Chapter 4
It had been a long day just trying to find their bearings, never mind the three arena battles, and siphoning information from the locals as well as the occupational army. It left both Ravensong and Onasi exhausted.
They ate in relative silence; the earlier argument still lay as a wall, thick between them. Only when he had finished his food did Onasi even make an attempt to converse with the woman silently eating her roasted rabbit and potato stew.
"I still don't like the prospect of this party, Ravensong. It's fraternizing with the enemy; any officer will tell you that."
"No, it's called espionage, 'Commander'. How do you think officers get all that INTEL in the first place? Hum? Scouts do all the dirty jobs so all the glory of wiping out the enemy goes to the pristine image of the Fleet."
"Glory? Is that what you want?" Carth asked a little sharply.
"Glory is of no use to the dead." Ravensong said evenly. "Scouts do the dying, Fleet does the flying. We need to save the Jedi, Onasi. We can't do it the Fleet way by storming the place; you have to move in the shadows with subtlety and cunning. There is no other way. Trust me, the Sith won't know what hit them at the party. I didn't just go in to scope out the enemy lines; I spiked their ale with sedatives while I was scoping out the area. Make sure you don't drink any when offered. Take the pint but don't drink, unless you want to wake up with a one mother-fracker of a hangover and answer some very uncomfortable questions about uniforms gone missing once they are all lucid again."
Ravensong rose from the table, placed her dirty dishes in the recycler and headed for her bed. She didn't say goodnight to her counterpart, nor did she offer more conversation. Striping down to her underwear, Ravensong slipped between the sheets and pulled the blanket over her body. It was an early night but the next day was going to come very earlier and there were a few things to do before the party.
Skye hadn't told Carth that Ajuur had informed her that there was to be a morning bout if she was interested in challenging Marl. He had set it up so that new challengers could take on Duncan, Gerlon and Ice in the afternoon leaving any challenger to Twitch for the evening. It seemed the bouts of the Mysterious Stranger had stirred up a few bored Sith and local competitors who wanted their names to become recognized- not to mention the credits to be made. It seemed that most new competitors believed the arena gladiators to be easy marks now that the Mysterious Stranger had sliced her way through their defenses and broken bones along the way. Few made it past Ice as they had underestimated the woman's abilities even recovering from a broken clavicle. Skye had agreed to the matches Ajuur wanted to set up. The one with Twitch was probational provided she defeated Marl.
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Heavy lids closed allowing dreams to filter, manipulate and control images flashing like ancient memories long forgotten to form...
The unmistakable sound of lightsabers clashing filled her ears. The snap-hiss of the blades coming to life. The static hum as yellow blade kissed that of red.
Smoke and ruins rose like smoke and ruins rose like the claws of a great and terrible beast over the horizon of the fractured planet. A cloaked figure rose out of gray mists. Upon landing on the planet's surface, she was nearly destroyed by the resonance of ancient Sith power. She managed to survive the encounter through sheer force of will, but she did not escape unscathed.
A plan soon took shape in her mind; a way to end the war before the Republic was too far weakened by the conflict. A new Sith training school was built over the crumbling ruins of the older complex on Malachor V- the ravenous dark side energies of that planet were used to bind the most trusted of her followers to her will. The resulting thralls were used to found the order of the Sith Assassins—a group that she kept secret even from… a close friend, an apprentice.
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against red.
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against yellow.
Whole worlds burning.
"I need you, Metra. I need you to do this, to end the war. You are my most trusted General. It is the only way, you know it. Take command of this fleet. Infiltrate Dxun and use whatever means you have, whatever means you can conceive, to destroy the Mandalorians on Malachor V. Do this not only for the Republic, to save countless innocents, but for me. Your gift with force bonds will insure your victories, my love. The troops follow you not because you're strong or because of your extremely unique tie to the Force, but because of who you are. You are a natural leader; I need you to lead this armada. I trust only you with this, Metra. Only you are able to see this to the end."
"There is a way, but it will… destroy the planet." The voice of the beautiful fawn-haird General resonated deeply in the heart of the woman she spoke to.
"Then do it."
"As you command, it will be so. If it will put an end to the slaughter, I will do this, perhaps there is no other alternative."
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against red.
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against yellow.
"She will not turn, cannot be controlled as the others, she will need to die. Her battle meditations are a threat to us."
"Touch her, threaten her again, and you will know pain, old friend as you have never known it!"
"You've become too soft Revan; perhaps it is time for the stronger to prevail."
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against red.
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against yellow.
Blood. A scream never issued for a man's jaw lay beneath the black rancor leather boot of the one who had sliced it off.
"That is but a small lesson to you, meatbag, remember it well. I am not so soft as you may think. Metra will find her grave on Malachor Five and if she does not, it will not matter. Her heart will die there regardless, she is pure Jedi. The destruction of all those lives, of that planet will echo in her for all time, it will wound her beyond measure. This discussion is over and will never be brought up again."
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against red.
Snap-hiss of lightsabers clashing in a frantic battle.
Red against yellow.
