"You cannot win, Revan!"
Revan? Of all the things Diamar could dream of, he dreamt of the former leader of the Republic's military? The saviour, turned destroyer of the galaxy? Sith's blood, how infuriating! No matter the situation - even in his dreaming state, he found himself at the whims of another. A different being than him - subservient. Good.
Flashes appeared here and there, cutting his current waking thoughts off. In that twilight between the dreaming and consciousness, he gasped, imagining a view onboard a dark, brilliant ship. He was on the bridge, specifically, given the view of a planet in front of him - and he panned back, moved from his position, around, fell, and struggled to take control, as he did in all dreams.
He saw a woman. A Jedi Knight. Someone he'd seen before - beyond a shadow of a doubt, but from where? Had he forgotten about a Jedi he met back on his growing days on Corellia? And why was she on this ship - ready to fight? His mind continued sputtering questions as their sabers clashed - red striking yellow - and was ripped from his sleep by a rumble.
"No!" he roared, leaping up from his bed, eyes snapping awake.
Carta was by his side, and steadied him, shushing him.
"Quiet, quiet! Hell, you've been thrashing around in your sleep - didn't think your dreams were getting that bad. I'm Carta Onasi, by the way-" she greeted him, calmly.
"-From the ship," Diamar noted, immediately at peace, breaths slowing down, "I remember. Thanks for getting us off there."
"Don't mention it; I never abandoned anyone on a mission, and I'm not about to start now," she smirked, sighing, "We're in an abandoned apartment on the planet of Taris. You and K'Satra were banged up pretty bad when our escape pod crashed, but luckily I wasn't seriously hurt. I was able to drag you two away from our crash site in all the confusion, and I stumbled onto this abandoned apartment."
Diamar was flabbergasted, "some luck," he uttered, laughing.
"You're telling me. By the time the Sith arrived on the scene we were long gone."
"They like this place, do they?" he asked.
"They've got Taris under quarantine - and are doing spot checks, trying to scrub every last inch of this planet. I can only assume they're looking for-"
"-Bastila," Diamar cut her off, instinctually, blushing. "S-sorry, continue?"
"And I assume that because of her Battle Meditation. They say the force can do great things - but her prowess in it, is special. In the campaigns she's flown in, she's managed to turn the tide of battle using her ability more than once," Carta whistled, eyes darkening as she looked back to Trask, who was on a bedroll adjacent to Diamar, unconscious.
"We've got to find her then," Diamar said.
"Which will be easier said than done. I can't say for certain whether or not she's still alive, but we've got to try. I've heard reports of a couple more escape pods crashing below the surface - into the Undercity," she explained.
"Sounds like a fun place - trust me, I'm good at recognising zone titles," he joked, "we'll need some equipment, by the sounds. Did the others-"
"I didn't see them. Borik's pod may have been the one of those landing in the Undercity."
Diamar nodded, ruffling his hair as he rose from his bed, shaking himself awake. The room around them was kept dark - windows dimmed as the morning sun poked through the imperfections in the glass pane. The apartment was spacious, though lacking in privacy of any sort - darting his head around the room, the scoundrel picked out a separate bathroom area, complete with a refresher unit.
He then looked to K'Satra, and took note of any scarring, damage. He turned back to Carta as she neared him.
"She's just resting. But she won't be able to join us, not just yet. She'll need a little bit more time to recuperate," Carta advised.
"Will she be safe by herself?"
"I can't say for certain. But we can lock the door on our way out to be sure…"
Diamar nodded, and gently jostled K'Satra awake. She was quick, snapping her eyes open on full alert, only to blink them a few times once she saw no threat.
"Of all the faces I had to wake up to…" she mumbled, sitting up with a low grunt.
"Yes, yes, you're completely floored by my rugged good looks, I'm so sorry! Carta and I were thinking of doing a little shopping before we dive into hell itself. Are you able to join us?" he asked her.
K'Satra took grip of her leg and attempted shifting it, wincing in pain as she did so. Carta stabilised her, and kept her steady, lying her back down on the bed.
"N-no, I can't. Sorry. You'll… You'll have to do without me, at least for a few hours more."
