Hyperspace: II


Zaalbar:

The opulent estate rose up to encase me with strange marbled walls as I trailed at the rear of the pack.

With a blaster pointed fallaciously at Mission's back, my eyes should have been fixed on my young charge, trudging so submissively into the enemy's den like she truly was the captive she pretended to be.

That was not the case, though. I found myself unable to stop my gaze from darting down each exit we passed, as my shoulders tensed and my instincts told me this entire operation would soon crumble like tree-rot.

This plan is too risky.

That Mandalorian might be careless with his own life, but I did not understand why Mission and Jen Sahara had to be pulled into this hazardous escapade. Particularly the Human, considering the odd way she was behaving. Mission was worried about her; the way my young friend's lekku twitched whenever she glanced Jen Sahara's way made that plainly obvious.

The woman I owed my life too was quiet, confused, and scared. I could see the tremulous emotions in her cowed stance, and could track the fear in her scent. Something had happened to her – and while I might appreciate the thought of Jen Sahara curbing her own recklessness, I was also concerned that, in her current state, she might be more vulnerable in a fight than ever before.

I will guard her back, or die in the attempt. Hers, and Mission's both.

The gleaming ostentatiousness of the dwelling set my teeth on edge. Garish holo-pictures dotted the walls, and each corner was decorated with a purple urn containing a plasteel pretension of a plant. This veneer of synthetic prettiness was worse than the grime and poverty of the Lower City, and a pang of longing for my homeworld burned deep in my soul.

To be in a forest somewhere. To be amongst the wroshyr trees. Even after all these years, Taris had never felt like home. Too many strange aliens, all packed together like a teeming nest of fire ants lacking any sort of hive mind. It had been an accident, landing here; I'd been a young cub running from the past, and Taris had been a stop along the way to somewhere else. But traders on the freighter I had boarded betrayed me for the empty allure of alien credit chits. I did not understand, then, how many soulless sentients were out there; how some beings could look at a Wookiee and see no more than a prime specimen to be sold like a shank of meat.

A moment of inattention from an overweight slaver had led to my escape, and so I fled: half-enraged and half-petrified, ignorant of where I was or the dangers I was running into. Had it not been for Mission chancing upon me, I was not sure how long I would have lasted amongst the gangs and the Exchange and the corrupt way of life in the tunnels of Taris.

It was strange to think that we might soon be leaving. Assuming, of course, that this foolhardy plan came to fruition. We had thrown our lot in with off-world strangers – and while my life-debt shackled me to Jen's side, Mission was another story.

What sort of existence does the daughter of my heart have here, on this corrupt planet? I did not wish to think of her, growing up amongst the moral ambiguity of a swoop gang who were willing to sell spice for profit and loot foodstuffs from other gangs who were just as needy. Survival, they called it, but some days all I could see was dishonour in their actions. And while the Hidden Beks may have granted Mission the protection of a den, they had certainly been lacklustre in keeping her away danger, despite Zaerdra Leno's best efforts.

No – a better future awaited Mission Vao in the stars, and so I could see no solid reason to keep her from following me.

I huffed in irritation at my wandering thoughts, and tightened my grip on Carth Onasi's blaster. A bow-caster it was not, but between this cheap gun, the vibroswords strapped on my back, and the strength of my own paws, I would be strong enough to face whatever awaited us.

The cloying scent of artificial perfume hung thick on the air, and up ahead the Mandalorian halted, before turning around to grace the lot of us with a leering grin. I did not trust this Human. He was dangerous, and worked for the Exchange – an organization both unscrupulous and offensive. While Canderous Ordo might now be rescinding his loyalty, it did not mean his values had increased in worthiness. I planned to keep my eye on him, for both Mission and Jen Sahara's safety.

"Welcome to the slave quarters, kids," Canderous drawled.

Bastila Shan's face was composed, but her posture belied her annoyance. I wondered if there was a trace of fear, also; I could not forget that the Jedi was young, and had suffered trials of her own. It was a shame that Mission seemed to have taken a dislike to the Jedi, for I could not help but feel sympathetic.

"Why are we stopping here, Canderous?" Bastila asked in a level voice.

"Good a place as any to talk before we hit trouble. Now, listen up. The hangar is located in the north-west side of this estate-"

Jen shrank back against me. Once more, she was behaving like a completely different sentient to the brash Human who had rescued me. Her shift in conduct was strange... beyond strange. Did Jen Sahara knock her head again? She suffered a grievous injury shortly before I first met her – perhaps her odd behaviour is connected?

I would ask Mission to speak with Jen later, I decided. I did not pretend to understand Humans, but I did know they were similar to Twi'leks in that they liked to talk a lot – and Mission was certainly good at that.

"-we're gonna get questions sooner or later," Canderous was saying. "And we have to break through Davik's security on the Ebon Hawk. This rust bucket better pull its weight there." Canderous aimed a kick at the droid, who beeped in indignation while backing away.

"Hey!" Mission complained, her protest drowning out the Mandalorian's derisive chuckle. "Leave Teethree alone!"

The pad of footsteps ahead had us all wilting into silence. I looked afield, to see a heavily armoured Zabrak walking cautiously toward us. The stranger's helm was raised, and as he neared the heavy brow ridges on his alien face lowered.

"Uh, Canderous?" the Zabrak said. His gaze darted over the group. "Who's all this with you?"

"Just showing some slave girls their new quarters," Canderous replied with a shrug.

The Zabrak's frown deepened, as his shifty eyes settled over Carth Onasi and myself. "I thought you worked alone?"

"Not always, di'kut. Not when the situation calls for extra muscle," Canderous sneered. "Look, I need to find the boss. Seen him around?"

"Davik's in his quarters, last I looked," the other man said slowly. He was still eyeing me over, and I felt myself tense in readiness as the man's hand rested near a blaster strapped to his hip.

"Good." Canderous threw the man an abrupt nod of acknowledgment. "I'm headed that way, then. Come on, boys, let's move out."

The Zabrak stepped back to let us pass, and his gaze moved to fix on the Mandalorian's retreating back. His brow ridges were still tightly creased in what I thought might be suspicion.

This ploy will not work for long.

I did not like leaving a potential enemy at my back, yet I had no choice but to follow Canderous Ordo's lead. I huffed, and was glad when we turned a few corners, leaving the Zabrak behind.

The group settled into silence as we trudged deeper into the lavish estate. I heard the raucous sound of cheering well before the hallway turned and opened into a large room - a sprawling chamber that was thick with the scent of Tarisian ale and the sound of jeering catcalls.

A brawl, I thought at first, taking note of two Humans wrestling in the centre of the room. But the onlookers – ten sentients, most seated in plimfoam benches circling the spectacle – were making no moves to join in the fight nor stop it, and it was then I realized this must be some sort of organized event.

