Mandalorian gambit

- Jen Sahara -


Our one-room apartment was starting to feel ridiculously cramped.

After pulling a face at the only bed, Mission had bluntly stated her desire to crash with the Beks for the night, flat-out ignored Zaalbar's howl of protest, and flounced outside with a flippant promise to return in the morning.

I couldn't help but feel a small measure of concern, even as I waved the upset Wookiee away to chase after her. I wasn't entirely sure how strictly his life-debt entailed him sticking to my side like a bad smell, but the Twi'lek kid surely needed his protection more than me right now.

Quit stressing. Mission's been scampering between the Upper and Lower City her entire life. She's savvy enough to avoid the gang fighting on her way to the Beks, and their stronghold should be well-guarded against any repercussions.

Besides, I had a different person to concern myself with.

Bastila. In many ways, she was everything I expected: uptight, snooty, and... and powerful. The way she'd caved in that tunnel above the swoop track- no doubt about it, Bastila Shan was quick to act when required. It was hard to believe she'd be held prisoner by a swoop gang of all things.

She was taking an inordinately long time in the tiny refresher. I supposed I couldn't blame her. No doubt, the Jedi was savouring her freedom, even if she was going to run us all out of hot water. The plumbing in the rundown apartment complex was notoriously short-lived even at the best of times.

Better than the sonics on most starships at any rate. I winced, rubbing my head as the side of it throbbed. The Endar Spire was the only starship I could recall, although with my riddled memory I had no idea what was in my past. Street Kid might have done her share of interstellar travel, and Evil Bitch was probably insane enough to believe she owned an entire armada.

I frowned, annoyed with myself, and deliberately forced my attention back to Bastila. Flashes of what felt suspiciously like grief cut through by hot anger kept throwing themselves into my head, and I knew the emotions were stemming from her.

It hadn't escaped me that Bastila would be able to sense my own state of mind in return. She'd wrangled a promise out of me to travel to Alderaan, just when I'd convinced myself to leave her and Flyboy to their own devices. If I travel to Alderaan, will Bastila really allow me to go my own way? She'd said she would. And Jedi did not lie – right?

But something told me not to trust her.

On the other hand, staying behind on Taris had little appeal. Brejik will know who I am by now. I'll have the Vulkars after me before too long. I can't be insane enough to want that. Leaving Taris is the smart choice.

And, despite everything, part of me wanted to have faith in Bastila Shan. She is a Jedi. She might be able to help me. Yet her very proximity with the mind-link suggested otherwise. On the outside, she seemed so poised, so composed – but our cursed bond told me different.

Fear. She'd been scared, earlier. I wasn't sure – but I thought it'd been when she'd looked at me. Though didn't that seem the most far-fetched thought of all? To think, a Jedi of Bastila Shan's ilk, afraid of me? Bastila sodding Shan! Hero of the frelling Jedi Order and Republic war effort!

Whatever was in my past, it couldn't scare a Jedi of her calibre.

Even if she is, apparently, still a padawan.

If I really was going to travel with her and Carth, I'd either have to come clean with my identity issues or do better with the façade. Maybe... maybe I should see that doc again. Zelka seemed to think he could help. At the close of everything, I wanted answers from Bastila – but I didn't want her to grasp the true nature of my fractured mind, either. I hadn't even been able to fool Onasi into believing I was no more than a shy scholar from Deralia, and we shared neither a history nor a bond.

The man in question looked up from the datapad he was perusing, likely scanning the news-feeds for any pertinent info. He eyed me over as I stretched aching limbs and threw him a tired smirk.

We had our black moments, but for some reason teasing Carth usually made me feel better.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Jen," he said in a low tone. "I- uh, thanks. I might not, well, care for your ethics, but I'm not blind to everything you've accomplished. Without you, I daresay Bastila would still be a prisoner, and I- uh, I guess I'd probably still be bumbling around the Upper City."

There was so much I could do with that stuttering statement. "Ethics?" I settled for, letting my smirk widen. "What have I done now?"

His brows lowered. "Let's not turn this into an argument, alright?"

"Hey!" I raised my hands in mock surrender, even though I knew my grin gave the game away. "What did I say?"

Carth glared at me, but I wondered if I saw the edge of his mouth quirk. I smiled at him sweetly. "Come on, Flyboy, you can't make a dig at my moral character and get away with it."

