Hello again! Just a quick note: if you're one of the people who also has read some of my other stories, I'm giving fair warning - this is, in my humble opinion, the best of the three stories I've got going right now. I say that because I've put the most effort into this one, trying to flesh out the characters and give justice to a great game. SO, I will be concentrating on this story and this story only for a long while.
Okay, I lied AGAIN. No fluffiness...just angsty Vincent wondering why he's so screwed up in the head. If you don't get his frustration and anger at the end of the chapter, the previous sentence explains it. He's starting to lose his mind because of all of these conflicting memories - some of which are not his. And Bastila's not helping.
Slightly shorter than the last chapter by a couple of hundred words, but who's nitpicking? (Me...o.o;)
"Well crap."
"What n – oh. That's not pleasant."
"Vibroblades. Now."
"What? Why not lightsabers?"
He looked at her for a moment. "Vibroblades work better on droids."
She shrugged, handing him a vibroblade. "If you insist."
"Come, darling. Let us slay more enemies together," he said mimicking her accent to perfection.
"I do so enjoy these outings you take me on," she shot back with a grin.
"If we're still alive after this whole thing, I'll take you on a real date. I promise."
Bastila's grin widened. "I'm going to hold you to that."
Vincent smiled back. "I know. Shall we?" he asked, indicating the room before them where two nasty looking assault droids laid in wait.
"I'll let you have first crack at them."
"Hah...thanks."
"Anytime," Bastila said as he entered the room in front of her. As soon as Vincent stepped through the doorway, the droids attempted to fire up their shields, failing miserably as they did so.
"And that is why being a ridiculously good hacker is worth it," Vincent called to her from across the room. He had circled behind the droids as they were trying to activate their shields.
"I might just keep you around. You're proving quite useful," she said, twirling the vibroblade in anticipation of the oncoming battle.
"Oh, you should see what else I can do with my hands. Remember that massage on Kashyyyk?"
"Yes," she admitted. "It was...relaxing."
Vincent's grin gained a mischievous air. "I can do a lot more than be 'relaxing'," he said as he sized up the distance between himself and the nearest droid. With a yell, he leapt at the machine, his vibroblade raised high above his head, the blade pointing to the floor. Bastila charged the unoccupied droid as he executed his move, sending a small wave of electricity at it as a distracting measure. She sliced diagonally, catching one of the droid's arms and breaking off a section of armor plating.
"I thought that was my move!" she heard Vincent say as he rolled out of the way of a swipe that would have sent him into an intimate meeting with the wall.
"What, disabling a droid? I've been able to do that forever!"
She blocked a barrage of blaster fire and deflected it back at the droid, scoring a few hits. Thrusting her weapon forward, she caught it in the midsection, piercing the armor and driving her blade deep into the mass of wires and circuitry, twisting and pulling upward as she did so. The assault droid fell in a two-piece heap at her feet, smoking and sparking profusely.
Bastila looked up just in time to see Vincent remove the other droid's head cleanly, slicing through the metal as if it were tissue paper. Almost too fast for her eyes to detect, he brought his blade back and made a parallel cut, slicing the droid transversally at the waist. He stood up straight and raised an eyebrow at her shocked look.
"That was fast," she commented.
He shrugged, tossing the vibroblade back to her and unclipping his lightsaber from his belt. Raising his wrist to his mouth, he spoke into the small COM device that he wore.
"HK, what's up?"
"Statement: I have encountered two groups of Sith and some pathetic war droids. I dispatched both with relative ease."
"Where does this hallway go?"
"Statement: According to the computer, it branches two ways, master. Turn to the left, and you will come upon a training annex. Turn to the right, and you will find me at the computer terminal. Further down the hallway in an isolated room are three Dark Jedi."
"Do you know where we are?"
"Statement: Yes, master."
"Alright then, come find us. We'll be in the hallway. I wanna check out that training annex."
"Statement: I will be with you shortly."
HK meant what he said. Within twenty seconds, he was at their side and ready to go.
"What do you think is in the training annex?" Bastila asked as she unclipped her own double-bladed lightsaber.
"The Selkath. I saw one on the camera, but I don't know for sure if he's the only one. I have to find out," Vincent explained as they continued down the hallway.
"And if we find the others and they don't want to come with us?" she pressed.
"I'll persuade them," he said matter-of-factly.
"You're quite confident in your abilities."
"No, I know my limitations. Persuading a bunch of kids can't be that hard. Trust me," he said with a knowing look.
The door to the training annex opened with a low whoosh to reveal a quiet, empty room. There were three doors that were visible; nothing living occupied the annex.
"Let's try that door," Vincent said pointing to the door to their right. Approaching it with lightsabers at the ready, they were both surprised to see a young Selkath lying on a table looking as if he had been tortured.
"God..." Vincent said quietly. (What did they do to you?)
The young Selkath coughed and took a shuddering breath before speaking. (They...tortured me...for seeing what the others cannot. I couldn't...fight back...too strong. Take this...) he extended his hand, clutching a small medallion tightly. (My friends will believe you if you show them this...you must get them out.)
Vincent took the medallion and inspected it, curious as to its significance.
(What is this...?)
He stopped, unable to continue. The young Selkath laid dead, his life sapped by the wounds his captors had inflicted. Silently, Vincent closed the Selkath's eyes and turned away, unable to look at the cruelty of the Sith.
"Those bastards will pay," he hissed, his voice quivering with rage. He looked at Bastila in an almost helpless fury. "A child," he pointed to the dead body, "They did this to a child!"
"We can still help the others," she said, trying to refocus him on the task at hand.
He took a couple of deep breaths and nodded, knowing she was right.
"Statement: Master, they were not very proficient at –"
HK was cut off by Vincent's hand in the air. "Not a good time HK."
"Apology: I am sorry, master. Did this native mean something to you?"
Vincent thought for a moment, not entirely sure how to answer his droid's question. "Do you remember when we talked about useless killing? Killing that furthered no goals, and for all intents a purposes, was a waste of time and energy?" he asked.
