Disclaimer: KotOR is not my property. Neither are HK-47, Carth Onasi, Bastila Shan, and…oh, you get the picture.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
From Yuka Laka's droid shop, Aithne went directly back to the Ebon Hawk, an annoyed Carth, Mission, and HK-47 in tow. She was obliged to remind her new droid no less than three separate times that he was not to kill bystanders on the street simply for looking at her the wrong way. However, when three random Sith attacked in an alleyway, she found that there actually was an advantage to owning this strange new droid. HK-47 dispatched Malak's goons quickly and efficiently, with considerable glee. Aithne didn't even have to get her outfit a little bloody.
Still she was rather irritated, to say the least, when they arrived back at the ship, and Carth was looking downright murderous. Aithne called the crew in quickly. All of them checked at the sight of her tall, forbidding new escort.
"Aytchkay? This is the crew. Jolee, Canderous, Juhani- hi, you're looking better by the way- Bastila, Zaalbar, and T3-M4. You've met Carth and Mission. You are not allowed, under any circumstances, to kill, maim, or otherwise frighten these people, meatbags though they be. Everyone, this is HK-47."
"Would he like to kill, maim, or otherwise frighten us?" Jolee asked curiously.
Aytchkay answered for himself. "Answer: Sadly, yes, aged meatbag, but if the master says I may not harm you, you are safe from me."
Bastila blinked. "What an…interesting droid," she said blandly.
Tell me about it, Aithne said, directly to Bastila's mind. But you should've seen him take out three of Malak's assassins back there.
"Aytchkay is going to help us in our dealings with the Sand People," Aithne told the group. "Aside from the Jawas, the Sand People have the best knowledge of the desert. If there's a Star Map out there, they'll know where to find it. Besides, they have Mission's brother." Aithne shrugged. "But we'll deal with that tomorrow. Canderous? Are you ready?"
Canderous, polishing his big gun in the corner, nodded.
Aithne looked around. "Okay then. Give me ten minutes to eat something, and we'll head out. Aytchkay? You want to come? Two Mandalorians, a duel to the death? You'll have a blast. Maybe literally."
Canderous, Jolee, and to Aithne's surprise Juhani chuckled. Bastila and Carth scowled at her.
Aytchkay's eyes glowed in anticipation. "Statement: I look forward to it exceedingly, master."
Aithne sighed. "You probably do. Look, I'm gonna try to scrub some of the sand out of my hair and grab a bite to eat."
The crew nodded, made their excuses, and went their separate ways. Aithne re-braided her hair, washed her face, and checked to make sure that the sand in her lightsabers hadn't hindered their efficiency. In the entrance, she heard HK-47 grilling Canderous on how involved he was allowed to be in the duel, and Canderous' answers, which started off amused, but then veered towards the annoyed as Aithne grabbed an energy bar. Hoisting her pack up again on her shoulder, Aithne went to rescue the poor Mandalorian from his droid tormenter.
Carth stood there at the entrance, waiting. Surprisingly, it was on Canderous his gaze lingered. He seemed to be searching the man's face for something.
HK-47 took his place up at Aithne's side. Canderous went to Carth. "Republic," he said. "I gave my word, didn't I? Stop worrying. It ill becomes a soldier of your caliber. I'll bring her back."
Aithne quirked an eyebrow at the two men. Canderous looked back at her levelly. Carth flushed and looked away.
"Let's go," Canderous said. Aithne looked back at Carth curiously. Finally, he looked up. He waved.
"I'll…I'll see you later," he said. Canderous nodded brusquely, and Aithne, the Mandalorian, and the bloodthirsty assassin droid set out.
A few paces out, Aithne turned to Canderous. "What was that, Ordo? You'll bring me back, like I'm some sort of object? What exactly did you tell him this morning?"
"What did you tell me yesterday?" Canderous countered unexpectedly. He kept walking, looking straight ahead, but his words punched Aithne in the gut. "It was irresponsible of you as the leader of this party to venture yourself in a life or death duel for someone else's honor. Especially without first consulting Republic."
He fell silent. Aithne felt defensive. "Exactly why should I have consulted Carth Onasi before deciding to accompany you today?" she demanded.
Canderous snorted. "Don't give me that, kid. I've seen the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. We all have. Onasi's sacrificed enough. You've given yourself to him, for better or worse, and as such, he should have a say in what you do."
"Given myself…" Aithne sputtered, turning red. "Carth Onasi, order me around?"
"I didn't say that," Canderous contradicted. "All I'm saying is you should talk to him before you go off and risk yourself like this. It's responsible, and becomes you as a warrior."
Aithne looked down, annoyed by his tone. "I've never exactly been responsible," she muttered.
"Make it your business to be," Canderous snapped. "You're important, Morrigan. You're on a mission to stop Malak. You've given your word to the Jedi Council and to your companions. Are you a woman of honor or not? And it's not just that. You're important personally to that bunch of misfits, too. To Shan. To Juhani. To Bindo and Zaalbar. Especially to Mission and Onasi."