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Skye woke bathed in sweat, dread and fear. The images she had seen in her dreams were not memories she held of her own. But then, whose memories, were they? War. Mandalorians. Malachor V. A brown haired General—a Jedi Knight who, like Bastila, had battle meditations.
War.
It didn't make any sense, and the more Skye tried to reconcile it, to find meaning in them, the more the images were swept away like low laying fog banks. One could see it, lose their way within it, but never touch it, and yet were touched by it.
She dared to glance across the room to Onasi's bunk. Her fear that her night terrors might have woken the man up were laid to rest as he slumbered on in uninterrupted sleep. She offered a quick thank you to the Night Mother for minor miracles before she tossed the blankets aside, rose out of bed and headed for the refresher. She would reemerge ten minutes later feeling alive after a vigorous sonic shower and seeing to typical morning grooming and toiletry needs.
"Thought you might like a cup of caffa," Carth said handing her a synthesized mug from the Czerka autochef.
She took it with a smile. "I sure could, thanks." She sniffed the strong aroma of caffeine and roasted caffa beans before taking her first sip. "The head is all yours."
"I'd ask if there was any hot water left," he smiled, "but it's sonic so I don't have to worry."
"Would you really trust the water in this place if it was a hydro shower?" Skye quirked an eyebrow.
"Good point. See you in ten."
Eleven minutes later Onasi made his appearance, groomed as Skye had been. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"
"I have a match this morning with Marl in Ajuur's arena; if I win I face Twitch in the afternoon. It will pass the time and affirm my place as an arena gladiator rather than well… a downed Republic soldier. With the winnings, we can buy a few more supplies and prep for going down to the Lower City tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? I thought we should hit it tonight." Carth did not disguise his unrest or suspicions over Ravensong's motives. "Why are you stalling? Bastila may need our help- the longer we wait could be dangerous for her. "
"I am not stalling, Onasi. I am thinking ahead. The Lower City is overrun by swoop gangs, is this not so? They will no doubt be out in droves at night like cockroaches. It won't do her any good having us getting killed by an act of stupidity. The party is tonight; even with the sedatives in the ale to knock our little Sith friends out, it will take a bit of time to collect two, hopefully three uniforms, and slip out. By the time we do it, it will be late. What are the chances of a Sith patrol going down into the Lower City at night when the Swoop Gangs are most active?"
"I see your point." Carth conceded. "They will most likely go down there during the morning when the gang-bangers are suffering hangovers, striking them when they are not so amassed."
"Yeah, exactly," Skye said. "I don't like leaving Bastila in a vulnerable position if she is in one. But we have little choice if we want to avoid attracting the attention of the Sith as a whole."
Carth was found himself once more drawn and floundering to the strategist in this woman. She had a natural talent to it, and he wondered if it was a skill she always possessed or cultivated in Special Ops. She took to leadership with the natural grace and he was stricken how easily he followed her orders despite the fact he was the senior ranking officer. It wasn't simply that he had delegated the more tactical elements of this mission to her, but that he was willing to give her the lead and take her orders. If she went career Ravensong would make a formidable Fleet Admiral. The trouble was he had never known a Scout to make it that far, or rather reach the age where it happened. The life and career of a Scout was fraught with untold dangers that often ended in their deaths.
Skye had studying of her own to do. She had a few hours before the match would begin and she wanted to be prepared for the event. She hadn't studied old holovids of her opponents last night for she didn't want her rest to be disturbed by supposition of her opponent's abilities. She wanted as much rest as she could grasp. Her sleep since her recruitment to the Endar Spire had been plagued with strange dreams- nightmares really. It got so Skye harvested only a few hours, four at the most, of quality sleep a night. If she was to be any good today facing the blade master and a quick-draw blasterfighter, she needed to be as well rested as possible. That meant studying holovids over a high protein, high-carb breakfast.
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Marl was fast, charging in as Skye did, never giving his opponents a chance to toss a grenade. Skye figured he meditated on the opposition just as she did before the clang of the bell at the beginning of a match. He used an Echani double-bladed sword and was very comfortable doing so. Each overhead swing, each leg sweep, was a circle of motion filled with fluidic grace and precision. He had Echani training, which meant he was fast and extremely aggressive. He relied on power lunges and ripostes as well as assertive critical strikes to down his enemies. Skye would have to balance her own counters with celerity to handicap him. If she wanted to cripple his shoulder as she had the others, she would have to get under his guard and strike with speed rather than power. She would have to move beyond sequences and forms, breaking off from one sequence and into another unexpectedly which would give her potentially devastating advantages.
Using the double-blade herself, Skye understood the ferocity of the double-bladed fighting style. The double-blades gave advantages to the wielder but not in the way one might believe. A single-bladed sword is familiar, the double-blades seem strange. Unfamiliar. Most don't fully understand what it can and cannot do. In combat, the opponent's mind tries to keep track of each blade separately, effectively doubling the number of possibilities. But the two blades are connected: by knowing location of one, you are automatically aware of the location of the other. In actual practice, the double-bladed sword is more limited than the traditional sword. It can do more damage, but it is less precise. It requires longer, sweeping movements that don't translate well into a quick stab or thrust. Because the weapon is difficult to master, few among Blademasters, including Jedi and Sith, understand it, even with their own double-bladed lightsabers. Others don't know how to attack or defend effectively against it. It gives those who use it an advantage over most opponents.
