Chapter 7

After blowing up Fido, assaulting the Vulkar base seemed relatively easy by comparison. Zaalbar it seemed was actually quite adapt at making repairs on droids. Not only was he able to hack into patrol droids, but he managed to turn several of them against their Vulkar masters and sent another to ram into the reinforced door at the far end of the garage bay.

That may not have been the best strategy because now they had to contend with a heavy battle droid. However, distracted by the noise of exploding swoop bikes, courtesy of Skye's computer slicing skills, the Vulkars were caught in a crossfire. The war droid, hacked patrol droids and the explosions also took out several more gangbangers all in one go.

Slaves were freed. Former Vulkar gangers made a feeble, token effort to fight back against Skye's team, but in the end, gave up if Skye promised to destroy Brejik. As was SOP, bodies were stripped of anything useful: credits, medi-packs, mods for weapons and armor as well as weapons themselves. Along the way both Carth and Zaalbar discovered new heavily reinforced-canvas backpacks in which to store the recovered booty. Zaalbar even chucked in few parts salvaged from destroyed or dysfunctional droids on the claim they might come in handy at a later time. No one made any objections; in fact, the others seemed to make a conscious effort to contribute to the haul.

In one of the bays, now occupied by two Rodian corpses, the companions found a workstation. Here Skye gave a brief pause and put the new mods to good use.

"Do we have time for this?" Carth groused.

Skye gave him a look of mild annoyance but continued working on the guns. She placed scopes, beam splitters and energy cells on both of Mission's pistols and Zaalbar's bowcaster. On the latter, she also implanted a hair trigger.

On her own vibrosword she incorporated a durasteel bonding alloy as well as an energy projector she took off of a dead ganger. The armor mods were going to have to wait until they got back to the Bek base where they had more time and where talking off the armor to install them wasn't suicidal.

"I've got an extra scope and hair trigger. Flyboy, you want them?"

"Sister, I do my own installs."

"Then have at it. Unless of course you don't think we have the time." Skye smiled teasingly.

He smiled back with a slight shrug to his shoulders.

The pause in battle actually was a twofold action on Skye's part. She knew her team needed to catch their breaths as they've been on the go and in near constant conflict ever since they passed the gates of the outcast village. Carth would have known it too if he could for one moment see past his conspiracy-paranoia obsession that everyone he met was going to stab him in the back as well as his constant drive to find their missing Jedi.

A team functioned in precision if all members were hale and hearty or they fell by their weakest member's strength. In this case, it was Zaalbar still weak from his imprisonment with the Gamorreans.

Wounds were tended to with kolto shots; protein bars were torn into and devoured. From the kitchen, canteens were filled with relatively fresh water. The few minutes of reprieve did wonders for the effectiveness of the team. Carth could have slapped himself in the head for forgetting such a vital tactic of team survival

'Too long in the pilot's chair, Onasi, to let basic fundamentals slip. She's right, we needed the rest. The installs were just a ploy. Good girl, Ravensong.' he praised her hidden agenda. He knew if she insisted they rested outright Zaalbar would drive himself probably right into death just to prove that he was still a capable warrior. A Wookiee with wounded pride was not healthy to the one who had done the injury.

He caught her eyes and nodded his understanding of her motives. She only mimicked his shrug from earlier. A few moments later they continued the hunt.

The four of them swept through the rest of the complex neutralizing the remaining Vulkars that stood between them and the accelerator.

The companions' greatest opposition came from a Twi'lek named Kandon Ark. Apparently, he was in command of the Vulkars when Brejik was away. Skye's swift toss of a plasma grenade halted any words he was about to spew. As she had in the arena with Ice, the scout vaulted the distance and plunged her blade into his collar bone. This time however her blade was not powered down, the devastating blow wasn't just a crippling one. It had decapitated him. Carth put down his woman with a double-quick draw, while Zaalbar and Mission picked off the remaining gangers.

When the room was cleared of all hostiles, bodies stripped of ammo, weapons and tech, Mission took care of the mine securing the accelerator and Big Z with his great Wookie strength hoisted it up upon his shoulder to cart it off to the Bek base. Carth and Skye took point, insuring that their egress from the Vulkars' base went unchallenged.

It was almost odd that their path continued to be clear of any opposition during the whole trek back to Gadon. The guard at the door didn't stop them, even Zaerdra didn't hassle them this time.

"You're back, do you have the accelerator?" Gadon asked when he saw Skye and Carth approach them.