"Assertion: Of course, master. That was quite recently," HK seemed to be pondering his choice of words. "Hesitant query: Is this the same concept?"
"Yes, this is the same concept. Looking at this gives me just one more good reason to hate the Sith." Vincent sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had neglected to cut it of late, and it was growing to an almost normal length. "C'mon, we're wasting time. Let's keep exploring."
The trio exited the room in silence, returning to the main atrium of the annex.
"Down there, to the left," Vincent ordered, immediately following his own directions. This door opened with the same low whoosh to reveal a semi-comfortable furnished room, currently occupied by a small group of adolescent Selkath. One of these natives looked quite taken aback at the sight of strangers.
(Intruders! Kill them!) he shouted, drawing a blaster from his hip and preparing to fire. (Call the Masters!)
(No, wait!)another Selkath interrupted, halting the male's arm in mid-raise. (This might be a test,) she explained. (We need to take care of this ourselves.)
Vincent was mildly impressed at the young girl's leadership abilities; she must've been a natural, as the whole group seemed to agree with her almost instantaneously.
(Who are you?) she asked.
(I might ask you the same question,) he shot back. The Selkath glared at him sullenly, but answered anyway.
(My name is Sasha. Now, who are you?)
(I'm a friend, sent here by your father to get you out.)
Sasha snorted. (Get us out? We're better off in here than being controlled by the Republic. The Sith are the only ones who know how to handle this war, and we'll be on the winning side when your precious Republic falls.)
(Yet you fail to see that the Sith will enslave your planet if they win this war,) Vincent said pointedly.
(You believe the lies the Republic feeds you,) Sasha replied defiantly. (Show me proof of the Sith's deception. Then maybe I'll listen to you.)
Vincent produced the medallion from a pocket in his jacket. (Is this good enough?)
The collective group of young Selkath gasped. (How did you get that?) she said suspiciously.
(Your friend is dead on a table because of your vaunted saviors,) Vincent said, his voice laced with anger. (The Sith tortured him. He never had a chance to defend himself.)
(I...) Sasha took the medallion and studied it for a few seconds, looking back up at Vincent when she was done. (How do I know you didn't just kill him and take his medallion?) she accused.
Vincent closed his eyes for a brief moment. God, this was almost as bad as arguing with Bastila.
(If you wish to see proof, follow me,) he said, turning on his heel and walking out of the room. He knew that Sasha wouldn't be far behind. He re-entered the room that held the young Selkath's dead friend.)
(There,) Vincent said coldly. (There's your proof.)
Sasha's young eyes went wide. (I will take the others out of here. Thank you for your help, Vincent. I shall tell my father of your aid.)
Vincent watched as the Selkath filed out of their room, all in various states of shock or disbelief that they could be so utterly fooled.
"You know, somehow, you always manage to pull a good outcome out of a bad situation," Bastila observed once the Selkath were gone.
"I'm just lucky, I guess," he said dismissively.
"And now you're being humble. You never think of yourself, do you?"
"You learn not to when your life depends on the people around you -on whether or not they do their job -or making sure that you do yours," he responded. "There's one more door left, and I have a feeling that it's going to be hiding the 'Masters' that the Selkath were talking about."
"Gleeful query: Does this mean I'll get to engage in violence, master?"
Vincent shook his head. The droid never passed up a chance to shoot something. "Yes HK, it means you get to kill things."
The door through which they entered led them to another small, square room that was also empty. Undeterred, Vincent simply walked across the floor to the only other exit and opened that door as well. The two Selkath apprentices seemed quite surprised; the Master, however, had sensed their presence moments before.
(Master, allow us to help you rid of this nuisance,) one of the apprentices requested in a reverential tone.
"Very well," the Master replied in somewhat of a bored manner. Vincent's violet blade ignited with a snap-hiss, and he twirled it once before bringing it level to his shoulder, parallel to the ground and pointing at the Dark Jedi Master.
Bastila involuntarily shuddered; Revan had used the same pose when she had confronted him on the deck of his ship. Her memories of that time were still quite powerful, and it didn't take much to remind her of them. It didn't help that Vincent had unwittingly mimicked the Dark Lord's attack stance. She switched on her own yellow saber, keeping it in front her of in a defensive posture. She heard HK flick the safety off of his Mandalorian blaster and begin to charge a single, powerful blast. Seconds later, it burned past her ear and slammed into one of the Selkath apprentices, knocking him off of his feet. Vincent lunged at the Dark Jedi Master, trading blows and parries, both on seemingly equal ground.
The remaining Selkath had attacked Bastila with a surprising amount of strength, but was soon staring down the point of her double-bladed lightsaber. He didn't have long to wonder what his fate would be, as she plunged the plasma beam through his skull, killing him instantly. The apprentice that HK had attacked was groggily getting back to his feet, having suffered a near concussion at the force of the droid's blast. Running towards him, Bastila executed an aerial move, launching herself into the air and flipping over the stunned alien, twisting her body around as she sailed past him. Landing deftly on her feet, she cut the Selkath down from behind before he had a chance to turn and face her.
Vincent was still battling the Master, neither of the two combatants having gained any ground while she had been occupied.
ZAP!
Vincent had successfully blocked another attack and parried with one of his own, shoving the Dark Jedi's lightsaber back and striking at his unprotected side. The Master rolled away at the last second, contorting his body and making Vincent's lightsaber miss its mark. Growling in frustration, the Jedi pushed forward, never letting the Sith regain his balance or sense of stability.
SCREECH!
Purple and red clashed in a battle of strength, both men pushing equally as hard as the other.
"You...cannot – argh! – win, Jedi!" the Master spat contemptuously.
An almost psychotic gleam flashed in Vincent's eyes and his lips curled upward in a snarl. He pushed forward with all of his strength and broke the embrace that they had been locked in. Twirling, he slashed low – blocked – then high – blocked, but barely. Keeping the pressure on his opponent's crimson blade, he spun his lightsaber down and pushed to the left, forcing the Dark Jedi's arms to the right and leaving him completely open to attack. Vincent flicked his wrist upward, sending the Master's single-bladed saber spiraling into the air. He caught the weapon with ease, crossing the two plasma blades to form an X around the Dark Jedi's throat.