The two scantily clad Twi'leki cubs who slipped between the cluster of aliens offering trays of drinks seemed to suggest the same.

Mission sniffed in disgust.

I held back the growl that wanted to escape my throat. It was possible the Twi'leki younglings were here of their own free will, on a paid job – but I knew a little of this world, now, and I doubted that. I had been sold like a crate of goods in front of a crowd, and no one had blinked. It was a loathsome practice abundant on Taris – the worst symptom of the corruption that twisted this planet's soul.

In my heart, there was nothing more abominable than slavery.

"Daelin," Canderous said in a low voice. In front of him, a Human stranger had slipped away from the fight to intercept Canderous. In the man's shadow stood a heavily armoured Rodian.

"Ordo," the Human replied. The Rodian had a blaster in his hand, dangled idly by his side. "Quite a motley crew you've got here."

"New slave girls for Davik." Canderous tilted his head to the wrestlers, who were now grappling on the floor amidst the braying of the spectators. "Might come back and watch after I offload these girls."

Canderous took a step along the edges of the room, but the man called Daelin didn't budge from his position, right in the way of the nearest exit.

I edged toward Mission. The bad feeling in my gut was growing.

"Davik wants to see you, but he ain't expecting you to bring company." Daelin folded his arms. "And I ain't been told 'bout no slave girls."

"Are you questioning me, Daelin?" Canderous growled. "The last person who did that ended up picking his eyeballs out of his dinner."

"You don't scare me, Ordo," the man sneered. His gaze moved suggestively over Mission, before narrowing on me. "Davik said you'd been getting greedy, said you might be thinking of turning traitor. Do you really expect me to believe that the Beks' pet Wookiee would bring in Mission Vao? How stupid do you think I am?"

The hair on my neck rose in alarm. This was it- no escaping a battle now.

I shoved the foreign blaster in Mission's hand, before yanking a vibrosword free from my back harness. Canderous was even quicker – his large weapon snapped up instantly as he opened fire.

There was a yell from the Human as he was gunned down, and screams from the seated audience as the Mandalorian's firepower turned to sweep over them.

The armoured Rodian, though – that was my target, and I let loose the growl in my throat as I rushed forward.

His armour was no match for the strength of my vibrosword as it shattered into his side. With a roar, I threw my head forward to smash into the Rodian's un-helmed face, and the man crumpled to the ground.

After a final, fatal stab of my weapon deeper through the man's broken armour, I spun around to view the carnage.

Carth Onasi and Mission were close to the wall, their blaster fire gutting into the room as the two Twi'leki girls cowered behind them. Relief shot through me, even at the sight of the helpless servants – for I knew that it was often the helpless to fall first in a fight like this.

Bastila Shan had reclaimed her weapon from Carth, a double-bladed vibro-staff that spun in her hands as she waded through the centre of the room. And Jen-

Jen Sahara was frozen. Her face was a mask of shock, and she made no effort to move or arm herself as blaster fire streamed around her.

"(Jen!)" I howled.

A piercing wail knifed through the air and, as I bounded toward Jen, I jabbed an elbow into the temple of a Duros, bent over a control panel inset on the wall.

"The kriffing alarms!" Canderous cursed behind me. "There goes our secrecy!"

Jen still wasn't moving, and I wasn't close enough. Behind her was the shadow of an enemy-

"(Jen!)" I howled again. "(Catch!)"

Too late- her attacker lunged forward with a chiv-blade, stabbing it deep into her thigh. Jen screamed, and the vibrosword I had hurled in her direction sailed uselessly past.

No! I roared in panic, still rushing forward. The mercenary pulled his arm back to strike again, and in his shadow another two stepped up to flank him. No – I will not fail my life-debt!

I saw Jen stumble, saw the smatter of dark red staining the ferracrete flooring at her feet. I'd left her unguarded, she had frozen in the face of terror, and I was too far away-

Jen ducked. It was a sharp move to the side that morphed into a roll, and somehow, she ended in a crouch with my blade in her grasp. Almost faster than my eye could track, Jen's arms snapped forward in a powerful lunge. The vibrosword blurred, and struck the boots of the nearest thug.

The armour surrounding the man's ankles shattered. He fell, shrieking.

By then, I had reached the first thug, the one who had stabbed Jen Sahara – but he didn't notice my arrival until my paws closed tight around his neck. A wrench to the side, and then it was over for him.

"Pathetic weakling!" The words were a low sneer from Jen, but it did not sound at all like her. She stood over her enemy, having finished him with a stab clean through his neck-brace. Hot red spurted from the shuddering corpse as she yanked her weapon free. "You can't best me!"

"(Jen! Behind you!)" I wailed. A female mercenary had a blaster aimed at Jen's unarmoured back. Jen didn't pause: she spun, instead, faster than was possible – and then her outstretched vibrosword sliced through the thug's forearm.

The bloody limb flopped onto the floor. The mercenary howled in shock, a shriek that was abruptly cut off as Jen dropped a hand from the sword and crunched a fist into the woman's throat.

Choking, the woman staggered back before sinking to her knees. She collapsed a second later, when Jen's vibrosword stabbed deep past the thin layer of mesh protection covering her chest.

Jen snarled, both hands returning to the vibrosword's hilt as she pulled it free and raised it high.

She turned to face the room.

For an instant – only an instant – I froze at the look in her forest-green eyes. Soulless. Frenzied.

Madclaw.

"Guess she's got her berserker rage back," Carth muttered somewhere behind me.

"Hah!" Canderous called out in exultation. It was then I realized that we were the only ones left standing. "Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur!"

And then, Jen Sahara's expression shattered into fear. Her bloody leg buckled underneath her, and she collapsed.

I was there in a flash, catching her before she landed. Jen was shivering, sweating, her eyes rolling back in her head. "(Someone – help her! There is something wrong other than a leg wound!)"

I looked up in panic, only to meet the horrified gaze of Bastila Shan.

"I am Jen Sahara," the Human woman I owed my life to mumbled softly. I did not think it was loud enough for anyone else to hear. "I am!"

"(Yes)," I rumbled, but my gaze did not drop from Bastila Shan's. There was no reason for the look of stark fear that painted the young woman's face and held her strange almond-shaped eyes open so wide.

"We ain't got time for this, princess," Canderous Ordo snapped, giving Bastila Shan a shove. "Use your magic tricks or some kriffing kolto and get Jen back on her feet. We're gonna need her sword."

Bastila swallowed, but then her face tightened into composure and she strode forward to kneel next to us.

But the stink of fear still wafted from her.

Is Bastila Shan afraid for Jen, or of her? Jen Sahara's berserking rage was more than unsettling. The unmitigated fury that overtook the older woman was soulless in its depth and frightening in its strength. But to rattle a mystical Jedi so... it was then that I wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with the Human I was indebted to – something beyond the implications of a head injury.