Exotic weapons or unfamiliar styles will be more difficult to defend against, but until one became an expert in a particular style, in the heat of combat the mind will still struggle to grasp its limitations. This was why Skye had so little trouble with Duncan, Gerlon or even Ice. They had not expected their enemy to use speed to dart in and aggressively take the combat do them.
Marl had time to study Skye's moves and see them personally in action. Knowledge is power; Skye would not allow the aged Blademaster to use what he knew of her and the double-bladed weapon against her. She'd meet him in combat, yes, and armed with two blades, however they would not be connected but one in each hand. Marl knew how to counter and what to expect from the longer double-bladed swords but not a single blade in each hand- he would be forced to focus his mind on each sword, giving a slight advantage to Skye.
Facing Ice had been a test of speed and cunning; Marl would never leave himself as vulnerable as the blaster-fighter had. No grenades here, but speed was extremely essential.
As before, Skye tuned out the voices of the audience, the words of the announcer, placing all her concentration on the fluid movements the Blademaster's double-bladed sword. She had tried that morning to memorize the sequences Marl used in his latter bouts in the ring. Now she was looking for clues that would tip her opponent's hand—that might reveal which sequence he planned to use to begin the battle.
The gong sounded and Skye sprinted from the alcove with the natural nimbleness born of her people. Marl had been expecting this, expecting the shoulder-launch. Skye zig-zagged around to his left- not the right- then tucked and shoulder-rolled, striking Marl in the calf with a backwards sweep of her blade. The unexpected move sent Marl to the ground but he would not stay there for long. Both contestants rolled to their feet, facing each other, reassessing battle plans.
She knew she had shaken the old man with her ploy; it worked now and he wasn't as confident in taking her as he once was. Marl raised the double-bladed Echani sword above his head, spinning it so fast there was nothing but a steel-blue whirl, then he lunched forward. One end came down in a savage overhead strike that Skye easily parried. But the move was only a feint, setting up a slashing attach at the waist from the opposite blade. Recognizing the maneuver at the last second, Skye could do nothing more than throw herself into a backward roll, narrowly escaping injury.
Her foe was on her even before she got to her feet, the twin blades slicing down in alternating rhythm of attack: left—right—left—right. Skye blocked, rolled twisted, and blocked again, turning back the flurry. She leg-swept Marl's leg, toppling him. Nimbly, Skye sprang into the air bearing down on him with scissor slices of her blades.
The next round of attacks kept Marl in retreat, but he was able to prevent Skye from gaining the advantage by giving ground and reverting to basic defensive sequences. He was still desperately trying to gain some advantage by waiting out his opponent's moves. At one moment, the Mysterious Stranger seemed to be using the jabs and thrusts of Jedi's style- one he had faced in his youth. He didn't recall the name, only that it was the most aggressive and direct of their seven traditional forms. But in the middle of a sequence she would suddenly shift to the power attacks of Djem So, generating such force that even a blocked strike caused Marl to stagger back. A quick turn or rotation over her swords and one of the blades was suddenly swinging again at an awkward angle, causing Marl to reel off balance as he knocked it aside.
The gambit paid off as Skye saw Marl watching her right-hand sword move strangely as if it was a twin blade. There was a lull in movements as both contestants pulled apart to reevaluate their strategies, each breathing heavily. Skye twirled her weapons in a quick, complex sequence that brought both swords parallel with the outside of her arms.
Then she smiled.
Marl watched the extravagant flourish with a sinking feeling. The Mysterious Stranger had been toying with him in the first few passes, dragging the fight out so her victory would seem more impressive. Now she was showing her true skill, using sequences that blended several forms at once, switching rapidly among different styles in complex patterns Marl had never seen before. If he tried switching from one style to the next in mid-movement, he would probably gouge out an eye or smack himself in the head- it was clear that he was outmatched.
Marl had taxed her in every counter, like the Weaponmasters back in the Nagai Monastery. Testing her at every stroke, now it was time for theater; fear would push Marl back- fear of the unknown. The Mysterious Stranger moved in again, her swords moving so quickly that Marl could hear the whistle as they split the air. Marl leaped forward to meet the challenge, trying to call up the last reserves of power and energy in the stims of his battle implant to anticipate and block the dual-blades moving too fast for his eyes to see. He was able to keep the sharp edges of the swords at bay, but it required him to concentrate all his attention of controlling his own blade… leaving him vulnerable to the real purpose of the attack being unleashed against him.
Marl's shoulder exploded as Skye's blade slammed into the bone. Pain turned his vision into a field of silver stars. Dazed, his left arm useless now, he was able to parry the next strike only by instinct guided by decades of training and skill. But the Mysterious Stranger spun as her sword was turned away and delivered a back-roundhouse kick that shattered Marl's kneecap.
