A plan of action
- Canderous Ordo -
The ale in here reminded me of my clan's homebrew stout: thick, hoppy, and with a kick like a rancor. Not that I allowed myself to be drawn into nostalgia; the past was better buried, just like my enemies. There was a time and a place for remembrance – be it honouring the battle songs of the fallen, or reliving the glory of combat over a drink – but here on Taris, doing small-time work for the likes of Davik Kang, was not it.
But the Tarisian ale wasn't bad, and it afforded me some amusement as I wiled the hours away. There were many here who couldn't handle liquor of this potency; most of them off-world spacers and traders penned down by the Sith blockade. Between di'kuts getting themselves smashed on the local brew, and the odd gang altercation spilling into the cantina, I had enough to keep me entertained.
Which was a good thing, as I didn't like waiting. I'd always been a Mando'ade of action, and if I had to have downtime, I preferred it to be between the sheets with a willing partner. Not waiting to see if some crazy bint pulled off a stunt risky enough that even I hadn't been convinced would work.
Still, she was fast, skilled, and got results. I'd gambled on less and, frankly, it was time to leave this dustball planet. I didn't trust the Sith not to retaliate with excess – not when it was the Republic's Jedi princess on the loose. Malak had already shown he was more than ready to inflict massive civilian casualties in a fit of temper.
And let's be honest, Ordo. Even if Davik was paying you fair, you're itching to move on. It was true. I was restless. Like many other Mando'ade, I'd been directionless since Malachor, with only merc jobs keeping me going. It was… not a satisfying life. A far cry from the glory days I'd once been so proud of.
I snorted, dismissing the depressing thoughts, and lugged back another swig of ale. My thoughts turned to Jen Sahara and her crew. I'd considered turning Bastila Shan in, I'd considered it hard. She was worth a shiny fistful of creds. And the other one, the soldier… well, the moment I'd seen his mug I'd picked him as a Republic survivor from the same crash as Shan. It hadn't taken long to scour the newsfeeds and spot him. Captain Carth Onasi, Republic warhero and top-notch fighter pilot. Also worth a fair amount to the Sith.
Which left Jen Sahara. I hadn't found anything on her. Given Sahara's proximity to Onasi, and her involvement in rescuing Shan, she had to be Republic too. I could have turned them in, gathered a small fortune, and disappeared to another planet.
But there was something about Jen Sahara that interested me, and I found myself wanting to test her. See if we could work together for mutual benefit, maybe. Creds weren't everything. I had a gut feeling that life around Jen Sahara would get interesting, and that was just the sort of shake-up I was looking for.
"Uh, Canderous, sir?" a soft voice asked. I looked up to see a Twi'leki waitress, her outlined eyes blinking tremulously at me. "Would you like another drink?"
I nodded, baring my teeth, and she scurried away. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. This place is a cesspool of weaklings. Even the gangs didn't impress - half the members were no more than homeless runts banding together over their favourite swoop team.
Still, since the blow-out at the race, the streets of the Lower City had been busy. Gun-fights had always been a common sight on the main trunks, but the gang brawls had moved into smaller pipelines once considered safe to travel. There'd been stories of newly-laid mines, triggered by unsuspecting sents, creating new sinkholes along the fringes of gang-held territory.
I'd heard the Vulkars were winning, and part of me longed to join in, to knock some Vulkar heads together. Brejik should have done better at teaching his troops who to shoot at. Rumour on the street was that the Vulkars, cocky with the scent of victory, had started firing on some of the neutral, smaller gangs.
If the other gangs collectively join the Beks, then the tide may yet turn. I pulled out a cherze cigarra, lighting it, and breathed the woody smoke in. The gang war was an amusing interlude. But, really, it was nothing more than fire-ants scrabbling in the dirt. A scrap over the dingy corridors of a corrupt, resource-less planet.
Such a step down from the battles I had once lived in.
My attention caught on a Rodian entering the bar, and I recognized my contact, Jerrin. His round eyes darted about the room before landing on me. As he strode towards me, I stubbed my cigarra out and pulled two prepaid cred chits from my pocket. My other hand rested on a blaster concealed beneath the plasticeel table. Jerrin was a useful tool, but I'd be stupid to trust him.
"Jerrin." I indicated he should sit as he came to a stop in front of me. "Status?"