And as Bastila Shan harnessed her fantastical powers, and colour began to bloom in Jen's cheeks, I vowed to myself the same words as before, but this time with an addendum:

I will protect Jen Sahara from any threat – including herself.

xXx

Malak Devari:

::Our fleet is in position, my lord.:: The image of Admiral Karath flickered atop the holo-stand, his hands folded formally behind his back. ::The TNF have demanded an immediate expulsion of our forces under threat of retaliation, but that is nothing more than empty bluster. They are too weak to mount any sort of challenge against our might.::

"The Tarisian National Front all but welcomed our sovereignty years ago." I chuckled, dwelling on my two standing bases that the puppet government of Taris had long pretended did not exist. "Hold your position, Admiral, and await my next order."

Karath snapped out a quick salute, and vanished from the stand. A sense of ready satisfaction warmed in my gut. Truly, I had granted those Tarisians more time than they deserved.

"Put Rylun on," I clipped out to the nearest tech. He was quick, efficient, and sparse with his words. I did not tolerate the bugs in my home any other way.

The technician's fingers danced over the communication controls. Five seconds, perhaps, before another figure shimmered to existence on the holo-stand.

::My lord-::

"Status update, Admiral," I ordered.

The holo-projection of Admiral Rylun bowed. ::We have exited hyperspace outside the Arillian asteroid belt, my lord, and our fleet is in the process of refuelling. Once complete, we shall plot a course for the Dantooine system. Our expected time of arrival is thirty standard hours.::

Thirty hours. It was longer than I preferred, but most of my forces were elsewhere – further away from this Outer Rim planet I had been content to ignore until now.

The Jedi Order was a bunch of cowardly hypocrites, but I had underestimated their meddling – and now they would pay the price.

My eyes narrowed. "Hit quick and hard, Rylun. The primary target must be eliminated. There is no room for failure. You understand that, don't you?"

Rylun was too much of a professional to show fear, but a tightening around his eyes indicated he was not as calm as his façade showed. After all, his predecessor had retreated from a risky offensive that I had ordered, after it had turned sour.

His predecessor had taken three days to die.

I'd brought Rylun to visit her, near the end. It was interesting how more loyal and efficient underlings could be with the right motivation. And Rylun, newly promoted, needed to understand that neither failure nor cowardice was an option.

Although, frankly, his chances of surviving the Dantooine offensive were slim.

I can replace Rylun. Provided he destroys the master Star Map on Dantooine, then I don't care if I lose his entire fleet. If Rylun truly deserves those admiral pips on his shoulders, then he will find a way to achieve his target, weaken those meddling robes, and return with his life.

::We will decimate the ruins, my lord.::

"Good. Once eliminated, you will turn the attack to the Enclave. They will be scurrying to bolster the planetary protections once the plasma starts dropping, but that will take them time. Time enough for you to hurt them."

::I shall not fail you, my lord.::

"See that you don't." I waved my glove to the console technician, and Rylun vanished. "Put Karath back on."

Only two seconds, this time, for the holo-stand to fill.

::My lord?:: Admiral Karath acknowledged.

"Begin the attack on Taris," I ordered, and it was a pleasure to say those words. "Those Tarisians shall know the price of failure, Karath. I will see that planet in ruins."

One live foot-soldier, and three corpses of unimportant Republic grunts. That was all that Taris had been able to offer me from the ruins of the Endar Spire. I could feel my anger rally once more, crackle over my skin in waves of pure Force energy. No officer, no Jedi, and certainly no Bastila Shan. I did not tolerate failure, be it from an admiral or a planet of Tarisians.

::My lord, our men are still on the surface. I need time-::

"The search for Bastila is taking too long, Admiral. I sense movement in the Force. We attack, now."

I would not risk Bastila Shan going to ground or worse – escaping the planet.

::Of course, my lord.:: Karath bowed. He was experienced and strategically gifted, and had once been a man that I had reported to – in my younger, less-evolved days.

Perhaps it was that – or merely the years of war behind him – for the reason I gave the man more leeway than most.

::Although, two hours would allow me to extract fifty percent of our-::

"Now, Karath!" I snarled, and felt the crackle of Force surge in white static over my fists. Leeway only went so far, and if Karath thought he was safe from a distance-

::At once, my lord!:: Karath gasped, bowing deeper, and the dark fury cresting on the Force around me ebbed in response. ::I will lead the charge myself, immediately!::

I allowed him the gift of my silence, and twitched my hand at the nearby tech.

Karath's figure winked out.

I turned, and strode from the command centre. Taris would soon feel the weight of my wrath. I cared little for the planet, truly; its natural resources had long been plundered to near depletion, and its strategic position along the galactic hyper-routes was vastly overrated when compared to the awesome power of the Star Forge.

If I closed my eyes, I could sense the dark miasma of power calling to me from the Forge, even from this distance. Nothing could stop me now – not the prehistoric shell of the Republic, not those cowering fools from the Order, and certainly not that battle meditation thorn in my side.

What a shame I could not have captured Bastila alive. It would have been sweet, so sweet, to break her – a barely grown woman with such an unusual gift, and one of the last defences of the antiquated Order. I had met Bastila Shan, once, a lifetime ago – and still remembered her as a lush girl blooming with innocence.

Of course, I'd only had eyes for another then.

Revan.

If there was one sight I would have liked to see, it would have been the expression on the face of my former master when my flagship opened fire on hers. The only thing sweeter would have been digging my own lightsaber into the black pit where her heart had once resided.

Well. Dead is dead. She is no more than space dust, now. The opportunity to wipe out both Bastila Shan and Darth Revan above Deralia had meant I was denied a face-to-face confrontation, but I had believed it worth the sacrifice of personal enjoyment.

Yet who would have predicted the young Jedi to escape, alive?

It matters not. Soon there will be no more loose ends. Bastila Shan would be vaporised in the Tarisian bombardment, if what remained of the populace didn't hunt her down and offer her up in return for mercy. And the master Star Map would be destroyed, removing any reference to the other four planets.

Oh, how I wished I knew how the Jedi had discovered that relic of Rakatan legacy! My little pet who betrayed the Endar Spire exposed their knowledge to me but not their reasoning: Galdea must have known of the Star Map, but why risk Shan, unless she was the one to stumble upon the Dantooine ruins in the first place?

Had I the young woman in my grasp, I would never have risked her so. Still, perhaps, in the grand scheme of galactic control, the reasoning of those fools on that backwater planet mattered little. Galdea was dead, cut down by Bandon. Rylun's strike on Dantooine would take out the master Star Map. And with Bastila's upcoming demise on Taris, all knowledge leading to the Star Forge would be winked out.