"You tortured that Selkath boy, didn't you?" Vincent questioned, his voice breathless from the battle.
"He questioned our methods, our ideals. He was beginning to make the other Selkath question us as well."
Vincent scowled, his eyes filled with contempt for the man before him. Suddenly, he pushed the lightsabers down and pulled them apart, watching as the Sith's lifeless body dropped like a rag doll. Bastila cringed as the Dark Jedi's head rolled to a stop at her feet.
"Don't."
She looked up quizzically. "Don't what?"
"Don't pity him."
Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I had any intention of feeling sorry for him?"
"You got that look that all Jedi get when they've just killed an enemy. That look of regret, that maybe you could have turned him back to the 'Light'," Vincent said with a hint of bitterness.
"And what is so wrong with that?" Bastila asked, chagrined by his cynical attitude.
"Nothing. Only the fact that distinctly classifying the two ends of the spectrum has caused more hell than it's worth. And that you only increase the hatred the so-called 'Dark Jedi' have for you by preaching your gospel to them every time you beat one." He shrugged. "But that's just my opinion."
"So you don't believe in a Light and a Dark side of the Force?" she asked, unsure of what he was getting at.
"I never said that. I just think that the two co-exist in a way that the Jedi will never acknowledge," he explained. "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Same rules apply."
Bastila was silent for a while, mulling over his words. What he said wasn't something new; many other Jedi – exiled Jedi – had preached the same message. And then there was Revan...the antithesis of what the Order believed possible. 'No man can have both Light and Dark within him,' they claimed. 'The Dark would consume him.' But not Revan. Not the savior-turned-conqueror of the Republic. He said that though he had accepted the Dark side, it was not controlling him. He let the Order look upon him to see that the evil had not corrupted him, that his appearance wasn't twisted by the taint, but the Masters were adamant in their beliefs.
"Hey, something wrong?"
Vincent's voice was soft, concerned. He had come closer and was now staring at her intently with a worried expression on his face.
"No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about what you said," she reassured him.
He wasn't convinced. "You can talk to me, you know that," he said, his tone sincere.
"I'm perfectly fine," she insisted.
"See, now you're lying. You can't lie to me, I know you too well for that." Bastila stared at him, and he sighed. "Fine, I won't press it." She turned to inspect the rest of the room. "But if you want to talk, I'm always open," he proffered.
A semi-uncomfortable silence filled the room as they both searched it for any valuable items, Bastila on one side of it, Vincent on the other. This continued for a solid five minutes before Vincent's "Hey!" broke the stillness.
Her head swiveled around at his exclamation and she crossed over to where he was standing. He was crouched down in front of a footlocker, staring down at a data pad intently. Bastila placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to see.
"What is it?"
"This could be very bad for the Sith," he said. "And that is always a good thing in my book. This data pad talks about their plan to subdue Manaan when they win the war."
"That's quite bold of them to leave this lying around, don't you think?" she said suspiciously.
"Well, you have to figure that they wouldn't expect any investigations or security checks. Manaan doesn't want to offend either the Sith or the Republic, so I'm pretty sure they stay out of both sides' business." Vincent exhaled and stood slowly. "I think we've pretty much looted the place. Besides, I think Roland'll want his droid's info back. Let's get out of here."
"I couldn't agree more," Bastila said as they exited the room.
- - -
(You are under arrest!) a Selkath law official stated firmly as the two Jedi and their assassin droid re-entered Ahto City.
"Why?" Vincent asked indignantly.
(The use of violence is not permitted here in Ahto City. We monitor this base closely, and soon after you entered, numerous explosions occurred resulting in a loss of signal. We have good reason to believe you are the cause of this. You will come with me,) the Selkath said, leaving no room for argument.
Vincent made none as he was led off to the Ahto containment cells, nor did he protest as he was placed within one and left there with no explanation. He figured that there was not use in arguing with these Selkath and their narrow scope on reality. Soon enough, another Selkath came in and introduced himself as an arbiter.
(You will need representation in the High Court. I have been appointed to do this for you.)
"Can't I just represent myself?" Vincent asked wearily, not looking forward to having a fish defend him in front of a judge. The Selkath looked taken aback by this human's suggestion.
(You could do that I suppose, but I would advise against it,) he cautioned.
"Fine, but if I decide I don't like you, can I represent myself?"
(Of course. That would be entirely unfair if I denied you that right. If you'll come with me, I'll take you in front of the High Court.)
"Don't you need to question me or something?" Vincent asked pointedly.
(No. I have all of the evidence I need. Come, it is time.)
Vincent was already beginning to regret his decision to let this Selkath represent him in front of the High Court. At least he could can the alien if he got out of hand. As they entered the semi-circular room, Vincent noticed a panel of hostile-looking judges and an equally hostile-looking Sith representative.
"This is just great," he muttered. He also noticed that all of his friends had showed up and were looking quite perplexed at his situation. He couldn't blame them; Vincent was pretty sure that he didn't look too good in his current state...the handcuffs around his wrists probably didn't help much either.
"Don't fret dear. I'll find a way out of this," he said calmly through the bond he shared with Bastila. He watched her face for her reaction and wasn't disappointed when her eyes found his, filled with a mixture of worry and anger.
"Vincent..."
"I promise I won't get us kicked off the planet, okay? Just let me handle this. It's my problem, not yours. Sit back and enjoy the show."
(You have been called before the High Court on charges of the murders of numerous Sith, breaking and entering, and impersonating an officer.)
"What! I did not break into that base! I walked right through the front door!" Vincent exclaimed.
(Silence! If you have something to say, say it to your arbiter. He is the only one that we recognize. Unless, of course, you wish to represent yourself,) one of the judges reprimanded him.