"I saw three Humans and a droid enter the Sith base about half an hour ago," he said, his words quick and furtive. "Two women, one man. I didn't get close enough to recognize any of them."
"Then what am I paying you for?" I snapped. Mir'osik.
"Hey, they would have seen me if I'd snuck up on them!" he protested.
My eyes flicked to the cantina's entrance, and at that moment I saw Onasi walk in, followed by the Jedi princess and Jen Sahara herself. Ah, the timing of the gods. I smiled humourlessly. Did they succeed? They wouldn't be stupid enough to meet me otherwise, I hope. I flicked Jerrin one of the chits under the table.
"Get lost."
He glanced down at the prepaid plasteel card. The chip on the front proclaimed how much currency was loaded. "Canderous, this isn't what you prom-"
"And you didn't deliver what you said, either. Be grateful I'm feeling generous. Now kriff off before I get angry."
The Rodian swallowed before leaving. I turned my gaze to appraise the oncoming group. Onasi was scowling. Heh, Republic doesn't like me. I'd skimmed a brief overview of his record from the 'Net. He'd served the whole way through the Wars; and like any other staid, sad Republic grunt, he probably still had a chip on his shoulder regarding my people. Somehow, I didn't think we'd be drinking together and swapping war stories anytime soon.
"Canderous," Shan said smoothly as she neared. She was a bit of a looker, really; creamy porcelain skin, shapely figure, fine arse. Shame about her snooty attitude.
"Enjoy your little jaunt in the Sith base?" I mocked, not bothering to hold back a smirk. There was a tightening around her dark eyes, but she otherwise remained composed. Lurking in her shadow stood Jen Sahara.
"We have what you asked for," Bastila replied neutrally.
At her words, a heady sense of satisfaction filled me. I am one step closer to blowing this planet.
Bastila folded her arms, staring at me with an impassive expression I reckoned was a lot shakier than she thought it was.
"So, what is the rest of your plan?" she asked. Onasi stood tensed by her side, one hand on a hip that undoubtedly concealed a blaster. He was about as covert as the princess was relaxed.
"Perhaps I should be talking to your leader," I interrupted, sliding my gaze to Jen. I heard Jen's breath hitch, and my eyes narrowed as I looked at her properly for the first time since she'd walked in.
Her shoulders were hunched, her face averted, and one hand clutched tight on Bastila Shan's arm. Haar'chak, what is this?
"Bastila is our leader," Jen mumbled. My brows lowered as she moved deeper into Bastila's shadow. Who is she trying to fool? Does she take me for a moron? I'd seen Jen in action at the swoop track. Mand'alor's balls, I'd fought beside her and been impressed. There was no way I was buying this pathetic act.
Bastila patted Jen comfortingly on the arm. But Shan sure seems to be swallowing it, doesn't she? I scowled. This was hardly the Jen I wanted to see. We ain't got time for mind games, or whatever the kriff Jen is playing at.
My gaze swung back to Shan. Her lips had tightened, curving down into a sour expression of unpleasantness as she stared back. I almost expected her to stick her fine-boned nose in the air. Suddenly, I thought I could understand why Jen had started screwing with her. Back to business, Ordo. I shrugged to myself. If Jen wants to play the idiot, it ain't your business. Yet.
"So," I started. "You have the launch codes. It won't be long before the Sith find out they've been compromised. I can get us close to the hangar, but not without some bloodshed. We should move out. Now."
Bastila nodded at me. "I... feel a sense of urgency to keep moving. You make sense. But we must pick up Mission and Zaalbar first."
My brows raised in surprise. The Bek brat and her walking carpet are coming as well? A Wookiee would certainly improve our odds. And Mission Vao… well, a warrior she wasn't. But I'd heard about the slicing skills of the Bek's favourite child. It could be that she'd come in useful. Interesting companions. They must be following Jen Sahara. Following her off their homeworld. Bet the Beks won't be too happy about that.
"Lead the way, princess."
Her mouth tightened in annoyance, but she said nothing. I noticed then that the astromech droid had followed them into the cantina. It had been a special commission for Davik, complete with the highest slicing upgrades he could source through the Sith blockade. He'd ordered me to pick it up, without divulging his motivations for acquiring such a specced droid – but I wasn't stupid. Davik wanted the same as me. Escape from Taris. I was not the only one who mistrusted the Sith when a famous Jedi was hiding in our vicinity.