Then there would be nothing left to truly oppose me. The Republic would fall, soon; weakened by generations of war. The Jedi were even more crippled, and while the Order might sanction involvement in war these days, their strength had been gutted by their refusal to do the same years ago.

And the Unknown Regions – I had turned my back on the Unknown Regions. What was out there could rot by itself.

xXx

Mission Vao:

We sprinted down hallways as the alarm wailed in all directions. My heart thumped, fast and hard, like someone had spiked my fizz-pop. And through my mind, images of mangled bodies we'd left behind kept flashing like a blitzed holo-sign, lurid and bright and hard to ignore.

Part of me wished I was back in the Bek headquarters. Back where things were safe; where killing might happen but somehow it wasn't real 'cause the Beks kept me away from it all.

Big Z's heavy paw thudded on my shoulder, holding me back as Canderous charged into another room. The moment we heard the sound of his massive gun starting up, Big Z bounded ahead with Carth at his side.

My blaster felt slippery in my sweaty grip. I looked down to see my hand shake.

Get it together! This was real. This was life or death. And if there was ever a time to show that I was more than just a kid, it was right now.

I ran through the doorway, blaster raised- but there was nothing left but corpses at Big Z's feet. My best friend huffed, his vibrosword glistening red under the artificial lighting.

For the first time ever, I suddenly got how others saw him. A towering, bristling mass of muscle that couldn't even speak Basic. I shivered- and then he was Big Z again, striding my way with his furry face all furrowed in concern.

"(Where's Jen?)" Big Z rumbled, and I spun around to check. But it was okay – they were behind me. Jen was pale, cowering at that stuck-up snot's side, and Bastila-

Bastila was next to her, staring at Jen's bowed head with the weirdest look on her face. She almost looked scared of Jen. Jen, who was going all borked and pathetic and was currently about as scary as a soap dispenser.

"Come on!" Canderous bellowed from the other side of the room, and Bastila's chin jerked up. She tugged on Jen's arm, and they both stumbled forward. Jen's eyes were wide and frightened, and whatever was going on with her was serious. Later, when this was over, I was going to have a long talk with her.

The room shook; sudden and jarring, and my feet buckled underneath me. I squawked in surprise, hands stretching out to break my fall.

There was a shattering noise as a holo-picture fell from a wall and smashed into a thousand shards of ferracrystal.

"(What was that?)" Zaalbar howled, getting to his feet. Sheesh – he'd also been knocked down. And Davik's stupid alarms hadn't stopped – if anything, it sounded like more of them had joined in. Further away.

"Earthquake?" My question came out in a squeak. Beneath my palms, the ground was still shaking. I'd heard about earthquakes, but the only ones on Taris were when bits of the Lower City crumbled into sinkholes. From what I'd heard, the Upper City was structured and strengthened enough that sinkholes and level collapses simply couldn't happen here.

There was a loud boom somewhere in the distance. It sounded a bit like an explosion.

"Orbital bombardment," someone said in a low, dark tone. I blinked, glancing over at Carth, not recognizing his voice at first. He was still standing – and the look on his face was bleak. Almost- almost like he'd seen a ghost. "That's the noise of plasma chewing into buildings."

"Haar'chak," Canderous spat, as the ground beneath us began to rattle. "Republic's right. This is coming from the skies."

"The Sith." Bastila's voice was a harsh whisper as she held two fingers to her pale brow. "I can sense it. They're bombing the planet!"

"Just to make things really challenging," Canderous ground out. "We're running out of time – we need to split up."

"Split up?" Bastila protested. "Are you mad? We should all be heading for that ship of yours!"

"Someone needs to disable the mechanical lock on the landing gear, princess, while the rest of us secure the ship," Canderous shot back. "Unless you want the Ebon Hawk to rip itself apart when we take off."

The walls shook again with another explosion. "C'mon guys, no time for arguments!" I yelled, getting to my feet. "How do we disable this thing, then?"

"There's a system mainframe near here that controls the ship's security," Canderous said, turning to face me. "Someone's gotta sneak in there with the droid to hack into the system. I'll lead a team to go kill anyone stupid enough to be guarding the 'Hawk."

I'm not just a kid. Here's a chance to prove it.

"Teethree's my droid, so I'll go," I offered. I felt my fingers curl against my palm. I could help, and I was going to show it. "My splicing's pretty wizard, too. Big Z, give us some backup?"

Zaalbar looked at me, then back at Jen. I knew what he was thinking, but Jen... Jen would be safer with the others, the way she was.

"Good idea, kid." Canderous threw me a nod. "Hop to it-"

"I ain't a kid, you old geezer!"

"Careful, kid," he growled. "Watch your damn tongue and get to work. Take Carpet and Trashcan and head through the north doors. The security room is down the left hallway, the door at the end. No idea what the system is. Be quick!"

I waved Teethree forward, hurrying past that grumpy mercenary and poking my tongue out when he was looking away. Teethree whistled as he followed, and at the door I stopped, waiting for Big Z. He was howling in complaint.

"(Jen should come with us)," he wailed. He probably thought he was being subtle but sheesh, he was loud enough that I almost expected Jen to squawk in complaint.

"Big Z, she'll be safer with them," I hissed. "I need you!"

Zaalbar huffed in irritation, but strode over to me without any more moaning about it.

"I know," I muttered, as he took the lead. "I'm worried about her, too."

He nodded at me, lifted his blade, and then bashed open the door with a kick. It gave under his strength, and the hallway beyond was mercifully empty as we rushed through.

It didn't take long to reach the security room, which was tucked behind a five-inch durasteel door that took Teethree less than a min to slice. Far out, but he was ace, even for a specced-out astromech. Inside, the mainframe took up most of the space in the small room - there were two tall racks filled up with servers and controllers, and a long desk embedded with a row of console screens. At least I knew we were in the right place-

I ran to the desk. "Teethree, get your gears over here and slice in." I pointed to the central console, budging over to give the droid space. "Start looking for the Ebon Hawk's security system. You need to disable the mechanical lock that's keeping it grounded. I'm gonna do something else quickly."

My fingers flew over the neighbouring console and, within minutes, I had that stupid alarm switched off and the cam-feeds showing on the screen. "Hey Big Z, can you keep an eye on the feeds while we hack? Let us know if anyone comes close?"

Big Z nodded, leaning over me as I turned back to tap Teethree on his dome. "How's it going, little buddy?"

Teethree warbled a negative. I wasn't, like, totally fluent in Binary, but I knew enough to get the general gist. I'd spent a lot of time hacking with the Beks' utility droids. "Can't find a code? Look for some sort of scan – maybe Davik uses retinal or facial recog we can break."

Teethree whistled, and screens of data flashed by on the monitor. A min or two later, and he beeped sadly at me.

"Poodoo," I cursed. "What else could it be? Maybe an autoprint or something?"