Aithne felt slightly ashamed. "Canderous, why didn't you just tell me before?"
"Princess knew," Canderous said. "I assumed you'd tell the others. But Republic shows up this morning without a damn idea what's going on."
Aithne bowed her head. "I probably should have told him," she admitted.
Canderous simply nodded. Aithne, more quietly, asked, "What'd you tell him?"
Canderous shrugged. "I said I thought of you as my kinswoman. I said he was a good man, and I'd bring you safely back to him at the end of the battle."
Aithne was speechless, and quite touched. She put a hand on Canderous' arm, trying to express her gratitude and fondness for the grizzled old warrior. He shouldered her off, but not roughly. "Try not to be an idiot next time," he growled.
Aithne smiled, and nodded. And with that they were at the city gates. The gate guard asked for her license, then let her out with a minimum of fuss and delay.
And Aithne beheld the Dune Sea. Sand stretched out for miles. Just sand. There was not a rock or tree or shrub in sight to relieve her eyes of the dizzying bright gold of it all. There wasn't a cloud in the sky to cast a helpful, friendly shadow. The sun beat down on Aithne and Canderous' faces, and a hot wind threw sand into awkward places in their clothes.
Canderous swore. " 'Bout the worst place Jagi could've picked for a duel," he remarked.
"At least we'll see him right away," Aithne said, trying to be upbeat.
Canderous snorted. "If we find him at all."
HK-47 spoke up for the first time since leaving the ship. "Statement: My life sensors are picking up several large quadrupeds in the vicinity, and a few scattered groups of bipedal organisms. Query: Shall we kill something, master?"
"I think we'll have to, Aytchkay," Aithne told him. "Let's go."
The three of them ran into two Sand People raids and a troupe of miners before they finally found the right group of bipedal organisms, skulking in the shadow of a downed sandcrawler.
Jagi had brought two shifty looking Rodians with him. Aithne held up a hand to tell HK-47 to hold his fire. Jagi spoke.
"Ah," he said, loudly and dramatically. "I see you managed to come after all. I see you brought friends."
Canderous nodded jerkily. "You brought some of your own as well," he replied, not angrily, not politely. He simply said it.
Jagi laughed harshly. "Indeed I did. I foresaw that you might need help so I arranged a distraction."
Aithne spoke up. "Funny. I'm pretty sure that Canderous could take you and your friends on alone, actually. I came of my own free will, actually against his advice."
Jagi looked down at her haughtily. "I do not need to hear your excuses, Jedi!" he sneered. "I know why he brought you."
Canderous paled, and his scars stood out more vibrantly on his face. "Enough of this talk, Jagi," he snapped, suddenly focused. "Let us do what we came here to do."
Aithne looked at the tight tendons of the Mandalorian men. On a hunch, she said, "I think you both need to calm down."
"We both know the stakes here," Jagi replied. "And we both know what we must do. It is only in death that this can end."
"This is a matter of honor," Canderous told her. "I cannot stand by this insult. I must do this."
Aithne crossed her arms and looked at him. "Why?" she demanded.
Canderous didn't look at her, but he answered. "He has slandered me and questioned my honor. Among the Mandalore, many have died for lesser insults."
"I speak the truth!" Jagi declared. "And honor is the question here! The deaths of my comrades, your warriors, is a debt in blood that can only be paid by you. When you saw prospects for glory, you abandoned the plan and left us to die surrounded by enemies!"
Canderous retorted, "If I had not attacked when I did, the battle would not have been won so easily!"
"It would still have been won!" shouted Jagi. "You sent your own men to die there Canderous. I cannot forgive you for what you did to us! You will pay!"
"That's not the way it happened," objected Canderous.
Aithne held up her hands. "How did it?" she asked politely, explaining to Jagi, "It is only fitting that both stories be known so the victor's may be hailed as truth."
Jagi nodded tersely. Canderous spoke. "The Althiri were fighting hard," he explained. "I saw a break in their defenses that left their center exposed. I had to take the chance. If I had not done what I did, many more warriors would have died and the battle would have taken much longer. I stand by my decision."
His jaw held firm. Jagi's lips tightened. "You coward!" he hissed. "You glory hunter! You were given direct orders and were part of a plan! You had a responsibility to us!"
Canderous' eyes flicked to Aithne, to Jagi, and back to the ground. "I…I can regret their loss," he managed, "but it was necessary."
But Aithne understood. "Tactics, Jagi," she explained. "Formulating a new, better plan on the spot. Making sacrifices to advance your goal. Canderous was smart."
"He left us to die when his responsibility was to us," Jagi argued, but some of the heat had left his voice, and Aithne thought he was listening. "Instead he went hunting more glory for himself."
Aithne pressed her advantage. "By his actions Canderous may have saved other lives."
"He cost us ours!" said Jagi, and his words were a lament for the friends he must have lost. His face settled, and he looked at Aithne, for the first time with something approaching respect. "But…but I do see your point." He turned back to Canderous, a genuine question in his face. "But…why did you have to leave us there to die while you chased glory somewhere else?"