Screaming, Marl collapsed, his injured hand slamming into the ground as he braced his fall. Skye back-flipped, waiting for an attack born of explosive desperate anger. It never came. Silently she sheathed her swords, turned and walked away, back into the alcove that would lead to Ajuur's court.
She tried to assess all that happened. Before the bout, she had accessed the power of her implant, giving her an edge as well as allying speed and strength boosters. But during the second half of the bout the effects of the stims had worn off. She pulled on all her reserves- all her power- just to keep the upper hand—what little she had of it. She pulled at power beyond herself. She felt something fill her, guide her, and she had let go allowing this new energy to direct her every action.
It was the scream that woke her to the realization she had defeated her enemy. Unarmed, vulnerable, Marl the Blademaster waited the stroke that would have ended his life had they been in a true field of battle rather than an arena.
As before, Ajuur paid the minimum payment required to keep his fighters from turning on him in some sort of desperate organized union. Force forbid the fighters actually decided to form a guild. If time wasn't so pressing, Skye toyed with the thought just to spite the slug. Ten percent of the proceeds didn't amount to much compared to the betting pools. They could have made more if Onasi hadn't thought that gambling went against the regulations. If he had just bet on one match she wouldn't be forced to continue all the way up the ladder just to make at least four grand in credits.
Marl's vibroblade, powered down or not, had done a number on her body making her feel like mincemeat. Yes, she had returned the favor tenfold; after all she only had a sprained wrist, several lacerations and twice that number in bruises. The old Blademaster would be nursing a broken clavicle and knee. Of course, Ajuur offered medical insurance to his fighters and an extortionist price, but they did receive quality care which included as much time in the kolto tank as was required to restore one to full health. Marl would be spending several days in one just to recover to moderate health.
"Looks like we should head to the Doc's clinic to get you patched up." Onasi said approaching Skye.
Skye only nodded. "I want to see if Marl is okay as well."
"You gave him one hell of a beating." Carth commented. "I was sure impressed. I mean the way you move it's incredible. Not if you were a Jedi, but… damn girl, you sure know how to put on one hell of a show. How much did we make?"
"We?" Skye scowled. "WE didn't make anything, because someone didn't want to bet. I made two grand. Twitch will give me another three, if I win."
"Ravensong, betting is against regulations and being your superior officer it would be in violation of the law considering our work affiliation. It's ethically wrong."
"But watching me beat the crap out of old men isn't? Had you bet on me with Ice we would have been up five."
"Maybe you shouldn't be so generous with our credits with every sad-sack that comes along, we would have more."
"Don't you mean my credits? I don't see you earning any. And if betting is against regs, how come you bet in the pazzak dens?"
"I'm wagering on myself not on a junior officer."
"Right," Skye was still scowling. "As for the 'sad-sacks' it would be 'ethically' wrong to turn my back on something I can help with. We need allies on this wretched world and helping those 'sad-sacks' actually helped me harvest information on this place and gave us leads on the Lower City as well as Davik Kang. So as long as you're sticking to your ethical grounds, so am I. I'm going to help Dia with Holden and if I have to anyone else I see in desperate need of intervention against injustice as well. It's built into me, I can't ignore it. It's like it is programmed into my soul."
"Skye please don't think I'm some heartless git. I want to help everyone we can too, but our first priority is Bastila."
"I know that. Trust me, it's the foremost thing on my mind."
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Marl was laid up on one of the medical beds being prepped for the kolto tank when Skye approached him.
"You've sent a lot of business my way, young lady. If I was a merchant I would be pleased. As a Doctor, however, I have to say I hoped you'd be a little less enthusiastic in the ring." Doctor Zelka chided the young scout.
She tipped her head sheepishly. "Sorry,"
"It's alright Doc. You'll have me patched up right as rain in no time," the old Blademaster said softly. "You got real talent girl. Ice was right when she said you are good. Nice trick switching weapons on me."
"You saw me fight three bouts and you're proficient in the double-blade yourself, I needed an advantage over you."
"Seems you got it. First only Twitch could best me, now you. I think I will retire before someone else climes the ranks and beats me as well. Soon someone will be gunning for your spot Stranger."
"They can have it. I needed to earn credits in a hurry; the ring seemed a logical choice."
Marl laughed, "Only for the credits ehe? Lot of fighters burn out fast that way."
"Believe me I have no long-term plan to stay in any battle arena anywhere. I simply need to make enough to get off this rock. Once that is done anyone wanting to take the championship is welcome to it."
"I think I understand. Good luck to you Stranger."
"Thanks." Skye flashed a genuine smile. "Hum, sorry about the knee, I actually didn't mean to do that, I simply allowed the energy of the fight to flow through me and guide my hand. I got caught up."
The old man nodded. "I could sense it. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a Jedi."
Skye shook her head. "Just a Nagai Scout who's been trained with an edge since I swaddled."
"I heard that, Nagai children are taught young. Then I think I wouldn't feel so devastated I was bested by some young punk. Being beaten by a Nagai with a blade is almost inevitable. No wonder you move as you do."