Diamar nodded, and sighed, feeling himself for a spare medpac, anything of the sort, and smiled when he found something. He handed her a blaster pistol, standard issue - which had seen better days.
"Whilst we're finding a way down underground, can we get you to do a bit of recon on your own? Maybe see if you can find a ship to get us past the Sith blockade?" Carta asked, trying not to burden the injured woman. K'Satra nodded, however, and kept her hand on the blaster, ready.
"'I'll try. Just make sure you guys report back soon, okay?" she asked, Carta and Diamar nodding in response.
"We'll try and be back within a standard Republic half-day. If we're not back by then, and you can walk, then…" Carta began trailing off into uncertainty.
Diamar put a hand on her shoulder, and sent a wink K'Satra's way. "Find the Jedi."
(Some time later…)
Stepping out consciously on Taris for the first time was something else. As the doors opened, the sounds of life poured into Diamar and Carta's ears. The sounds of billions of people beneath them - to their left, right, and even some flying up above - were staggering. A trillion footfalls or more, the speech of commerce, trade, love, life and even death found its way to their cores, and Diamar took a moment to steady himself, hand rising to his chest.
"You okay?" Carta asked.
"Y-yeah, I'm… Fine. It's just, loud, isn't it?"
"Suppose so. Come on, let's get searching."
They stopped, however briefly, by the local cantina - and by a shop on the way, picking up a few medpacks, stims, trusting themselves to hunt for scavenged armour later on. Much to Carta's chagrin, Diamar even threw himself into the Taris dueling ring - easily defeating the likes of their worst. Upon taking down their second contestant, however, he stepped out, limping - beaming at Carta.
"Are you an idiot?"
"N-no, no - quite the opposite in fact, I've made us a few credits, and-" he tried defending himself, wincing as Carta savagely applied one of their medpacs to him, having just returned from a brief questioning around the bar.
"-Credits that are worthless if we have to spend them healing your wounds. Can you walk?" she asked, ignoring the bare patch of flesh he exposed to her - the muscle packed beneath his skin - and the strength behind that.
"I can keep fighting, that's no issue. I figured with a bit more weight to my name we might be able to sway people better-"
"-At the cost of being found by the Sith?"
His smile faded as she maintained a firm glare, arms crossed over her chest. Fixing his clothing back up, he led her, down the road of the northern upper city in silence, trying desperately to let go of his anger, his irritation.
"You have a point, Carta. But I'm a nobody, and my past is as hidden as it could possibly be. Besides the lovely Sith who was perched outside of our apartment, who else do you think would find us?"
"That's not my point. It's in making yourself a target that you'll end up sabotaging this mission. It's good that you're a nobody, and you should strive to keep it that way. Look, I've seen what the Sith have done; to my homeworld, and to countless others. They're ruthless, and their commanders, their admirals, are worse. You don't want to make yourself a target."
They stepped back out onto the upper city's floor - the buzz of civilian ships zipping and zapping by overhead. Diamar took a moment to breath in, and found centering himself much easier - especially away from that foul Hutt. He turned back to Carta as they maintained an even pace down the street.
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," he noted, voice softer, less offended.
"I've been a pilot with the Republic for years - I served in the Mandalorian Wars. My homeworld was bombed to ash and back by the Sith, and lately, all I've been able to do is draw comparisons while I fight them," she informed him, her own tone quieting as she just listened to the planet, noting places on their datapad's map.
There was something to her speech then, that caught him off-guard. He stumbled, nearly tripping, and looked back to her, noticing her face was wracked with guilt.
"Your planet-"
"The Sith are monsters, plain and simple. Their doctrine, from what I've been able to gather over the years, is based on back-stabbing and politicking. And… I don't know, Thervan. I'm a soldier - I follow my orders, I listen to my admirals, and still, at the end of the day, I just-" she spoke, anger rising again in her voice as she brought the past back up, eyes lighting with an old fury.
"I'm sorry, if you want to talk about this later-"
"-I'd appreciate that," Carta muttered, pressing forward.
They dipped into the local clinic, run by a human named Zelka Forn, and acquired some info about another plight currently running rampant on Taris, and one that would no doubt hinder them later. Rakghouls, and a serum produced by the Sith that could prevent a deadly transmitted disease, that would convert other Rakghouls into more of the same.