"Want to wager on that?" He'd folded his arms, staring at me steadily.

"Five creds?" I offered, grinning. "Spill, Flyboy. I won't let up, you know."

Carth sighed, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Look, I-I didn't mean anything by it, really. Just-" and here he stopped to shoot me a glare. "You're the one walking out on an employment contract, sister."

My amusement vanished like free spice shots at a spacer's joint. I could feel myself glaring back. "Oh. That," I snapped. The frelling contract. It didn't sit right. It didn't seem right. My head was telling me the Jedi contract was watertight – a guardianship of sorts despite my age – and I'd meekly auto-printed my own autonomy away without a second thought.

No. Jen did that, not me. The burn of anger was familiar, and all too enticing. "Three years," I hissed. "Let me ask you, Onasi, would you willingly serve the Jedi for three years?"

"No," he shot back shortly. "But I wouldn't be stupid enough to sign it in the first place."

Carth turned away from me, pointedly bending back over his datapad as a means of ending the conversation. I felt the dull flush of emotion heat my cheeks, and wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.

Beholden to the damn Order for three years. But the entire memory of signing that contract felt discordant – wrong. I hadn't even thought on it since I'd left the 'Spire, and wasn't that strange in itself? When Bastila had thrown it in my face like a barbed nitro-dart, the recollection of the job offer had slammed into my consciousness with the precise detail of a holo-recording. The cold blast of the air-con, the hard-edged chair biting into my back, the foreign sense of awe at what was an amazing career opportunity-

But didn't Jen want to be a history teacher on Deralia? An occupation far beneath her skills, but Jen had never desired to leave her homeworld. I might've assumed some form of compulsion at work, had it not been for her nascent excitement-

I swallowed. Maybe it was a deeper compulsion that I knew. Or maybe, the fractures of my mind were devolving into paranoia at absolutely everything.

But- but I could sharply remember saying a soft farewell to my proud father. He'd never willingly let me leave, he'd barely even let me leave the commune to study at the Academia every rest day-

Not my father. My teeth clenched suddenly. Jen's father.

Still, everything about Jen's life from that moment on seemed almost... artificial. I didn't even know how I'd travelled to the conference room to meet with the Order – but then, suddenly, I was on the Endar Spire, meekly reading through any ancient archives that hefty Cerean master had thrown at me.

It was all so – fragmented. Like the rest of my memory? Maybe. Maybe it was the missing pieces that made my history so nonsensical, to the point where I simply didn't know what was real anymore.

Zelka mentioned hypnotic techniques might aid me. Last thing I wanted was someone else messing up my mind – but maybe he could help. Maybe he could make some sense out of everything. Maybe, what I needed was a neutral, third-party professional-

Yeah, because a doc playing shop in a frelling Free Clinic is really going to be a professional. Ten creds say he dropped out of Med School, and a poorly paid governmental hack-job is the only thing he could find-

The thin plimsi hatch to the refresher swished open, then, billowing out a cloud of steam and Bastila Shan herself. My thoughts ceased with abrupt wariness.

She threw me a tentative smile. Bastila was clad in a ragged tunic Carth had picked up from a stall earlier, which looked about three sizes too big for her, and didn't nothing but emphasize her youth. Her damp hair clung to her neck, and her expression showed nothing but a struggling attempt at friendliness.

I couldn't make her out. Was she a Jedi who could help me, or a guard?

"Perhaps it is time to discuss where we are at with leaving Taris," Bastila said, her voice prim as she stepped over to the sole bunk and hesitantly lowered herself to sit down. She looked so out-of-place, posture stiff and back ram-rod straight, flawless skin like she'd never spent a day in the sun, face with the fine bones of an aristocrat-

She is out-of-place, here, a fugitive hiding out in the arse-end of the Upper City. Bastila Shan has probably never been anywhere without a Jedi entourage and a high-end suite of rooms to fall back on.

Carth had slowly lowered his datapad to face her. "Uh, well, we don't really have a plan as of yet," he conceded, mouth quirking in a self-deprecating smile.

Bastila's slanted eyes widened in surprise. "What have you been doing all this time then?" she demanded.

I had to stifle a chuckle. Whoever said the Jedi were reasonable? "We were rescuing you, Bastila," I told her dryly.

"I would have expected one of you to have the sense to think ahead," she snapped, throwing me a slight frown.