"Marl, the tank is ready whenever you are." Zelka interrupted.
"Thanks Doc." The old man cut a look to the physician. "You might want to ready another tank for our friend here. She has a bout this afternoon with Twitch."
"Humph, if I suspect how it will turn out as I think that Rodian will most assuredly need submersion. Looks like you could use a quick dip yourself young lady."
"Thank you, yes." Sky laid down a few credits for the healing, but Marl waved them off.
"I'm retiring anyway and I still have a few healing credits on my insurance. Bill her treatments to my account, Doc." Skye was astonished. It must have shown upon her face for Marl smiled warmly. "Call it a parting gift. Like you said, Stranger you're trying to earn credits. Besides I heard what you did for my brother with Davik's men. You fought them off of him and gave him the credits to even his score with Kang, so I feel you're owed."
Skye gave the old man a slight courtesy bow, complete with her weapon's hand open palmed over left hand into a closed fist as was customary amongst the Nagai. It was a sign of respect and gratitude.
"You do me an honor, Stranger." Marl mimicked the salute, "and for what it's worth, may the Force be with you."
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"Alright, alright you can say it." Carth said as the two walked out of the infirmary.
"And what is it I'm supposed to say?" said a rather smug Republic Scout.
"That you were right. About helping that merchant with those thugs and pay off Davik, paid us… or rather or you back, karmically in the long run."
"I don't have to say 'I told you so,' you already know it."
"So, what do you want to do before your match with that Rodian?"
"Eat, study his older matches to get a sense of what I'm up against. I know one thing- Twitch is a stim-junkie. He does a lot of speed boosters. But if he is at the top of the game, he must not only be fast but deadly accurate with his blasters, I need to know just how long I have before he pulls and fires. I had twelve seconds with Gerlon, I might have less then that with the Rodian. I need to be fast and I need to get on top of him before he can get an accurate aim. I might be able to pull off a few grenades to pelt him with at first."
"The same tactic you used on Ice?"
"Pretty much- a concussion and adhesive bombardment should help give me an edge. I won't know until I watch his old matches, though."
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Having scouted out the location earlier Skye and Carth managed to make their way to the North-side apartments. They managed to scrounge some fairly presentable clothing for the Sith party, enough so they looked rather smart-casual.
Taris at night had a far different air to it then it's daylight façade. Gone were the merchants and shoppers and day tourists from the satellite communities. In their stead were the partiers, gamblers and club-goers. Out came the downed spacers trying their hand in the arena all trying to beat the Mysterious Stranger's record so they might take it from her personally in the ring once they made it that far. Out came the youth of Taris's noble houses looking to fill their vices. Out came the loan sharks and card-sharks swimming from Davik's pens as it were. The number of troopers on the streets didn't seem to have increased despite the rougher crowd, though some were now carrying heavier caliber weapons.
One could almost forget about the corruption and the decay with the lights of the buildings giving a spectacular impression of Coruscant at night. It was in a strange, yet surreal way, beautiful.
Neither Skye nor Carth said much as they wound their way past the crowds to the North side and finally into the apartment complex.
However just before they entered Sarna's apartment, Skye turned to her counterpart. "Look when we go in, you have to keep your cool, don't blow our cover. Don't start losing your temper like you did this morning. All we need is for your hair-trigger anger control issues to blow up in our faces in the den of the enemy."
"I don't blow up at everything," Carth snapped.
Skye merely cocked an eyebrow at that.
"I know how important it is we retain our cover, you can count on me."
"Counting on you is not exactly the problem, can I trust you?"
Carth had absolutely nothing to add to the comment. Skye shook her head sadly. "That's what I thought." Then she depressed the buzzer at the side of the pneumatic door before she entered with Carth on her heels. The party had been obviously going for the last quarter hour or more, the way people were comfortably mingling, dancing and eating the meat of the day.
As soon as Skye walked in she felt all eyes turn to her. She shifted her stance to a defensive one lest they try anything. Carth was already edgy with his staunch belief this was all still a trap. Not to mention Skye's comment caught him like a good left hook to the jaw.
"Here you are! I thought you weren't going to show. You have to try some of this Tarissian Ale. It's fantastic!" Sarna greeted the newcomers with a bright smile.
"Careful Sarna," warned a male friend from across the room. "That ale's got enough kick to keep us out till morning."
"Who cares? We're not on duty tomorrow so let's live a little. Besides we're going to celebrate MS's victory over Twitch. I've never seen that Rodian so quickly dispatched. I mean it, it was brilliant! Lobbing those grenades then springing in nearly decapitating him, rolling away before he could hit you."
"Actually, he struck me as I dodged." Skye amended. Hell, her shoulders still ached where the blaster bolts hit her. She still felt the sting of the EM field down her spine.
"Still, you shook it off easily enough; just to come back at him like a rabid kath hound. I've never seen anyone move like you. Well anyone who wasn't a Dark Jedi." Sarna mimicked Skye's thrust, parry and thrust again with her index finger. "You're incredible!" Her footwork might have been impressive had she not had consumed alcohol (laced with mild sedatives). She tripped over her own feet, toppling over into Skye's ready arms.