Canderous' tone calmed too. "I saw a chance and had to take it," he reiterated. "It ended the battle quicker than we would have otherwise, and many of our warriors may have died. Mandalore taught us that opportunism and flexibility in battle were to be admired. You may contradict me, but do you contradict him as well?"
Jagi shouted his answer. "No!" He calmed. "I…I see that I have been wrong. I have not been true to the teachings of Mandalore." A look of inexplicable sadness came over his face. "You were right," he told Canderous. "I was wrong to question your honor. But I must now cleanse mine with my life."
"Jagi!" Aithne cried, as the younger Mandalorian brought his blaster up, but it was too late. Canderous watched as Jagi blew his head off, sending blood spurting and marring his face beyond recognition. Aithne winced, and a tear ran down her face.
Jagi fell. "So shall it be," Canderous murmured.
Aithne turned her attention to the Rodians, who were even now advancing. /Hey!/ she told him. /Jagi's down. He didn't want to fight anymore./
/But, you see,/ said one of the Rodians. /He paid us to. Ethics, you know./
/And you might have something we want,/ the other said.
Canderous' face was hard. Aithne's hardened, too. She turned away. "Aytchkay?" she said simply.
"Agreement: With pleasure, master," the droid said, blasting a hole through one of the thugs with his rifle. Canderous took out the other, then went to Jagi.
Kneeling beside the corpse, he looked up at Aithne. "I…I think this has affected me in ways that I didn't anticipate," he confessed, his face more shaken than Aithne had seen it yet. "I think I'll need time to sort things out. Thanks for what you did, Aithne Morrigan. I just need time."
"What are you going to do with him?" she asked quietly.
"He died with honor," Canderous said simply. "In battle. It would be a discourtesy to move him." He murmured a few words in his own tongue over Jagi, and then rose, his face hard as stone.
"Let's leave."
They trekked the distance back to the Hawk in silence. Aithne felt dirty. She'd tried to avoid death out there in the desert, but it had followed her in any case. And in a very physical sense, she was dirty. She was sweaty and gritty and tired and depressed. Aithne felt like she could shower for a year.
"And I haven't even found the Star Map yet! Or Mission's worthless brother!" she said aloud to no one in particular.
Carth was waiting at the door when they arrived. Aithne wondered if he'd even left. In fact, the entire crew was there, waiting to hear the outcome of Canderous' duel.
"Did you kill him?" Bastila wanted to know.
"No," Canderous answered.
"Well, is he still alive, then?" Mission asked.
"No," was the answer again.
"Ok," Aithne said. "I'll answer questions later. Right now? I want a shower. Stat."
And the crew parted like the sea. When Aithne spoke in that tone, they'd learned not to mess around.
There were plenty of questions later. Aithne quickly shut off Aytchkay when she emerged from the shower so that the rest of the crew could avoid hearing him recount the skillful way he had vaporized Sand People and thugs alike, and make his case for why Aithne should allow him to do the same to every random person they passed on the street.
"Mission? Bastila?" Aithne said, after everyone had finished questioning her and eating dinner.
"Yes," was the Jedi's response.
"Yeah," Mission mumbled through a mouth full of dessert.
"We're going to go out tomorrow, with Aytchkay, to look for Griff Vao, the Star Map, and…other things."
"But what about the rule?" Mission piped up.
"The object is to get off this planet," Aithne replied, in answer to the Twi'lek's question and Bastila's glare. "Tomorrow we hang the rules."
Bastila started to object, but then her face grew pensive, and Aithne knew she was remembering her mother. "Alright," she said finally.
"Good," Aithne said. "You two should get some sleep. Trust me, you'll need it."
The crew had begun to leave at this point. Mission crossed her arms. "You'll need to sleep, too."
Aithne snorted. "And I will. After I wind down a bit. Long day, and all that."
Bastila looked at her piercingly, and then nodded. Aithne was left to her own devices. She wandered around the ship a bit aimlessly.
The fight with Jagi had upset her. I can't seem to get it right, no matter what I do, she thought. And after getting to know HK-47 better, she had made some disturbing discoveries.
She'd done some work on him after her shower and before dinner, and had discovered that his memory core had some problems. His history was one huge blank. She'd begun to repair it, and so far the discoveries were grim. He'd killed the last two masters he'd had; both incidents were accidents, true, but he'd killed them. Aithne found that now at the end of the day she was still glad she'd purchased the droid. He was still amusing and annoying and fascinating all at once. But the part of her that was amused by her bloodthirsty new droid was that same creature that had awoken briefly on Korriban.
Without quite knowing how she'd gotten there, Aithne found herself in the med bay, now acknowledged by all as the territory of Jolee Bindo. She considered a moment, then knocked at the door frame.
"I thought I might be seeing you tonight," he greeted her, without turning around. "Come in. What's troubling you?"
Aithne wasn't exactly sure. And when she opened her mouth, what came out wasn't what she thought would.
