Chapter 30
There was an old Settlers' saying that you could burn your eyes out faster by staring straight and hard at the sun-scorched flatlands of Tatooine than by looking directly at its two huge suns themselves- so powerful was the penetrating glare reflected from those endless wastes. Despite this, life eked out an existence in the flatlands formed by long evaporated seabeds. One thing made it remotely possible, more precious than gold: water.
Its reintroduction was only marginally accessible. The atmosphere yielded the moisture as willingly as a tyrant issued pardons of execution. It had to be cajoled down out of the harsh azure sky—coaxed, forced, ripped down to the parched surface by vaporators. The small community of moister farmers made life on the death world possible— it allowed the settlement of Anchorhead to survive and thus Czerka was swift to nationalize the water harvests.
Moister farmers were paid based on volume of water they brought in. There were no subsidies, no extension of credit based on water futures. The only way the farmers made any credits was the regular serving of their vaporators. If they didn't have the tech savvy, Czerka offered to send a maintenance crew for a substantial fee. They were also the only ones on the planet to sell vaporators or replacement parts. However, Czerka preferred to buy cheap sclerotic equipment and replace it during full maintenance. It made more money for them. For this reason, the corporation always had a healthy stock of vaporators in their inventory.
Bastila stormed the Czerka office in a furry. Despite Skye's advice not to speak with the office rep she did so.
"Do you have the chieftain's gaffi stick?" the terse woman demanded upon seeing the Jedi.
"No."
"Then what are you doing here?" the Rep snidely remarked as if she had every right to speak down to a Jedi like she was a low ranked minion.
"Be silent," came the demand.
The operative wasn't the only person in the air-conditioned room to jump in surprise at Bastila's harsh order.
"I don't know what you think Jedi do, but we are not your lap dogs on a leash! We do not do your bidding! We are not your whipping boys or the thick-skulled knuckle dragging hunters you are accustomed to pushing around, exploiting, or manipulating. I believe in no uncertain terms you were told this by Rev... Jedi Ravensong. Do well to remember this. I will die to save your life, to save the lives of all in this forsaken pit of a city. But I will not be a slave, I will not slaughter for you or anyone else! No Jedi will. You want needless blood, call upon a Sith. But you try to make them your bitch and they will kill you- and I add with no exaggeration- very painfully for such insolence. Something I remind you I am not currently doing!
"We found a peaceful solution to end the conflict with the Sandpeople." Bastila continued. When the operative opened her mouth as if she dared to object, Bastila held up her finger. "I told you to be silent. I will do you a favour. I will show you what you will face if you attempted to do this to a Sith."
The operative's eyes bulged; her hands went to her throat. Her breath stopped, panic seized her heart. Unseen hands wrapped themselves around her neck squeezing the breath out of her.
Then suddenly it was gone. Air filled her burning lungs in suddenly relief.
"It is fortunate for you I'm a Jedi. And I do not do those kinds of things." Bastila said as if asking a server at a diner what was the house special.
The Rep's eyes were watery from nearly choking to death; she regained her balance on unsteady feet. Fear resided in once arrogant eyes- and a new respect.
"This is what's going to happen: out of diplomacy you will fund the purchase of three moister vaporators. We will deliver them, the Sandpeople use them and leave the territory for a new one and thus the miners will be saved. Minimum loss of life. You will do this." Bastila glared at the other human. "Nod your head to indicate you understand."
The other woman nodded.
"Good. Now sign the requisition forms and order your man to release the vaporators." Bastila stepped closer to Rep, her anger gaining the better of her judgement. Skye-Revan was alone with only a homicidal droid as backup in the midst of the enemy. One wrong move, literally, one word misspoke and the Sandpeople would slaughter the woman she loved.
This little paper-pusher peon was not going to stop Bastila from doing all she could to protect Revan. The Council had censured Bastila, demanding she conceal the truth of who Revan was from Skye. She had failed her; it was not going to happen again, especially because of this little twit.