"(Mission, some people are in the corridor!)" Zaalbar cut in. My gaze darted back to the second screen.

Bantha crap! It was insane, but I actually recognized them - and it was bad.

Davik Kang and Calo Nord. They'll kill us if they find us here!

"Hide, guys!"

There was no exit... nothing, here, except to hide under the desk, and hope they were too frantic 'bout the bombardment to notice us. But Big Z wouldn't fit-

My panicked gaze snagged on the large equipment closet up against the side wall. "Big Z, go jump in there!" I gestured wildly. "Teethree, under the desk with me- and no one make a peep or we're fried!"

It was dark and dusty, and I banged my knee hard on a desk leg just as the hatch slid open and the large cupboard doors closed.

"Damn those Sith - they're bombing the whole city!" Davik cursed, stomping in and heading straight for the console I'd just been behind. "After the credits we've thrown at them, you'd think they'd give us advance warning!"

"Never trust the Sith, Davik," Calo drawled. I shivered. Please don't let them see us. Calo Nord was one scary guy. He was almost as scary as Canderous. "Davik, we don't have the launch codes. You really think we can get past the Sith's automated defense guns?"

"No idea – but we can at least fly to another part of the planet! Just let me unlock the Ebon Hawk, then we're getting outta here."

I could hear the tapping sound of his fingers on the console. His legs were right in front of me, encased in a grotesquely purple armour suit I'd seen from the cam feeds. It looked as ostentatious as the rest of his gross palace.

I was holding my breath, feeling the dust tickle my nose, and digging my nails into my palms. There was a tinkling sound of light metal clanging on something, followed by the mechanical grind of gears turning.

"A keylock's frakking crap security, Davik," Calo jeered. I saw his armoured legs step closer to the purple-clad ones of Davik. "No encryption, no biometrics... you're just begging for someone walk into this room and pinch your ship."

"That's where you're wrong, Calo," Davik replied. "Who knows how to pick a traditional lock these days? Hah, who would even notice it, in among the controls?"

Whoa. Davik had locked the security with a key? Like, an actual, metal, cut-out key? Maybe the purple crime lord was right. I hadn't even noticed any sort of archaic locking interface. Better hope the 'Hawk itself doesn't have the same lock-

Although, with Teethree humming quietly at my side, I realized that wouldn't be a problem. It'd take Teethree less than a millisec to pick a keylock, now that I knew to look for it. Maybe Calo was right, too.

"Hey Davik," Calo said slowly. His weight shifted from foot to foot. "What are the security cams doing up on the screen?"

Terror danced a jerryjig down my spine. My teeth bit deep into my lip, hard enough that the coppery tang of blood filled my mouth.

"No idea," Davik muttered. "And no time to worry about it. No one could've entered the Ebon Hawk until now. Which means we need to haul jets. Let's go!"

The two men turned and strode from the room. I waited for about five seconds, and then crawled out and ran straight to the closet.

"Looks like they did the job for us, Big Z," I whispered, as he rumbled in concern at me. "We better hope Canderous is already at the 'Hawk."

Big Z nodded in assent, already loping to the exit. "(Stay behind me, Mission)."

I whistled sharply to Teethree, sent out a brief mental plea for the safety of the others, and followed my best friend out the door.

xXx

Davik Kang:

I ran down the hallway as my beautiful estate crumbled around me, damning the Sith with each step I took. Calo sprinted beside me, a trusted merc for now. For now. Calo was as dangerous as Canderous - and just as ambitious.

That's the problem with all these damn mercs. Sooner or later they start getting ideas. Thinking above their station. And that's when it's time to make sure something knocks 'em down for good.

We turned into my hangar, and the first thing I noticed was a smoking, gaping hole where my blast doors should have stood. Beyond-

The acrid stench of molten durasteel blew in from outside. I gaped at the burning buildings I could see, bordered by the rubble of my own hangar. Most of one wall had been obliterated by an anonymous plasma drop, and there was no avoiding the sight of Upper Taris crumbling into ruination.

Those blasted Sith!

My gaze darted wildly back within the hangar. My baby... my baby, the Ebon Hawk, was still intact. Untouched. Sitting meek and pretty at the far end of the hangar, like a joygirl waiting for her master.

It was then that I noticed a group of stragglers clustered around her loading ramp.

"Well, look what we got here! Thieves in the hangar," I drawled, slipping a hand over the upgraded blaster on my hip. My focus immediately snapped to the largest figure – a damn Wookiee, of all things. Tough and preternaturally strong, but also simple.

And the Human next to him-

Shavit! Canderous bloody Ordo! I could feel my lips curling up over my teeth, but deliberately moved my hand away from the blaster. I should've had Calo take him out days ago. "Canderous. Fancy finding you here, sniffing around my baby. Suppose you thought you could pinch her and leave me high and dry with the Sith turn this planet into dust?"

Ordo barked a laugh. "Pretty much, Davik. Figured the 'Hawk could cover the wages you owe me."

"I can take care of Ordo," Calo growled softly at my side. "Leave him to me."

Oh, that was tempting – and I didn't underestimate Calo – but there were a few allies standing ground behind that disloyal Mandalorian dog. Not just the Wookiee- a Human soldier, with a pair of blasters at the ready. Two females, both wielding vibroswords, and the younger one looked familiar-

Sithspit! That's the Jedi prisoner Brejik thought was just a damn officer-!

We were outnumbered, and bloody Ordo had a Jedi on his side.

"Perhaps now isn't the time to fight," I intervened - quickly, before Canderous could start shooting. The dog could be as hot on the trigger as Calo, at times. "We both want to leave Taris, so why don't we work together?" If Canderous was this far, then he'd infiltrated my estate before the Sith started bombing. Which meant... the bastard got the launch codes! And then betrayed me!

But now wasn't the time for vengeance. I'd have to wait until Ordo got me off-planet before finding the opportunity.

But Canderous laughed, loud and mocking, and I understood then that he wasn't going to play nice. "You think I'd trust you again, Davik? Here's one lesson you shoulda' learnt long ago – never kriff with a Mando'ade."

He wrenched that massive gun up. The second I started running, the bastard opened fire.

xXx

Jen Sahara:

Fear and rage pummelled in tandem through my head; it was taking all my possible strength to stop from screaming as a nightmare unfolded all around. Death! Death everywhere! Who am I? I stared in shock at the two men talking to Canderous. I am Jen Sahara! I needed Bastila's support and strength, but she'd been shooting me worried, frightened looks ever since the earlier battle. How did I do that? What's wrong with my mind? I really, really wanted to see the doctor again, but it was just beginning to dawn on me that I probably never would.

