secure his crash belt as the pod shook from the violent atmospheric entry; touchdowns in an escape pod were rarely gentle, and after all he'd been through, being reduced to a chunky paste on the inside hull of the pod was not on his itinerary.
The drop through the atmosphere seemed to take forever, and all the while Carth was conscious of the fact that the guns of the Sith fleet which had suddenly surrounded the Spire were probably traversing, trying to target the fleeing pods. But the buffeting of re-entry smoothed out, and no furious bolts of energy arrived to crack open his sanctuary. Carth watched the limited display in front of him count down the altitude at an alarming rate.
Seconds before impact, there was a hiss, and suddenly the pod began filling with white foam fired from jets arrayed around the tiny cabin. The foam expanded, filling every available nook, and then suddenly hardened, pinning everything into place – including the pod's squishy occupant.
The pod hit the surface like a hammer, jarring Carth in his protective foam padding, grinding his teeth together. He could taste blood. Then there was the curious sensation of free-fall for a moment, and then another crash.
I'm bouncing. Oh damn.
More free-fall, shorter than the first, and then another crash. Then it felt like he was in a centrifuge, as the pod stayed on the ground but continued to roll. The foam around him was starting to soften, dissolving as it was designed to do – but the pod wasn't finished, and Carth was unable to move, plastered into his seat by inertia.
Finally there was one last jarring blow, and the pod stopped. It didn't feel like Carth's stomach or head had, though, and he hung limply in his seat, trying desperately not to be sick.
They'll be coming for the pod. Got to move!
He kicked weakly, trying to dislodge the foam around his legs, He opened his eyes, and mentally ordered the world to stop spinning – it was hard enough to figure out where the exit was, damnit. By luck – or the Force, though he didn't put much faith in that – the pod was right-side up, and the hatch was to his left, where it was supposed to be. He released his straps, by some miracle not falling on his face, and staggered to his feet.
The foam had almost completely dissolved, but he still had to bat some pieces away from the door release. With a pull, the door's explosive bolts blew, and the door simply fell off, as it had been designed. Planetary air flooded the pod, and Carth breathed deeply.
Taris. He didn't much care for this planet, but right now it was a glorious sight.
He managed to stumble out of the pod, nearly falling flat on his face as he stepped planetside for the first time in weeks. Every muscle hurt, and his inner ear still stubbornly insisted that he was listing to the right. There was nobody immediately around, the population having had sufficient common sense to seek shelter when wreckage and escape pods started raining from the sky, but off in the night Carth could see humanoid shapes, and some of those shapes appeared to be pointing at him.
Checking to make sure his blasters were still firmly attached to his belt, he turned and dashed down the street as quickly as he was able. He heard a shout from behind him, but ignored it – he was in no shape to sort friend from foe, or deal with an encounter of the latter. The night line of Taris towered above him, and he counted himself lucky to have landed on the dark side of the planet.
He chuckled to himself at the thought of considering the Dark Side of anything lucky'.
Time to find some shelter, Onasi. You're getting punchy.
He seemed to have landed in a fairly isolated section of the city. A bedroom district, largely occupied by the large, rounded apartment buildings common on the city-planet. He picked a building at random, one that looked run-down, but not so run-down as to be a blatant hiding spot for a fugitive, and ducked inside.
It was late, so the corridors were empty. He made a circuit of the outer ring, trying doors, checking locks quietly. The interior of the building was plain, clean but not particularly well-maintained, and he took that as a good sign.
One door, halfway around the ring, slid open without issue. Cautiously, Carth peeked inside. There was no-one in the apartment, a single-room affair, and judging from the complete lack of personal effects, he guessed the suite had been unoccupied for some time.
Jackpot.
He stepped in, turning to use his very basic security skills to jam the lock so only he could open it. It would barely slow down an experienced slicer, but hopefully it'd give him enough time to wake up and grab his blasters.
That done, he turned to one of the bed lined up against the wall. It lacked blankets, but it still looked like the most enticing sight in the galaxy to him. He didn't bother to take off his jacket, but simply collapsed across it, dropping his belt with his blasters onto the floor beside him.
He was asleep within moments.