It wasn't like Malak's forces would obliterate Taris. The Sith already held the planet, already reaped the benefits of controlling a hyperpoint along one of the more popular intergalactic trade routes into the Outer Rim. And although this planet had been mined and overused to resource depletion, it did have a large population - which could be a resource in itself.
No, I didn't think Malak wouldn't do another Telos. But he might bomb the planet enough to scare the general populace - enough to crank up the search for Bastila Shan several notches. Enough to turn every sent on this place so desperate that they would lynch any brown-haired, snooty-nosed female Human they came across.
The fall-out from the swoop race had already hit the local news, and images of Bastila Shan escaping a swoop gang would no doubt be making their way up the Sith hierarchy. The fact that a gang had held her captive without informing the Sith would be enough to stoke their lord's infamous temper.
I wasn't planning to be around to get caught up in the cross-fire.
Hadn't exactly planned to be rescuing the Jedi princess either, but life can throw interesting curve-balls, and a true Mando'ade knows how to roll with it. My eyes slid back to Jen Sahara, still cowering behind Shan. And she, definitely, is an interesting curve-ball. Finding out exactly what Jen Sahara's game was would be an amusing diversion – so long as she didn't let it affect her capabilities.
We walked out of the smoky cantina in relative silence, and I held my repeating blaster ready. It was heavily modified; my preferred weapon of choice. I had three smaller handhelds concealed on my body, but the rest of my spare guns were back in my quarters. No matter. It's time to leave. Anything there can be replaced. Clan and honour were what was important, not material belongings.
Not that I had either, on Taris.
I chose a quick route to the Upper City, and as we walked I decided it was time to set things straight with Jen Sahara.
"I don't know what you're playing at, but I expect to see your true form in the oncoming battle," I spoke quietly at Jen's side as I walked up to her. She jumped backwards, her eyes round and fearful.
"Leave her alone," Bastila cut in. "We will be fine in any confrontations that may chance our way."
Haar'chak, but she can certainly hear well. I allowed my eyes to travel slowly over Bastila's form; the woman's face flushed with outrage and her eyes glittered. I noticed with some interest that a double-bladed vibrosword was strapped to her back.
"Nice choice of weapons, princess," I drawled. "I thought you Jedi only used lightsabers?"
"We use whatever suits the occasion, mercenary," she said, her voice tight, and she strode ahead of me as if to end the conversation.
Onasi, on her other side, turned to shoot her a questioning look. "Where is your lightsaber anyway, Bastila?"
Her shoulders stiffened in discomfort. "My lightsaber was... misplaced. I couldn't find it after the crash."
I guffawed at the same time as Onasi.
"Wait a minute, let me get this straight," Onasi spluttered, ending on a chuckle. "You lost your lightsaber? I mean, isn't that a violation of some kind of Jedi code or something?"
Shan stopped walking, and whirled around to face us. She put her hands on her hips, and affronted anger burned her normally pale face bright pink. "This is no laughing matter! During the crash my lightsaber must have... it must have fallen from my belt and rolled under my seat!"
I laughed loudly. Sure, I'd lost my share of weapons along the way, but that was why I always carried a handful. And didn't stay attached to just one – no matter if was a brightly coloured laser sword.
Onasi raised a placating hand, attempting belated damage control. "Hey, hey, hey, don't get mad. I'm sorry. It's just funny to think of a legendary Jedi losing her lightsaber. Take my advice: this is one detail you might want to keep quiet."
Shan gave him a quelling glare. "I hardly consider myself a legend, Carth." Her lips pursed. "Let us keep moving. This conversation is hardly beneficial in any respect."
I snickered, but began to walk once more. And as we turned into the last corridors of the Lower City, a small mob of eight gang members met my eyes. I stiffened as I recognized the aggressive stance and slashed armour of the leader. Brejik. And some of his little friends. It's time for some payback.
The Vulkars all turned to face us, clad in red-and-black armour and with weapons held ready. Onasi cursed, and I heard the sound of Bastila unsheathing her vibrosword.
"Well, well, well," Brejik called out over the distance that separated us. "What do we have here, hmm? My runaway slave, the swoop rescuer extraordinaire, and Canderous Ordo himself. You should have known better than to mess with me, mercenary," he sneered.
"What am I, chopped bantha spleen?" Onasi muttered.
I snorted. "You don't know how to keep your boys in line, Brejik. You turned me into your enemy by firing on me at the race. Hope you enjoy the outcome."