Vincent glared sullenly at the judge but said nothing.
(What say you in the defense of your client, arbiter?)
(He does have a point: he didn't break into the Sith base. He gave the correct password and the guard let him in.)
"That was the guard's job! This man obviously stole the password from someone!" the Sith representative interrupted.
(Duly noted,) a judge stated.
The arbiter continued. (There is no solid evidence that my client was responsible for the deaths of the Sith in the base. You have no video feed to show him committing such acts. As for impersonating an officer, that is simply not true. He didn't have to impersonate an officer to get inside the base, and once within, he did not don a uniform, nor give himself a rank.)
"This is ridiculous! He goes inside, all hell breaks loose, and you're saying that he's not responsible?" the Sith shouted, interrupting once again.
(If you interrupt again, I will not hesitate you have you thrown out,) a judge threatened. The Sith nodded.
"I am merely pointing out the obvious."
(Be that as it may, it is not your turn.) The judge turned back to Vincent's arbiter. (Your points are valid, arbiter, but there is not enough evidence that would acquit your client on the murder charges. It is too convenient that he entered the base minutes before the explosions and loss of power occurred.)
(Please, my client is not of sound mind!)
Vincent's head snapped up.
(I throw myself on the mercy of the court and plead that you will be lenient! He doesn't know -)
"Will you shut the hell up! I am not insane! I knew perfectly well what I was doing, thank you," Vincent said cutting the arbiter off. He then turned to the judges. "If you don't mind, I'd like to represent myself now."
(As you wish. You are dismissed, arbiter,) a judge said with a wave of his hand.
The arbiter bowed low in embarrassment. (Yes, your honor.)
The judge fixed his attention on Vincent. (The fact of your guilt still remains, human. What evidence, if any, do you have in your defense?)
"I have this data pad. It contains detailed instructions of what the Sith will do to your planet if they win this war. They lied to you, and this proves it."
All of the judges looked at each other and whispered amongst themselves before one ordered (Bring it up here.)
"This is preposterous! That is stolen property and I demand it back!" the Sith sputtered.
(It is evidence. If what he says is true, it won't matter if it is stolen or not.)
Vincent placed the data pad on the countertop in front of the judges and stepped back, allowing them all to read it and absorb the information.
(This...this is horrible! We have all been deceived by the Sith!)
(I will not stand for this!) another judge exclaimed.
(There will be much answering to do on the part of the Sith. Until we can sort all of this out, you are free to go, human. We cannot express our gratitude to you for exposing this heinous plot.)
A Selkath guard came and removed the cuffs from around Vincent's wrists and motioned for him to exit the High Court, which he did without hesitation.
"I was worried for a second there Vince," Carth said as they filed out of the building. "But then your arbiter went nuts...good thing too."
"Yeah, I'm glad he did that. I didn't like him anyway." Vincent realized that Jolee was with the group. "What's the word on Sunry?"
Jolee looked somber. "He's been accused of the murder of a Sith woman. They're saying that he shot her in the back while they were at a hotel together. Elora thinks that Sunry was having an affair with the Sith woman, but she adamantly believes that Sunry had gone there to end the affair the night that the murder occurred." He shook his head. "It's all screwed up. I don't know who to believe."
Vincent licked his lips and messed with his goatee as he pondered the best solution for their new problem.
"Alright, look. I'm going to give Roland his information back, and find out why there are so many mercenaries around here. Then I'm going to go to the cantina, tell Nilko what Roland said, and get a huge cup of caffa. I don't know what to do about Sunry yet. Anybody who wants a drink can come with me."
Jolee joined Vincent, along with Bastila. None of the others were in much of a mood to deal with the Selkath and HK needed to repair something that had malfunctioned in his targeting systems. Back down to the usual number of three, the Jedi set off to complete the many tasks that had been given to them.
When they arrived at the Republic Embassy, they found it in the same state of controlled chaos that it had been in before. Roland Wann immediately noticed their entrance and hurried over to greet Vincent.
"Have you gotten what I need?" he asked excitedly.
Vincent pulled out the chip that held all of the droid's collected information. "I think this is what you're looking for." Roland tried to grab for it but Vincent kept it well outside of his reach. "I want to know why there are all of these mercenaries all over the place, and I want to know before you get this chip. I'll have you know that I had to go to court because of this, so I think you owe me one."
"Yes, I suppose I do owe you for doing this task for me. Very well. You seem trustworthy enough, and you are a Jedi, so I guess letting you know wouldn't hurt."
"Letting me know what?" Vincent pressed.
"We have built a secret kolto harvesting plant underwater, on the surface of Manaan. Recently, all communications down there have gone haywire. No one responds to our hails, and there have been numerous accounts of odd noises that could be related to the communications failure," Roland explained. "We hired mercenaries to go down there and check it out, but so far, none of them have returned."
"You have an underwater harvesting station?"
Roland nodded. "Hrakert Station. Cutting edge technology, incredible productivity and essential to the Republic war effort. It is imperative that we solve the situation down there and fast."
"We?" Bastila interrupted.
"If you would go down there to check it out, I would be most grateful. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe I heard something about an 'ancient artifact' being discovered. Maybe it's the one you're looking for."
Vincent narrowed his eyes. Roland was dangling this opportunity in front of them on purpose. If he was wrong and the artifact wasn't what Vincent was looking for, his Jedi helpers were down in the station anyway and most likely fixing the problem. Either way, Roland gained something from all of it. Vincent's jaw tightened. He hated being used.
"That's great, but how do we get down there?" he questioned.
"I'll give you access to one of our submersibles in the hangar. It should get you down there in one piece."
Vincent turned to his friends, seeking out their advice. "What do you think?"
"Well," Jolee said slowly, "this station is helping the Republic in the war, and you know we need all the help we can get."
"Jolee's right," Bastila agreed. "It would be helping the Republic. This isn't against any laws, is it?"
Roland shook his head. "Not that I know of. Unless trying to save a valuable operation is against some new Selkath law, you shouldn't have to worry about the High Court."