With mounting amusement, I watched the dark clouds of irritation coalesce on Carth's face. For once, it wasn't me annoying the frell out of him. I inwardly wagered he mentally stuffed us both in a box labeled Difficult Women, and had to bite back a snicker at the thought.

"Bastila, don't you think you're being a little unfair?" Carth said firmly, levelling her with the hard stare of a superior confident of his own position. I could hear the faint echoes of command in his voice – disapproval, edged with an expectation that she would back down. He wasn't bad at that sort of thing, actually – even if it did normally tempt me into yanking his chain.

Outrage pinked high on the porcelain cheeks of the Jedi. She wasn't used to being questioned, at least not in front of others. No. Not the battle meditation princess of the Order.

"Unfair?" Bastila gasped. "Force, you two have been here for weeks, free and able to traverse around Taris at will, and you have not yet even begun to formulate an escape strategy?"

Again, I had to bite back a choked laugh. Seeing the young, uptight Jedi on the verge of throwing a hissy fit at a war-seasoned veteran bordered on the hilarious.

A stony look settled deep into Carth's brown gaze. "We have been spending all our time and resources in formulating a plan to extract you, Bastila. Or you have conveniently forgotten that the very reason you are here, free, is because of that?"

Bastila stood, her chin lifting as she stared stubbornly back at Carth. "Do not be preposterous. I was in the process of freeing myself at that ridiculous event. Captain Onasi, do not forget that I am your commander, and if I believe there is need for a discussion on your lack of progress, then I shall certainly say so!"

"We're not on the Endar Spire anymore, Bastila!" Carth's voice had risen with heat, too. "We're stuck deep in enemy territory, and quibbling about who is in charge hardly makes you a good leader. Particularly when you act like a spoiled child!"

I took in the scene: Carth, arms folded, glowering dangerously from underneath that ridiculous mop of rich chestnut hair. Bastila, affronted, hands propped up on hips in bristling anger.

I burst out laughing. I clapped my hand over my mouth instinctively, but it was too late. Bastila's mouth dropped open in outrage; Carth stared at me in disbelief.

"Better than a holo-soap, you two," I guffawed. "And here I thought Carth and I were bad!"

Bastila's mouth snapped shut with a click. "This is no laughing matter-" she began through clenched teeth.

Carth snorted. The corner of his mouth was twitching. "Jen's right. Maybe Taris will spin off its axis at the event, but Jen is actually right for once. We're both behaving like children." He shot me a rueful grin. "I blame your influence."

I fired a smirk back at him. "Thanks. I try to keep things interesting around here, Flyboy."

"Well, I-" Bastila looked at both of us, blinking, as if the sudden turn to amusement completely caught her off-guard. She sighed heavily, her eyes dropping closed. "Perhaps- perhaps I am not quite myself," she said, in a much quieter voice. "And perhaps I should not be so quick to judge. I apologize, Carth."

A heavy knock at the door halted any response from the Republic pilot.

In a lightning quick move, Carth had his blasters aimed while I catapulted towards our growing stash of vibroswords in the corner.

"Who could that be?" Bastila whispered. "Who knows where are here?"

The heavy weight of the common blade felt reassuring in my grip. I strode closer to the door, mind racing.

"No one," Carth replied in a low voice. "Other than Mission and Zaalbar, who would not knock."

"No, she'd slice her way in," I muttered. The knock, loud and heavy, sounded again.

I looked back at the others, only to find them both staring at me. I shrugged, turning back to the door. "Who's there?" I called out.

"(I am looking for Jen Sahara)," a gruff, deep voice called out in Mandalorian.

My eyes narrowed. Canderous Ordo, or I'm a frelling Mon Calamari. He's come for Bastila. I held my vibrosword at the ready, aware of the other two edging close behind me. What are the chances he's come alone?

"A Mandalorian merc," I hissed. I had a quick look through the peephole, and my suspicions were founded; it was Canderous, although I didn't see any signs of backup – unless he had a couple of grunts hidden further down the corridor. "I think he's after Bastila. I doubt he's alone, so be prepared."

I heard Bastila gasp as I activated the entry switch.

Canderous stood in front of me, arms folded, a speculative look on his weathered face. He smirked as his gaze landed on my vibrosword, before it drifted behind to Bastila. His smirk deepened, and the look in his granite eyes changed to something I could only label as suggestive. "(Well done. I didn't think you'd get out of the Lower City alive)."