"You don't frighten me. Davik doesn't rule these streets, and word has it that he was less than impressed by your antics at the swoop track." Brejik laughed in mockery. "Poor little Canderous. You didn't realize that Davik doesn't wish the Vulkars for enemies, did you?"
My eyes narrowed. He thinks he can taunt me and get away with it? In a flash, I jerked my gun upwards and opened fire at him. This will be a worthy fight.
Brejik yelped; the cocky di'kut had expected me to stand there and monologue with him until he'd decided to open the fight. He jumped sideways, the blue-white of an energy shield sizzling as he activated it- but I'd pinged him dead centre. Sure, his armour would've absorbed some, but it'd been a hit.
My hand mashed against the power switch of my own shield, while the Vulkars roared and returned fire.
I ran forwards, hooking the blaster onto my belt while unsheathing an Echani foil I'd picked up from an earlier fight. A grenade flew over my head towards the others, and the bright flash of it hit the periphery of my vision. I heard a startled scream from behind.
Four of the men ran up to meet me; I smashed an elbow into the first, following it with a thrust of the blade into his guts. The thud of a stun stick crashing against my armour backplate forced me back a step; I side-stepped and turned; the foil in my hand coming around in a lunge.
But the man crumpled in front of me before I struck; smoke wafting from his head. A quick glance behind him showed Onasi in the distance, taking potshots at the Vulkars.
The discharge of another grenade, this one close, had me stumbling into a foe. We grappled with each other as we lost our footing and fell to the ground, rolling. A sharp pain stabbed into my side; the bastard had managed to wedge some sort of shiv-blade in between the joints of my armour. I rolled over, teeth gritting, and slammed an armoured fist underneath the jaw brace of his helm.
A second punch, and a third, all rocking his head backwards, as the bastard choked and his arms fell uselessly to the ground. The dagger he'd stuck me on was slipped between my ribs and hurt like a schutta. I lunged sideways for the Echani foil; it'd slipped from my grasp as we'd fallen, and now I grabbed it to stab the Vulkar in the throat and end him for good.
I looked up; another Vulkar stood over me, blaster pointed at my head and a victorious sneer on her un-helmed face.
A split-second's thought, a moment of acceptance: There is no better way to die than in battle.
My vision blurred as a blade slammed hard on the gang member's hand; causing her to yelp and fire uselessly at the ground. It was Bastila, the double-bladed vibro spinning fast and sure in her grasp. Behind her, two other Vulkars were closing in with blades.
As I wrestled to my feet, I felt the impact of blaster bolts against my waning shield. There was a grunt from Onasi, followed by a thud; I looked over to see both him and Jen had fallen. Haar'chak, how'd she get beaten so fast? I'd already picked her as slightly crazy, but this must have been bad luck. I didn't believe she'd go so far as to act like a weakling in battle just to keep up whatever her game was.
The adrenaline pumped through my system, a welcome burn against the sharp pain in my chest. I heard the fizz as my energy shield winked out; I grasped the bladed weapon tight, and charged towards Brejik.
Brejik ducked behind the one gang member remaining next to him, firing over his shoulder. My chest tightened and burned as the armour took the brunt of the blaster bolt; I pushed on through the pain as blood thundered in my head. The other Vulkar stumbled back as my blade rammed through his abdomen.
He gurgled as he collapsed, and I swung to face Brejik, who'd already moved back several metres. Another bolt from him struck me dead centre, and I felt the heat sear and melt through a newly created gap in my armour.
Bastila screamed behind me. There was a thudding noise of her body thumping to the ground.
My breath was coming in short, sharp bursts; my side was bleeding out and another hit of laser fire might be enough to down me.
"Here it ends, Canderous," Brejik mocked, and I heard one set of footsteps behind me. The victor of Bastila's battle, no doubt. "A shame you picked the losing side."
I lurched desperately to the side, ditching the blade as I rolled, one hand scrabbling for another blaster. I fired blindly, feeling a hit to the legs, and another to the chest that seared through to skin and muscle. The red-mist descended in a cloud of rage and agony as my grip was hot on the trigger and all I could hear was the echo of a dozen blasters all firing-
Somehow I'd ended in a crouch, shaking wildly, gun aimed at Brejik who was-
-turning and running as a shower of blaster bolts fired back at him.
