The morning light was still pale and gray through the window when Aithne woke up the next morning. She stayed in bed for a while, running over in her mind the list of things they had to do today. It was a short list, she thought, and lamentably vague as well.
1) Get credits. How many? She didn't know how many they would eventually need.
2) Spread reputation. To whom, and in what way? Would it be more useful to run jobs for more shop owners like Zelka? To advertise as a mercenary or a bounty hunter to the Exchange?
3) Buy or befriend us a way off Taris. Which? As passengers, smuggled cargo Vao-style, or owners or thieves of our own ship? Should we steal a Sith transport?
Everyone else was still asleep. Zaalbar's snoring made for a nice sound—somewhere between a rumble and a purr. It was like the hum of a hyperdrive. Bastila was restless, turning over in her sleep. As Aithne watched, Mission moaned and threw her hand over her face to ward off a sunbeam.
Aithne stood and dressed. Then she went to the workbench and spent some time doing some maintenance on her vibroblades. She took out the power cells and cleaned, oiled, and sharpened the blades, then made sure no gunk or dust had clogged up the circuits in the hilt. Finally, she closed the hilt casings, hung the blades in their sheaths from her belt, and grabbed some breakfast from the bag containing their supplies. Carth and the others had resupplied sometime yesterday while she was at the swoop track; in addition to more ration bars, there was some packaged seaweed, flavored kelp, and some eel and squid jerky. Aithne sighed. She would give just about anything for a piece of fruit, or something that didn't taste like salt water. She grabbed a ration bar instead and headed out onto the balcony once more.
She'd been out there twenty minutes, watching the sun rise over Taris, when the creaking of the door announced the arrival of one of her companions. Aithne looked to the side and saw Bastila. She came to stand beside Aithne, gripping the railing with her left hand and occasionally nibbling on her own ration bar, held in her right. She was silent, but every so often, her blue eyes would slide over toward Aithne. She obviously wanted to ask something, but she seemed uncertain this morning.
Eventually, Aithne lost patience with Bastila's nerves. "Thank you for shielding, if you are, but if you have something to say, you really can just say it."
"I . . . I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night when we first arrived at the apartment," Bastila said, her cheeks turning a pink that had nothing to do with the sunrise. "As you surmised at the swoop track, I had been frightened and confused for many days. When I came to myself, it was to find myself a slave, a prize for the fastest swoop bike racer." She said the last three words with exquisite disgust. "Can you imagine the humiliation? You turned out not to be an enemy, but the fact that you were an ally there to aid me did not erase my knowledge that I did need you, or the violence we left the swoop track in. Although you warned me, and my training should have taught me better, I allowed it to affect my behavior—especially towards you but also towards the others. I was not at my best, and I'm afraid I glossed over many of your own travails for the past several days in my focus upon my own."
"That's a lot of big words to say 'thank you, and I'm sorry,' princess," Aithne said. "You're welcome, and I get it. I forgive you."
"I was hoping, since I was so rude as to cut off Mission last night when she tried to explain, if you might inform me more on the particulars as to your doings these past few days," Bastila said. "It couldn't have been an easy task to find me at the swoop track. Yet somehow you managed. You also avoided detection by the Sith, discovered I was a Vulkar prisoner, gained sponsorship for the race, and became Taris swoop champion. That's quite a resume."
"It was a lot of work," Aithne said, "and, like Mission tried to tell you, things got rough. We did a lot of favors. Some things that weren't fun too. We tramped around in the sewers for hours searching for the Vulkar base as a favor to the Beks. Talk about your bad smells. I had a lot of help. Carth's been great. Mission and Zaalbar too."
"Your modesty is admirable," Bastila told her. "But though others helped, you were the catalyst for these events, were you not?"
Aithne hesitated. "I get that before you got here, Onasi was the ranking officer," she said finally. "But on a planet where we can't operate according to Republic protocols, I guess I just felt it didn't mean much. I'm trained to scout out locations and situations and find solutions to problems. So, I just . . . did. He was the one who made first contact with Mission and Zaalbar and got us the lead on the Beks. He also traded the armor we'd obtained up here to Gadon Thek in exchange for the papers that allowed us access to the Undercity. And if he hadn't saved my life from the crash in the first place, none of this would have happened."
"I see," Bastila said. She nodded once, mostly to herself, then said. "Tell me what happened, please. Do not leave anything out."
Aithne told her. She kept her sentences short and to the point, and the entire tale took less than ten minutes. When she had finished, Bastila looked thoughtful. Finally, she said, "When you were chosen to join this mission, I doubt any of us expected this much of you. A Jedi could have accomplished such things, of course, but only by drawing heavily upon the Force."
Aithne forced a smile. Behind the statement was a lot of ego, she thought. "I think you're underestimating us non-Jedi," she said.
Bastila shrugged. "Perhaps. But the Force works through all of us to some degree or another. It is obvious to me that the Force has been working through you over the course of your trials here. There is no other explanation for your great success, though I am unsure what to make of this discovery."