Not giving any promises of safely retrieving a serum, their brief sleuth had deduced one other thing; yes, indeed, there were escape pods in the Undercity. Where all those Rakghouls were. Trapped beneath one of the many grand elevators that led to the bowels of Taris, were some Republic soldiers, possibly even Bastila. The sun was high in the sky as they pressed on, sneaking past the elevators' guard with some looted Sith's armour, lowering themselves into the proverbial pit.
The smell got to them first. Rust, waste, garbage and heat, a baking miasma of filth. They hadn't even reached the Undercity proper - just the lower city wards; abandoned apartments and laneways packed with stolen speeders, seedy gangsters, and an errant struggle of life. It was dark, dim - the lights humming, buzzing, and crackling where they'd been destroyed, putting both of the soldiers on alert. Diamar took the lead as they got into a scrap with some gang members; a troupe calling themselves the Black Vulkars.
They were disposed of quickly, but not without scars - thankfully leaving behind grenades, mines, and medpacs aplenty for the journey ahead. Many Nikto among their ranks, if Diamar wasn't mistaken. Sneaking further ahead, they baited enemies out into chokepoints along the ward's corridor, flinging flak to enemies' legs before rushing in for the killing blow. The pair quickly found themselves at the mercy of yet another group - the Hidden Beks, who appeared to be fighting off the Vulkars.
"For good reason, too," Gadon Thek, a human female uttered, "word is they've captured who you're looking for - put her up as a prize for a local swoop tourney."
"Just our luck…" Carta mumbled.
"Goody. So, our uniforms for the papers needed to access the Undercity, a fair trade, no?" Diamar smiled, trying his best not to lose his patience - especially at another thing that seemed to be hindering their progress.
The leader of this gang let him squirm for a little bit, her milky eyes glazing over him with the smallest of smirks. It boiled his blood; but he retained his peace, trying to nurse his mending wounds until the anaesthetic could kick in.
"That sounds fair to me. While you're hunting for our prototype swoop engine, be sure to raise a little hell for us," Gadon answered him, motioning for Zaedra, her right-hand Twi'lek, to hand them what they needed.
"Don't act like you're doing us a favour - digging through a warren of muck and excrement to then fight a whole damn gang is not my idea of a good time - ta-ta!" Diamar waved them goodbye.
They were gone in a flash, picking up to a jogging pace as they presented the Sith guard and his many, many turrets their updated credentials. Throwing an excuse out - we're mercenaries - Diamar and Carta darted past him and into their elevator, both feeling edgy, anxious.
"You're angry," Carta chuckled.
"Irritated. All these hands in our basket, Carta - what business do they have being there?" he exclaimed, striking against the wall of the crumbling elevator, recoiling as it made a horrible gurgling noise.
"Fair enough," Carta commented, unfazed, "I mean, I get it, they've got their own struggles, but-"
"-It's really, very hard to make them see that our struggle matters more?" Diamar finished, smiling back at her.
She nodded, trying to block her nose as another foul scent met them - that of a graveyard. The air in the Undercity went from the lower wards' hot, to a chilly, chilly cold. What met them was a colossal field of dirt, untouched by sunlight, and gargantuan pillars that kept the ecumenopolis of Taris standing littered the place, in a grid manner. Tiny bits of light poked through that dark, dark tomb, illuminating what little settlement there was.
"I told you," Diamar choked out, blocking his nose as well, "it's a great place for a picnic."
As soon as they stepped out, onto that soft ground, they were accosted by a duo of beggars. Draped in salvaged clothes and filthy robes, they looked as every bit sickly as the city had made them - pale and thin.
"You there, there's a toll for this elevator, see, and-"
"-Here, just take some damn credits. Get yourselves some food," Diamar chucked them two chits, each containing 10 credits, which sent them scurrying away.
Another one, a member of this Undercity, ran up to them, trying to shoo away the beggars.
"Get out of here you two! Sorry, w-we're not used to visitors, and a few of us are-"
"We…" Carta began, taking a deep breath, "understand, miss. We're just looking for entrance to the sewers. If you can point us in the right direction we can get out of your hair quickly."