"Why'd you leave the Jedi?"
Jolee looked surprised too. He motioned for her to sit in a chair. Aithne sat.
"Who said I left the Jedi?" Jolee asked.
Aithne knew that if she decided not to continue the conversation, this was her cue. But something in her told her that yes, she really wanted to know more about this enigmatic old man.
"You did," she protested. "You said back on Kashyyyk you weren't a Jedi any longer."
Jolee shrugged. "Well, technically I was only ever a Padawan…not that that makes a difference to most. But as for the Order itself…no, I never left it. It left me."
Aithne felt that if she were less tired she could probably figure this out. But at the moment, she was bone weary, and had little patience for his cryptic words. "Are you a Jedi or not?" she demanded.
Jolee looked annoyed. "Something wrong with your ears? I thought folks only went deaf when they got to my age. I follow the Jedi Way and use the Force, don't I? That makes me a Jedi, last time I checked. But the Order, itself, the Jedi Council and so forth…no, I'm not part of that and haven't been for a long time. And good riddance, I say!"
Aithne laughed, picturing the look on Master Vandar's face if he heard that, all closed up and pruny. "Nice! But why?"
"You know what I hate?" said Jolee, leaning down in his chair to rest his arms on his knees. "Well…you know, lots of things, really. But I'm old and easily annoyed, and that's not the point. What I really hate is how most people view the Jedi. Everyone thinks the Jedi are perfect, that they can do no wrong. They think the Jedi Council is completely incapable of injustice."
Aithne snorted. "As if. Idiots. I don't think that, and I'm certainly not perfect."
Jolee smiled. "Well, I guess you aren't as stupid as you sometimes act. No doubt you've been on the receiving end of Jedi justice at least once, hmm? And I'm not even talking about how some of us fall to the Dark Side," he clarified, with a nod at Aithne and a gesture of his hand at Juhani's quarters. "No, I'm talking about how, more often than not, your average robe-wearing Jedi can try to do the right thing and be completely wrong."
Aithne's eyebrows went up, and she shot a look in Bastila's direction. Jolee shrugged in answer to her unspoken question.
"How did the Jedi wrong you?" Aithne asked.
Jolee shook his head, looking sad and tired. "No, no, the Jedi always treated me well. It would be foolish and untrue to say otherwise. That's not what I meant anyway." He sat up, and looked at Aithne, and she inwardly groaned. She could see in his face he was about to be difficult. "Come to think of it, I don't have to be clear!" he declared. "Someone my age is entitled to ramble, dammit! But for your sake, I'll try to explain. I'll tell you a little tale about a Jedi Master I once knew. Hortath, I think. Or was it Hartoth? I could never remember."
Aithne sighed, and sat back. At this point, there was no escape. Ah, well, she'd asked for it. "Is this going to have a point?" she asked.
Jolee sighed dramatically. "You know the problem with the youth of today?" he asked the ceiling rhetorically. "They're young." He looked back at Aithne, as if suddenly recalling her existence. "Where was I, then? Oh. Oh, yes…Master Hortath. He was a kindly old Jedi who meant well, but the most near-sighted thing in the Core, I swear. He would walk into walls, knock over tables, mistake apprentices for rancor beasts, that sort of thing."
Aithne laughed. Jolee nodded sagely. "And he was too proud to submit to proper treatment. Some used to counsel him and urged, 'Use the Force, Master Hortath. Allow the Force to see for you.' But he refused to believe that his eyes were failing. He simply squinted more and more as the years went on, the other Jedi resignedly passing it off as the amusing quirk of a compassionate old man."
Aithne nodded. "Ok. What next?"
"So one day," Jolee related, "a young Padawan meets Master Hortath in the courtyard and, not knowing of his blindness, asks him for directions to the Council. Quite sure of himself, Hortath gave the lad instructions, which happened to lead back outside and away from the Enclave. The Padawan is confused, naturally. He asks if Master Hortath is sure, and of course Master Hortath says that he is. The Padawan suggests that perhaps he should ask someone else…but the proud Hortath now feels insulted. He tells the Padawan to take the route he prescribed and no other. Rather dejectedly, the Padawan did as he was told…and so ended up leaving the Jedi Order forever. It was decided that the boy's fate was to leave the Order anyway…though whether that was out of respect for Hortath or because the boy went on to something else we'll never know."
Aithne considered this. "I…see," she said at last.
Jolee stood up and helped her to her feet. "Hmph," he said. "No you don't. Go think about it. Shoo!"
Aithne did think about it. And though she wasn't sure she understood it even late that night, she felt a little better.
The next morning, Aithne rose early, feeling much more like herself. She dressed quickly, armed up, ate a silent breakfast alone, and then went to find Carth.
She found him in the cockpit, fiddling with some of the instrument calibrations.
"Hey," she said, leaning against the door frame.
"Hey," he said back, in much the same tone.