Taris, Carth decided, was an armpit of a planet.
He'd woken up late in the afternoon, thanks to his exhaustion from the night before and general space-lag. That was fine with him; subterfuge and dodging the enemy on an occupied planet was never a morning activity. He preferred to pencil it in between dinner and bedtime.
Upon waking up, he'd taken stock of his situation. Aside from some bruises and a bitten lip, he was largely uninjured from his spectacular arrival the night before. He had his blasters, but hadn't had time to fetch his armour from his quarters before the Endar Spire had blown... he'd have to remedy that as soon as possible. Probably the best news was that his hiding spot had remained undisturbed. The apartment was neglected, but the water ran, he was able to slice the lock, and the beds were relatively clean. He'd had tougher living arrangements aboard ship.
His first goal was to try to find and contact some of the other escapees from the Spire, with special emphasis on Bastila. The young woman was arrogant, inexperienced, and just generally annoying, but she was a Jedi, and extremely valuable to the war effort. And, logically, when trying to find someone, the right place to start was at the nearest bar.
During the day, the halls of his building were somewhat more lively, with aliens travelling about, and even a Twi'lek, named Larrim, selling wares from a small stand. Questioning the merchant, Carth discovered that he'd landed in nearly the ideal situation; the building was largely abandoned by uncaring owners, and squatting was typical. The tenants had no desire to draw attention to themselves, and Carth fit right in.
Of more disturbing news was the fact that the Sith had imposed a planet-wide quarantine since the battle in the sky the night before. Any ships attempting to leave or land on Taris were shot down.
"When did the Sith get control of Taris?" he asked. Surely he hadn't slept through a planetary conquest!
The green Twi'lek raised a brow. "Over a week ago. They pretty much landed and took over. The primary government leaders were executed. Taris didn't have much of a military to begin with, and I doubt anybody expected such a huge Sith fleet to arrive here."
"I didn't hear anything about this from off-world."
Larrim shrugged. "No surprise there. They've been censoring outgoing communications, but not cutting them off completely. At least, not until the quarantine."
"So I'm stuck here?" Carth complained. "I was supposed to meet an employer on Nar Shadda."
"Looks like. Tough break, human."
Walking away, Carth shook his head, considering how much more complicated the situation had become. He wasn't really surprised by the quarantine – he guessed that would happen as soon as the Sith realized Bastila had escaped to the planet. But the news that Taris had been under enemy control for over a week was shaking, signalling a pretty spectacular failure in Republic Intelligence. It had obviously been part of a trap for the Endar Spire. But the fact that the Sith knew when and where they were going to make a stop was disturbing indeed.
Admiral Dodonna called him paranoid. As far as Carth was concerned, it wasn't paranoia when he was right.
He stopped his speculation for a moment upon stepping out of the building, enjoying his first real taste of planetary sunshine in weeks. He hadn't had a chance to go planetside when the Endar Spire had picked up the Jedi group. He was impressed to see that despite being an aged city-planet, Taris actually kept its atmosphere fairly clean. The durasteel which formed the streets and corridors of the Upper City was actually well-maintained, and the sight of the shining skyscrapers of the city towering around him was actually impressive.
Feeling his spirits raised a bit, Carth considered the possibility that his initial impressions of Taris might have been wrong, and headed in the direction of the cantina Larrim had said was nearby.
Speeders sprinted above him and below the street platform he walked on, but he himself was stuck with more mundane travel. The streets were surprisingly busy, with people striding from place to place, and droids tottering about. He didn't speak to any; the Tarisian natives seemed to make a point of not looking at him, and he had no desire to speak with a droid that might be programmed to report any conversations it had had.
Soon enough, he found himself walking past an escape pod, which had several scavenging droids crawling over it, disassembling it and transporting it elsewhere. His own pod, he knew. He showed the requisite amount of interest in the sight that would be expected from a passer-by, but did not linger near the crash site.
After about ten minutes' walk, during which he noted the location of a weapons and armour shop he'd doubtlessly be visiting later, he found himself approaching the cantina. He was actually looking forward to the visit – he was tired and hungry, and he needed a drink. He tensed as he spotted a Sith guard, gleaming in the typical chrome armour the troops wore, standing guard outside the establishment.