"Good. I wouldn't want Vincent to have to go through that again," she said with the faintest of smiles.
"Yes, I'd rather not," Vincent chimed.
"So it's settled then?" Roland asked.
"Yeah, we'll help you. We've got some other stuff to take care of before we can go down there though."
"That's fine. Just let me know when you're ready and I'll open up the hangar," Roland said.
Vincent nodded in appreciation and turned to leave, sighing heavily and rubbing his face tiredly.
"How do I get myself into all of this?" he moaned when they were out of earshot.
"If you didn't look like a helpful person, then maybe you wouldn't be asked to help all of the time," Bastila suggested.
"How do you look helpful? I don't try."
"It's your personality, kid. You have natural charisma, leadership skills and a knack for getting into trouble. People follow you. They believe in your abilities. It's not that you look helpful per se, but that you look capable," Jolee voiced. "Why do you think you still have all these people back on the Ebon Hawk? They trust you. They believe that you can give them something better than what they had before."
Vincent said nothing in reply as he took in what Jolee had said. Re-entering the cantina, he took a seat at the bar and ordered the strongest cup of caffa that the bartender had, resting his arms on the countertop and placing his head on his arms as he waited for his drink.
"Vincent, you're pushing yourself too hard," Bastila said as she sat down next to him.
"You're using my words against me," came the muffled reply.
"No, I'm just telling you the truth. When was the last time you slept?"
"I can sleep when I'm dead."
"Vincent, please."
He sighed, mumbling his reply. "Two days ago?"
"The Hrakert Station isn't going anywhere, nor is Sunry for that matter. Tell the two Selkath in here what they need to know then get some sleep," she pleaded with him. He raised his head and his tired emerald eyes met her glacier blue-grey ones. Bastila reached a hand out and placed it on his arm, letting it rest there lightly. "We have time."
His eyes clouded and he looked away. "No, we don't," he said, his voice barely audible over the din of the cantina.
"What do you mean?" Now she was confused.
Vincent looked at her guiltily, as he had done something wrong. "You don't feel it?" She shook her head, and he sighed again. "Malak. He's coming after us."
"How would he know...?" she trailed as the realization dawned on her. "The Star Maps...he knows we've found them."
Vincent nodded solemnly. "And he knows that Korriban is the only planet left for us to go. And you can't come with me on Korriban."
Bastila looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry."
The corners of his mouth turned upward into a grim smile. "Don't be. It's not your fault that Malak wants you. Or that you're so easily recognizable."
"What does that mean?"
He grinned and shrugged, her hand still on his arm. "I dunno. What do you think it means?"
"Knowing you, probably something that it shouldn't," she said.
Vincent laughed quietly and placed his head back down onto his arms. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if the Endar Spire hadn't been attacked and Carth and I never had to try and find you?"
Bastila was silent for a moment, musing over his question. "Well, I'm sure that we would have met eventually. The ship wasn't that huge, and I believe that I had command over your particular section."
"Yeah, but I mean, we never would have gotten to know each other like this. The bond...everything would've been different."
To her surprise, she felt a twinge of fear at the possibility of not knowing him, of not having him as a comfort, a protector and a friend. She was flooded with warmth one of his large, strong hands close around hers, squeezing gently.
"I'm glad the ship got attacked and that I had to rescue you," he said with a joking smile. She rolled her eyes as she remembered the argument they had over who had rescued whom. In the end, Vincent had, through gentle persuasion and never - ceasing reminders, caused her to relent and admit that he had saved her from Brejik and his Vulkars, the swoop gang that had taken her captive after her escape pod had crashed into the under city of Taris.
"Yes, I'm quite glad you rescued me."
"I liked the outfit you were in though..." She looked at him in utter horror. "I'm just kidding," he assuaged her. "It was a little too kinky for my taste. I like what you're wearing now much better."
The Selkath bartender delivered Vincent's cup of caffa; he thanked the alien and paid for the drink, leaving a noticeable tip. Inhaling the steam from the mug deeply, Vincent took a large drink and closed his eyes as he felt the hot liquid burn his throat on the way down.
"You want some?" he asked, pushing the glass toward Bastila. She picked it up and took a small sip, setting it back down with a quiet "Thank you."
"Where'd Jolee go now?" he wondered aloud as he looked around the cantina. The older Jedi was a few seats down, mercifully giving the two adults some time alone. Vincent sighed, gazing off into space as he did so. "Sometimes I think being a Jedi isn't worth it."
"I've felt that way," Bastila acknowledged. "It's always been a struggle for me to control my emotions the way the Order says we should. I've always been too quick to anger, or too quick to judge people." She smiled wistfully. "I almost miss being chided by my Master for my outbursts."
"You're still a Padawan though. Won't you go back to training after this?" Vincent said.
Bastila looked at him oddly. "And what about you? You're just going to run off? We'd both go back to training. You're a Padawan as well."
"Hmm...yes. Don't remind me. If I'm assigned to Vrook, I'll shoot myself," he said grumpily.
"Vrook can be...strict at times. But it depends on who wants to train you. You don't get assigned to a particular Master."
Vincent stared into his mug of caffa for a while. "What if no one wants to train me?" he asked softly.
What had possessed him to think that?
"Why do think that no one would want to train you?"
He shrugged. "Because I came way too late? Because they think that I have too much of the Dark side in me? That I'm too susceptible to falling?" Vincent shook his head in disgust. "Trust me, they'll find a way."
He had finished his cup of caffa, and he now stood up to stretch languidly. "I'm going to go talk to Nilko and Shaelas okay? Be right back."
Bastila watched his retreating form with something akin to wonder. For such a tough man, he was surprisingly sensitive. She smiled as she realized that it was one of the many reasons she cared for him so deeply. Catching the bartender, she ordered another mug of caffa and settled in to wait.
(Nilko! I've found information for you my friend,) Vincent said warmly as he approached the Selkath.
(Truly?) Vincent nodded. (That is wonderful! I am curious to know what you have discovered,) Nilko answered excitedly.