Aithne strode forward, unable to bear the distance. "Look," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Canderous and I had a talk. I'm sorry I didn't talk with you about the duel before I informed the crew I'd be fighting it. It must've been…unpleasant to find out that way."
"It was," Carth confirmed, but he turned around. He opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it, started to turn around again, then turned back and reopened his mouth.
Aithne shook her head. "Okay, I've apologized. What's bothering you now? You want to say something."
Carth raised his eyebrows at her tone. "You can tell, can you?" he said, rather sarcastically.
Aithne smiled. "Well," she said sweetly. "Your mouth keeps opening. That's a sign, I think."
"You're feeling better," Carth remarked. "But listen, beautiful, I don't need to take this abuse. I get enough female Jedi bashing from Bastila."
Aithne pushed him lightly. "You love the attention. Admit it."
Carth crossed his arms. "You think so? I could probably get the same kind of attention from a blaster rifle."
"Aytchkay would be happy to serve you," Aithne said brightly.
"I'll bet he would," Carth grumbled.
Aithne stood up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "But, if that's not what you had in mind, I think there are things I can do that a blaster can't."
Carth moved suddenly, so that Aithne fell into his arms. "Now that I'd like to see," he said. Aithne bit her lip, eyes dancing, and saw him get it the multiple meanings. He set her gingerly upright again. "Or would I?" he asked. Aithne grinned, and didn't answer. He grinned back a bit ruefully. "You've got my damn head on backwards, you know that?"
Aithne shrugged, but said nothing. In fact, she hadn't known that, but she was delighted to. But Carth frowned.
"Anyway, as fun as this is, I do have to talk to you about something serious. Really serious. Is now a good time?"
"The others won't leave until I'm ready," Aithne told him, referring to her plans for the day. "I'm not ready. Spit it out, flyboy."
Carth smiled gratefully. "Alright," he said, sitting down in the pilot's chair and motioning for Aithne to sit across from him. She did so, wondering what he wanted to tell her. "I'm…uh, I'm concerned about you," he said finally. "I've been keeping these thoughts to myself mostly, because I wasn't sure you'd listen anyways, but I think it's time I say something."
Aithne nodded. "I'll listen. What's this about?"
Carth shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's about you," he managed. "I'm worried about what might happen to you. You have a lot of courage, and the fact that through all of this you've remained strong is amazing, but I think there's even greater danger ahead. I think…I think you may be setting yourself up for a fall." He looked off into the distance, trying to work out how to phrase his words. "Maybe at the urging of the Jedi, I don't know, but for some reason I think you're going to become Malak's number one target. If…uh, if I'm going to find some purpose beyond taking revenge on Saul, then it's going to have to be in protecting you." He looked frankly at her, and Aithne knew exactly what he meant. She went very still.
After a long moment, she said, "Carth, are you sure? We weren't talking about it…"
Carth cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand. "I know what we said. I've thought about it a lot, and 'whatever happens, happens' isn't good enough. It's not fair to you, or good enough for me. I think some terrible fate is waiting for you. I think the Jedi Council knows it. I think Bastila knows it. And I don't want that to come to pass."
"You think Bastila knows something terrible is going to happen to me?" Aithne asked Carth, frankly dubious.
"I think she knows vital information about the dangers you're facing that she, perhaps at the Jedi Council's request, is deliberately keeping from us," Carth qualified. "Don't get me wrong, I think she's a friend. But something isn't right. You know it. I know it. I blamed it on you before, but I know the Jedi didn't tell us everything."
Aithne nodded. He made sense. For maybe the thousandth time, Aithne was glad Carth was with her, both for personal and practical reasons. He continued, eyes boring into hers with an intensity that almost scared her.
"If I'm going to live past Saul, I need you to, as well. Let me be there. Let me protect you. From yourself, from the Sith- you have to let me try."
Aithne's voice deserted her. "Why are you doing this?" she asked him in a whisper.
"Because….because I never got the chance to save my wife and son," Carth said. Aithne sat up, offended. Carth held up a hand. "Because I didn't stop Saul when I had a chance." Aithne flinched, but stayed put. Carth finished, more softly, "Because I finally have the chance to do it right. You, Aithne, are an extraordinary woman. You make me think that maybe I might have some purpose beyond revenge. I don't know if it means…"
Aithne cut him off there. She felt like joy was radiating out of her very soul. "Oh, shut up," she told him, as a tear ran down her face. "You know exactly what this means to me. I hadn't scarcely allowed myself to hope…" she trailed off. She laughed. "Of course you can stay after Saul. Stay, fly the ship, be paranoid, fight next to me, and help me tear up the Sith armada. For as long as you want." She grabbed his hands across the aisle, looking straight into his eyes. "And I am honored beyond words that it's me you're staying for, Carth. Thank you."
Carth couldn't speak for a moment. Finally, he choked out. "I'm glad. I'll be there," he said, and his words were a promise. "I wouldn't miss it, and I'll do my best to protect you."
Aithne smiled at him. "I feel safer already," she said, and she did. Safer of body, safer of mind, and safer of heart. She stood. "But I can't stay."