"Su'cuy," I muttered, keeping my vibrosword at half-mast. Something twitched in my head- no, through the bond. "(I'll take that as a compliment)."

"(You can put those away)," Canderous drawled, snapping his gaze back to me and motioning at my weapon. "(I've come with a proposition, not to cause a fight)."

"(She's not for sale)," I said shortly. In my mind, I felt the sharp tang of Bastila's indignant fury. Heh. Guess she understands Mandalorian. Carth, on the other hand, was probably seething with irritation at his inability to follow the conversation.

Canderous laughed heartily. "(If I was here on Davik's behalf, I wouldn't be offering credits, let me assure you)."

I dropped my blade, but didn't sheathe it. Whatever the merc wanted, I wasn't going to let him catch me off-guard. "(Fair point. So why are you here, Canderous?)"

His grey eyes bored into mine steadily; I returned his stare in equal measure. "(I'll be frank. I have been looking for an... ally, shall we say, to help me leave Taris. Your fighting skills have impressed me. You are also just a little bit crazy, which is exactly what I'm looking for)."

I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise, and tasted wariness from Bastila.

"(Why do you think I want to leave Taris?)" I asked mildly.

He snorted, and gave Bastila another obvious once-over. "(You don't really expect me to bother with a reply, do you?)"

I inclined my head in acquiescence. "(Why do you want to leave Taris, then?)"

It could be a trap. Sun and stars, it probably is a trap. I already know Davik wants to get his claws on Bastila, and Canderous is his henchman. I kept my face blank as another thought occurred to me. But is that really my problem?

"(My employer hasn't been paying me what he promised)," Canderous explained. "(You've probably figured out I work for Davik Kang and the Exchange. It's beneath me, but the pay kept me around for awhile. Now, though...)"

He trailed off as I grinned in response. That sounds plausible – if it's true. What kind of idiot cheats a Mandalorian and then doesn't kill him?

Canderous' lip curled. "(I figure it's time for me to break the Sith quarantine and get off this backwater planet. I've got a plan to escape Taris, but I can't do it alone)."

Well. This may have come at the best possible time. How fortuitous – if he's sincere.

"What's your plan, then?" I said, switching to Basic. This was important enough that Carth needed to follow the conversation – even if frustrating the flyboy was a temptation all on its own.

Canderous looked vaguely surprised at the change in language, but followed my lead. "I can get access to Davik's flagship – the Ebon Hawk. However, any ship leaving the atmosphere without launch codes will be disintegrated by the Sith fleet's automated defense guns. That's where you come in."

Launch codes. That can only mean one thing-

Carth snorted. "You want us to infiltrate the Sith base?" he asked in palpable incredulity. "How crazy do you think we are?"

"I ain't talking to you." Canderous turned heavy-lidded eyes on Carth. "I'm talking to your friend, ain't I?"

"He has a point, though," I interjected. "Breaking into the Sith base is tantamount to suicide. Add the fact that I don't know you enough to trust you, and I don't really see why I should help you out here."

"It would be simply preposterous to attempt an assault on the Sith base!" Bastila gasped, weighing in.

"I ain't yapping to you either, princess." Canderous threw her a contemptuous glare before turning back to me. "Can't say I think much of your friends. Look, I'm not big on working with strangers, either, but we both want to get off this rock." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "I can give you some help with the Sith base."

"You want to join us?" I asked, turning speculative.

Canderous grinned at me, and it was a feral sight. "Normally nothing would stop me from a good, clean fight, but I'm too well recognized, even around the Sith. Word would get back to Davik. I can, however, point you towards a top of the line astromech droid that can get you inside the base."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't suppose you can acquire me a droid that will also get us out?"

Canderous barked a laugh. "You'll have to accomplish that on your own. If you want the droid, go to Janice Nall and ask for Davik's special project. Tell her Canderous sent you, and she'll be as sweet as mola-syrup." He eyed me over again. "Either we work together, or we both stay stuck here on Taris. I'll give you two days to act on this. If you don't, then consider the offer withdrawn. I'll be at Javyar's cantina in the evenings." He turned to leave, throwing one last comment over his armoured shoulder. "A word of caution. Make this a stealth op, or at least cover your tracks. Maybe you can bluff your way in under the pretense of seeing the governor, if you can't find an alternate form of entry. Just make sure those hu'tuun Sith don't realize the codes are compromised, or else they'll change them quicker than you can say 'escape from Taris'."