He kept his hand near his blasters as he approach, but whatever the Sith's purpose, it apparently didn't involve interfering with those coming and going from the bar. The mirror-like faceplate only turned toward the pilot once as he entered the building.
Inside, he found the same things as could be found in cantinas the galaxy over: Pazaak sharks, waiting patiently by their tables, sentients of various species cutting deals in quiet corners, and drunken men annoying women. But there was a frustrated undertone to the crowd, an air of resentment and resignation. Carth slipped through the crowd, heading to the bar to order himself an ale with the few credits he had on him.
After getting his drink, it was a matter of trying to use his badly atrophied social skills. The Pazaak players wouldn't waste their time on him unless he was willing to play; unfortunately, his own deck had been left in his quarters on the Spire, and he didn't have the credits to lose repeatedly anyway.
Credits. He really needed some credits. There was a duelling arena in the place, and he had no doubt that he could do very well, but plastering his face across holoscreens didn't seem like a smart idea when he was trying to avoid capture.
He wandered in that direction anyway; at least he could chat up the contestants, pretending to be interested in duelling but lacking the guts to do it. If nothing else, if he could keep it as a last-resort.
Walking toward the back of the bar, he was interrupted by a young woman, dressed in expensive clothing, looking entirely out of place in the smoky bar. She could have been considered a kind of pretty, but the lines from her sneer were already beginning to set into the skin of her face. A man and woman stood with her, but they looked more as if they were trapped than enjoying themselves.
The sneer aimed at Carth. "It's about time! I wouldn't have thought fetching a simple drink would have taken so long, but obviously I've overestimated the quality of the help in this place."
He scanned around him. "Are you speaking to me, miss?"
"Are you deaf as well as dim-witted? Of course I am!" She jammed her fists into her hips, and glared at the drink he held. "Is that Corellian ale? I distinctly remember ordering Alderaanian fire whiskey!"
Carth's overtaxed temper began to fray. "Look, lady, I'm not your waiter. I'm just here for a drink myself."
The woman scowled at him, yet never seemed to lose her haughty air. "Why, you ignorant peasant! My father will hear about this!" She strode away, fuming, and Carth could only watch her go incredulously. The man and woman who had been standing with her shot the pilot a grateful look, turning to each other with a relieved look on their faces.
"I think you'll probably regret that, pal."
Carth turned to the human sitting at a nearby table, a plain-looking man wearing a Taris city maintenance uniform. His top buttons were undone, and he nursed a Corellian ale in front of him. "What? Why?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
The man sat back, apparently amused. "That, my friend, was Gina Lavin, daughter of one of the high Tarisian nobles'. High on credits, short on brains. Mistress of all she surveys, that one. You could have Revan himself standing here, and she'd be bossing him about." He shook his head. "She doesn't like backtalk from us peasants. I think you'll find she'll cause you trouble, later."
Carth looked at the man, and then at the direction Gina had left. He shook his head. "Great, just great."
Taris. Definitely an armpit.
If nothing else, Gina had at least given him an opportunity to chat with one of the locals; the man laughed, and gestured for Carth to sit. He had done so gladly.
Posing as a ground-bound merchant captain, Carth and the man – a Taris worker named Ulirek – chatted for a while, with Carth carefully sipping his drink, trying to conserve his limited credits. Ulirek asked him what cargo he'd been carrying; when he replied that he was shipping a ship-full of pet gizka, the look on the other man's face nearly made him laugh out loud. Ulirek was well into his ale, and didn't think twice about the questions the pilot asked. Carth didn't find out anything new about the Sith quarantine, but did manage to find out what he'd already suspected: the Sith were after Bastila, who was suspected of having landed via escape pod in the Undercity.
"Escape pods?" Carth pretended to muse. "Even those would make some pretty nice salvage."
"Hah, good luck, pal," Ulirek replied. "You'd have to get down to the Undercity to get them, and that place makes Mustafar look like a vacation spot. Even if you find them, you'll have to deal with the swoop gangs and the Sith... and none of them are inclined to share."