Canderous opened fire on the two men facing him, and the one called Calo chucked a handful of grenades. I saw Carth retreat, blasters firing, and heard him yell in pain when one exploded. I clutched my vibrosword with trembling hands, staring at the fight ahead in numb disbelief. An insidious, foreign malevolence was creeping through my thoughts. A desire to rend, to vanquish, to destroy all in my path. No! That's not my feelings! That's just wrong! But a presence inside me, a part of me, had enjoyed killing those earlier men, and the acidic taste of smug satisfaction sat like poison in my mouth.

My vision turned blurry; green smoke was materializing throughout the hangar. I coughed, and covered my mouth with a hand. I heard a muffled puff, and somehow I recognized it as another gas grenade ejecting - despite never having encountered them before. The smokescreen all around me thickened ominously.

Canderous was cursing in Mandalorian, somewhere further ahead. And in front of me, a figure materialized. My eyes widened in horror as I recognized the bounty hunter, Calo Nord.

He swiftly flung an unknown projectile at my chest.

Without any conscious thought, the alien fury took control of my limbs once more, and saved my life as my body dodged sharply to the side. I felt the skin on my face contort and curl into a hideous sneer, and a dark laugh erupted from my lungs. This pathetic worm will die.

"Imbecile!" the sneer bubbled up from my throat. No! No! I am Jen Sahara! The empowering, evil sense of might vanished from my limbs, and I stumbled in mid leap.

But Calo had stopped, frozen; whatever his expression was, it was hidden behind an armoured face mask set with round transparisteel goggles. "Who in the Outer Rim are you? I know you!"

I gulped, and jumped backwards. I'd never seen him before. Had I?

"Never mind," he grunted, his voice resolved once more. "It's your end, Human!" He pulled out a blaster, but just at that moment Bastila jumped out of the smoke in front of me, vibro-staff raised. Calo was sufficiently surprised that she managed to slice into his shoulder. He screamed, stumbled backwards, and spat laser fire at her.

Bastila whirled her blade furiously, and Calo's bolts reflected off the staff and into the surroundings. She pressed her advantage, jumping forward to challenge the bounty hunter.

Calo cursed as he began stumbling backward.

"You'll not kill me, Jedi!" Calo spat, and dropped a grenade at his feet. It hissed, erupted gouts of thick white smoke. Bastila lunged forward a little too late; Calo had already retreated, vanishing into the concealment his grenades provided.

"Davik's dead!" Canderous hollered from somewhere in the room. "Quick! Into the 'Hawk!"

Bastila grabbed my arm, guiding me up the loading ramp of the ship. I stumbled after her, the air thinning as durasteel walls rose to surround us. The pulsing of my heart thundered through me, and my mind was frozen. Who am I? Who am I really? The ship's floors shuddered under my feet as another explosion rocked the surroundings. Bastila's hand came out of her pocket, in a fist that looked like it was concealing something. She pulled me towards her with a rough yank. I stumbled, and felt a sharp prick in my upper arm.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe soon. I promise," Bastila whispered into my ear. A sudden heaviness grew in my limbs, and the black of impending unconsciousness began to creep in around the edges of my vision. A flare of fury ignited in the depths of my psyche, but it was weak and ineffectual against a growing exhaustion. The schutta sedated me! No, no, that sneering voice was evil and wrong. She's a Jedi. She wouldn't do that!

I'm just... so tired.

xXx

Carth Onasi:

My leg throbbed as I stumbled through the gas fog, coughing and breathing shallowly so as not to succumb to the poisonous smoke. I'd heard Canderous crow over Davik's death from somewhere in the room, but I could see nothing bar thick, white smoke. My hand whacked sharply against a hard surface, followed by my head. Ouch. Underneath my fingers, I could feel the durasteel grating of a freighter. The ship! Get moving, Onasi!

I clenched my teeth and squinted through the haze, which was beginning to thin. There – I could just make out the loading ramp - and I stumbled closer, hands outstretched. The hot adrenaline still surged like fire through my veins; it had since the moment we'd entered this damn estate, and ramped up like a furnace once the bombardment started.

A stress reaction was useful, so long as the fight or flight instinct were kept under tight control. Sometimes, the only thing that could get one through a situation was sheer grit.

Time to go fly this rust bucket. I only hope Mission's disabled the locks on the landing gear. I clambered inside, coming across Bastila standing over a crumpled Jen, a resolved look on her face. Jen's fallen again. I didn't know what to make of her anymore. I didn't really want to try. Ever since we landed on Taris, my damn head has been screwed on backwards. I'd never met anyone as mercurial and changeable as blasted Jen Sahara.

Bastila looked up at me sharply, a flash of fright dancing in her eyes.

"S-she fainted!" Bastila exclaimed quickly.

I narrowed my eyes at Bastila's defensive tone. Jen fainting was nothing new to me, but Bastila's reaction didn't stack up, somehow.

"We're back, let's go!" Mission's bright voice from behind startled me.

"Everyone, get in the ship!" I yelled over my shoulder. "I'm heading straight to the cockpit!"

I heard a howl behind me as the Wookiee neared, and Bastila murmured something to him. The dull durasteel interior of the Ebon Hawk greeted me as I rushed deeper into the unfamiliar freighter. I'd have time to become familiar with her later, but she was a medium sized Dynamic-class that was favoured by smugglers, so I had high hopes for her manoeuvrability.

I found the cockpit and settled into the pilot's seat, switching on the controls and locating the onboard communicator. A faint humming permeated the air as the electrics dazzled into life, and I leaned forward to speak through the internal comm.

"Everyone get strapped in! I'm taking her out, and it's going to be rough!" Outside the ferracrystal cockpit window the hangar doors had been blasted open, and a scene of devastating carnage met my eyes. I didn't have time to dwell on the burning Tarisian landscape, but I knew what it would look like further afield. I knew the signs of war all the well. I hope Mission doesn't see this. Damn those murdering Sith!

As I began prepping the freighter for take-off, Bastila entered the cock-pit, breathless, and squeezed into the co-pilot's chair. I gave her a brief smile, and hoped the Jedi had had some navigational experience.

The ship's self-diagnostic beeped, and a ready status blinked on the console. I fired up the engines. The turbine compressor started with a high-pitched whirring, building up pressure for the fusion engines to kick into life. Bastila strapped herself in tightly, and I flicked open the comm again.

"I'm heading out," I said calmly as the engines roared to life beneath us. The ship lifted, and a sense of satisfaction filled me as we shot out of the burning estate.

Bastila gasped; fiery buildings were visible on all sides, and a scraper toppled precariously in front of us as I banked the 'Hawk sharply to the right and up, up into the sky. We left the ruins of civilization behind, but plasma fire still spat down from the heavens on all sides. I veered upwards, weaving beneath the bombardment that I saw, but clouds of smoke hung heavy in the sky and it would be luck that would get us out of here in one piece.

"Get the droid to transmit the launch codes on all external frequencies," I said through gritted teeth. "I've got my hands full."