Aithne looked at the younger woman. "Do you have to make anything of it at all?" she asked.
Bastila ignored her. "Perhaps if you weren't . . ." she looked at Aithne, a trace of awkwardness on her face. "Well, if you were younger, the Jedi might take you for training. But as it is . . ."
Aithne paused. "My Force Sensitivity is that marked?"
Bastila seemed surprised. "Indeed. Aithne, it's not just any Force Sensitive who can see visions or possesses empathic ability to the extent where mental overflow from another can be physically painful. Your own Force Sensitivity does not merely allow you to sense and take advantage of certain opportunities that others might miss, to make allies or drive a vehicle; you are actively making use of the Force to provide you with insight into the minds of others, and probably somewhat to enhance your own physical abilities. In truth, 'Force Adept' might be the better term. But without training, you remain vulnerable—not only to overstimulation, as you've discovered, but to the manipulations of the Dark Side, which you have not been taught to recognize and resist. You are in no small danger."
"So, what happens to the people like me who don't become Jedi?" Aithne asked. "Who don't find a master, or choose to leave the Jedi Order—and not by falling to the Dark Side? What happens to the ones who are never identified at all? There must be thousands at least."
Her challenge seemed to make Bastila uncomfortable. "I suppose some join the AgriCorps or return to civilian life, once they have learned to harness or control their abilities, to whatever extent may be possible. Some do fall to the Dark Side, but they do not become Dark Jedi, as they lack the awareness to know that this path is possible. You would recognize them as crime lords, infamous thieves, or mass murderers. And some . . ."
"Some just live their lives, being Force Sensitive, and it's fine, because the Jedi don't have to be involved every time they could be, and sometimes it's better that they're not," Aithne finished. "Besides. I'm too used to yelling when I'm angry and eating a liter of sweets when I'm sad, helping others when they need it and not just when it's been approved, killing bad guys when they need it and not just when it's been approved. I'm old and set in my ways. I'd make a terrible Jedi." She'd switched to a light, teasing tone, but Bastila still got the message.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I've overstepped my authority. I'm speaking of things that are best left to the Jedi Council. For now, let's just accept the fact that you are . . . gifted."
"I accept it," Aithne replied, interrupting Bastila when she would have said more. "I don't accept your referring me to the Jedi Council when we get through here. If I'm too old, let me be. I'm a grown woman, and I think I can decide what I want or don't want to do with any gifts I may have. I've had enough of being conscripted this year, thanks."
Bastila looked put out at that—was it simply because Aithne was dismissing her precious Jedi Order or did Bastila actually want something from her? Aithne felt some curiosity about it and wondered, if she pushed with her mind, could she get past Bastila's mental-emotional barrier? In the end, she decided not to try it. She'd asked Bastila to put it up in the first place; she didn't know what she was doing and didn't know what would happen to Bastila if she "Forced" down the barrier; it was just rude besides; and honestly, she didn't care what Bastila wanted to do with her as long as she didn't get to.
"Well," Bastila said, somewhat deflated. "Hopefully between your abilities, my training, and the skills of our companions, we can find a way off this planet at least."
"Speaking of," Aithne said, tilting her head at the balcony door. She heard voices inside the apartment. The others were up.
"Of course," Bastila agreed. She motioned for Aithne to precede her through the door. Carth and Mission were dressed and eating ration bars at the table, but Zaalbar was still snoring on his cot. Aithne sighed and walked over to the Wookiee. She toed his lower thigh with her boot. "C'mon, sleeping beauty," she said. "Up and at 'em. We need to talk."
Zaalbar stirred. "Come on, Big Z," Mission seconded, reaching down to tug on Zaalbar's ankle. "I got a handful of ration bars right here to get you going! Taste like sand, but they've got more calories than even you need in a morning!"
Zaalbar's eyes were crusted with sleep. He sat up and reached for the ration bars in Mission's hand before anything else, then shook himself all over and grunted. He moved to sit beside Mission. Aithne sat on his other side. Carth moved then, so he was between Aithne and Bastila when the Jedi sat down too. Aithne shot him an amused glance. She could tell the pilot thought he was being subtle, but behind him, Bastila just looked annoyed and chagrined that Onasi obviously thought he might have to run some kind of interference again.
There was an awkward pause then. Carth, Aithne, and Bastila all looked at one another, trying to determine between them which one of them should address the company. Both Carth and Bastila were technically Aithne's superiors, and yesterday that had been important to at least Bastila. But Bastila was also outnumbered, and she knew it. She gave way in the silent power struggle without too much ill grace.
Aithne looked at the others. "Okay, guys, we don't have a plan yet to get off Taris, so the plan for today is to find one. If we're going to break the Sith blockade, we're going to need a ship, and we're going to need access to the Sith launch codes so we don't get destroyed trying to leave. Right now, I'm thinking our best bet is to either smuggle ourselves offworld or get someone to smuggle us, or hijack a Sith spacecraft. But I'm not ruling anything out. I want us to spread out and see what we can find.