"Oh, my hero!" she giggled.
Skye nearly dropped her right then and there had she not already started to put the enumerated Sith back onto her unsteady feet. "Right place, right time,"
"Heroes get a kiss," Sarna slurred through pursed lips. "Don't you know that?"
"Another time when there aren't so many eyes watching." Skye chose a more discrete path to through the woman's advances.
"The Mysterious Stranger is shy!" Sarna giggled.
"They don't call her Mysterious for nothing." Yun said with a teasing smirk on his face. "But Sarna's right MS. You took Twitch down faster than the rakghoul disease! Zip, flip, strike one—two—three, and dart away. That spastic Rodian was eating arena dirt before he even realized it. Arena champion in two days, kriff that's gotta be some kind of record! And that flying shoulder move is fantastic! You got everyone with it. I love that move!"
"I got it watching a tusked panther take down a gundark. She dashed in, leaped and struck the other creature in the shoulder blade crippling it before she moved in for the kill. I adapted it for the sword." Skye explained.
"Hey, MS," another Sith said walking over to her. A male human with dusty blonde hair and green eyes. "Ever think of sighing up? You're officer material, make no mistake. You think fast on your feet, and are one hell of a fighter. I bet you strategize well too. I mean two gladiators in one day and making that slug pay more than he usually does to his other fighters."
"Sorry guys, but adhering to rigid protocols isn't my style. I rather keep my head then lose it because of insubordination." She flashed a devious smile. "I'm known to have a wicked sense of humor that has its own life. Nope, the open hyperspace routes are my home."
"Luke, can't you quit recruiting for one bleeding day? Come on, Ice turned you down, what makes you think MS will want anything to do with the military? Hell, there are days I want out," Sarna lamented. "Kriff, I should have become a space jockey like you MS, if I wanted to explore strange new worlds and new civilizations. Instead I get stuck in this backwater pit of a world."
"Here here!" Yun raised his second glass of ale and took a swing.
"So why did you join up?" Cath asked indiscreetly earning him a warning look from Ravensong.
"Well it's all in the recruiting, isn't it?" Sarna answered, leaning more of her weight on Skye. "A five-year tour: to seek out new worlds, encounter new civilizations; to boldly go where no one has gone before. Bring order and structure to the lawless and chaotic regions of space. The mission is to unite planets under one flag for a more prosperous Order. See other worlds on the Sith's coin. Oh, and the uniforms looked cool!"
"Admit it Sarna, the only reason you joined up was to get the uniform so you can hit on girls who like a person in uniform." Luke laughed.
"The grays are smart looking." Skye decided to balance Carth's clumsy interrogations with a bit of flirting. She looked at Sarna suggestively which gained her a full rosy blush from the blonde Sith woman.
"Yeah well, no grays here, MS we're all troopers." Yun said. "Still, they are a far better uniform than those hideous orange and yellow targets the Republics wear. Kriff, who decided those things, some color blind Wookiee?" This got a laugh from everyone save for Carth Onasi whose face turned into a grimace. "If they weren't so gods' awfully ugly, I might have joined their side, but there is no way in hell I'm running around in a uniform that looks that wretched." This earned more laughter from the crowd, though a deeper scowl from Carth.
Skye noticed his expression and flashed a warning look to her partner lest the Sith take his moodiness the wrong way and decided to take offense. Slipping from Sarna's lazy grasp, Skye stepped over to Carth and elbowed him in the ribs, "Want to cut the attitude in here? Look- suck it up flyboy or we will never get out of here alive."
"They insulted…"
"Now isn't the time," Skye hissed. "Think for a moment before you go off half-cocked."
Carth nodded, knowing the petite woman was right. His gargoyle frown could easily brake their cover as surely as announcing they were only there to steal the uniforms. "I'll attempt to blend in."
"Try being a wall flower." Skye suggested before moving off to a gaggle of drinkers all talking about the battle-ring match not four hours ago. Apparently, a few of them had lost some hefty credits in betting against the Mysterious Stranger. Having the woman here now was salt in the wound. Though the losing lot seemed to be taking it in stride or perhaps it was the laced ale mellowing tempers that might have ordinarily gone super nova.
Sarna sauntered up to Skye, coiling her arm around the thin frame, "Dance with me." She lisped in the drunken induced stupor of the drugged ale.
"Out here, or a private dance?" Skye risked a coy answer, nibbling on the Sith's ear.
"Private," husked the other woman. "Definitely private."
They moved beyond the common room to a small private enclosure. It wasn't much of a bedroom, about half the space of Skye's shared co-ed quarters aboard the Endar Spire. A bed and a wardrobe and that was all, there wasn't even a nightstand near the bed. Skye suspected that Sarna wanting a private bedroom had turned what might have been a large walk in closet into a bedroom. Not that the scout blamed the woman, she would have done the same. It was a tight fit, but hey it was very private.
Sarna giggled as she toppled over her own shadow onto the bed. "Oh… hey tell the captain to stop the world, I want to get off. It's too dizzy in here."