Beks behind me, I realized, stunned and dazed, as my vision darkened and my muscles turned to water. What timing. I got another shot off just as Brejik ran out of sight, but I had no idea if it hit him or not.
The ground rushed up to meet me.
xXx
Frigid numbness and raging hot pinpricks jerked me back to consciousness. I yelled in protest and opened my eyes, shivering and sweating with the contrasting physical discomfort.
Bastila Shan was leaning over me, her face a composed mask. "Relax. It is the Force flowing through you, healing your injuries."
I grunted, struggling to lurch myself into a seated position. My vision speckled and blurred as dizziness briefly reigned.
"Lie down for a minute," Shan advised. "The Force may be quick, but it is not miraculous."
My chest felt tight, but it lacked the agony of melted flesh that came with blaster burns. The armour had held up – barely – and we still had to charge through Davik's estate. The wound in my side dulled to a distant throb; either due to Shan's healing prowess or luck. Regardless, it wasn't debilitating.
I ignored the residual discomfort and dragged myself to my feet, only feeling slightly unsteady.
"Relax, princess," I said, flexing my shoulders. "I'm fine. What happened?"
Bastila stared at me under lowered brows, as if she wanted to argue the point but thought better of it. She sighed. "The Beks finished the fight and chased after Brejik. Fortunately for us all, one of them paused to revive me with a stimulant and a shot of kolto. I, in turn, have been able to assist the rest of you."
I raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I'm sure we couldn't live without your amazing Force powers," I drawled. "How did I survive for so long without you?"
The anger that crackled in her dark eyes made me laugh.
"You- !" she cut herself off abruptly, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in deep. I smirked, and turned around to see Onasi and Jen leaning against the grimy walls of the Lower City. The astromech droid was by Jen's feet, looking relatively undamaged. Someone's gotta put a weapon on that mobile trashcan. It could at least serve some purpose in a fight.
"They were both knocked out by grenades," Shan said quietly, following my gaze. Her temper was amusing, but her swiftness at controlling it was even more impressive. I was beginning to enjoy taunting the stuck-up Jedi. "Between the kolto the Beks left behind, and my Force abilities, I believe we are able to move on now." Shan's gaze lingered on my torso, and I glanced down to see streaks of blood drying on the outside of my battered armour suit. "At least take some kolto if you refuse any further of my assistance, Canderous. We still have a battle ahead at Davik's."
I snorted. "I'll relax when I'm off this chivhole of a planet. In the meantime, stims can keep me going."
"As you wish," she said in a taut voice, and then motioned to the others. "We should move on now."
Onasi nodded in response, but Jen just looked petrified. I narrowed my eyes, throwing her a mock glare until she glanced down in nervousness. I couldn't hold back an entertained chuckle.
"Don't be so childish," Shan snapped, catching my amusement. I shot her a derisive look in return. Hah. She's the one who believes Jen's little act.
We headed back to the apartment building in the alien district. My muscles were beginning to tighten and ache uncomfortably; I grimaced and searched my pockets for a stamina stim as we trudged along. From the stiff, abrupt way Onasi was walking, I could tell he too was feeling the after-effects of our clash with the Vulkars. My only regret is that Brejik escaped. I wondered what the chances were of those Beks having caught up to the coward. If I wasn't on my way off Taris, my next goal would've been to hunt down Brejik personally.
Mission Vao and her Wookiee were yapping inside the apartment as we entered. The girl stared at me in awed surprise as I bared my teeth at her. It was her shag pile guard I kept note of, though. I'd heard stories about Vulkars stupid enough to threaten Mission Vao, and they always ended up regretting it.
At any rate, I had no problem with the kid, provided she kept her trap shut.
"Pack up," Shan commanded. "We are heading out."
"Cool!" the Twi'lek enthused, jumping to her feet. The Wookiee growled something, and the girl grinned at him before her gaze returned to rove over the rest of us. "Say, what happened to you guys? Sith base didn't go as planned?"
"We, uh, ran into a little trouble afterwards," Onasi said.
I snorted. "Vulkars who didn't like the look of us."
The kid cocked her head in curiosity, opening her mouth to question, but Shan shushed her. "We need to leave now," the Jedi said in a low, terse voice.
"Okay, sheesh, keep your clothes on," Mission muttered, throwing her a glare. The Wookiee howled as he began to strap blades onto his back; I eyed over the pile of random weapons on the apartment floor with mild admiration.