"However, there's a secondary objective. Maneuver takes money, no matter where you are or what you're doing. After resupplying yesterday, the five of us are in rather desperate need of credits. I have a few leads on that, but I'm going to need your help. Mission, Zaalbar. Are either of you any good at pazaak?"
"Big Z's not great," Mission answered for them both. "Not many people want to play a big Wookiee like him anyway. Scared of what might happen when he loses. But I'm alright."
"Alright enough you'll win more than you lose?" Aithne challenged her.
"It's helped pay the bills a few times," Mission confirmed. "That and salvaging rhakghoul traps from the Undercity. Relax, Aithne, I can handle it. We'll be swimming in credits in no time!"
Aithne shot a look at Zaalbar, who waved his claws from side to side in a tentative gesture—Mission was alright, but not as good as all that. The Twi'lek elbowed her friend in the gut, but Aithne nodded, satisfied. Even if Mission didn't come back with a lot of money, every little bit would help, and she'd be happier contributing.
"Good," Aithne said. "We'll need to be ready to pool everything we've got on the right plan, but if nothing comes up, anyone who earns money keeps 60 percent of the take and gives everyone else 10 percent. It's a way to make sure we all have a little bit of money but all of us profit from every venture. Carth and I used the arrangement before."
"If I might make a suggestion?" Bastila put in.
"Of course," Carth said. "This is an open floor, Bastila. We're all in this together."
"Then I think we should keep to small groups," Bastila said. "It is imperative that we not become linked together in the minds of the public. If the Sith start asking questions, it is better that they only get some information. If they capture some of us, it is better that they have only two or three of us. That way, we have the advantage and remain in a position to rescue anyone that falls into danger on this mission."
"Me and Big Z are sticking together," Mission said, before anyone else could say a word.
"Fine," Aithne assented. "Check out Javyar's while the three of us nose around up here. It's your home stomping grounds, and you guys know it better than we do. We can all meet up three hours before sundown."
"Ask around about the Sith quarantine and about any ships currently allowed through the blockade," Carth advised, "but make sure you don't sound too interested."
"Chill, you geezer," Mission laughed. "You think I don't know how to eavesdrop and sneak around?"
"Do you have a comlink?" Carth asked. "We should be able to keep in touch if anything goes wrong."
"Who do you think I am, mayor of Taris?" Mission asked. "No one ever gave me one of those gadgets, and for sure we couldn't afford it! Look, we'll meet you back here later, three hours before sundown."
She started to climb to her feet, but Aithne stopped her. "No, he's right," she said. "You and Zaalbar might be fine in the Lower City today, but the rest of us might run into some trouble with the Sith. We need to be able to call you in case of emergency." She looked at Bastila. "I'm guessing the Vulkars confiscated your equipment after the crash?"
"They did," Bastila confirmed. "You recovered my lightsaber from Brejik, but apart from that, I'm afraid I have nothing to contribute."
Carh nodded, stripping the comlink off his left glove. "Then, however we split up in the future, one party should have my com, and the other should have Aithne's. Communication is going to be just as important as stealth here." He handed the device to Mission. "Do you know how to use one of these?"
"I can probably figure it out," Mission said.
"When you don't know something, ask for help," Aithne advised her. "I don't want to call you saying, 'Mission, Mission, the Sith got me and Bastila! Meet Carth on Suchandsuch Street and figure out how to save us!' only for you to miss the call and the rendezvous."
Mission's eyes went wide, and she paid attention as Carth showed her how to use the comlink. When he'd finished, Aithne handed the kid a few credits so she and Zaalbar to get lunch—and to pay for a couple lost pazaak games. Then Mission and Zaalbar headed out.
"We should wait at least five minutes before following them." Bastila murmured, hooking her lightsaber from her belt. Aithne nodded. She spent the five minutes lightening her pack. She wouldn't need much today; just some medpacs, ration bars, her canteen, and her pazaak deck. Carth also ditched a lot of their spare clothes and armor. A few minutes later, they were ready to go.
They had just left the apartment complex when a dodgy-looking Twi'lek male approached. "Human! I have been looking for you," he said to Aithne. He identified her as the Taris swoop champion. Aithne denied it at first; she didn't want anyone connecting her with the racer who had absconded with the Black Vulkars' prize for the race despite Brejik's attempts to withdraw it. The Sith might have heard about the race and even now be searching for "Addie Fe."
But the Twi'lek wasn't fooled. He had followed her and Bastila all the way to the Upper City last night but then lost them in the crowd near the complex, and he had a message. He said Canderous Ordo had an offer she couldn't refuse; that he was waiting for her in the cantina.
That made Aithne stop. She'd been drawn to Canderous Ordo from the first, without really being able to explain why. In light of what Bastila had told her about her Force Sensitivity, his sudden reciprocation of that interest felt like more than coincidence.