"No," Carth agreed. "Go find the Star Map. Shoot some Sand People for me."
"Um, no," said Aithne. "Never liked guns, myself. But Aytchkay will!"
Aithne smiled as she left the cockpit, hearing Carth mutter about bloodthirsty, annoying, snobby droids behind her.
Aithne was still smiling when she, Aytchkay, Bastila, and Mission had been attacked by three different sets of Sand People.
"What are you so happy about, anyway?" Mission wanted to know. The Twi'lek was discovering the joys of sand in one's clothing and sunburned lekku. As a result, she was grumpy and curt.
"Query:" Aytchkay asked, "What is not to be happy about? That is the third group of native meatbags we've slaughtered this morning! Statement: Oh, master, it is a beautiful day!"
Bastila rolled her eyes. Aithne however, merely sighed and said, "Yeah."
Bastila took one cursory glance at Aithne. "It's Carth," she said to Mission. "What has happened?" she asked.
"He's staying," Aithne told them. "Until we finish, after he gets his revenge on Saul Karath even. He's staying with me." She laughed. "He's staying for me."
Aytchkay swiveled his head around to Bastila. "Query: What is wrong with the master? Is she ill?"
"No, droid, she is not, though she's probably as useless as if she were," Bastila replied irritably. "Focus, Aithne, if you please. Which direction is the Enclave?"
"The Sand People Enclave?" Aithne replied, shaking her head as she processed the non-Carth related question.
"No, the one for the blind pink Rodians," Bastila snapped, with frightful and rather uncharacteristic sarcasm. "Of course the Sand People Enclave!"
The tone lent Aithne focus. She glared at Bastila, but Mission put a hand on her shoulder.
"Look, Aithne. I'm happy for you, you know I am," the Twi'lek whispered. "But can you wait to melt over it until after we find Griff and negotiate with the Sand People?"
Aithne's gaze cleared as she shoved thoughts of Carth to the side. There was a job to do. She couldn't afford the blood she'd pay if she forgot that, or the humiliation the others would inflict on her later. Reddening, Aithne imagined the consequences if Canderous or Jolee had been out here with her.
"Right," she said, spying an odd sort of sandstone gate in the distance. "That ought to be the entrance to their territory. But from what I've heard, we'll need to think of a way to get through there undetected to the Enclave."
Mission held up a hand briefly, and her face lit up. Without a word she dashed away to the north.
"Aytchkay, follow her," Aithne ordered the droid. "Cover her if she's attacked."
"Agreement: Yes, master," HK-47 replied, loping off surprisingly fast in pursuit of the teenager.
In less than five minutes both droid and girl were back, the latter carrying somewhat bloody robes.
"I went back to that last attack site," she explained breathlessly. "Here," she handed a Sand People garment to both Bastila and Aithne. "They ought to disguise us until we get close up and they can see we're the wrong shape, you know? Maybe then you and HK-47'll be able to talk to them."
"Brilliant, Mission," Aithne said, pulling her robe over her head. The teenager beamed.
"Good sun protection, too," Aithne remarked. "Now, as we get closer, we'll need to talk less so the Sand People around don't hear us and attack."
"Noted," Bastila said, seemingly in a better mood now that Aithne had focused again. She didn't fuss as she pulled the bloodstained, sandy garment over her own head, though Aithne saw her nose wrinkle and filed the picture away in her mind to pull out and laugh at later.
Thus robed, and keeping silent, they entered the Sand People's territory. It was messy, Aithne noted. Bones and scrap heaps of Czerka machines lay around here and there. A small herd of bantha provided the pungent scent wafting on the northerly wind. Aithne curled her lip in disgust behind her sacred Sand People warrior mask. The party picked their way through the mines and rubble towards the cloth walls of the Sand People's village. Things were going quite well until they entered the Enclave. They practically ran into a big warrior. They heard him sniff, and there was an outcry of surprise Aithne did not understand, but took to mean they were discovered.
"Interjection:" HK-47 interjected. "One moment…I believe I understood that, master. It may not have been his intention, but he did actually communicate something."
"Quickly," Aithne hissed to the droid. "Tell him we are not a threat!"
The assassin made some growls and wails in his throat, and the Sand People warrior looked confusedly at him, before making a noise in reply.
"Result:" Aytchkay announced. "I believe I have succeeded in confusing him, master. We have shown an interest not common among outsiders."
Mission drew a little closer to Aithne's side. Aithne's voice rang out clearly. "Apologize for being here," she instructed HK-47. "Say we want peace."
Aytchkay translated, and the warrior replied. "Translation:" came HK-47 again. "He is expressing disbelief…as am I…but his duty requires that he report to the Chieftain. Extrapolation: It would seem that we are at least worthy of curiosity, for the moment. I would much rather this get bloody, master, but it is your call."
"Yes it is," Aithne told him, as three Sand People forcibly removed her, Mission's, and Bastila's robes. The change was rough, but not painful. They were escorted to the Chieftain, and Aithne continued to talk, voice firm, to reassure her comrades. "And I'd much rather find Griff and mess with Czerka."