He left, as abruptly as he'd arrived.

I switched the door closed, my thoughts racing. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to follow the Mandalorian's plan. I can't trust him... but stars, I can't trust anyone.

Might be a useful bit of exercise, slaughtering a few random Sith. I swallowed, forcing the callous thought away. Any soldiers in the base were just sents doing a job. People, just like anyone else. Grunts. Fodder.

"I do not sense any deception from him, which is surprising," Bastila said quietly. Her cool voice sliced through my dark-edged thoughts, and I clung to the sound like a life-line. "If he can procure us access to a ship, then this may be precisely the lead we require."

I drew in a shaky breath, feeling my mind clear, and nodded at her slowly in agreement.

Carth, however, was shaking his head. "I've got a bad feeling about this. You can't trust mercenaries, and you certainly can't trust Mandalorians." Carth grimaced. "This isn't a good idea."

But it's our only plan to leave Taris so far. "It can't hurt to check out that droid," I said slowly. "Unless either of you have a better plan?"

Carth frowned. "I wish I did. Jen, why did you think he was after Bastila?"

"Good question," Bastila threw in.

I grimaced, glancing away from them both. "I saw Canderous at the swoop track. He let slip that Davik was interested in acquiring her."

Bastila's face remained blank, even composed. But the lightning-quick thrust of fury that blasted through our mind-link surprised me. Her anger... her anger feels as hot as mine. A nanosec later, and all I could sense was serenity.

Bastila's ability to switch her emotions on and off like a tap was impressive. And probably emotionally unhealthy, a voice in my head muttered.

"And we're really going to go along with his plan, then?" Carth asked heatedly. "If he was after Bastila before, what makes you think he's suddenly changed his colours?"

"I am not sure we have the luxury of caution, Carth," Bastila said, a trifle hesitantly. "I believe Jen is right. We should at least investigate the droid tomorrow."

Carth sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I suppose seeing what the droid can do won't hurt, at least."

xXx

It was already close to evening, by Tarisian time, when the Mandalorian had left.

Carth was quick to rustle up a meagre meal of flatbread and protein paste, of which Bastila wolfed down in three minutes flat before openly eyeing up the only bed.

"Take it," I said quickly. Her gaze was guarded as it met mine, and I threw her a tight smile in response. "I'm fine with sleeping on the floor."

Not that I'm going to sleep. I had things to do, and places to be – but she didn't need to know that.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, but I could hear the relief in it. It made me, once again, yearn to talk to her properly, to ask for her guidance, to trust her-

I turned away, gritting my teeth. I couldn't trust her. Not until I knew more about- about- everything.

We bedded down for the night, Carth and I both curling up on the floor under threadbare blankets that were more for comfort than warmth. I was tired, though, and the aching lassitude present in my limbs reminded me that rest was something I'd been running well-short on.

I don't seem to need much sleep. It was a surprising realization; when I looked back on the time I'd spent on Taris, a few hours kip seemed to be all I required to keep functioning for a full day's cycle.

Still, I'd fall into slumber easy enough if I let my mind drift. Which I was not going to do.

Carth's breathing patterns dropped into slow, steady respirations quickly enough – military grunts were well-versed in catching a few winks whenever they could. Bastila, however, stayed awake longer than I expected.

I could feel the edges of her presence, now, through the bond I was slowly becoming accustomed to sensing. She was tense, wary, and I wasn't about to chance letting her catch me slip away. It took a great deal of concentration to keep my thoughts blanked and my breathing regular, but slowly, slowly, she drifted off into the realm of the semi-conscious.

As quietly as I could, I rose to my feet.

A vibrosword and my small pack is all I need. I left the apartment, my primary destination being that of the Free Clinic. Zelka better be able to help me out, here. Help me figure out what I should do. Who I am. How to control my own frelling state of mind.

Jedi contract or not, I had no qualms about disappearing if I thought it in my best interests.

I had another reason for visiting Zelka, though. That serum was burning a hole in my pocket – I hadn't forgotten about that. A thousand creds. That'd certainly help me out, whether I stay on Taris or slip away on Alderaan.

It'd help a whole lot of sents out, too, if I gave it to Zelka. I had no idea, yet, which way I was going to turn on the matter of the rakghoul disease.

Oh well. Guess I'll play it by ear. That approach has worked for me so far, after all.

xXx