Carth shrugged, pretending to give up on the idea. He chatted about inconsequentials for a while longer, until his drink was done. Then he politely excused himself, wishing the man luck.
Leaving the cantina, he walked toward his apartment while thinking. It sounded as if almost all of the pods, except for his own, had crashed into the lower areas of Taris. Thus, he had to get down there. But Ulirek had mentioned that the lifts to the lower sections of the city were guarded by the Sith, which made just walking down unlikely. Carth racked his brain, trying to figure out the best way to get to the Lower City.
As he stepped around the corner toward the arms and armour shop, he received a nasty surprise, in the form of a fist to the face. He reeled back, seeing stars, grabbing for his blasters. Just as he got them clear of the holsters, a blade slashed down, cutting into his arm and causing him to drop one blaster, while someone else simply knocked the other from his grip.
Sith! he thought, as someone grabbed hold of his arms, trapping them behind him. A pair of fists found their way into his gut, knocking the breath from him.
He wheezed, bracing himself for more punishment, but it didn't come immediately. He lifted his head, blinking his eyes. A Rodian stood in front of him holding a vibroblade, and turning his head, he could see a second one restraining him. For looking, he was rewarded with a punch across the face from the first Rodian's off-hand. He nearly crumpled from the blow, vision swimming.
"Just a moment, please."
He wasn't sure where the voice had come from, until one of the Rodians seized his chin and forced him to look forward. When his vision cleared, he realized he was looking at the rich brat from the bar, Gina. She looked back at him, her arms crossed, a smug look on her face.
"A simple amount of deference would have saved you from this. I don't like doing this, but like my daddy says: peasants need to be reminded of their place, otherwise the whole world starts turning upside-down."
Carth shook his head, though that didn't do much to make the planet stop swirling. This had to be a sick joke.
"Don't worry, they'll leave you alive. Mostly."
If he was going to be beaten up for being saucy he was going to earn it, damnit. But before he could open his mouth to really tell her what he thought, the Rodian behind him let go, just in time for the first one to plant a boot in his gut, sending him tumbling backwards. He heard the sound of the second thug pulling a vibroblade.
The second thug went to kick Carth; he took the blow, but grabbed the foot. Twisting and pushing, he knocked the Rodian off his feet, throwing him away. This got Carth the space he needed to push himself to his feet, staggering against the nearby wall. The standing Rodian pointed at his partner and laughed while the alien climbed to his feet. The other replied with indignant Rodese, while the first shot back some amused teasing.
Great. I'm the afternoon entertainment. He braced himself, ignoring the wound on his arm. He fought Sith... some tough-guy flunkies weren't going to get the best of him.
"Hello, Gina."
Both thugs halted their advance at the words, spoken in a low, smooth alto... and actually stepped back, away from Carth as he panted against the wall. Carth risked a glance at the source of the voice, and saw a woman emerge from the shadows – as if the dark was reluctant to give her up.
The newcomer looked every inch the warrior. Wearing a dark grey jacket, sleek muscle rippled beneath the belly of her tight black shirt and trousers, doing nothing to lessen the feminine appeal of the curve of her breasts and buttocks. She walked toward the group with slow, measured steps, every moment implying power and grace, like the mountain cats he'd seen on his homeworld as a child. A shoulder-length mane of dark hair was tied behind her head, revealing a smooth, pale face that could have been considered beautiful, if not for the cold expression it carried.
Grey eyes flickered across Carth, noting the blood which dripped from his mouth and the wound on his arm, and swept across the two Rodian thugs to land on Gina, who suddenly appeared far less arrogant and sure of herself.
"I believe I've spoken to you before about resolving your ego problems in front of Davik's businesses, Gina." Carth watched in fascination as the two thugs shied away from the mysterious stranger, their antennae wilting with nervousness, their earlier joviality gone.
"He... he's not one of yours... is he?"
"See? That's just it. You don't know. Deal with your issues on your own ground, that was the rule. I don't like repeating myself."
Largely forgotten about, Carth pushed away from the wall, gathering himself for another round in case the brat and her thugs decided to take both him and the new woman on. He quickly located his dropped blaster, gauging how quickly he could dive for it and start shooting.