"Oh! O-of course, I understand… Erm, outside the village city limits, to the southeast. But p-please, be careful - there are these creatures lurking around-"
"Rakghouls? Infectious little fellows, fond of a good feast?" Diamar finished for her, already making his way to their gate.
"They're much worse than that - any scratch, any bite, and you become one of them, I'd warn you two to be careful, and-"
"Please, miss," Carta put a hand on her shoulder, trying to pour as much understanding into her voice as possible, "we understand. We just don't have a choice - we're going through that gate one way or another."
She and Diamar then caught sight of a ruckus at the gate. Two villagers, trapped at the gate, were pounding against it, screaming for help as a small gang of those creatures, Rakghouls, neared them. They were lumbering and apish - wearing shreds of their former clothing, covered in a sleek, slick, stretched out grey skin. Even seeing them walk and run was disgusting, not to mention the fear it caused both Republic soldiers seeing them in action.
"P-please, someone open the gate!"
"Run Hendar, run!"
Diamar shot Carta a look, a weary and resigned one, and she mirrored it, both of them shaking their heads and preparing for battle. Hailing the gate guard, Diamar drew his sword again and ensured his adrenaline amplifier was working, feeling a gentle vibration surrounding his waist.
"Lower the gate, we'll clear the Rakghouls!" Carta heralded themselves, standing a good few meters behind Diamar, dual blasters at the ready.
"B-but if I l-lower the gate-"
"Lower it!" Diamar barked at her, feeling a streak of something - something light and quick pierce his soul. That voice wasn't his - it was a commander's, cutting through his own vocal chords and ensuring no one questioned their orders.
The gate guard obeyed instantly, and Diamar rushed beyond the threshold, riding the high of that voice - that split second he was taken over, and sliced the creatures to pieces - letting the villagers slip past him and back into town. Carta covered him well, and called his targets, her back pressed against the gate as she eyed their left and right, ensuring no more Rakghouls arrived after their first wave.
Taking one or two blunt hits from them, Diamar panted at the quick end of their battle, staring back at the gate, now covered in the blood of the beasts.
"Th-thank you! Y-you saved me!" who they assumed to be Hendar thanked them, hugging them both tightly, ignoring the viscera the scoundrel found himself draped in.
"Don't mention it," Carta and Diamar mumbled, smiling to the other in that moment of synchronisation.
"But please, i-if you'll allow us, we have a healer in our midst. She can mend your wounds if you have any."
The pair shared another look, and nodded. They were sat on a jagged rock near a pen where the villagers of this small settlement kept their sick and infected, trying to ignore the demoralising cries and hacks of the sick. Their healer was quiet, but expounded to the both of them the need for a Rakghoul serum - something the Sith patrols carried with them.
As they were both sat, Diamar getting his bruises tended to, and Carta, a few scratches and nicks, they were approached by another of the villagers, what they assumed to be a beggar.
"Greetings, up-worlders, I am Rukil. I am a guide to these people, those trapped here, in the Undercity-"
"-Look," Diamar sighed, standing up with but a wince, thanking the healer, "forgive my rudeness, but we must leave soon to continue our mission. Tell us what you need, and if we have the time, we'll help get it for you."
Rukil appeared offended, and Carta stood between them, sending Diamar a dirty look.
"You'll have to forgive us - we've been fighting our way through this place since this morning, and we're both at wits end. It's like he's said, we really can't afford to waste our time here, but we're happy to help if we can."
"I… Understand," Rukil nodded to both, licking his cracked, ancient lips, "my apprentice has been lost somewhere among the Undercity, or it's sewers. I-if you can find her, then you'll be doing all of us here a major service."
"We'll keep our eyes peeled for her. Try to stay safe in the meantime," Diamar nodded back, setting out with Carta in tow.
Healed, refreshed, and finally away from the burden of niceties, the pair were free to start scouting the Undercity. More of the same greeted them - crumbling, sunless ground, and perilous, peaking pillars, poking through their dark sky. It had taken a while, but their eyes had finally adjusted to the low light levels - but it didn't help settle any anxiety. Shapes moved on their peripheries - darting just out of sight when they tried looking directly at them. They remained low, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of more Rakghouls, hoping not to get ambushed.