(Well, according to Roland Wann, the Republic diplomat here, there's an underwater kolto harvesting station that they operate unbeknownst to anyone on Manaan. Now, the Hrakert Station as it's called stopped sending a COM signal, and they've been sending mercenaries down below to the station to see what went wrong. Apparently none of them have returned,) Vincent explained.
Nilko looked shocked. (That is indeed a find, Vincent. I thank you for being honest with me, and I promise that I will tell no one about this. If it helps the Republic, I'll turn a blind eye. Here, take these credits.) Nilko pressed a wad of credits into Vincent's hand. Before he could protest, the Selkath was speaking again. (No, I want you to have them. Please.)
Vincent nodded in assent and shared a few more words with Nilko before parting and searching out Shaelas to tell him the good news as well. Shaelas spotted Vincent first and rushed over to him in a state of elation.
(Oh Vincent, I cannot thank you enough! You have saved my daughter and countless other youths as well. I knew the Sith were behind all of this! Please, take this as a reward. It isn't much, but I want to repay in some way.)
(No, Shaelas. I won't take your money no matter what you say.)
(You truly are a good man. I only hope that your Republic can win this war, for all of our sakes.)
"I hope so too Shaelas," Vincent said under his breath as the Selkath and his daughter Sasha exited the cantina. Returning to the bar, Vincent sat down next to Jolee and took a deep breath.
"Got something on your mind, do you?" the old man questioned.
"Many things, Jolee. Too many. But I've come to a decision, and I wanted you to know about it."
Jolee raised a quizzical eyebrow and waited patiently for the younger man to continue.
"I'll be the arbiter for Sunry."
"Kid, you don't have to do that. I can take care of it," Jolee said in surprise.
"I want to do it. Something about this is nagging at me, and I know that I won't get a decent night's sleep until I figure it out," Vincent pressed.
"Well, if you feel like you need to do it, I'm not going to stop you. You're stretching yourself too thin, though. You can't keep this up," the wiser Jedi warned.
"You too, huh?" Vincent said humorously. "Bastila thinks the same thing. You might be right, but I don't have much choice. Not when the Jedi Order is hell-bent on having me save the galaxy."
"You don't have to do this alone. That's why the rest of us are here."
Vincent cracked his neck and rubbed his goatee for a while before responding. "And I'm grateful for that, I really am. But there's just - I don't know how to explain it - this pressure I feel, like it's my responsibility to deal with Malak, to stop him, and it keeps pushing me to do all of this so I can get closer to him. And I'd rather do all of it myself so none of you get hurt."
"Especially Bastila?" Jolee asked, knowing what Vincent's answer would be.
"Especially Bastila," he responded.
"You care for her a lot, don't you?"
Vincent's smile was almost sad as he answered the old man's question. "Yes, I do. I would do anything for her."
"She should know," Jolee advised.
"She does know. At least, I think she does. It's not like I keep a secret. She doesn't want to do anything about it because of the fact that we're Jedi, though."
"That's a load of crap and you know it. That's what she wants you to think. Tell me, why doesn't she want to be with you?"
Vincent looked pained for a moment but spoke anyway. "Bastila seems...afraid of me," he admitted. "I can see it when she looks at me. I frighten her."
The candidness in which the young man expressed his feelings took Jolee aback. It was obviously something that bothered him a great deal, and it was a wonder he was able to hide it so well from everyone.
"Do you know why?" Vincent asked, his voice laced with dejection. Jolee couldn't tell him the truth; that would be too dangerous.
"Are you sure she's afraid of you?" he asked, hoping to deter the younger Jedi.
"Have you seen the way she looks at me sometimes?" Vincent shot back. "It's like I've done something horrible that I don't know I've done. But at the same time, she looks at me and I can tell she wants to be with me. I can tell that she feels safe with me. Then I'll do or say something, and..." he trailed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "She's just so damn confusing sometimes."
"But you're not angry with her for being afraid of you?"
"Angry? No! If it's something I did, I want to fix it. I mean, it has to be me. What else could it be? I can't be mad at her when it's not her fault," Vincent said realistically. "I don't feel anger, I just feel... upset. Lost."
"Maybe you should talk to her about it. See what her side is," Jolee suggested.
"I don't know if I can do that. I'm surprised that I'm even talking to you about it in the first place. I...it wasn't this hard with your wife, was it?"
When had he told the boy that he had a wife? Jolee figured his memory must be getting worse not to remember something as big as that.
"To tell you the truth kid, it was a lot worse. She...she went to the Dark side. I tried to turn her back, but she wouldn't listen to me. She took off...I found out later...she had been killed in a battle. It was one of the worst pains I've ever felt, being rejected by the woman I loved more than anything in the universe. To know that I would never get her back was too much to bear. It's why I went to live on Kashyyyk," Jolee confessed. "I needed to get away from people altogether. Bah, enough of my history. This is your life. You two share a bond, and that speaks volumes in itself."
"What are you two talking about over here?" Bastila asked good-naturedly as she slid into the empty seat next to Jolee. It was then that she noticed Vincent's state of melancholy. "Did I miss something?"
Jolee stood and straightened his robes, addressing Bastila as he did so. "Vincent has something he'd like to talk to you about," he said, walking away and leaving the two young Jedi alone. Bastila turned to Vincent for an answer, only to find him staring pointedly at the bar in front of him.
"What did you need to tell me?" she asked tentatively.
Something like indecision flashed in his eyes as he stood quickly, pushing away from the bar. "Nothing," he lied as he began to walk away. He wasn't ready to confront this – not yet.
"Vincent, would you please stop avoiding me?" she called after him perplexed and feeling her temper flaring. Against his better judgment, he slowed and allowed her to catch up with him.
"Really, it's nothing. I just told Jolee that I would be the arbiter for Sunry's case. Guess it made him pretty happy," he said with a shrug. It was nighttime, and the air had grown surprisingly chilly; Vincent found himself rubbing his arms to stay warm, even with his jacket on. They had wandered over to the edge of the sector and were silently watching the stars as they burned against their velvety black backdrop, casting a mirror image upon the water.