In no time at all they stood before a bent Sand Person, in slightly darker robes than the others. Aithne took this to be their chieftain. He hollered at them in his own tongue, and HK-47 translated.
"Translation: I can translate with some degree of accuracy that he is demanding to know why he should let us survive this encounter, master."
Mission gulped. Aithne looked straight at the Chieftain, unflinching, and instructed HK-47. "Tell him that we don't want to fight. Tell him we want a peaceful solution."
After Aytchkay had done this, the Chieftain was silent for a moment. Then he spoke, telling Aithne that he didn't believe her, that her kind had tainted the land. However, he was willing to accept a proof of good faith. If Aithne would make a contribution to his people, showing she was not a threat, he might be willing to reduce attacks on the Czerka.
"Shall I blast him now, master?" Aytchkay wanted to know.
"There is to be no blasting, Aytchkay," Aithne reminded him. "Ask him what he wants."
Apparently, the chieftain was about to move his people and wanted water supplies. If Aithne could acquire him moisture vaporators from the Czerka, he would reduce his attacks.
Aithne grinned. "Take Czerka supplies to bribe their enemies to reduce attacks on them? I like it. Tell him we'll get them," she told HK-47. Mission began to relax.
Aytchkay translated. He looked annoyed when the Chieftain gave his reply. "Translation:" he said finally. "Hmph. He does not believe you, master. We will only be allowed to reenter the Enclave when we have the vaporators with us. We are to be escorted outside. He will wait, but he doesn't believe we are coming back."
"Doesn't he?" Aithne said. "We'll show him!"
It was just lunch time when Aithne arrived back in Anchorhead with the others. They grabbed a quick bite at a fast food restaurant, and then were off to Czerka. The manager of the supply store, a Rodian named Greeta, turned out to be a good guy. He was an honest one trying to make a living, and not overly fond of Czerka. It took her a few minutes, but Aithne was able to talk him into giving a pair of moisture converters away for practically nothing. The machines were rather bulky. Aithne wanted to carry them both, but this proved to be impossible. To her surprise, Bastila volunteered to carry the other. When Aithne looked at her in question, she glared.
"What, Aithne? Am I not allowed to dislike the Czerka as much as you and Zaalbar? Am I not allowed to wish them a mischief?"
Mission snickered. Aithne winced. "You are, but you have to promise not to say that again. I swear, Bastila, the way you talk sometimes! You're one of the most powerful Jedi out there. You're feared and respected throughout the galaxy. You can't say things like "wish them a mischief" and "festivities". It's just not done, and besides, it makes me look bad."
Mission made a face, then lost control and burst out laughing. Aithne had imitated Bastila flawlessly while quoting her, and the sentiment was just too ridiculous for the teenager. Bastila colored slightly, then turned her nose up, and the group began to trek across the desert again.
A guard was posted outside of the Enclave when Aithne and her party arrived, huffing and puffing from the weight of the vaporators. They were escorted inside. The Chieftain was surprised and mistrustful to see they'd returned, but he was grateful as well. He granted Aithne his Chieftain's gaffi to tuck into her pack instead of the vaporators, which was much lighter and would make her money besides. He promised to reduce the attacks, and also granted them the right to explore the Enclave.
Aithne, through HK-47, had a brief conversation with the Chieftain, in which he revealed a few vital pieces of information. First, he knew the location of the Star Map. He said it was located in the cave of a large krayt dragon, the only one in the area, to the east not far from their current location. They could reach the place that afternoon if they hurried.
Aithne struggled to keep her face blank at the frightful convenience of it all. To be able to retrieve the Star Map and Bastila's father's holocron that day was more than she had hoped for. There was only the small matter of the dragon, the largest, most dangerous predator of the desert.
The final bit of information they gathered from talking with the Sand People Chieftain was that they indeed had Mission's brother Griff. And they, apparently, were as disgusted with him as the rest of the galaxy.
"By his very presence, this Griff defiles their home and land," Aytchkay translated for the Chieftain. "He is without any semblance of usefulness to them."
Mission nodded ruefully. "Yup. That would be Griff."
"Extrapolation:" HK-47 extrapolated, "I would assume we are free to take him. It is doubtful they will even waste the effort to kill him. Perhaps we could do it, master?" he asked, but he did not sound very hopeful.
"Not a chance, Aytchkay," Aithne said, quivering with excitement at having accomplished so much. "Tell him farewell, for now."
Griff wasn't hard to find. He was in a room with the skeletal corpse of what must have been a previous Sand People captive. The minute he saw Aithne, he put on an important, dignified face.
"Hello!" he said in a voice that Aithne supposed he thought was charming. "I'm a high ranking executive of the Czerka Corporation. Eh…there's a big reward if you take me back to Anchorhead."