And then, sword at the ready, blasters drawn, they prepared to fight a single, incoming thing. Upon closer inspection, the two lowered their weapons as an armoured Twi'lek girl approached them, panting.
"Oh, h-hey, you! You have to help me - you have to! Even the Beks won't help me!"
"Keep your voice down!" Carta shushed her, huddling her close after she sprinted up to them, catching her breath.
"My friend, Big Z - uh, Zaalbar - She's being kept in the sewers by a bunch of Gamorreans! Please, I need your help-"
"-You must be Mission Vao," Diamar noted, clapping a hand to her shoulder, trying to calm her, "what were you two doing in the Undercity? And why aren't the Beks helping you?"
"Well, we usually go out here from time to time, we kinda like to just, y'know, explore and stuff, but… This time, the Gamorreans were perched in the sewer, just waiting for us! They tried to capture me, but Big Z started fighting them. I ran away, expecting her to be behind me, but when I turned around, I-" she rattled off, getting more and more distressed as she recalled the experience.
"-Look, it's fine, we'll help you find your friend, little lady," Carta assured her, her voice quiet yet compassionate, soft.
"Thanks, uh-hey! I'm not little! And… Well, I'll show you guys where we went - the reason the Beks don't want to help me is because… Zaalbar and I ain't even supposed to be here…" she mumbled, taking point.
"Don't worry, we'll get him back for you. We'll… Need a favour in return though - passage into the Vulkars' base."
"It's a deal. You help me find Big Z, I'll help you find a way into the base. C'mon," she ushered them both, laying low.
Mission Vao was skilled. Talented at her work. Diamar didn't dare think on it now - how those skills came to be, hiding from predators and scrounging for goods from the dead. He simply followed her lead, scouting the area around them with wide, open eyes. It was all too clear that this environment, no matter how hostile, was the Twi'lek's element.
An element that had betrayed her, given the Gamorreans, however.
The party halted as they spotted movement - too smooth and too steady to be a rakghoul, in the distance. Diamar nearly gasped, but had to slap a hand over his mouth to quiet it - spotting their comrades from the Endar Spire.
"Cart-"
"-I see them," she mumbled, clearly energised, eager to rally the troops.
"Huh, the soldiers? No, listen, they're in a bad spot - we can't-" Mission uttered, voice shut down by Carta's firm stare.
"They're our soldiers. We've gotta save them!"
"The rakghouls'll tear us apart! Look, just look out there - they've got six, seven circling them already - high up on the ferrocrete walls," she pointed out. "Not to mention anymore hiding and waiting for us!"
Diamar sighed, scared beyond his wits. In the distance, a scream echoed, dying out so very slowly as the group huddled behind a fallen piece of Taris' upper roads.
"I'll get to them, clear a path. Lead a distraction. I can fend off two or three, but I'll need you two to cover me," he ordered them, rising up. Mission yanked him down by his collar and darted her sight around, noticing no movement on her vision.
"And what if you're bit?"
"Antidote kits. Purge the virus before it can spread - I can take the preventative measure now and arm myself-"
"-That'll make you more sluggish," Carta warned him, "I'll do it-"
"-Absolutely not - the glory is mine and mine alone, dear commander," he scoffed at her, smiling. "Besides, if one of us dies, better it be a rogue than a hero."
Without further word, ignoring the comment back from Carta, Diamar tread forward. With muffled steps and halted breaths, he kept his body low to the ground, and stalked. He could pick out two more blurs on the horizon - hundreds of metres away, but still only saw the pack that Mission had referenced; the core of their threat.
With a mighty roar, he shot at the pack - who scattered, huddled away from the gathered Republic soldiers. Approaching closer and keeping his firing line up, Diamar noted Benno, Yelran, but no Borik. He quickly shot his gaze backwards, noticing an idle, wandering rakghoul that had stumbled upon his lure - and smirked as it received a single, unguarded shot to the back of the head.
Whipping his head back, Diamar sighed as he neared the soldiers, noticing Yelran, if he remembered them correctly, was nursing a bad bite. Benno was there, by her side, attempting to nurse the wounds.