Onasi was crouching, filling up a pack with grenades, while Shan looked to be gathering a box of med supplies together. Jen Sahara, in contrast, stood awkwardly in front of the apartment's closed door, a vibrosword clutched inexpertly in one hand. I shot her another glare, just to see if it would disconcert her. She twitched, taking a step back, and I chuckled to myself. I was beginning to enjoy this game of hers, and I wondered if she was laughing on the inside as well.
Some minutes of silent and swift packing later, and I led our motley crew back out onto the Tarisian courtyards. The sunlight gleamed on the courtyards filled with soft Humans, all milling around with no apparent understanding of the dangers that a Sith fleet in orbit entailed. The Tarisians gave us a wide berth in general, the odd one pausing to glare or mutter at the Wookiee. In general, any sent on these platforms that wasn't Human was either mocked or mistreated.
The xenophobia was a damn stupid way to treat sentients, but from what I knew of Taris, it was an attitude that had prevailed for generations.
As we walked towards the more lavish side of the Upper City, personal guards replaced the Sith lining the street. Davik, along with the other rich businessmen of Taris, had paid the Sith an awful lot of creds for relative peace. The upper crust had bought the illusion of freedom, and most of them were stupid enough to believe in it.
Mission Vao skipped along next to us, but her eyes were on Bastila Shan. Curiosity was plainly evident on the Twi'lek kid's face.
"Hey, Bastila. You ever just use the Force for fun?" She tilted her head, an impish grin on her face. At once, I had a brief mental picture of Mission Vao, dressed in the dull clothing of the Jedi, clutching a lightsaber and wielding the Force. I snickered. I'd give a whole lot of creds to watch a stand off between the Bek brat and the princess. Imagine that. Was it exposure to the Force that turned Jedi into such boring uptight farts, or did the power only come to those with no personality? Not entirely true, Ordo. There'd been a handful of Jedi worthy of respect, once upon a time. One in particular. My eyes slid to the Jedi princess. Having met her, and gained a sense of both her youth and social awkwardness, I had no kriffing idea how Bastila Shan had been the final end to a Jedi like Revan.
"Fun?" Shan sounded confused, almost affronted. Her brow creased in puzzlement as she stared at the Twi'lek, as if she were trying to understand her. The princess ain't used to dealing with people, that's for sure.
"You know, a little jolt of the Force to trip some jerk who's ticking you off?" Mission beamed. Her brown eyes were bright with enthusiasm. "All these stories 'bout the power you Jedi have… I never really believed it, y'know? But if you can do all that stuff, then surely you've wanted to get a few people back- like, nerf-herders who really deserve it."
Bastila Shan took in a deep breath, straightening her spine to look down at Mission Vao. Her expression closed in on itself, tightening in disapproval. Her lips thinned. "No. Certainly not. The Force is not a trivial plaything, Mission. One must always remain above such petty revenge."
I snorted. Uptight little princess. I bet your back is all knotted up with snooty kinks and you don't even realize it.
"Aw, come on," Mission wheedled, her lekku wrapping around her neck. "There's gotta be times when you've thought about it. Don't be so stuck up - you can tell me!"
I heard Onasi stifle a laugh. I didn't bother hiding mine.
"I am not stuck up," Shan stated in a forced, neutral tone. "I merely have the years of training to give me the wisdom and understanding to see how childish such an act would be."
"Childish?" Mission's voice rose in sharp indignation. "Is that a crack about my age? I'm not the one who got captured by a swoop gang, and I've been living here my whole life! Sheesh, just because you're a famous Jedi doesn't mean you have to be such a prissy know-it-all!"
Mission stumbled then, as if tripping into something invisible, and fell forward towards the ferracrete ground. Hands outstretched, the Twi'lek only just managed to brace herself with a squeak, taking the fall on her palms.
I looked over to Shan in surprise; the Human's face was flushed pink with irritation, her eyes dark with anger. Years of training ain't enough to control her temper it seems, I realized with amusement. Maybe the uptight Bastila Shan wouldn't be quite so boring as I first thought.
Mission Vao was scrambling to her feet, her face purple with embarrassment. "Hey, that wasn't funny!" she squawked.
I was watching Shan, and saw the regret as it passed through her face. She'd take it back, if she could. She actually wants to be an ice queen, with no emotion or life in her. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Mission," she forced out through bloodless lips. Her tone turned neutral once more. "Come now, we have to get going."