Aithne crossed her arms, unimpressed. "You're Griff Vao," she said flatly. "You're a petty criminal and a liar. Czerka gave up the hunt for you days ago. I'm Aithne Morrigan, and I'm here to save your sorry butt anyway. You know my friend," she added, looking away from Griff's bemused expression to step aside for Mission.
Mission darted forward, and Griff's mouth fell open. "I..do," he gasped.
"Hey, Griff, don't look so stupid," Mission said playfully. "You recognize me. It's Mission!"
Griff finally managed to pull himself together, and began smiling like the sun. "Mission! Is it really you? I heard Taris was destroyed! I thought you were dead! Joy of joys, my little sister is alive!"
Aithne would say one thing for him. The scoundrel was happy to see Mission, even if he'd abandoned her in the first place.
"I came to find you, Griff," Mission said, but now she was frowning. "I have to ask you something. It's important. I ran into Lena. She said…she said it was your idea to leave me back there. It's not true, is it?"
Griff shuffled in the sand, looking anywhere but at his sister's earnest face. Any liking Aithne had begun to feel for him upon his reception of his sister fled. "Ah, well," he said. "There's the truth, and then there's the truth, you know? I always meant to go back to Taris, sis. Just as soon as I had the credits to pay off my debts. But credits have been hard to come by."
Mission's face hardened. "You mean it's true?" she pressed. "It was your idea to leave me there? I'm your sister- how could you abandon me like that?"
Griff tried to reason with her. "C'mon, sis. You didn't need me to look after you anymore. You may have been young, but you knew how to take care of yourself. Besides, you're here now- everything worked out fine."
Mission was having none of it. She crossed her arms. "That's it?" she asked. "Three years, and that's all you have to say to me after abandoning me on Taris?"
Griff shrugged. "Well, that and…uh…could you please get me out of here? You've got tough looking friends there." He glanced over at Aithne. "Anna, was it?"
"Aithne," snapped the same. "And I'd already negotiated for your release. Go to Anchorhead. I'm not taking you. You wouldn't take her. Bastila?"
Bastila was a page ahead of her. The Jedi tossed a simple Shock Stick at him. "For defense," Aithne said.
"Yeah," Mission said. "You can find your way, right?" Her tone was sullen, and she scowled at him. When Griff made no move to go, she spread her arms. "What? Is there something else?"
"Uh…" Griff said, "Well…thanks…and uh…you look like you're doing well. Nice fancy blasters, and that's high quality armor. You're pretty well off financially now. Say…um…could you spare a few credits to get back on my feet?"
Mission stared at him for five full seconds before replying. "You…you're hitting me up for credits? I don't believe this," she raged. "Lena was right about you, Griff! We should've just left you to the Sand People. Don't talk to me anymore- ever!" She stalked out of the enclosure, still fuming, presumably to wait outside.
"Huh," Griff said. "That didn't go well. Sis was always a little too fiery for her own good. She'll cool down in time."
"She shouldn't!" muttered Aithne.
"Ah…she'll be okay," Griff said positively. "We've had our fights before. Too bad, though. I could really have used a helping hand right now. You may have saved my life, but I don't have a single credit to my name."
"I wouldn't take it if you did," Aithne said disdainfully.
Griff took no notice of her tone. "Say," he plunged on shamelessly. "You wouldn't be able to spare me some credits? Just till I get back on my feet, you know?"
Aithne considered. Ungraciously, she got out her wallet, explaining. "I wouldn't, but you're right that Mission will regret losing her temper. So I'll give you fifty credits. Invest it. Get a room, maybe. Look for a job you'll actually work."
"That's it, huh?" Griff grumbled. "Oh, figured you would be able to spare a bit more than that, but, you know, I'll take whatever I can get. Don't worry about me…I've already got a job waiting for me. Greeta, the manager over at the Czerka supply shop, said I could come work for him if I ever get tired of the mines. I think I'll go take him up on his offer. You know," he said, a speculative look in his eyes. "Maybe there's something else you can help me with. I need to talk to a guy first and set up the details, but if you're interested in a job come see me in Greeta's shop." He walked out, waved at Mission, and called, "Goodbye, Mission! Uh…I'm glad you're not dead."
Mission sniffed.
Aithne walked out to join Mission, followed by the others.
"How're you feeling, Mish?" she said in a low tone, heading towards the Enclave exit in front of the party.
"Like those walls aren't nearly thick enough," the teenager growled. "I don't know," she relaxed. "I'm happy Griff's alive, but I'm mad at him right now. And I don't know what kind of job he's got for you, but I don't trust him. It's probably just another scam!"
"Mission, I've no intention of taking part in one of his scams," Aithne reassured the girl. "We'll go by once before we leave the planet to say good-bye, if you'd like." Too late, she realized Mission might not want to go with her. "You are coming, aren't you?"
Mission gave her a look of the utmost scorn. "Like I'd give up on you now to stay with my worthless brother? Nah, I'm coming with. You're stuck with me."
Aithne smiled. "Good. And Mission, I'm sorry about how it turned out."
Mission nodded, and was silent.