"Hello to you to." Skye folded his arms over her chest. "And as a matter of fact, we have. Mission and Zaalbar took it back to your mechanics in the garage." The Nagai stared shrewdly at the man before her, "Okay we held up our end of the deal; we got you your accelerator back. So, what about your part of the bargain?"

"Don't worry, I promised that you could ride in the race under the Hidden Beks' banner and I'm still going to let you do that. In fact, I'm going to go one better I'll allow one of you to ride the bike with the prototype installed on it," said Gadon.

"Gadon, you can't be serious!" cried Zaerdra. "We need one of our best riders on that bike!"

"I agree," said Skye.

Gadon fixed them with a frank stare, his artificial eyes focusing on the warriors.

"You're both wrong. I believe she is fully capable of riding the bike. And I have to be honest with you. There's a reason I'm letting you ride the prototype. It isn't entirely stable. My engineers said that there's a good chance that it could suffer a burn out on the track. But look at it this way. If you win, then we all win. And if you happen to die, then one of my own riders could still come through for me."

"Right, expendable. Looks like you've covered all your bases."

"Heh, you don't get to be leader of a swoop gang unless you know how to work all the angles." Gadon jibbed.

Skye moved swiftly her face almost intimately close to the human's. With her free hand, she had drawn her one of honor blades and kept it pointed at Zaerdra "You want to test this kriffing thing to see if it works but with none of your riders lives on the line. It's bantha poodoo if you believe for one fracking moment I think you're doing me a favor here, Old Man!

"You want to use my life like this then I want a bloody fracking grantee from you, human! See if I was the dark and twisty sort of person, I'd order Zaalbar to take the life of your wench here, if one of your riders won and didn't free Bastalia. He swore a life debt to me; I think you're clever enough to know just what that means. He may not like it, he may ask me not to order him to do it, but he will do it.

"Because your word means squat to me, Old Man. I don't know you from the Sith blighters running topside. But to these rabble I'm betting your word is a bond, not only that but law. Am I right?"

Gadon nodded.

"Good. Then this is my 'one better.' You, me and your bitch-hound over here will swear a blood oath. I don't care what race you are, what culture you come from, swearing on blood has meaning. So we're going to play nice and swear on blood, then you order your people that is if they win, set Bastila is free. On that same token…I win, you and yours get the credits from the race as well as anything else. Though we will get first pick of weapons and armor, the rest is yours. I want my girl. It's all I care for." Skye grinned devilishly. "You don't live the life as a scout with out knowing the angles."

The knife she had been holding at the Twi'lek flipped easily into her hand in the next breath she slammed it hard into the surface of the table imbedding half of it right in the middle of a flyer concerning the swoop race. She then slit her palm on the exposed blade. Gadon nodded and did the same, a glowering Zaerdra followed suite.

"And what of your human-pet, 'Scout'?" Zaerdra demanded, holding her hand close to her chest, purple blood leaking between her fingers.

"He's not in the race, nor is he under my command. His oath would be inconsequential." Skye waved the question aside as she might a nagging fly.

"He-ey!" Carth protested.

"You are in no position to make those demands, Nagai." Zaerdra snarled.

"Enough Zaerdra. Our guest raises a fair point, we offered no guarantee her captured friend would be restored to her, only that she could ride in the race under our banner. No doubt Ravensong feels used and manipulated right about now, correct?" Gadon said.

"I was played the fool, I don't necessarily respond well to that. It makes me grumpy." Skye tossed out flippantly.

"The oath is sworn." Gadon traced his thumb across the fly mixing the blood of the three in his signature. Skye followed suite. "My people will heed it."

"Good enough for you, Knife?" Zaerdra snarled.

The Nagia smiled. "Yep all good."

"If that's settled then I'll let all of you stay here at the base tonight so Ravensong can get some practice in and tomorrow morning we'll take her out to the track," said Gadon. "Piloting a swoop is one thing, racing one is quite another."

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Carth and Mission watched as Skye pulled the swoop around the Bek's training track. Her time was increasingly becoming better and better. Her last time placed her at 27:90:03 according to the stop-chrono the young Twi'lek was holding.

"You're really good Skye! You sure you've never raced before?" Mission's bubbly voice cheered as Ravensong approached them in the pit area.

"Nope. Well not unless you consider racing away from a bunch of nasty, heavily armed Mandies breathing down your ass counts."