In very short order a team of Czerka grunts hauled out three water vaporators. They were placed on sledges which were then harnessed to the dewbacks.
"Bastila, what was that in there?" Juhani asked coming up to the human. "What you did was... not yourself," amber eyes filled with concern.
"Yeah it was super weird." Mission added.
"I tried a new approach. Perhaps something Skye would have done."
"Ah... I don't think I ever heard Skye say anything like whipping boys or she was someone's bitch." Mission smirked. "But it was kinda funny to hear you say it. And Skye probably would have said those things, not sure about the choking thing though, but maybe."
Bastila retorted defensively. "Skye is speaking with the Sandpeople in the only way they can understand: strength. I spoke to that representative in manner she understands: belligerence. I will not allow that shutta to dictate terms to us. She cannot be allowed to think she has the Jedi on a leash or that we are as Skye said, doormats." She vaulted to the back of her dewback. "Come, Skye is counting on us. We must not terry."
KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR
Just after the battle at the sandcrawler... several hours ago.
The men of the Ebon Hawk were once again left to their own devices. Skye had found her preferred 'team' with her fellow Jedi and occasionally with Mission tagging along. It was typical of Jedi to prefer to work alongside their own. Onasi couldn't blame them, hell he preferred soldiers to Force users, why wouldn't they be the same in the preference of their own kind. There was a certain assurance in fighting alongside someone who possesses the same capabilities as you. Inadvertently it created the division of teams: Lightsabers and Blasters with the odd mix of droids and a little Twi'lek scoundrel added to the mix.
During the Mandalorian War the Jedi knights were referred to as Generals. It was an honorific title yes, but those that held the rank were no less deserving of it than the Generals and Admirals that served the Republic army. The Revanchist demanded that her Jedi Generals take to the field along with those under their command, rather than stand in the back and direct.
Despite this hands-on command, Carth had never actually served with a Jedi General. Oh he had worked with Padawan Zayne Carrick but he had not taken to the fields with a Jedi Knight. Not that Canderous was a soldier like him, hell he was the enemy until circumstances made the Mandalorian an ally. But Ordo knew the hard truth of a soldier's life: that you were only as good as the weapon in your hands. A soldier couldn't call upon the mystic powers of the Force to win their battles for them. On the other hand, the Jedi could tier their powers together to create devastating results against their foes. Despite being a known tactic on both sides of the war it was nevertheless still very effective. More so if you could get your enemy in a crossfire between a soldier's blaster fire and the will of a Force user.
The jaded Republic officer couldn't help but wonder if the division wasn't out of tactics but rather out of the sheer fact that the Nagai Jedi didn't trust him. He knew she had no liking for him to be sure. However insane or bizarre the reason, Skye seemed to like Canderous and she trusted Zaalbar. The reality of why Skye did what she did was difficult to discern. At times it was as if she were two different people. Maybe that was true for all Jedi: always caught in the midst of the dichotomy of the Light and Dark side of the Force.
This inner battle of good and evil was why Carth Onasi had a hard time trusting the Jedi. They had a power of such magnitude that a mundane solider like him could never touch. Heroic figures like the Revanchist and Alek Squinquargesimus had become Darth Revan and Malak- two of the most terrifying and powerful beings to strike the galaxy.
A man with a gun, you knew where you stood even if he was the enemy. Someone with the Force... it was a terrible power to wield. Jedi seemed like they could so easily be tempted away from their Code if they felt justified to do so. The Revanchist turned from the Order- from the Code to fight in a war the Council forbade because it was the right thing to do. The events on Cathar was the catalyst for the Revanchist to become Revan and it was the day she first donned the mask from a fallen Mandalorian woman who was killed by Cassus Fett- her own commander- for defending the Cathar people from being massacred. The words spoken by the Jedi Knight that day still echo in every Republic Soldier's mind.
I don't know your name—but I take up your cause. I will not remove your mask until there is justice—until the Mandalorians have been defeated once and for all. So, swears… Revan!"