"Do you know this Canderous Ordo?" Bastila asked.
"He's a Mandalorian mercenary for the Exchange," Carth explained. "Only he fought all the way to Mandalore's surrender after Malachor V. We've run into him a couple of times, but I wouldn't say we know him."
"Apparently he knows us well enough now to send professional stalkers to tail us," Aithne said, tipping the messenger. "And I thought he didn't like me."
Carth laughed, but said, "Watch yourself, Aithne. We don't know what the hell this guy wants with us. He's an Exchange thug with a grudge against the Republic. This could be bait for a trap."
"I love traps," Aithne announced. "At the very least, they always break up the monotony. Come on."
Canderous Ordo stuck out like a sore thumb in the polished Upper City cantina. Aithne saw him the second she and the others walked in. He stood at about 1.93 meters, and the black tank he wore left plenty of skin to show various war scars crisscrossing his heavily muscled arms. Waitresses and customers both were giving him a wide berth, and they edged still further away when Aithne and the others sat down at his table.
"You could've looked me up yourself," Aithne said. "The message gram was a nice thought, but I don't like feeling I've been rung for, especially after I've ditched an alias. Your man was good. I didn't see him until this morning."
Ordo began to smile widely. He had a smile like a firaxa. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Aruetii. I wasn't sure at the swoop track, but I thought that might be you. You pop up all over town. You seem like you know how to get results, and that's just the kind of person I'm looking for."
"Su cuy'gar," Aithne said drily. "Copaani gaan?"
"We'll keep to Basic for your uncultured friends," Ordo said. "We haven't been introduced. My name's Canderous Ordo. I work for Davik and the Exchange. The hours aren't great, but they promised me a fortune to work for them, and I have nothing better to do. Mandalorian mercs like me are in high demand."
Beside her, Aithne could feel waves of tension just rolling off of Onasi. He'd spent years fighting men just like Ordo, and he wasn't fine with this one. She shifted, as though she was just getting more comfortable, so that her shoulder touched the pilot's. It'll be okay.
"We're in demand too, albeit in a different kind of way," she said baldly. "I'm guessing you know that."
"You picked up that Republic officer at the swoop race, then gave her a weapon—a lightsaber, no less—and got her out of that get-up Brejik had her in and into something functional," Canderous answered. "I know."
Bastila moved, bodily turning in her chair to face Aithne. "We don't need to ally ourselves with this person," she said. "We should move on while we can."
"The only Sith within twenty meters is the one guarding the door," Aithne said without turning around, "and he didn't look twice at you. On the other hand, if we don't deal with Ordo, he knows approximately where we're hiding and can give the Sith a sparkling description of us and all our associates by now. Mission and Zaalbar were with us when we ran into him in the Undercity. Lucky for us, I don't think that's what he's after."
"Wouldn't get me more than a little petty satisfaction, if you and I don't deal," Canderous said. "That isn't really my style, but I see that you're a thinker. I like that."
"Aithne Moran," answered the same. She tilted her head left and right. "Carth Onasi. Bastila Shan. What do you want?"
"The same thing you do, I'll wager: a way past the Sith quarantine and off this backwater planet," Canderous answered. "Lately Davik hasn't been paying what he promised, and I don't like being cheated."
Aithne sat back in her chair, folding her arms. "What's your plan, and where do we fit in?"
"I saw you in that swoop race," Canderous said, "and I started thinking: anyone crazy enough to race like that is probably crazy enough to break into the Sith military base. I need someone to steal the Sith launch codes from the base. Without those codes, any ship leaving the atmosphere will be disintegrated by the Sith Fleet's automated defense guns."
"Obviously, but it's a risk we can't countenance taking without an immediate out," Aithne replied. "Enough soldiers patrol the city we'd never catch them all at the base. There'll be cameras there. They'd be on us in less than a day."
Canderous's eyes gleamed. "Here's the deal," he said, leaning forward. "You bring me those launch codes, and I can provide the vehicle to get off the planet: Davik's flagship, Ebon Hawk!"
Mission had told her and Carth about Hawk. Apparently, it was fast enough to outrun the entire Sith fleet. Because she'd had it from Mission, who could have heard from Exchange braggadocio and propaganda about it, Aithne had initially been skeptical, but if that was the vehicle Canderous, a highly valued Exchange employee, was suggesting they steal, the rumors might be factual.
"Get us there within a rotation, and I'll get the codes," Aithne said, "but we're going to need some help getting past initial base security. I'm not a bad slicer, and I have a better one on my team, but she's still an amateur. The Sith will have military-grade protection."
"Getting in won't be easy," admitted Canderous. "The Sith base is protected by an encrypted security system. It would take a top-of-the-line astromech droid to slice through it. Lucky for you, I know just the place to get a droid like that. Davik was having one custom-built by Janice Nall. Just tell her Canderous sent you, and she'll sell you the droid. Then you can use it to get the launch codes from the Sith base."