"D-Don't come any closer! We're infected- I, wait - is that you, from the Endar Spire!?"
"The one and only, in the flesh and such," he greeted them, low, ushering over Mission and Carta.
"N-No, l-listen, Yel's been bit by one of those things, you guys need to get out of here-" Benno breathed, darting his eyes around, catching something scuttling on the edge of his vision.
"H-Hey, wait up!" Mission yelled, keeping herself crouched, "watch out - there's a nest nearby!"
"A nest?" Diamar questioned.
"The… Pit," Yelran motioned to the opening to her right, a massive pillar which opened up not unlike the Undercity's elevator. It was scarred, emanating a foul funk which led the party to believe it led to the sewers.
Blood surrounded it. Fresh, and not so fresh - copper melding with the dried essence of hundreds of victims. Torn metal, the rubble of the ancient structure looked like it had almost exploded outwards in some violent display of yesteryear.
Benno choked, freezing, "w-w-we had to claw our way out of there, and… And-"
"-They... Got Borik," Yel blinked, letting weary, worn tears descend from her face.
Diamar turned to Carta, who rushed over to Yel's side, attempting to administer what aid she could. Following her lead past a haze in his head, Diamar ordered Mission to keep an eye out for them, as he did the same for Benno.
"Then we've got to get you two out of here," Carta said, "bite or not, maybe that healer nearby can help you-"
"-No! No, I'm gone too!" Yel roared, throwing Carta off her with a horrible strength, clutching the sides of her head.
Benno neared her, laying hands on her shoulders, "Yel, please, I-"
"-Off me, get off me! I… I must," poking at her pouches, Yel's eyes lit with an awful black, flickering in the low light of the Undercity. Her hands clasped around a device on her belt, and she shared a look with her petrified crowd.
"No!"
Time slowed - a shot of adrenaline spiking through the veins of Diamar, Benno, and Carta. Time had slowed, and yet, Yelran sped with purpose - a ticking, fragmentary, explosive purpose, contained in her hand. Snapping his eyes to the entrance of the underground lair, no doubt containing a hive of those ravenous Rakghouls, Diamar ran as fast as his legs would carry.
His intercept failed - Benno got nearer than he did, and Carta was still recovering from being pushed off the injured soldier. The red flash of the grenade in Yel's hand counted down to her destruction, one which she would make pyrrhic, not tragic. One which would annihilate those that tried to swarm her, one which would guarantee her an easy, messy end.
Benno tried to stop her, but failed, as Diamar did. She reached the lip of the bloody pit and leapt, head first.
And, with foot over air, Benno slipped, and fell in.
Diamar, soon after him.
The scoundrel, with dextrous twinge, smacked his hand to the rusted, jagged edge of the pillar's gate, feet dangling over twenty metres of nothing. Darkness was abound, no light penetrating the final 10 metres, but the sound was there. A horrid, mutated march. The blight of an ancient plague showing it's full might - a hungry horde of hunters, gnashing and gnawing.
"Agh! H… Help! H-help!"
Diamar's eyes were left glued to the pit's bottom. The red light of Yel's grenade flashed, and with it beamed a view of death. There lay Borik's clothing, her body in pieces next to it, alongside the bounty of a thousand dead rodents, all in various states of putrefaction. Yel was too far gone - neck warped in an awful place, eyes still alight with animalistic intent.
And Benno… Diamar dared not look. Dared not hear - for fear of losing his grip. Another flash, and 5 curious rakghouls began surrounding their newest bounty. One more, and the walls filled with them, claws clicking against the ferrocrete floor. Even the stink of Taris' refuse couldn't drown out the scent of blood, and the rushing of Taris' sewer lines couldn't drown out Benno's screams.
Another flash, and the hive was no more. Diamar was pulled up by Carta, then Mission, who told them to run. They followed the girl, acting on survival alone, their footfalls drowned by the resounding crack and warble of the abyss below. Another sewer entrance, they found, tighter, brighter, and less putrid. One where they could pause, recover, and reflect.
"They… They…"
"...We couldn't save them," Carta said. Whether she meant to echo Diamar's regret or comfort it, he couldn't discern.