Even the Jedi Council was affected by the details that were discovered behind the massacre of the Cathar. Although they were still unwilling to lead the entire Jedi Order into the war, the Mandalorians' war crimes were sufficient enough for the Council to begrudgingly sanction the intervention of Revan and her faction on behalf of the Republic. Officially, they still denounced Revan's actions as unwise and too hasty, and continued to dissuade the rest of the Order from joining Revan's cause. In reality, however, the Mandalorians' own actions made it impossible for them to stand in the way of Revan's cause. However, Revan came up with a solution that would appease the Council and allow her to respond to the growing public clamoring for the Jedi to take action. Inspired by an initiative from the days of the Great Sith War thirty years earlier that had allowed civilian healers to work with the military, she proposed that the Revanchists be deputized into the Republic Military as a Mercy Corps. The Council grudgingly agreed to Revan's request, and the newly-formed Mercy Corps was placed directly under her command. And with her most trusted Jedi General, Meetra Surik, at her side, Reven began to win a string of victories, proving she was a brilliant military leader.
An outsider may ask what relevance, if any, was this to the dividing of the crew of the Ebon Hawk into two diverse teams. To Carth it was no different than the thin line of troop divisions during the Mandalorian War. Only here and now the 'Mercy Corps' consisted of only three Jedi and the 'Military' were nothing more than a rag-tag team of men with blasters and bow casters. Onasi prayed to whatever Great Divine that might be listening, even to the Force itself that this would turn out far better in the end for it. That Skye would not become the new Darth Revan and Bastila would not take Malak's place as her apprentice, which would leave Juhani playing the role of The Exile.
Carth shifted in the saddle of his swoop bike. He felt sticky as sweat oozed down his neck down between the layers of the body suit, armor and undershirt. Despite it all he kept giving sideways glances to Zaalbar to see if Wookiees really did pant in the heat. If they did, Big Z wasn't doing so or if he was, he was doing it covertly. But that was doubtful; Wookiees where not the subtle kind; Onasi doubted they even knew the meaning of the word.
Panting or not Zaalbar was growing more and more irritable each passing moment they were out in the desert. Fortunately, he was taking it out on the Sandpeople hit squads and marauding wraid herds. Ordo was doing the same- hell, the old man was laughing when they were overwhelmed by either party of opposition. He was loving it! Carth was positive the aged Mandalorian was even enjoying the forsaken wilting heat of this fracking planet. And they were still no closer to finding that Twi'lek hunter.
The closest they got in finding another hunter was a human man who was pinned by a bunch of droids that his wife apparently reprogrammed to keep him prisoner for his infidelity. The swit could save himself if he was intelligent enough to solve the mathematic riddles within the droids' CPU left there by a very disgruntled wife. The men of the Ebon Hawk decided to leave the man to his fate. He was of no consequence to the mission, let the desert have him. Carth thought of what Skye would have said about the hunter. Probably something about him oozing a certain something that subliminally champions misogyny.
Then where were the Gamorreans who Canderous just shot on sight without bothering to open a dialog. The fight- for it was more of a bar brawl than it was battle- was over so swiftly and finished in such lazy ease it was almost too ridiculous to mention. Carth might have said it was done without breaking a sweat but here on Tatooine that was impossible.
"Hey, you think if those piggies were sliced open they'd sizzle like bacon?" Canderous asked laughingly.
Carth looked to the older male. "You did not just say that."
Zaalbar barked out a chuckle. 'I bit a Gamorrean's arm off once. They don't taste good.'
Ordo shrugged indifferently. "What? Admit it, Republic that was funny. Even the walking carpet found it funny. You have to lighten up. Bet'cha the Whelp would have laughed it up. When the hell did you become such an old man?"
"The day I met you."
"Oh scrutiny. Good for you. Feel better for it?"
"Shut up."