"Co-opting Davik's own droid in your plan to steal his ship," Aithne remarked. "Elegant. And if my people have ownership, in theory, you won't be able to do without us. And you don't have to put down the credits. Just one last thing: why aren't you doing without us?"
"To give us that rotation to get out," Canderous answered. "Everyone knows who I work for. If I broke into the base, they'd send an army down on Davik's estate to get the codes back. That's why I need you."
Aithne looked at the others, raising an eyebrow. Bastila had a far-off, searching expression on her face. "I don't sense any deception from him, which is surprising. This may be exactly what we need."
Carth scowled. "I don't guess we have a whole lot of options."
Aithne extended her hand, and Canderous shook it, nearly crushing her bones in his giant spade of a hand. "I'm going to wait in Javyar's Cantina," he said. "You come find me when you've got those launch codes, and I'll make sure we all get off this rock!"
As Canderous walked away, Aithne checked her chrono. It was midmorning. She brought up her comlink. "Mission, come in. This is Aithne."
"This is Mission," came the teenager's voice after a moment. "You haven't been captured by the Sith already, have you?"
"No, but I've got our ride out, contingent on us performing one teensy tiny little favor. Double down on the credit-hunting. We're going to need the cash. We'll see you at three hours till sundown."
"Sure," Mission said. "You'll tell us more about this favor, though, right?"
"Three hours till sundown," Aithne confirmed. "Over and out."
She let the link go down and surveyed the cantina. The pazaak players were in the front room, but the most confident of them here would only bet forty credits a game. She glanced over at the dueling office to the left. She sighed. This was probably going to hurt.
Carth caught the direction of her gaze. "You sure, beautiful?" he asked. "I mean, you're already champion of the big annual swoop race here. If we're gonna break into that Sith base, it might be better if everyone in this section of the city didn't recognize your face."
"I could always wear a mask," Aithne joked. "It'd fit in with my character."
"'Beautiful'?" Bastila repeated, glancing between the two of them. "Isn't that a little inappropriate?"
"Only if he starts meaning it," Aithne answered. "Carth, it pays really, really well."
"If one of you could kindly tell me what you're talking about?" Bastila asked.
"She wants to head into the dueling ring," Carth answered. "It's how we got the credits for supplies early on. She has a presence and a stage name there: 'The Mysterious Stranger.'"
Bastila pulled a face. "Quaint. While brawling for a crowd's entertainment isn't the most sophisticated pastime, it seems to me you do have some practice, Aithne."
Aithne grinned and winked. "See?" she told Carth. "The princess is on my side." Honestly, she was ambivalent about stepping into the ring again, but now that Carth and Bastila had both been disapproving without actually saying no, she couldn't resist. "Cheer me on, will you?"
Sweat-stained and exhausted but over a thousand credits richer, Aithne sank into the chair between Carth and Bastila several hours later.
"Did you have to take them on all back-to-back like that?" Bastila asked, looking concerned.
"Got the spectacle crowd in to see," Aithne said. "And I'd just as soon not have to come back here again. Oof."
"Are you alright?" Carth asked, leaning forward.
"Burn on my lower left leg and a cut on my right shoulder," Aithne replied, "I've pulled a tendon in that arm too, and I have a killer headache from all the suppressor field feedback. Nothing serious, but I'm glad Zelka gave us that lifetime discount."
"Hold still," Bastila commanded. "Give me your hand." Aithne did, and Bastila closed her eyes. A dim blue glow illuminated around their joined hands on the table, and Aithne suddenly began to feel much better. She'd been two seconds from keeling over in exhaustion. Now she was almost energetic.
Bastila, in contrast, suddenly sagged against the table. "Whoa," Aithne said, steadying her. "Thanks for that, but you didn't need to give me quite that much juice."
Bastila shook her head, though she was pale. "You must be in fit condition to take the Sith base tomorrow morning. A kolto patch or adrenals might help, but the exhaustion and strain on your body from what you have done with it today would remain. By helping you, I help us all. It's nothing."
"It's something, alright," Carth said. "Except now you're exhausted. I think both of you could do with a good meal."
It was past the lunch hour and not time for dinner yet, but Aithne was suddenly ravenous. She motioned a waiter over and ordered a huge meal for all three of them, courtesy of her new winnings. The three of them ate like it was the end of a famine, and color returned to Bastila's face. And when it had done, they strolled companionably out of the cantina to meet Mission and Zaalbar back at the apartment.
They were just taking their positions around the caffa table when Mission and Zaalbar strolled in. Zaalbar let out a roar of greeting and flopped down heavily to his bedroll with a thump that Aithne was sure would disturb the downstairs neighbors. He sat up on one elbow, and Mission took a seat next to Bastila at the table. "So, what's this teensy tiny little favor your contact wants to get us off-planet? Sounds dangerous."
"You don't even know the half of it," Aithne said. "Here goes: we're going to raid the Sith military base tomorrow to steal their launch codes so Canderous Ordo will help us steal Ebon Hawk."