"I… C'mon, you two - we gotta keep moving!"
Try as he might, the recruit couldn't shake his thoughts from them. Yelran, Benno, Borik. Deaths. Awful, awful ends in a scumhole out of reach of the sun's light. They'd probably signed up ages ago, thinking they'd win this war against the Sith or die valiantly in stories told by romance-novelists, surrounded by their venerated brothers in arms. Not cowering like rats. Not cornered like prey.
Diamar wondered - how long had they been like that? For how long had they toiled in the dark, growing wearier and ragged by the second? How long before they'd given up hope - and if he didn't screw around - could he have saved them? Carta felt much the same it seemed, the same emotions playing over her face, ensnaring her with guilt. They didn't need to die. It would lie on them to report to their families, if they hadn't already assumed the worst.
Diamar shook his head of those thoughts, but couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity; this indescribable loss of life, this impact that weighed on him. Bodies. Pits. Blood. Failure. His distinct lack of command - it all served to remind him of the Mandalorian Wars, and-
The scoundrel paused as Mission and Carta pressed on. Had he served then? No, no, he couldn't have - he remembered feeling so green when boarding the Endar Spire, and…
He probed deeper, past the veil of the antidote's haze.
And therein, lied a new cloud over his eyes.
One he couldn't quite shake yet.
(Some time later...)
The hours blended together almost endlessly, until the party had returned to Gadon Thek and the Hidden Beks. A new friend had joined them - a Wookiee who had pledged her life to Diamar, for saving her. With a prototype accelerator in hand, they nominated him as their racer, and Diamar accepted. A brief visit to K'Satra let them know she was chasing leads on the Upper City - and had found word of a ship that could get them past the Sith blockade. They would have to dive into dirty dealings with a Mandalorian, but, things, for a little while, were looking up.
Things looked better, then briefly worse, then better again as they commenced the race. Brejik didn't live up to her word, so her gang died by Diamar's hand. Bastila, a Jedi Knight, had finally joined their ranks. Still trapped in that haze, that umbral thread of doubt, he found describing her difficult. Rough around the edges, standoffish, but hopeful. She was shorter than him, beautiful in many ways, and had the most distinct expression of anger.
An expression he got too familiar with too quickly - having broadcasted the results of the swoop race over Taris' many networks - an expression he shrunk from. But in that shrinking - he recognised something. Familiar. Though deprived of her lightsaber for the duration of combat with Brejik, she was fiercely talented, almost brutish in her methods, disarming more than one of the Vulkars with ease, with impunity.
"...Well, as far as rescues go, this is a pretty poor example."
And things were going to continue to look up, it seemed.
Taris held a certain ambience; a persistent, grinding, gnawing ambience. A struggle of life that grew more and more frantic as one descended lower into the bowels of the ecumenopolis. It was this ambience that he couldn't shake - couldn't possibly ignore, as he and that motley crew ascended the lower city elevators.
That foray into the underground hell had gone on for too long.
With each loss of life, he felt a tinge of a reflex. A point in his mind being made - as if his failure would be forever etched into it. As if his brain had turned against him and said, no, you let them die. You were weak. Too slow. Couldn't find them, couldn't give them the serum in time. But K'Satra had found a name, and had given a face to that Mandalorian aide - Caldera Ordo - a piece of good news Diamar held onto to distract himself.
Still deep within the bowels of the planet-city, Diamar reclined against the elevator's walls, dusted in dried Rakghoul blood. Affirmation time, he thought. Remember your place in this world. His compatriot, a hero of the Republic, stood, arms crossed and eyes glaring at him. To her side was Bastila - Diamar's "trophy", the Jedi renowned for her unsurpassed Battle Meditation. One of their goals, met.
With them slumped a Wookiee and a Twi'lek, exhausted from battle, hearts still soaring with energy and pride.
"Need I remind you that we need to keep a low profile? It won't surprise me if every Sith on the planet is sent after us now. What in the world made you think that dragging in that recording droid was a good idea? Especially after your stint as the 'Mysterious Stranger'?" Carta asked him, voice full of resolute anger.