The woman had taken up a place between him and the thugs, who had back-pedalled to keep their distance. Carth was surprised by their reaction; sure, she looked strong and tough, but there was only one of her, and her hands were still empty. The Rodians looked between her and their employer, fingering their vibroblades, as nervous as if Malak himself was standing in front of them.
"Y-you can't kill me... my father-"
"-Is nothing, Gina. He has credits... but that's all he has. If he were eliminated, do you think the other nobles would care? You know who the power is on Taris – though you seem to wilfully forget sometimes." The newcomer shook her head disapprovingly. "I think you need to be reminded. Don't worry, I'll leave you alive. Mostly."
Carth had been inching toward his blaster when the woman moved forward in an unhurried pace. The two guards, exhibiting more loyalty than sense, raised their weapons nervously. The black-clad woman seemed to barely notice their presence.
The rightmost guard stabbed at her when she was within range, a pathetic poke, merely meant to cause her to keep her distance. She dodged it neatly, darting inward, seizing the Rodian's wrist and the upper edge of the blade, spinning it in his grip and jamming it upwards between his legs. Though he knew Rodians kept their sexual organs elsewhere, Carth winced in sympathy.
The other came at her back; without even looking, she seized the blaster from the hip of the first thug. She lifted it into a parry with her left hand, the blade coming at her head scraping harmlessly by along the barrel of the weapon. The overcommitted Rodian found himself stumbling forward into her outstretched arm, his forehead pressed against the muzzle of the blaster.
She looked at him, and he had enough time to squeak in horror. Then he crumpled backwards, a smoking hole in the centre of his head. His partner slid to the ground off his own blade moments later.
Seeing that her bodyguards were finished, Gina turned, screaming, and tried to run. The woman's head whipped about, and suddenly her confiscated blade was spinning through the air, to bury itself firmly into the rich woman's right buttock. She went down with an anguished cry.
The woman in black practically sauntered over to the fallen noble; when she was close enough, she grabbed the blade, still sticking upward from the woman's backside, and yanked it out.
Crouching down, she lifted Gina's head with the flat of the blade, smearing the noble with her own blood. "Solve your own problems on your own ground. Otherwise, you risk angering someone with... friends. I trust I won't need to repeat this lesson any more?" Gina squeaked a negative, tears rolling down her face. "Good. Good bye, Gina."
Gina, if nothing else, had the sense not to waste the reprieve she'd been granted. She scrambled to her feet, and limped away as fast as her damaged backside would let her. The moment when Carth realized he probably should have done the same was when the black-clad woman turned around and looked at him.
She approached him, and he decided that she didn't walk... she stalked. He felt like he shouldn't move, or it would cause her to pounce. He kept one hand pressed against his wound, staunching the bleeding. She came within an arm's length, and slowly circled him. "Um... thanks for the help," he nearly stammered.
"Street trash," she replied. "Sometimes those with power need to be reminded that power can be an illusion." As she walked back in front of him, her fingertips lightly stroked his neck, brushing up toward his lips. "Besides, I'm hardly uncultured. I couldn't let her destroy a work of art."
Her hand traced down his chest, and she leaned in, almost intimately close. She was probably doing it to put him off balance – unfortunately, she was doing it pretty damned well. He felt like steak in front of a rancor, and wondered briefly if he would have been better off with Gina Laven's thugs. Was she sniffing him? He smelled of sweat and blood... not exactly his best cologne.
"You know," she said, her words coming as soft puffs against his neck, "I would have thought the Republic would train their soldiers a bit better about laying low in enemy territory."
He barely suppressed a flinch, instead feigning ignorance. "I don't understand."
She pulled back, looking up at him. She smiled slightly, an expression that didn't reach her eyes. "Exactly what I mean."
She turned and walked a few steps away, then paused to address him over her shoulder. "There's a medical centre at the end of the district, run by Zelka Forn. He'll treat you well. And... he might have something you're looking for." Leaving him with that mysterious statement, she strutted away, soon disappearing behind a building.
Carth released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Weird planet." Then, lacking a better idea, he headed down the block to find the medical centre she'd mentioned.