Mission giggled. "Good one, Aithne," she said. "But really, what's the favor?" When the rest of them didn't respond, her gray eyes went wide, then started to shine with the light of adventure. "Well, it's got style, I guess," she admitted, switching gears with impressive grace. "How do we get into the base?"
"We buy a droid," Aithne answered. "Ordo's kindly lent us his name to do so, but unfortunately, we have to put up our own credits. Let's see what you've got."
She whistled as Mission produced the haul from her pack. The girl had nabbed around three thousand credits. "That dive was full of amateurs," she boasted. "Those dumdums had probably never played pazaak in their lives!"
Carth eyed the pile of credit chips with suspicion. He folded his arms across his chest. "Mission, you didn't cheat to get that, did you?"
"Course I did," Mission said, shameless. "We wanted to make as much as we could, right? A couple of the guys I played thought something was up. They couldn't prove squat, but they didn't care, and Big Z and I had a couple tails out of Javyar's. We gave most of them the slip and Big Z left the one that was half-decent out cold in an alley."
So that was why the Wookiee looked so exhausted, Aithne thought. "We need the money, but in the future, consider whether the risk to you and Zaalbar's worth it before pulling anything like that again."
Mission was offended. "Geez, you're welcome, Mom. Lay off the lectures. I knew what I was doing, and so did Big Z. We've been pulling this stuff for years now, and we're always just fine, thanks."
"It only takes one time to get you both gutted in an alley when the rest of us are counting on you," Carth pointed out. "You're part of a team now. You have to consider if the risks you take are worth the integrity of the entire mission. That's all we're saying."
Mission blushed violet. "Never mind I took the risk in the first place for you guys," she muttered. "But I get what you're saying, alright? I'll . . . I'll be more careful."
"That's all we're asking," Aithne repeated. "If it helps, after we split up everything from both our ventures, you'll end up with more than the rest of us made all day."
In point of fact, Bastila had been busy in the background organizing everybody's credits. "That's 420 to me, Carth, and Zaalbar, 1,020 to Aithne, and 1,800 to you, Mission. Congratulations. It's a fair bit of money."
Mission's eyes were huge. "Wow. You're telling me. That could keep the likes of me nearly a third of a Tarisian revolution in the Lower City!"
As everyone arranged credits in their purses, Aithne grimaced. "Don't get used to it," she advised. "I'll buy the droid to hack the base myself if I can, but if it's pricier than what I can afford, you're the first person I'm hitting up for credits, Vao."
Mission grinned outright at that. "Or I could just buy the droid myself and do absolutely all the work arranging this here escape. You can thank me with a medal when you're all big Republic heroes. Or a title. I ain't picky."
Aithne raised her eyebrows. "You want to buy the droid? I will let you buy the probably super-pricey fancy astromech. You think I'd be too proud? I have no pride when it comes to my wallet. Life on the Rim squishes it out of you."
"Don't I know it," Mission said. She looked excited, her lekku twitching. "Sure. I'll get the droid. Where we going?"
"Janice Nall's droid shop. Should be a couple blocks away from the shuttle station to the Lower City. I remembered the name when Ordo gave it to us. Anyone else want to go with me and Mission to buy the droid?" She saw Bastila's look then, and realizing she might have usurped her authority again, added, "Anyone else want to volunteer to buy the droid? Do the commander-ly thing here?"
"No," Bastila answered. "I think I shall take a cue from you here and have no pride when it comes to my wallet. We Jedi are meant to be humble, in any case."
Aithne laughed aloud, delighted. "Bastila Shan! That was a joke! Pretty good one, too. Well done!"
"Thank you," Bastila smiled. "In any event, I will remain here and meditate."
Zaalbar opted out of a trip to the droid shop too and went to tinker with his bowcaster, but Carth got up and fell in step. The three of them started the walk across town. As they passed Zelka's clinic, Aithne slowed.
"Thank you for dropping the serum off during the race yesterday," she told Carth and Mission. "Today, if you hadn't done that, I might have run it down to the Exchange."
"You wouldn't of!" Mission exclaimed, staring, horrified. "After everything you said down in the Undercity? After seeing what the rhakghoul disease does to people?! Knowing if Davik got his paws on it no one could of bought any without selling their own mother?"
"I didn't," Aithne told them, "because you two and Zaalbar did the right thing for me."
"Zelka's assistant, Gurney, was pretty pissed about it too," Carth said in a casual, satisfied tone. "Desperation can be ugly, Mission," he said then. "On either side."
"You mean it's really dangerous for you guys on Taris," Mission said, understanding, "and that serum really could of been a good way to help us all get out. But it worked out, didn't it?" she asked Aithne. "We didn't need to do anything bad to get the money to buy that droid. Or at least, nothing really super awful. Cheating morons who gamble at cards doesn't count. Anyway, I'd rather take a few extra hours to get off Taris and leave knowing no one has to turn into a rhakghoul ever again."