"It's even more beautiful out here at night," Bastila said in wonder. She didn't believe that something as simple as becoming Sunry's arbiter was a subject to avoid, but sheknew that if they got into an argument it would just make it worse.
Vincent couldn't help a smile. "And to think, the only reason I'm here is because of a Star Map. I've got to go on more vacations."
Bastila laughed silently, hugging herself to try and conserve heat. Vincent noticed this but faltered for a moment, unsure of what to do. Hesitantly, he placed his hands on her upper arms and simply held them there while waiting for her reaction. Vincent felt her tense slightly at his touch, but she didn't pull away.
"Cold?" he asked. She nodded, a shiver wracking her body for a brief period. He stepped closer to her, keeping his hands on her arms and at least two inches of space between them. He didn't know if he could take another situation like the one in the Sith base. Being pressed up against her like that...it was almost painful.
"Why do you believe that one shouldn't classify Jedi into Light and Dark categories?" she inquired after a while.
Vincent thought carefully before responding to her curiosity. "I guess I've never liked strict guidelines or rules. I've never liked knowing that I was confined to doing certain things, that I was confined to be a certain thing – like a Jedi. I hate the name. I am not a Jedi, yet simply because I carry a lightsaber and can wield the force, I'm seen by the masses as a one." He sighed resignedly. "But I suppose there is no other term for what we are, is there? No, the reason I don't like classifications is because..." he faded, searching for the right words.
"I know that there is good in me, but at the same time, I know that there's bad in there too. You've seen it...I've felt it. And it's a part of me I can't deny just because I'm supposed to serve some higher calling. To ignore my emotions...I would lose some of the power that I have. Emotions aren't the path to the Dark Side, it's how you let your emotions control you.
"I know that I'm rash, impulsive and downright suicidal sometimes, but I still get the job done. I...following Malak has no appeal to me. I want to kill the bastard, and yet such anger, such eagerness to destroy my enemy is going to corrupt me? Tell me, if you had the chance, would you kill Malak?"
"Of course I would," Bastila responded without pause. "I would be a fool not to."
"If you could go back, if Malak hadn't turned on Revan and killed him, would you have struck the final blow? Could you have killed him, Revan, the Dark Lord of the Sith? All suppositions aside, if the galaxy depended on it, could you abandon the tenants of an archaic order and do what you felt was right?"
Bastila closed her eyes – she understood now. This was the kind of logic Revan had used when he had gone off to fight in the Mandalorian wars against the wishes of the Council. Though she knew it to be erroneous, she found herself agreeing with him more and more as he spoke each word. She wanted to believe him.
"Bastila?"
Her eyes opened. "I don't know, Vincent. I can't give you an honest answer to that."
They both fell silent again, each unsure what to say to the other. Bastila commenced rubbing her arms again, and one of her hands brushed against Vincent's briefly, causing him to start in surprise.
"Force! Your hands are freezing! Here..."
He began to take his jacket off but was stopped by Bastila's protests.
"Vincent, I appreciate the gesture, but you're wearing a sleeveless shirt. You'll freeze to death without that jacket."
Vincent looked put out. "Yeah...but you're cold..."
Bastila made an exasperated noise and stuck her hands inside of his jacket pockets. "There. Now my hands will be warm."
He blinked in surprise, swallowing nervously. "This looks weird, I'm sure. Maybe we should just back inside?"
"I don't want to go back into that cantina. I'd rather be cold out here, where it's peaceful." She removed her hands from his pockets and walked over to the edge of the platform and placing her elbows on the glacial metal. "I'm sick of all the noise," she said softly.
Vincent joined her, leaning his back against the metal, facing the opposite direction that she was facing. "Makes you see how people can just live out their lives without stopping to look around and appreciate the natural beauty of things."
The inflection in his voice had changed at the end of the sentence, and Bastila turned to find that he was looking at her intently.
"You still look cold," he said quietly.
"I'm afraid," she responded, shocking herself with her honesty.
He sighed. "Me too."
She looked at him in surprise.
He raised an eyebrow. "Is it that shocking? I'm in the same boat you are."
"You don't seem afraid."
"I'm as scared as I've ever been. I just don't show it. If the others knew I was unsure about this..." he didn't finish, knowing she would catch his meaning. Vincent exhaled heavily, watching his breath condense into a cloud of vapor that dissipated quickly.
"This is hard for you isn't it?" Bastila asked, realizing for the first time that the lives of good people rested in his hands.
Vincent smiled grimly. "So you've finally figured out what I have to worry about every day as soon as I wake up? One wrong choice could get all of you killed. I can't let that happen. I refuse to let anything bad to happen to you." He flung his hands up in frustration, turning and placing them on the metal next to hers, staring out into the glassy black waters that undulated in gentle waves for miles upon miles.
"You know..." he turned to look at her and stopped, realizing that their faces were now very close. Bastila's porcelain skin was flushed a light shade of pink, her lips turning pale from the chill. Realizing that he was staring, Vincent continued. "Sometimes I feel like I'm lost in the middle of something like that," he said, nodding his head toward the huge ocean. She gave the waters a distracted glance, her gaze coming back to him.
She raised a hand to his face, tracing a finger along the thin scar that marred his skin.
"How did you get this?" she asked.
"I don't really remember," he said honestly. "I know I've had it for a long time, though. Since before I met Brynn, but..." Vincent frowned. "I should remember this." He looked at her, his face a clouded with frustration and confusion. "I do this a lot, not being able to remember things from before the Mandalorian Wars."
"The subconscious is known to block out certain painful memories," she suggested.
His frown continued. "I know that, but you can still remember a haze of what happened with those. This stuff, it's like it's just...missing."
Bastila had no answer for him. Once again, she experienced a feeling of helplessness; he looked so lost inside. It was killing her to keep this from him, but he just couldn't know – it was too dangerous. She wanted so badly to ease the hurt she saw in his eyes.