"I don't think that's listed as part of the obstacle course," Carth teased.

"Ah well. Better that way. They're such sticks-in-the-mud at parties anyway." Ravensong flashed a rakish grin.

"I have a question for you, though." Carth prompted.

'Here it comes.' Skye thought. "What?"

"Back there with Gadon. Want to explain that little theater job?" He waved his hand in the general direction of the base proper. "They're doing us a favor and you go about treating them like there're criminals. Okay so they are criminals but you treat them like the scum of the earth and treat the Sith with respect. What the hell is wrong…"

"Damn it!" Mission groaned and handed Skye a credit chit. "You just lost me a fiver, Carth. Great."

The pilot gave a stymied if not a disapproving look to both women.

"I bet her and Big Z, it would take you two and half hours ask about what happened with our 'host' and no doubt start bitching me out about it. Zaalbar bet you'd do it as soon as we were in private and Mission…"

"Well, I gave it four hours. I was wagering that the practice racing would've distracted you."

"Glad I can be so damn predictable," he harrumphed.

Skye only smirked. "I'm up ten credits. I'm not complaining. As for the other matter, yes it was very necessary. He's using us as fodder, first to get the accelerator back then to test the damn thing on the track. I see the necessity of it, but I'd be damned if we went all that shit just to lose Bastila. One way or another, she's going free.

"That only works if the Beks win." Carth said.

"No. Because anyone else who wins will try to claim their prize, that's were you, Mission and Zaalbar come in. You hit the winner hard and fast and I go for our missing Jedi, hopefully Bastila can lend a hand if she's capable. She's ours. And if the Vulkars manage to win there isn't a Bek that won't want payback anyway. Bastila is still ours. Easy."

"You have this all planned-out I see."

"Leave scheming to the schemers, Flyboy. That's what we get paid for. Whatever happens at the race, my gut tells me it isn't going to be very pretty afterwards."

"You're expecting a brawl?"

"Add booze, spice-addled fans and a bunch of pissed off, sore-losing swoopers – of course there's going to be a brawl. It's a national sport to gangers. What the hell are you thinking; they're going to play nice in the winner's circle? Please, this isn't the Manaan race track where everything is kosher. This is the down and dirty. The only way it can be dirtier is if a Hutt was running it. We just have to get our Jedi out of it.

"That blood oath I made Gadon and Zaerdra swear to that you were fussing about makes sure no Bek will pull a Brejik and turn on us. And they won't especially if they get the credits either way. We only want Bastila."

Try as he might Onasi could not fault the young woman's logic or motives. And she was right Gadon had used them and played them for fools. This was the only guarantee that Bastila was freed.

"You have a point." was all he said. It wasn't necessarily an apology but it'd do.

"Now if you don't mind it's been a very long two days. I need some rest if I'm going to be fresh tomorrow." Skye pushed past him and headed for the small sleeping area Gadon had allotted the two of them.

Sleep however was not restful. Dreams came to Ravensong, of old blind woman, lightsabers and a Jedi with soft brown hair and her haunting words echoing whispers deep into Skye's unconscious mind.

'I would not ask this of you if it wasn't necessary, my Love.' Skye heard herself say. No not Skye…Revan…Skye was but playing the role within the Revanchist's skin.

'We both know I am not your love. She will always be so. I am…a replacement.'

'Meetra….' Revan closed her eyes, pushing down the slight irritation and focused on the younger woman's small insecurities. 'Yes. Alright, yes at first you were, she will always have a place in my heart. You knew this coming into our relationship. But do not believe for one moment I think of you any less. You are beloved. Can we not enjoy what we share, here and now? We share a Force bond, it can not lie. You can feel my depth of love for you. Can this not be enough?'

'It is enough" Came a response. 'Hell, if you wanted to form a triad with her, I'd have no objections. Though I suspect the Princess might.'

Revan found herself laughing. 'Well that can be worked around. Meetra…this other matter. I need you to lead our forces on Dxun.'

'I'd rather fight at your side, have Alex go down. Is he not your second in command? The troops will follow him as easily as they will follow me.'

'He doesn't have your skills; I need your battle meditations. I need your gifts of Force bonding. You said it yourself, you made tentative link to Dxun itself. If you can do that and turn the jungle against the Mandies, just think of the possibilities when we reach Malachor! If you link to it as you have with Dxun, we will win this war, Meetra. The Republic can be rebuilt the way it should be. Malachor is the key to it all. But we cannot move on it until Dxun is pacified.'