"Me too," Aithne said. "That's why I'm glad it was you not me round here yesterday."
Janice Nall's droid shop was very clean and well kept. Aithne could tell from the many droids under construction on the wall that Janice kept busy and knew what she was doing but still didn't have a lot of customers. Only a cute little astromech greeted them as they walked up to the counter. But when Aithne rang the bell, a Twi'lek woman in engineer's coveralls came out from the back. Mission grinned, and Aithne's own respect for Janice Nall rose significantly. As a Twi'lek running a shop in the xenophobic Upper City, Janice Nall had to have determination and expertise by the spade full.
Markup on the cute, beeping T3-M4 unit was insane. However, Janice Nall was also desperate to sell, and Aithne was able to talk her down to half price and still leave Janice feeling lucky. In the end, Aithne didn't let Mission pay the whole price for the droid. She wanted the girl to be able to enjoy a little more than just a couple hundred of her 1,800 credits. They split the cost of the droid and agreed on a joint ownership, and Mission fell promptly, wholeheartedly in love.
By the time they got back to the apartment, Mission was wondering if she could teach herself astromech (one of the few languages in common use that Aithne didn't know, despite her fondness for droids), and was asking the droid what holovids he could play. She introduced him to Zaalbar and Bastila.
"Teethree is going to help us break into the Sith military base tomorrow," Aithne said. "Bastila, will the small-group rule still apply?"
They had no idea the strength they'd find in residence at the military base, or how many reinforcements might show up during their raid. It was imperative they put up a team that would have the best chance of hitting hard and getting out again with the launch codes, but Aithne knew backup was a good idea too, so she was passing the call.
"I'm afraid it does," Bastila answered. "The strike team that raids the base runs a significant risk of capture. We should probably send no more than three to do the job."
Mission and Carth and Zaalbar all protested at once, so Aithne got no more than a jumble of cries and growling and the overarching impression that they were all desperate not to be left behind and certain Aithne herself would be making the call about who actually went.
Aithne looked at Bastila. "Five of us should go to the door of the Sith base," she said finally. "Three to go inside, Teethree to shut down the security system from outside, and a buddy to take him back to base. Bastila, I—I really think you should stay here."
"I agree," Bastila said calmly, far from being offended as Aithne had thought she might. "Remaining here, I can use my Battle Meditation to focus upon our success. There are many unknowns in the coming fight, and my ability will give us the best chance we have to overcome any unforeseen obstacles. In addition, I rather suspect my presence in the Sith base would increase our danger, not mitigate it."
"I—yes, thank you," Aithne said confusedly. "That was what I thought too."
"You will lead the raid on the base yourself, of course. The Mandalorian gave the task to you, and it was only your reputation that led him to seek us out."
"I—yes," Aithne said again. Bastila was being suspiciously compliant with her taking charge of this facet of the mission, and Aithne had an uncomfortable idea she knew why. This was about Bastila's notion of her Force Sensitivity again. If the Jedi didn't think there was some sort of affinity between them, she wouldn't be one to let a mere scout raid a major center of Sith operations. Aithne didn't like it. But then again, it didn't matter why Bastila agreed to the best plan, so long as they actually went with it.
She cleared her throat. "I want to take Mission and Zaalbar," she said then.
"No," Carth said flatly. "No way. I'm coming too."
Aithne met his eyes over the others. She'd known Major Paranoia wouldn't like this, or even the sane part of his personality unaffected by past trauma; Carth had a chivalrous, protective streak systems wide, and both she and Mission had run into it. "Two reasons," Aithne said, in a slow, even tone. "First, our raid on the base depends on surprise and the untraceability of everyone attacking. That's why Ordo couldn't do this himself, remember, because the Sith would track him and come down on Davik's estate before we could leave the planet. That's one reason Bastila isn't going: every Sith on Taris is looking for her. By contrast, I may be Taris swoop and dueling champion, but I'm also the 'Mysterious Stranger.' No one knows who I am, no one knows where I live, and my records with the Republic are so recent they might not have even been entered into any permanent files on Endar Spire. You've been a Republic hero for years, Major. Mission and Zaalbar, by contrast, haven't been tagged with us yet. Not by the Sith. Seen, maybe, by a couple of patrols. But those ones weren't paying attention."
"Yeah, but—" Carth began.
"Second, I want you here, flyboy," Aithne continued, ruthlessly, "because if something goes wrong in there, even with Bastila here meditating on our success, there's no one on the team I'd rather have coming to our rescue."
Carth backed down. As ever, he knew a good plan when he heard it, even if he hated the sound. "Okay," Carth said then. "Alright. I understand where you're coming from. I don't like it. But we'll do it your way."
"This seems the prudent course of action, Carth," Bastila offered. "Of the many plans we could have chosen, it seems less risky than many others. And I assure you, I will remain with Aithne, Zaalbar, and Mission in spirit every step of the way. They will never be alone, and they will succeed in our objective."