Bastila nodded, and reached for the communicator, relaying my order. I didn't dare raise the 'Hawk too high until it was done; the Sith's automatic defense array activated in the upper atmosphere, and that was deadlier than playing chance with plasma fire.

The astromech droid beeped behind us, plugging into a bypass slot on the side of the cockpit wall. A moment later and the navigation console indicated the codes were being sent. I sighed in relief, raising the 'Hawk's nose high into space.

"Plug in the hyperspace co-ordinates for Alderaan," I told Bastila, my eyes still fixed through the window as blue slowly darkened into black. We'd eased away from the bombardment, and it looked like the codes had worked. "We need to reach hyperspace as soon as we're out of the gravity well."

"We will head to Dantooine," Bastila informed me as she leaned towards the navigational panel.

"What?" I snapped, and then ahead, I saw we had company. A group of snubfighters materialized into view, and laser fire shot out towards us. I twisted the ship sharply to the side, and heard Bastila gasp in protest at the jolt.

"There's a Jedi enclave there where we can find refuge!" Bastila replied as she started tapping in our destination.

"I thought you said – oh, nevermind," I veered in the other direction, and then the ship shuddered briefly. A warning light blinked on the console. That was a hit. Dammit. I accelerated to maximum, and flicked open the communicator.

"Incoming fighters!" I yelled. "Canderous, Mission, to the turrets! I need a few minutes before we can reach hyperspace!"

xXx

Canderous Ordo:

"Got ya!" I yelled in victory, as I twisted the gun controls around to find another easy target. "These Sith fighters are too puny!"

Mission Vao was seated in the turret control opposite mine, but so far had failed to shoot down a single enemy ship. And there were a lot out there.

"Hey, kid, would you start firing already?"" I grunted at her. These fighters are the weak sentries of the Sith, but there's too many of them. She's gotta sharpen up!

"Look, I ain't never used one of these before!" she snapped back. "And I'm not a kid!"

"Just aim and shoot – it's kriffing child's play," I retorted derisively as another ship came into view. I let loose on the turrets, and fire danced from the enemy fighter.

"I'm trying, okay?" she screamed back. "Look, my home is getting bombed! Cut me some slack!"

"No time for snivelling, girl!" I rapped back. "The best way to honour your loved ones is to kill their enemies! So go shoot kriffing Sith!"

An answering fire from the Twi'lek's guns sounded through the turret room, and I hoped I'd finally gotten through to her. Until she sobbed.

"They're all dying down there!" she whined annoyingly, and dropped the controls.

Haar'chak. I kept my aim on the targeting area, but could feel my face creasing in annoyance. "I thought you were stronger than this. Maybe you are just a kid," I growled.

"Shut up, you old geezer!" she shrieked. "You don't care about anyone! You don't understand!"

I tried to remind myself that she was just a girl. Maybe, just this once, she can get away with that sort of comment. I understood grief, but it had its time and place. Not here, not now. "If you truly care about those weaklings on Taris, then you will kill as many of their murderers as you can, kid. These Sith fighters are busy destroying your planet, and all you can do is whine and moan about it?"

I heard her breathe in abruptly, and pressed my verbal attack. My fingers were getting slightly numb on the controls. "Look – we're gonna die if we don't give Republic the time he needs to enter hyperspace. Do me a favour and pull yourself together. Kill some of your friend's murderers while you're at it." I dragged my attention away from the kid's pathetic state, and focused purely on the incoming fighters. I'll just have to do this myself.

A few seconds later, and I heard the barrage of Mission Vao's guns flare up once more. About time.

"I got one!" she yelled at me. Her tone had turned angry, and my responding grin was a feral one.

"Good. Now get another one of the bastards!" I commanded.

All at once, the ship shuddered with an explosion. I cursed, and the Twi'lek girl bit off a scream as we were both yanked to the side.

Onasi's voice flickered over the ships speakers. "No serious damage. Our external communications are down. Prepare for the hyperspace jump."

I braced myself; the dancing light of enemy fire dazzled fleetingly into bright white as the ship launched into hyperspace.

xXx

Zelka Forn:

A loud hammering on the inside door sounded again, threatening and insistent, drowned out only by the explosive quaking of yet another bombardment destroying a nearby part of Taris. I cursed, bracing myself against the chrome medical bench, as a bed behind me toppled over and spilled an injured citizen to the ground unceremoniously. He screamed.

The flickering lighting came back on fully as the bombing subsided, but it would start up again soon. I could only hope for survival, and help any as best I could.

"Doctor Forn!" a loud female voice yelled from outside the bolted door. I'd secured it after Gurney had showed up with half a dozen Exchange thugs, intent on looting all medical supplies in the wake of the Sith bombing. A nearby explosion had caved in the front entrance of the facility, smothering him with rubble, and giving me the chance to retreat to my inner sanctum. "Open up, or we shall blow this door wide open! We need the supplies, and the Upper City is not safe!"

"Go away, you wretched thieves!" I yelled back, falling to my knees to examine the patient who'd toppled to the ground. He was moaning, semi-conscious, blood bubbling from a corner of his mouth. I had to hope that was due to his facial bruising, rather than one of his broken ribs inflicting internal injuries. "Opportunistic scum!"

The man in front of me needed a bacta tank, but they were all full. And in the case of an explosion hitting the medical facility, immersion in bacta fluid while hooked up to the controlling computer would make one all the more vulnerable. I sighed.

"Zelka Forn, the door is lined with permacrete detonators, and we are exploding the charge in ten seconds. Stand back!"

I gasped, turning to stare in horror at the secured durasteel door. Were there no depths that some people would not sink to? In the midst of such planet-wide tragedy, how could sentients turn into such depraved, selfish monsters?

"Five seconds!" the female voice called commandingly. My feet scrabbled backwards of their own accord, away from the door, away from the injured patients that were too close to the oncoming blast-

The durasteel smashed open in a loud explosion of light and tearing metal, and I threw my arms up to cover my face, even as my ears rang from the cacophony and minor shards of debris slammed into me. I fell back, winded, and briefly passed out.

When my eyes opened, a heavily armoured pale blue Twi'lek woman was standing over me, a blaster pointed at my head. Her face was composed. Around her, I saw armoured sentients rifling through every drawer and cupboard, hastily stuffing all they could into pockets and rucksacks and utility belts. My face tightened in disgust.

"Zelka Forn," the Twi'lek said steadily. "Your reputation precedes you as a medical professional with both compassion and integrity. The Beks could do with someone like you, if you are inclined to overcome your distaste at our methods."

My mouth dropped open, in disbelief at her utter gall, perhaps. In the distance, the booming noise of more plasma smashing through parts of Taris could be heard.

"The Beks," I muttered in disgust. "First the Exchange, and now a swoop gang. Disaster brings out the scum of society, it seems."