The brunette Jedi stared hard at her lover. 'It will be done.'

'That's my girl. Now…' Skye's lips curled into a lustful grin. 'Let us make this night one to remember, my love' She grabbed Meetra's unruly mane and forcefully kissed her stealing the younger woman's very breath away.

'By the Void, Revan I love it when you play rough!'

Skye bolted upright. Sweat trickled down her body, making her overheated body shiver the coolness of the Bek's sleeping quarters. Bad enough to have libidinous dreams but to have them about the Revanchist and her blonde Jedi lover….

…And why the hell was she playing the part of Revan?

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Dawn broke over Taris. Above the heavy metallic gloom of the Lower City, few of the nobility of the Uppercity cared for the big Taris Season Opener. Or at least none that would openly admit it. Several, however, crowed into the stadium, 'slumming' it with plebes of the lower classes.

The Lower City however was a hive of activity, mechanics, races, and fans buzzed with excitement. Some patrons of the race were already indulging in the brine of alcohol, fanfare and thrill of the day. It didn't seem at all possible but thousands of beings filled the swoop bike arena by midmorning, jamming into the grandstand seats, crowing onto the viewing platforms, filling the available seats and spaces. Children were hoisted onto the shoulders of fathers or uncles to get a better view.

Banners and flags bearing the colors of the gangs and racers waved overhead, signifying favorites and creating impromptu cheers and jeering sections. Some gangs went as far as to have bands play in their support. Vendors walked the aisles, carrying food and drink. Everywhere excitement and anticipation was building.

Down in the pits the exhilaration was downright palpable.

"You know in the olden days probably way before you were even a kid, Carth," Mission piped up gaining her a frown from the Republic officer. "The riders used to race against each other to be the first over the finish line. But it was extremely dangerous, speed and obstacles aside, they used run into each other more than anything else, and well they died. So, one of the jockeys somewhere came up with the idea to do heats instead. Now races go up against each other's times. And the best time wins. A whole lot safer. Might take a little longer to race but it's still fun. Now is all about skill and time, not just who is lucky enough not to get blown up and reach the finish line."

"You know a lot about racing, Mission. You into it or did you just pick it up?" Skye asked.

"Hum…a little of both I think. I like to watch the races, so I read up on its history. Gryph always tried to bet on who had the best stats, and sometimes who had the cooler looking bike, but you have to look at the pilot too. What kind of mood they're in and everything.

"Take you Skye even though you never raced before, you're all calm and collected not like Redros over there and he's a long-time vet."

Both Ravensong and Carth looked to a Weequay wearing the colors of the Vulkars postured by his sleek bike like a proud father over the birth of an heir.

"What's his story?"

"He's the best the Vulkars have. He's rarely beaten." Mission said.

Even across the pit area the Weequay's boast could be overheard. He was pointing in Skye's direction and laughing, two young doting Twi'lek fangirls giggled at his comments.

"Rancors are rarely so easily beaten too but we felled one yesterday. This will be no different. Though, I think Fido smelled better."

Even Carth laughed at Skye's jest. "Come on Rookie let's get you kitted up, before they kick us out for not being crew."

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Bastila's head felt heavy as if she had just woken from a terrible nightmare. The neuro-collar was clouding her concentration; she was barely able to reach any form of meditation. In the fog, she could make out the words of the announcer welcoming everyone to the Grand Swoop Racing Season Opener. In the din of the cheers there was a very familiar presence. It was almost strong enough for the Jedi to reach out wither mind and touch. If she could simply hang onto that presence…there was hope.

SWSWSWSWSWSWWSWSWSWSWSW

Skye tuned out much of what the announcer was saying about the race, the greatness and boldness of Taris' riders and the legends that came before and currently present. The young woman pulled inward focusing her mind on the aspects of the race, the bike and layout of the course displayed on the great screens all over the grandstand.

She didn't even look up when the words of the announcer introduced Taris's own 'Prince' Davik Kang. She afforded herself no distractions; it was in that quiet moment in her mind she felt as if someone reached out and caressed her very mind almost as a lover would her skin.

Startled her eyes snapped open, scanning the crowd. Who or what touched her? What in the name of the Night Mother was that!?

'Hold it together Ravensong. You're only spooking yourself.'

She followed the rest of the racers into the stadium She was so entirely focused on trying to expel the ghost haunting the back of her mind she scarcely noticed her name in the lineup. She was third in qualifying heats. It at least gave her a few moments to stabilize herself.