She started to grow weary of the scoundrel she'd been lugged with - he was too showy, his tongue too quick for his mind to follow, often parading himself into absolute danger. Bastila sighed as she mirrored Carta's stance, studying the presence of her "saviour". They noticed his facade quickly - a front he was trying to raise to spite his earlier horror.
"Oh come now, Carta - I made sure to keep the focus on me, and off our dear madam Jedi. The sith would sooner find brains in their helmets than force users on Taris," he mocked, dusting his jacket lightly, sneering at his own stench. If Zaalbar's growls noted anything, it was that she too, noticed the foul foetor.
He snapped his gaze back to the soldier and the Jedi, smiling sweetly.
"That was a joke, you see. Sith. Brains. They have none," he explained, giggling at himself, "Mission gets it!"
Ignoring the teenager's quiet titter, Bastila remained calm, forcing herself to breathe in deep, eyes nearly watering at the smell of the bile and blood adorning Diamar. She faced away from him, staring into the elevator's doors, ready to leave.
"I fail to see the humour in this. If the sith find me, they win this war. No corner of the Republic's galaxy will be spared, Diamar - no amount of the Tarisian spotlight will be worth a scorched system," she warned him, her voice even, yet dire.
It sobered the man up almost instantly. It brought him back to that familiar feeling he'd felt since he'd awoken - that inkling of a thought that bit at the back of his mind, daring to be brought to the conscious. He sighed, and rose to a standing position, towering over the Jedi, yet dwarfed by the Wookiee.
For a brief moment, he swore he could feel the lifestream of the city-planet coursing through him, desperately clinging to life, bare for the reaping. It sent a quick chill up his spine as soon as it faded away, as if warning him of a terrible fate. Diamar cleared his throat before bringing his gaze to the back of the Jedi.
"...You're too right, I was careless. I'll try to refrain from any… Further grand gestures," he apologised, bowing, of all things. Mission erupted with another quiet titter, and Carta couldn't help but smile at the charms of the rogue, shaking her head.
"We're not out of the woods yet, at any rate. We still need a way off this planet, whether that's a ticket or a ship. And if it's a ticket, we'll need a damn good disguise for you, Bastila," Carta uttered. Bastila nodded to her, and sighed again, breathing deep.
"I'm fresh outta ideas, sorry. All the ship-faring folk I knew are long gone by now, slipped out before the embargo started," Mission advised, thinking if the Beks knew any vehicle beyond a lousy speeder.
"Don't suppose you have a ship, Zaalbar? How did you even get to Taris in the first place?" Diamar asked the Wookiee, rolling on the balms of his feet.
"Sorry, I don't. I arrived here on Czerka transport from Kashyyyk, years ago."
"Ah. Good then. Let's hope K'Satra has had more luck. Otherwise we'll be stuck prowling about for a ship as the ever watchful dreadnoughts keep their eyes peeled for a lightsaber," Diamar chuckled, "though I'm wary of it, perhaps we should rob a Sith freighter?"
There was silence to the suggestion - none of the party meeting the other's eyes. Diamar could only guffaw, chest puffed with pride.
"You thought about it! You all thought about it - how easy it would be! Just waltz right up to a sith guard, knock them out, take their uniform, and back off into space we go…"
Carta shook her head again, holding back an amused smile.
"Forgetting the fact that there's likely more than one guard at a freighter at any given time, and forgetting the fact that none of us have piloted a freighter before - what's to say we're not asked for authentication on the way out of Taris' atmosphere? What's to say they don't sound the alarm once we take off?" Carta asked.
Diamar shrugged, still smiling.
"I figured I'd come up with the rest of the plan in the heat of the moment. Pull through for another heroic rescue in the nick of time, save us from becoming space dust," he chortled, "as has become the norm since we've teamed up, Carta."
The elevator doors hissed as Bastila kept her gaze low, backing away, hiding close to Diamar. As they exited, Sith none the wiser, he couldn't help but stare at the Jedi - that biting thought still nibbling at the back of his mind. She met his gaze, appearing worried, halting in her steps.
"Is something wrong?"
"No… It's… No, it's nothing," he assured her.
"Then I'd suggest we move on."