"Vincent, what's wrong?" she asked softly.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers. He looked unsure, as if he was debating something on the inside. Then, exhaling resignedly, he asked, his voicelow, soft, and anxious:
"Why are you afraid of me?"
Bastila felt as if someone had just taken a sledgehammer to her gut. "Wh...what?"
He repeated, this time more firmly. "Why are you afraid of me?"
She stared at him for a long time, searching his face for any indication of farce. She found none.
"Why do you think I'm afraid of you?" she asked finally.
His expression hardened. "You don't hide it well," he responded. "You flinch when I touch you sometimes, there's fear in your eyes when you look at me...it's there right now, staring me in the face. Why?"
Thoughts raced through her mind at a million miles per second. What was she supposed to tell him? He couldn't know the truth. So what did that leave her with? More lies? Bastila didn't think she could lie to him again. His face had softened from its previous stony countenance and was now a mask of pain, anger and sadness. He was misreading her silence.
"You don't even know?" he asked tightly, the resentment in his voice stinging her with every word.
"No," she responded. "I know why...I just don't know how to tell you."
"Force! Of all the times! My emotional state is already in jeopardy, so don't worry about hurting my feelings. Just tell me," he pleaded.
Bastila took a shaky breath and placed both of her hands on his shoulders, grasping his neck lightly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't..."
She watched as a muscle on the right side of his jaw twitched spasmodically and he closed his eyes, keeping them shut for a long time. Bastila felt only a small trickle of his pain through their bond before he shut it up, leaving only cold, empty space where he had once been. Vincent took a step back, breaking their contact and letting out a heavy breath. His emerald eyes were open now, and she could see fury boiling beneath the glassy orbs. Vincent blinked away the tears he swore he wouldn't let her see and turned his back to her; zipping up his jacket, he said nothing as he walked off into the raw wind of the night, his hair ruffled by its gusts every now and then.
Bastila watched him go with a sinking feeling. Though she was trying to protect him, she knew that all she was doing was pushing him away. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she rubbed it in an effort to make the pounding headache in her skull lessen, and with a silent prayer for strength, she headed off the only place where she knew Vincent would go – the Ebon Hawk.
- - -
Vincent was too tired to be angry, but too angry to be tired. He wanted to feel angry - he did feel angry – but he was so exhausted, he could barely muster the effort to stay in a state of fury. Bastila wouldn't answer his question.
She wouldn't tell him the truth.
That's what it came down to. He felt betrayed in a sense, not because she wouldn't tell him, but because he knew that she couldn't tell him. And he had an idea of who was behind that little ultimatum. But then again, he was angry that she was afraid of him in the first place.
What had he ever done to her?
Vincent had recently claimed an empty room in the Ebon Hawk for his own, and was immensely glad that he had done so. He loved every single person on this ship like family, but he needed to be alone. Running his hands through his hair, he flopped onto his bed and gazed at the ceiling with a dead stare.
There's something wrong with me. I could tell that from the moment Vrook laid eyes on me and gave me the worst hate-filled glare I've ever seen a Jedi muster.
"What the hell's wrong with me?" he said aloud. The cold metal wall above him stayed silent, only increasing his foul mood. "Why can't I remember things?" Vincent sat up. "I should know what I did during the Mandalorian Wars...but I don't. Only bits and pieces, and they all seem so... surreal."
Unable to stay still, the young headstrong Jedi began to pace around the room, still carrying on a conversation with himself.
"I feel like I'm groping around in the dark here. Every time I think I feel the panel to turn on the lights, something kicks me away and laughs in my face. I can't take this," he whispered. "I feel like I'm losing my sanity one piece at a time. I get these fragments of Revan's memories...and they seem so familiar, so comfortable, like they're my own."
Vincent placed his hands against the wall and leaned his forehead against the silvery alloy, breathing deeply to keep himself steady. The memories had become worse of late, attacking him relentlessly, unmercifully. If he so much as closed his eyes, they were back, clamoring to seize his consciousness and drag him down into their hell. He was beginning to confuse this new past with his own; sometimes, he didn't think either one was real. Bastila and Jolee both knew of these visions he had, but neither knew the extent to which they plagued him. Every night, he was offered a disturbingly intimate glimpse into the life of the former Dark Lord of the Sith.
Vaguely, Vincent realized that the radio was on and that a song was playing. He froze as the words filtered through his mind.
"He tries to sleep again, and wonders when the pain will end, the cuts they may run deeper than his cracking outer shell. He looks with tired eyes at all the people hypnotized, and wonders what will save him from his self-created hell..."
A rap on his door brought him back from his personal reality. Turning the speaker off, Vincent felt a fresh stab of anger as he sensed that Bastila was outside of his door.
"What?" he asked harshly.
"I just wanted to see if you were okay," her timid reply came.
"No. I'm not. That good enough?"
"Look, what do you want me to say to you? That you scare me? Fine. I'm afraid of you! Your power, your skill, your passion...it's all very unsettling because it's all barely controlled. I'm afraid that at any moment, you could snap and kill us all! Is that what you wanted to hear?" Bastila yelled at him through the door. "If you wanted to, you could kill us all in our sleep, and there'd be nothing any of us could do about it!"
The door opened so suddenly that Bastila couldn't help but take a step back. Vincent's large frame engulfed the doorway; hell's fury was pale and weak compared to the rage that blazed in his eyes.
When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I trust you with my life! Obviously I haven't lived up to your expectations, yet again." A sardonic smirk disfigured his handsome face. "Doesn't matter. I never will, will I? Sometimes I wonder why I even try." Vincent shook his head when she tried to speak. "No, I don't want to take up any more of your precious time. I have things to do, as I'm sure you do. If you need me...well, I guess you won't."
Vincent didn't brush past her; he brushed through her, making damn sure that she wouldn't follow him. Exiting the Ebon Hawk, he stepped into the biting night air with one goal in mind: find the Star Map.