It bothered her that she had been so easily distracted. It could do more than cost her the race it could cost her, her life. Even as she was centering her inner-self, another mental jolt came as if she placed her hand upon a live wire.

Looking past, the grandstand Skye followed the mental tugging to center stage. There placed amongst various offerings of the prize shares of armour, weapons, and a strongbox containing Night Mother knew how many credits was a force cage. Within was a woman barely able to stand. Her head was drooped, her dark auburn hair covering a pale face.

'Bastila!' Skye breathed. So, it was the Jedi touching her mind! 'Does she know I'm here? Surely, she can't use her powers with that thing on around her neck. But…'

The twinge happened again. This time Bastila did look up and for a moment Skye could have sworn as their eyes met she knew this person as deeply as she knew her own soul.

'Look, I don't know if you're trying to reach me or what the hell this is but I will get you out of here. I swear it.' the Nagai shouted in her mind hoping that perhaps that the Jedi could somehow hear her.

"Some of our newer racers may not be fully briefed on the rules of the track. As you veterans know the races are conducted in a series of three heats. The first is the qualifying match you must beat thirty-eight seconds. If you can't match it you don't go on. The time to beat after the qualifying match is thirty-five point thirty seconds. Anyone hitting below that claims the winner's circle. In the unlikely event of a tie there will be a breaking heat to determine the winner.

"There are a few accelerator jump-pads placed in close proximity to barriers and small debris fields. I don't have to explain, I hope, that hitting too many of the barriers not only slows your time but can result in serious injury to yourself, your bike and the possibility of death. Watch what you're doing out there. Good luck to you all." The aged Duros official related the rules and expectations.

Skye waited until her name under the Hidden Bek's was called out. She slipped on her helmet and moved her bike into the pole position. Mounting the Lhosan Aerochaser, all fear evaporated as full adrenaline swept into her heart.

She admitted she enjoyed the thrill of a thrust engine and repulser lifts hum beneath her. And according to Ravensong's own personal tastes she always favoured the Lhosan speeders over any other bike. Hell, if this thing didn't have the blasted prototype accelerator she was half tempted to abscond with it after the race.

Skye stared down the track before her, she had memorized the trail from the map but seeing if first hand with the series of littered debris field placed a whole new prospective into the Nagai. If she hit the boost pads correctly she'd pass right over them, if not…

There was no point on dwelling on the 'if not' all that mattered was beating the thirty-eight second mark.

Hunched down on the bike, Ravensong watched the starting lights blink: red three times, yellow twice. GREEN. She punched it. The bike shot off. She swerved over several boost pads that catapulted the bike forward, shifting the gears-second, third, then fourth. Skye negotiated between the barriers and debris. The very thrill of the race fueling her blood, accelerating her senses to hyper sensitivity.

Her heart beat in time with the rhythm with the bikes engines. She allowed her instincts to take full control over her actions, every move, every pulse.

Bastila felt the surge again. And again, she felt the familiar presence. Surely the rider on the bike that had recently sipped past the finish line could not be the one? Surely not! Not here!

Skye looked at the massive digital display overhead recoding her time. 32.19 seconds, more than enough to make the qualifications. She couldn't help but raise a fist in her own glory. Whooping for joy, the exhilaration of beating the time, and the sure overall fun of it!

The Beks' Ithorian mechanic examined the swoop whilst the other heats were running their course. Despite the fact, she had run a good course the news about the bike was not good. If a good time could not be met soon there was a good chance the bike would never make it to the finals. The mechanic need not mention that if the bike didn't make it either did Skye. There was an extreme likelihood she'd never make it out of the race alive.

'Focus on Basilia.' Skye disciplined her mind setting her fears aside. 'Scouts and soldiers die all the time, this is your mission. You must free her. This is your only priority. Personal safety is irrelevant in service to the Night Mother...to...to...the Jedi….' her mind disciplined by years by the Nagia monastery willed the young Knife into action. Her service was pledged to freeing the Jedi. Her death held no consequence if this was achieved.

She achieved an impressive 26:73 in her second heat. Faster than anyone else. For a moment, she all but forgot the reason why she was racing. The pure adrenalin coursing thought her made her feel more alive than she had in a very long time.

The celebration was if not premature – short lived. Redros came in as 25:91 nearly a full second between them. Arrogantly he strutted back to his fellows, smirking at Skye's downfall.