Her voice was calm, absolutely confident. Aithne saw Mission shoot the Jedi a grateful look and tried to pretend she herself didn't feel a little reassured. She'd always thought of Battle Meditation as a hokey good-luck charm, but the truth was, tomorrow, they'd be in need of some good luck.
"We should rest," Aithne said. She knew she was commanding the others, but even so, no one argued. Instead, they all grabbed ration bars for supper and moved to different corners of the apartment to prepare for bed. It gave her a weird feeling, like reading a datapad upside-down. You could still make out and make sense of the words, but you got dizzy after a while.
She shivered and stepped out onto the balcony once again, breathing in the scent of sea air, exhaust fumes, and neon that was the Tarisian Upper City. Once again, she searched the night sky for Sith ships. There were many more tonight than there had been last night, flying back and forth like watchful birds of prey . . . or scavengers over a dead or dying beast.
When the door opened, as she had known it would, she pointed them out to Carth.
"They're getting worried," Carth said. "Since they haven't found Bastila dead, they know she's alive, and about a week after a pod crash is about the longest you can expect to keep a live Jedi, even on a planet under quarantine."
"What's their next move?" Aithne murmured, mostly to herself. For some reason, her recurring dream about Revan's death came back to her, the feel of cannons firing on a Sith bridge instead of a Jedi one. She stretched out with her mind and thought she could sense a presence above—black and brooding, wrathful and violent, much more volatile than the cold, calculating, and weary Revan of her dreams, and utterly free of that slight trace of pity she'd dreamed about in Revan—or Bastila had dreamed of in Revan.
"Carth," Aithne said suddenly, a cold fist grasping her heart. "I think Malak's up there. I have a bad feeling. Something's going to happen. Soon."
Carth looked at her for a long, long moment. "Yesterday, you told me you were Force Sensitive. But it's more than that. You're like Bastila, aren't you?" he asked. "Or, no . . . you're like one of the Service Corps back on Telos. Maybe one of the Exploration Corps. Huh. Almost exactly like. Not a Jedi, but not ordinary either."
Aithne shook her head. "I wasn't ever selected for training. I'm not a member of the Jedi Order in even its loosest definitions. But—it seems my so-called Sensitivity is strong enough that Bastila's thinking about taking me to the Jedi, anyway, yeah."
Carth regarded her. "You know, that's it about you," he said then. "I've been trying to put my finger on it for days. I knew a few of the Service Corps back on Telos. It was one of the most popular planets for the Jedi to assign them. My grandfather was in the AgriCorps. Morg—someone else, her mother served. That explains—service members, they'd know things. They'd be drawn to people with no reason why, people they could help, or people to help them. They could work longer than anyone, complete tasks that'd be impossible for everybody else. It's probably why the Sith targeted the planet; they were heroes, even if they weren't official Jedi knights. It—it explains a lot, that you're like them."
He seemed excited, and also much more cheerful. He'd come out here because he was worried about her heading to the Sith base tomorrow, but it figured he'd think, like Bastila, that mystic Force powers she couldn't even use would cure all woes.
"He's a Fallen Jedi," Aithne said, pointing at the sky. "And there might be a half dozen more tomorrow. What do I know?"
"And you're taking Mission," Carth said, returning to the problem at hand. He leaned back against the balcony, watching her. Waiting.
"She's either a part of the team or she's not," Aithne said, shifting. "Letting her work to earn credits, have a share in T3-M4, it'll help her feel like she belongs, but not like going out with us will. And lifedebt or no, Zaalbar will be watching her a whole lot closer than he will me."
"You're both going to be watching her," Carth replied. "Aithne, who's going to be watching you?"
"Bastila," Aithne retorted. "Through her mystical Battle Meditation. She said so herself." She wiggled her fingers for emphasis.
"I'd still feel better if I was going with you," Carth said. "Past the door inside."
"I know," Aithne replied, turning her gaze back toward the sky. "Stuff down that need to always watch for evil or incompetence and try and trust me?"
"Yeah, it'd be easier for you if that was it, wouldn't it?" Carth muttered.
Aithne shot him a look. "There is a limit to how cute I find a protective instinct, you know."
Carth snorted. "Well, somebody's conceited. I'm just saying, your taking all the glory moments is leaving me with some questions about my competence here. You got the Sith armor, you rode in the swoop race. I mean, why do you even keep me around?"
"Ooh, man-insecurity is even less attractive than man-hovering," Aithne said appreciatively. "Well done."
"I try." The two of them looked out over Taris as the Sith ships darted through the sky. "Malak, huh?" Carth asked by and by.
"Yeah," Aithne confirmed, and that cold fist clenched around her heart once again. As she stared out into the calm before the storm, she snuck her arm around Carth's. He moved his arm, and her hand fell into his. His fingers closed around hers. He didn't look at her, and she appreciated that almost as much as the comfort itself as he held her hand against the dark.