"I think someone had a bit too much ale," Skye snickered.
"Ah bantha poodoo, I can drink anyone of those kriffing shuttas out there under the table and still stop by the cantina for a pint." With that said she was out like a burned out light fixture.
"I don't envy you your hangover my lady Sith. Or the fact you'll have to explain to your CO why you misplaced your nice shiny silver suit."
Carth was more than displeased when he saw Ravensong disappear into what he thought was the closet with that Sith whore, but when she came back out of the little room, Ravensong looked like that proverbial cat that had both the cream and the canary.
"You came out of a closet." Carth said lamely when Ravensong approached him.
"Who are you kidding? I've been out for years." She flashed him a toothy grin.
The commander actually flushed, "Um…'that's… um not what I meant."
"I know," the grin grew toothier- if that was at all possible. "But you leave open-enders like that Onasi, and you're gonna get zapped." She laughed lightly and infectiously. Onasi found himself snickering at her easy humor.
All around them the room had become a den of the comatose. It was an easy matter to locate the many duffle bags of uniforms haphazardly tossed into one of the corners of the main room. Skye slung one pack over her shoulder, tossed another to Carth and took a third into her left hand.
"Three?" Carth said taking the bag Skye held in her hand into his own. She wasn't going to quibble over the issue of being able to handle two bags. She was more than content to give in to the courteous gesture.
"That's what I'm thinking. You, me and our lost Jedi. Or in a pinch we can trade one to one of the swoop-gangs if not for intel, then for an alliance to help find her. Even if we have to trade two, we can stow one away in our quarters, they will definitely come in handy in the long run."
KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR
"Now that we've got the uniforms I believe it is best we go down to the Lower City now, if for nothing else than to scout it out." He gave a poignant look to the woman walking beside him. "We'll stash one uniform in our quarters then head back in our new suits."
"Is that an order?" Skye said in a hushed tone. If it was a suggestion she could tell him she wasn't going to go, wearing the Sith colors below was going to attract unwanted attention. After the day she had Skye wasn't exactly looking forward to another battle so soon after Marl and Twitch from earlier in the day. However, if this suggestion was an order she really had no option, she would have to obey, conceding to his superior rank.
"Yes, it is. You should be proud your scouting ways are rubbing off on me. We won't do anything but take a look around, tomorrow morning we go deeper."
"Aye sir," was her only response.
Tiredness was only the state of the body, one that could be overcome with the power of will. Will was a powerful force, so powerful it ruled the universe. To have power one must let go of desire, of want. It had been a useful tactic in the past to let go and allow the energies of the universe fill her, to push past exhaustion, and focus on one objective at a time. One little goal at a time until it was accomplished, once it was, a new little goal was to be set and accomplished, and so on and so on. Skye's immediate goal was to push past the exhaustion of her body's taut muscles to don the Sith uniform. It wasn't long before Skye had reached a state of mind that in the past had allowed her to stay awake for days at a time, consuming very little water and food and set a lopping gate if she needed to keep moving. It was a talent she had managed to keep from her counterparts within the ranks of Scouts which wasn't an easy task. Scouts were trained to be observant.
Of course, this inherent ability- as with her language skills- might have caught the attention of Jedi scouts, which is why they had such a keen interest in her. For a Jedi, her abilities were natural but for a non-Force user it was virtually unheard of. Even if Skye reasoned she might be Force sensitive, her skills didn't in her mind warrant the attention of the Jedi Council. Then again, she had never truly understood the magnitude of the Jedi ways. Who did? Not even the Jedi themselves seemed to, for when odd and inexplicable things occurred, they would simply say the 'Force moves in mysterious ways.'
It was almost a surprise to Sky when Onasi spoke to her through the full-face helm's modulator. It gave his voice a strange if not mechanical distortion, synonymous with the Sith. "Try to keep your cool when we pass the guard at the lift doors, he won't take kindly to a snarky subordinate."
Was that a veiled threat? A warning? Onasi was one contrary officer. He orders her to blend in and when Ravensong does almost seamlessly he berates her for it. Typical of officers, she supposed. Or course, Fleet officers and Scouts never mixed; it always ended up with the Scout charged with insubordination and infractions of protocol.
"Actually, he might warm up to a bit of complaining that we're going down there at this hour. Have you been an Officer too long to recall back when you were a grunt foot soldier, how to bitch about Officers and their dumb-ass orders you have no choice but to follow only because they have more metal and chevrons on their uniforms?"
Two could play the veiled word game.
Onasi wanted to take Ravensong down a peg for that last comment but he couldn't. She was right. For the whole of the day, or rather since their fight yesterday, he had been holding a slight grudge against the woman for getting to him in a way no other had ever, not since his dead wife had. In truth, he had no right to take out his personal demons on the woman, or the fact that all along she had been following his orders to fit in and look the part of a grounded spacer. She was reluctant to go down to the Lower City at this time of night, not because of fear but because she doubted the disinterested Sith troopers would have even bothered with nocturnal patrols if they didn't even bother to during the day. Of course, daylight was a relative term in an area of the city that held so very little natural light.