'Do not worry, Nagai, you are an impressive rider. You will take the day,' came the deep voice of the Bek's mechanic.

"If the bike holds out that long." She told the Ithorian.

'The accelerator should hold out for one perhaps even two more heats.'

"Great." Skye's lips pulled back into a sardonic grin. "Way to boost the confidence levels, buddy." She looked over to the far end of the pit to the stage were Bastila weaved unsteady on her feet. She had to make the wining time in this last heat, everything hinged on it.

She shifted her gaze to the stands and spotted Mission, Zaalbar and Carth. All three of them were cheering her on. It took the scout by surprise that Carth was giving her that much support. Of course, he could be doing it simply to boot morale; many a battle was won or lost due to the levels of a soldier's fighting spirit.

She turned back to the Bastila's cage and for a moment the young scout could have sworn the jedi was looking directly at her. Again, Skye tried to shout out in her mind, in hopes Bastila might hear that she was going to be freed. She just had to hang on.

For the third and final time, Ravensong straddled the bike's saddle waiting as red, yellow lights pulsed to green.

'Swerve to the left. Boost pad.' She shifted to second gear. 'Dodge debris to the right, boost pad.' The bike shifted gears again.

More debris. Skye pulled the bike hard left hitting two boost pads one right on top of the other. Banked right sandwiching herself between more piled debris and a barrier. More boost pads hurtling into faster speeds: she hit the turbo jumping the bike even faster. She torqued to the left avoiding more piles of debris while hitting another boost pad.

The rear of the bike started smoldering, alarms clamoring, Skye all but shouted out the sound. She swerved to the right nearly avoiding running head long into a jagged pile of refuse and struck another boost pad. The world was a smearing blur all blinded out but the singular goal before her.

The bike began to vibrate violently nearly shaking Skye off her seat.

'Come on! Come on!' she screamed. The onboard computer readout blinked, 25:51.

Disaster.

Screeching across the finish line the bike's accelerator caught fire. Skye didn't wait she leapt from the saddle, tucked her head in, her hit the pavement hard and tumbled several times before momentum stopped her. She didn't more.

Behind the bike exploded.

She lifted her head, her whole head felt heavy, her eyes unable to focus the dizzying visions before her. She could hear shouts and cries as the fire brigade rushed onto the scene and put out the blaze.

Staggering to her feet, she heard someone shouting out her name, another saying she was the luckiest bastered this side of the Rim, while someone else was trying to tell her to remain still so her injuries could be seen to.

The whole stadium seemed to roar in appreciation of the spectacle before them. More cheers rose up when the felid medic proclaimed her relatively undamaged. Several bruises and a possible concussion, she was damn fortunate to even be alive much less walking about.

Still clearing the cobwebs from her head, Skye tipsily made her way towards the winner's circle. She could feel the eyes of resentful Black Vulkars watching her, though it was another set of eyes watching her that gained her attention.

For the briefest moments, she felt Bastila starring at her before she quickly looked away. She heard the announcer call out her final time of 25:53 seconds.

'An all-time record. No one had that kind of time since Gadon Bek retired nearly a decade ago. Ravensong beat him by three nanoseconds!"

The crowd exploded with cheers and applause. Skye felt the surge of adrenaline sill singing load within her blood. Her heart pounded hard against her chest. It felt as if the very energy of a super nova pulsed within her very soul.

In her cage, Bastila shuddered.

"Champion, it is great pride to present you with your prize! And to hand it over is Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars.

The man named pushed his way forward. A thin, deeply tanned human male bore an expression of pure hate and malice. He shoved the announcer away from the podium, his voice weedy clouded with contempt.

"People, hear me!" he cried. "There is something you must know! The winning rider cheated!"

Skye reaming stream of adrenaline blazed white-hot in anger. "You're a damn liar Brejik!" she shouted back.

Brejik snorted "Her swoop bike was equipped with a prototype accelerator! Clearly an unfair advantage!"

"The same accelerator you stole from the Beks in the first place," Skye snapped.

"Because of this Hidden Bek treachery, the Black Vulkars withdraw their share of the prize." There was an immediate uproar at these words.

"Brejik you cannot do that!" said the Duros announcer protested, "It violates all our most sacred traditions, traditions that have been in place far longer than you have been leader of the Black…"

"Old fool! Your traditions are nothing to me! I am the wave of the future! If I want to take this woman and sell her on the galactic slave market, you certainly won't stop me!"