"And the Whelp calls me Old Man! Next you'll be complaining about kids playing on your front lawn."
"Shut up."
Canderous belted out a laugh as he turned his back on Carth and wandered back to his bike. "Come on we've got a tail-head to find."
The Eastern Dune Sea dropped into rising rock formations that cut into the horizon. Formations gave way to canyons of dead old river beds glassed by ancient weaponry and the wind continued the ravaging attacks of erosion. Dark creases in the cannons broke the landscape in to staccato beats of light and shadow. It was the perfect environment for dragon lairs, ambushes and all manner of trouble.
Which was why when the swoop bikes HUDs blipped with seven lifeformes dead ahead none of the men were all that surprised.
"Sandpeople?' barked Zaalbar over the radio, his dialect translated over the radios on-board CPU.
"No." Ordo shook his head. "No banthas. Heat signatures say swoops and land speeders," he took out his binoculars. "To well organized to be a band of hunters. We have ourselves a good old fashioned ambush." He heightened the resolution on the binoculars gaining a better look at the mercs. "Well would you look at that... looks like the Black Suns. Kriffing hell."
"What did you see?" Carth asked looking through his own binoculars. A pause. Then "Oh! I thought you killed that little sack of poodoo."
"Nord is a tough son of a bitch. Harder to kill than a fire-wasp; temper of and disposition of a sarlacc."
"All bugs go splat if you hit them with a big enough windshield." Zaalbar said. "Been wanting to splat him for a long time."
"Yeah well the Sith made a good show of splating him on Taris. Didn't seem to work." Onasi countered.
"Which is why this time we're cutting off his mother-fracking-head." Canderous tossed with a growl. "Onasi take the left flank, furball take the right. I'm taking point. Target the engines of those speeders."
"We'll need to get closer unless that stick up your ass is a sniper riffle. Or did you forget none of our blasters are in range, Mandie?"
"No I haven't forgotten, I was giving orders and expect then to be carried out. Sit here and whine or join. I don't care." Canderous sniped. He turned his back on the Republic solider and began his descent down the sandy embankment. To Carth's extreme right Zaalbar was doing the same. A few seconds later Carth followed.
Ordo knew better. It was sheer stupidity to pick a fight on the battle field. But it was so kriffing damn easy to get into a pissing match the dammed Mandie. He brought out the worst in him and Carth knew it would cost them.
As Carth slipped silently behind a craggy stack of boulders, he felt a familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. All soldiers felt the same thing going into battle, whether they admitted it or not: fear. Fear of failure, fear of dying, fear of watching their friends die, fear of being wounded and living out the rest of their days crippled or maimed. The fear was always there and it would devour you if you allowed it.
Carth had long known how to turn that fear to his advantage. Take what makes you weak and turn it into something that makes you strong. He hated that Admiral Karath had been the one to instil it into his mind. He hated how true those words were because they came from a traitor he once worshiped.
That too became power for him to harness. Hatred for the Mandalorians, hatred for the Sith, hatred for Saul Karath, hatred for Darth Revan and Malak. Hatred for all Dark Jedi that took up the red sabers. Adrenalin began to pump through his veins as he redirected fear and anger into power.
He lined the blaster's scope up on one of the merc's speeders, a cold veil fell over his eyes and he fired. He moved on automatic. Years of battle hardened tactics drilled into him. He didn't even see the first merc drop: the scope was already moving to the next target. The second merc had just enough time to open his eyes wide in surprise before Carth fired and moved onto the third.
But Nord had seen the first Black Sun go down. He dropped, rolled and dodged behind the cover of the canyon's boulders. Carth resisted the urge to fire wildly but the young Wookiee at his side did not have a soldier's discipline. The sound of blasterfire exploded in the blistering heat of the noon day suns along with the shouts and pounding feet as the Black Sun mercenaries burst from their cover and rushed the companions.