Mission let out a high-pitched squeak of frustration, and actually started to leap towards Shan in retaliation, but the Wookiee grabbed her arm and hauled her back.
"Zaalbar!" Mission screeched. He howled something incomprehensible at the Twi'lek, and she shook her head furiously, still glaring at Bastila Shan.
I strode next to Shan; her gaze was fixed firmly ahead and the corners of her mouth had turned down. "How very Jedi-like of you, princess," I drawled. I saw her colour rise, and something akin to shame burn in her dark eyes. The haar'chak Jedi have it all backwards. To be ashamed of emotion is to be devoid of living. And then there were the Sith, who gloried in death and destruction and sadism. They got the job done, but they all seemed to wander down the path of true depravity.
Maybe it is just the Force then. It either snuffs the life out of you, or turns you into something rabid.
The Wookiee was still something softly at Mission Vao, and I idly wondered if the Twi'lek kid would think of a way to thwart Shan, or even get her own back. I could guess how annoying Mission Vao could be, if she put her street-smart mind to work, but I was willing to bet a hundred creds that Bastila Shan would underestimate her. My gaze, however, caught on the estate looming in the distance, and I shrugged off the idle thoughts.
It was time to issue some orders. I halted, turned around, and eyed the group dispassionately. While there were many sentients nearby, none were in obvious earshot. I kept my voice low regardless.
"Alright, troops." I didn't bother concealing my sneer. I'd had half-dead Mando'ade under my command more worthy than this lot. "Here's how the plan goes. Ladies, disarm and throw the lads your weapons. You three are going to act all scared and meek. Jen, it shouldn't be a problem for you." I tossed her a knowing grin, and she flinched rather realistically. "Republic, chuck that upright carpet one of your blasters. You two are gonna be guarding the three brand new slave girls."
Shan gasped in outrage. I raised an eyebrow, impatient and annoyed. "What? You think we can just waltz in, looking like an armoured gang ready for fighting? This cover story will get us into the base, provided you guys are convincing. That includes you, princess."
Shan had turned a mottled red once more. "If this is some sort of trap, mercenary-"
"No trap, princess. I ain't collaring you, am I?" I met her eyes steadily, and I could see that she wanted to object.
Onasi opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it and threw Zaalbar a spare blaster. The Wookiee howled in obvious objection.
"It's not like we're going to tie the girls up!" I snapped, before muttering, "although that would be more convincing."
There was an immediate roar from the Wookiee, and Shan looked about ready to explode.
I laughed. "It won't be necessary, provided you play your part. Republic and Carpet, stand behind the girls with your blasters raised. Mission and Princess, act demure and frightened, for the love of Mand'alor!"
Mission Vao grinned impishly at me, winked, and then looked down with a forced expression of fear. Davik liked his Twi'lek slaves, and Mission's youth would make it an easy sell. Jen was older than Davik cared for, but her acting skills would be enough to hide that - at least until we got in.
Shan was gonna be the problem. She had the looks for a joygirl, but if she wasn't gonna play along then we were kriffed before we'd even started.
She sighed, an angry hissing noise, before breathing in deep and dropping her eyes to the ground.
I nodded in satisfaction.
"Let's move out," I ordered, and began to lead onwards. It wasn't long until we reached the ornate gates that bordered Davik's mansion. I nodded companionably to the guard.
"Back with some fresh slave girls Davik ordered," I said flatly.
The armoured Duros stared at me suspiciously through dull red eyes. "Order? I haven't heard nothin' 'bout any new girls."
"Oh? Privy to Davik's plans, are you?" I griped, turning to glare at him full on. He quailed.
"Uh, sorry Canderous, go right in." He activated the access console, and the large gates swung inwards. I walked onwards, underneath the line of visible laser turrets that pointed ominously at the building's entrance.
Another guard met us at the door and waved us in without any interference. I could feel my eyes narrow, my concentration focus, and my muscles tense in readiness as we walked into Davik's stronghold. The buzz of anticipation and adrenaline were beginning to hit; the markers of entering danger I was long familiar with.
The objectives may differ, but the challenges remained the same. Me and my allies against the galaxy.
Alright, Ordo. Let's do this.
xXx
Author's Note:
You've made it 20 chapters! That deserves a review, right? :-)