"I might have something to say about that Brejik," an icy voice challenged.

All turned to see the cage snap open catching the guard in front of it on the back of the head and splitting his skull. Bastila held no trace of the weariness from before, the collar missing from around her neck, as she stooped down and picked up the double-bladed vibro-sword her jailor had wielded.

"You! You were restrained by a neural disruptor! How in blazes could you have possibly summoned the will to free yourself?!" cried Brejik.

"You underestimate the strength of a Jedi's mind, Brejik. A mistake you won't live to regret." Bastila's voice was filled with venom.

A mix of horror and hate twisted Brejik's face. "Vulkars, to me!" he screamed desperately. "Kill the woman! Kill the swoop rider! Kill them all!"

The situation quickly degenerated into an all-out, no-holds-barred battle, not only in the pits but in the stands. Fans, rival gang members and hapless spectators got caught up in the crossfire.

Skye whipped out a concealed blaster, targeted the nearest Vulkar, fired and debilitating his shields. Before she slammed her fist into his face, suddenly realizing it was Redros. Without even thinking about it she brought the blaster up under his chin, pulled the trigger watching with detached interested as his head exploded.

She didn't even recall slipping on blood, picking up a blade from one of the fallen swoop gangers and rushing into the foray. Her whole body seemed to be fueled by surges of living energy. The battle she had fought in Ajuur's arena only a few days of ago flooded her mind. Marl, Ice, Twitch…each in turn had given her body momentum and fortitude to win. It was almost if her body was recalling long lost memories. She felled four gangers…then haze filled as smoke in her mind.

Memories.

Clash

Thump…thump

Yellow gold, blood red lightsabers.

Skye looked down at her gloved hand expecting to see…what? A single lightsaber…a red one? No, it shouldn't be red…and it wasn't just the one…there were two…one viridian…the other purple…no…. that can't be right…

Ravensong felt the impact of a blaster hit her shield barriers looking up she saw Brejik pointing a blaster point blank at her face.

"You Nagai whore! You cost me everything! EVERYTHING!" Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he screamed at her. "I'll take your hide, cunt!" He threw the blaster at Skye's head with one hand and with the other he detached a long cylinder that had been clipped to his utility belt.

There was a very familiar snap-hiss. From either end of the cylinder golden blades emerged.

"The Jedi bitch is nothing without her toy!" He charged.

Or at least he tried to.

He roared but no sound came out. A gravity well encircled his body rose him into the air in one breath the next he was slammed down onto the battle ground with a slackening wet crunch.

"Fool." Bastila berated the dead man.

Skye refocused her addled mind as studied the Jedi before her with admiration. A beauty and one hell of a fighter too. Impressive.

"Well maybe those bloody Vulkars will think twice about trying to hold a Jedi prisoner. And as for you," she said rounding on Skye, "If you think that you can just collect me as some sort of prize…"

"Hold on there. I think you've got me confused with someone else. My name is Skye Ravensong, I'm here to rescue you."

"Rescue me? Was that what you were trying to do, racing in that swoop competition? Well as far as rescues go, this is a pretty poor example."

Skye was dumbstruck. She didn't just go through the sewers, battled dozens of rakghouls, Grammarians and Black Vulkars and not to mention putting herself on a suicide bike just to be scolded by a petulant Jedi! Maybe Brejik had one thing right after all. Bitch was right. "I think you've got it even more confused. You were a helpless prisoner before I came along."

"And as you saw, I was perfectly capable of freeing myself. I'm sure you've heard of a little thing called the Force?"

'And I thought I was bad with the sardonic lines.' Ravensong shook her head. 'Okay, let's dance, shall we?' With the most charming smile she could muster, Skye said: "Actually no never heard of it. Maybe you can explain it to a mere mortal, and you might want to use small words so you can ensure I will comprehend. But I'll leave that up to you, Princess."

Bastila's mouth opened and closed several times. Her gray eyes winded of all the things she thought she might have heard it was not that. "I…what?"

Skye smirked. "Maybe you heard of a little thing called the Endar Spire? I was there and might I add Princess on the behest of your Order, Jedi. Starting to ring any bells?"

"The Endar Spire? Are there any more survivors?" The superior tone was back in the slightly befuddled woman.

"I'm here with Carth Onasi."

"Carth Onasi's alive? That's good news. Carth is one of the Republic's best soldiers," she said. "If he sent you here, then there must be something more to you."

Skye glowered.