Shots zipped back and forth, ricocheting off the rocks, kicking up dust and sand, spraying bodies with its detritus. Carth knew they only had a few seconds before Nord and the mercs overwhelmed them and tuned the ravine into a killing field, but he couldn't see the shot to take out the nexus.
He saw Ordo whip the riffle around in desperation, looking for a new target across the canyon. He set his sights on a merc crouched down low beside a small rock formation. The Black Sun wasn't moving, and he covered his face as if shielding his vision. The blast from Zaalbar's wild weapon's fire hit the merc square in the chest just as the old Manndalorian's shot rang out near the gang's leader.
"NORD!" Ordo barked out. "Still wearing that butt-ugly mushroom hat?"
"Still a dog for hire Ordo?" came a sharp retort. "What will your brothers say if they knew the great Mandalorian warrior Canderous Ordo came to heel at the boots of a Jedi? Do you even know who you're working for?"
"I know who I'm not working for! You little shit! Who's paying you to count to three now? Sure as fuck ain't Kang."
"Trying to trap me in a monolog? Since when do you speak well, Mandy?"
Carth seized on the opening. Nord's shout gave his location. He lobbed a flash canister. The merc's hiding place vanished in a brilliant white flare, temporarily blinding the Black Suns and Carlo Nord. With their vision gone, Zaalbar and Ordo volleyed lethal plasma grenades-many landing in the seats of the speeders. They erupted in fire balls nanoseconds later as their fuel cells exploded.
A rain of pink, green and yellow-orange mist descended along with shrapnel of meat and metal. It had taken fewer than five seconds to decimate the the nine mercs. The last one, Nord made a run for the edge hoping for yet another glorious escape from death by rushing the edge of the boulder formation hoping to escape in the many crevices of the cannon.
Ordo lined up the shot. Nord's head exploded like a rotten egg or as Canderous imagined the Whelp might have said: 'like the top of a mushroom being popped off by the flick of a thumb.'
Canderous put the riffle back into its holster on his back. "Well now that that is over with, what now?"
Ordo walked up to him. "Why ask me, I thought you claimed leadership of this little band."
"We should tell Ravensong about this." Zaalbar said. "She will want to know."
Both men did not argue.
"He come here on revenge to kill the three of you?" Carth asked Canderous as the trio approached the burning shredded bodies.
"Probably. I would've."
"But how did he know you were even here?" Carth asked, ignoring the obvious baiting.
"It's not like we displayed our itinerary."
"Ain't like we hid we're here either." Ordo snapped back. "The Whelp went off won the kriffing Championship swoop races here, then she and the Princess threatened the slimy slug running the joint to give some tail head swoop jockey a fair-deal, then got into a fight with a handful of dark Jedi. If being discrete is supposed to be a Jedi trait, the Whelp and her little disciples are failing that test in spades."
"The Council said they shouldn't hide their presence wherever they go or the fact they're Jedi." Carth countered.
"Does it matter if they came on their own or were sent?" Zaalbar asked. "A dead enemy is a dead enemy. We tell Ravensong. She'll decide what to do."
"Hate to say it but the walking carpet is right." Canderous said. "Forget the tail-head hunter; we're heading back to the roundabouts point. "
KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR~ KOTOR
AN: For those who may protest that Bastlia is a little OOC in this chapter, I wanted to play on Malak telling her that she was tempted to taste the power of the Dark Side through the force bond with Revan. I also want to play on a few of the cannon questions she asks Revan when our hero is still in the dark about her identity, about the Dark Side and the willingness to use it. So while Skye is discovering who she is, about the Force and the dichotomy of Jedi/Sith, Bastila is toying with what is lurking in the shadows. I think it's ludicrous how swiftly Bastila was turned even if Revan spent several weeks at Korriban and the hidden planet of the Rakata. It didn't seem long enough turn a dedicated Jedi Knight to the Dark Side. Maybe it is. I'm having Bastila become a little tempted by the power of the Sith, plus she is a little disillusioned not with the Jedi but with the Council. (A running theme in my stories it seems)