"Another patrol?" The guard questioned as soon as he saw the two troopers coming in his direction. Since the crashed Republic escape pods there had been several patrols going down not simply to the Lower City but to the vile Undercity.
"The big man upstairs wants the area thoroughly checked." Skye grumbled, "I don't know what the officers think we'll find down there. Any survivors gotta be rakghoul meat by now."
"I know what you mean; the governor sits in his luxury office all day while we do all the work. 'Course if there is anything to find you can bet your sweet silver arse he'll take the glory. As if some wash out of the Republic scum would give him enough prestige to get him his precious lightsaber."
"Lightsaber?" Carth whispered. The Sith governor was a dark Jedi? His drive to find Bastila became even more urgent, the consequences far more dire if he could feel the presence of another Force-user.
Ravensong laughed to cover up Carth's slip. "As if a few grunts of the Republic would gain him any prestige. But it explains why we were told to report to the Lower City patrols."
"Don't look at me to hold you up trooper, best be on your way then. Be careful down there, though. Last I heard those rat-bastard swoop gang-bangers are picking each other off and they don't give a damn who gets hit in the crossfire."
"Yeah, well that's the idea though isn't?" Carth said snidely, trying to sound like a convincing Sith shock-trooper. "Let the swoopers take each out to save us time and energy."
"Yeah well, like I said, they don't give a damn who's in the crossfire, just cover your six."
KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR
"This is fun." Skye chided her companion as pressed her back against the bulkhead along the corridor leading from the lift to the Lower City. It hadn't been ten minutes before the two refugees of the Endar Sire found themselves in the midst of a gang battle. Seeing the Sith uniforms the Black Vulkars turned from their Hidden Bek prey and began firing upon Ravensong and Onasi.
Carth kept his tongue; there was no sense in rebuking the young Scout for her sarcasm. He lobbed a concussion and flash grenade around the corner from where they had taken refuge from the gang-bangers. Their cover wouldn't last long but it was enough to gain the upper hand. Skye tossed out a cohesive grenade of her own before dashing in to confront a Vulkar with a stun baton.
"Down you go!" Carth roared as he fired round after round from his blasters.
The battle between the Vulkars and the Hidden Beks had left the gang-bangers in a weakened state, and add to that effects of the non-lethal grenades and you end up with a recipe for defeat. The Vulkars went down, but not without causing a bit of damage themselves. This wasn't the arena and their weapons were not heavy stun, Onasi and Ravensong came away from the fire fight bruised and a bit singed around the edges from the blaster fire.
Trying to scout out the area dressed as Sith had proved a fatal judgment call on Onasi's part. More than a dozen times over, the two were forced into a fight not of their own choosing. The Black Vulkars crawled out of every crevice of the decay and Upper City's twisted mirror image of the Lower City streets like gizka. The apartment complex was a hive of activity and none of it good. Black Vulkars cropped up along almost every corner and lurked in every single apartment they had entered thus far. They even got into a blaster fight with some blonde woman, who no doubt was on the run from the law.
"Remind me never let you plan the next outing." Skye said once they had found a safe harbor in one of the apartments of the Lower City housing complex. Safe had been a relative state of existence because strewn about their feet lay four dead gang-bangers. Obviously, the Republic refugees had stumbled upon a raiding party and crashed it and death was the result. "As an agent for R-and-R you're not that good at it."
Carth knew Ravensong was falling into a pattern of humor to defuse the tension of being overwhelmed by the odds. It wasn't difficult to see that she was attempting to keep a tight rein on her temper and rapidly evaporating patience. Given the day she had it would take a village idiot to not see that she was perhaps just on this side of over-exhaustion. Two heated arena battles, espionage in the heart of a Sith junior officer party, theft and now dodging gang battles in increasing numbers. Death it seemed had placed a bounty upon their heads and was now looking to call it in.
"I don't know, as a Travel Agent I could market this tour as an adventure." The man said attempting his own brand of humor.
"I meant Recon and Research," Skye smirked gaining a small smile from the older officer. "We are scruffy enough to look the part of Lower City citizens. Considering this place was filled with Vulkars when we came in, I think we should find another apartment or some maintenance bay. It doesn't look like this place has seen a janitor or maintenance droid in years there has got to be a place to ditch something that won't be found quickly by some looter."
That was true. Whatever semblance the Lower City had to its Upper counterpart, it had long forgotten what it was supposed to look like. It was as if the city had desperately tried to recall its former glory or what its big sister looked like and made a plagiarized mess of it. Carbon scoring, blood, scrapped and chipped paint marred the walls, doors, bulkheads and floors. The floors themselves were in such a state of dubious disrepair that in some areas it was contestable whether or not they were even stable enough to hold the weight of a three-year-old child let alone squads of brawling thugs.
Skye pulled two rolled up canvas sacks (the same bags that the uniforms were stored in the first place) she had stashed in the shoulder pack Carth had lugged with him. The armor was shed; stored in their bags and stashed in an old maintenance bay behind some rubble after it was buried under a bit of detritus.