The Twi'lek stared at me unblinkingly. "You're an idiot if you believe you can survive or help others up here, Zelka Forn. What's left of the Tarisian National Fleet is overwhelmed, if they haven't fled. Any aid from the Republic will be days away, maybe weeks. If you want to live your only chance is lower down, in some of the permacrete bunkers close to the Undercity. This is where the Beks will survive, and help any others who do, too."

Her gaze was hard, and devoid of any emotion. "Help?" I snorted in disbelief. I had no time for any of the Lower City gangs. All too often, I'd patched up the injuries caused by them, to innocents or to other gang members. "You lot help others?"

For the first time, the woman's face tightened in irritation. "I have shot people for less," she muttered, before sighing. "It's your choice, Zelka Forn. We will take the medical supplies for the people of the Lower City, those who are so often ignored by you Upper City snobs. Believe me when I say that you will not survive if you stay topside." She stepped backwards, allowing me room to stand. My gaze fell on an armoured gang member rummaging through a small basket on my desk.

"Hey," I protested, walking closer. "Drop that! Those are medical samples!" The Zeltron in question looked up and frowned as I strode closer. A handful of vials and hypoderms spilled onto the desk's surface, and I picked them up quickly. One 'derm was a mild violet colour; I recognized it as that strange sample the unstable Jen Sahara had given me. I pocketed it quickly into my medical kit.

"Boss, the southwest quadrant has collapsed," a Rodian spoke from the door, staring at the communicator on his wrist. "The main thrust of the bombardment is headed this way. We've gotta get down to the Undercity, before all routes are blocked."

"Finish up!" the Twi'lek woman in charge called. "Grab everything you can, we're leaving in two!" She stared at me again, striding forward to speak. "Last chance, Zelka Forn. Come with us, and you'll be free to help injured survivors in relative safety, as per the code you would have trained by. I can promise you the protection of the Beks, and we have some medical equipment, if not what you're used to." Her lips thinned before she continued. "Or we shall leave you here to take your chances against the Sith bombs."

I stared at her in silence for a moment, as the sounds of destruction further afield were once more audible. I could feel the background vibration of explosions tearing up parts of Upper Taris and I knew, in my gut, that I would not survive here.

Lower down I might be able to help others, even if it meant throwing my lot in with a swoop gang of all things.

The gang members were finishing up, coming to surround the Twi'lek leader who was still waiting for my decision, impatience beginning to show upon her pale blue face. I gave her a brief nod, unwilling to speak, and she smiled a hard smile at me.

"Good," she said quietly. "I am Zaerdra. Now come! Follow me."

xXx

Bastila Shan:

I breathed a sigh of relief as the ship lurched forward, that minute-long pull of acceleration before it settled into the automatic thrum of hyperspace travel. Finally. Finally I can relax somewhat. My shoulders felt like knotted coils of stiffened rope, and my throat was dry and stiff.

Carth groaned in the pilot's chair, and slumped forward.

"Good work," I said softly. My eyes closed. "That did not look easy."

"Why, thank you," his response was dry, but not unfriendly, and I felt him move next to me. "I need some caffa. I hope Davik's fully supplied this ship."

"So do I," I replied, opening my gaze to look at him. Carth was busy undoing his harness. "Crime lords would usually plan for unexpected situations, so I believe our chances are good."

Carth gave me a nod of acknowledgement before standing. "I'll go see if you're right, because we have thirty-five hours before we hit Dantooine. Enough time for everyone to get hungry." He made to move around me, and then I spotted the blood on his leg. And his limp.

"Carth, you're injured!" I exclaimed in worry.

"Yes. Hanging around you and crazy Jen is getting more and more hazardous to my health," he muttered under his breath, combing a hand through his thick dark hair.

"Let me help," I offered, and it was automatic to reach out to the Force and submerge his limb. He winced and jumped backwards, eyes flashing irritation at me.

"Dammit, Bastila, you could at least ask first!" he protested, backing away.

I lifted an eyebrow at his objection, and his response was an angry scowl. Ever since Revan had started behaving... well, more and more like she should, Carth had been in a permanent black mood.

"I… apologize, Carth," I said in puzzlement. "I assumed you would desire my services."

"I'll be right back," he muttered as he walked out of the cockpit.

I sighed, and slouched back into the chair. I had not meant to earn Carth's ire, but I had thought anyone would appreciate Force healing. Canderous had not desired it earlier, either, and perhaps I needed to learn from that. I sighed a second time. Sometimes, it seemed like social niceties and customs were both foreign and nonsensical to me.

Now that immediate danger had passed, my mind curtailed back to the primary source of my fright. Greater than Davik's forces, greater than the Sith bombardment. Darth Revan. I'd felt it, I'd seen her face, I'd tasted it through the bond. There was no doubt about it, some spark of the former Sith Lord remained in the shell, and it was mind-linked to me.

Revan's scathing words hissed earlier to Davik's thugs came back to torment me cruelly. Pathetic weakling! You can't best me! Exactly what she had once said to me. Just after she had cut down Master Kester and Master Jai'lel.

My eyes closed wearily, and the taste of fear was sour in my mouth. Darth Revan is coming back. Galdea and Vima had assured me it was nigh impossible, but something had changed. Something had gone awry. And without Master Galdea's supervision, or any of the Jedi Knights accompanying me on the Endar Spire, I was all alone with an amnesiac Sith Lord.

There is no emotion; there is peace. I breathed in deep, and forced myself to a calm state. While I would give anything to have one of my former companions back - my dear friend Kylah perhaps, or Master Galdea for his wisdom and knowledge - I was a member of the Jedi Order, and I would impart myself as such. We had made it from Taris, and that was a victory in itself. Whatever cracks were appearing in the façade of Jen Sahara could be fixed on Dantooine. As soon as they locate Knight Vima or Master Karon, an inner voice monologued irritably. For the two other Jedi involved in the personality implant were both famed for their wandering ways, and thus unlikely to be at the Enclave. But the personality of Jen Sahara is there, in Revan's mind. It just needs to be strengthened. That is something I can possibly do.

Perhaps, when we reached Dantooine, the masters would allow me a reprieve from babysitting Revan. They have surmised the rough location of the Star Maps on Tatooine and Manaan. Perhaps I will not be needed there. Wouldn't that be lovely. I wasn't foolish enough to pray that I might be able to step out permanently; I understood with hellish trepidation that the bond joining me to Revan meant it was impossible for me to totally avoid the Council's mission.

Would I have saved her, had I known the repercussion would be a Force bond? Would I have left her to die, alone on her flagship, rather than mind-link myself to someone as corrupted as she? I would like to think that I would still have chosen mercy, but in truth I did not know. I did not know.

Surely the Council would understand I needed some time to recuperate, to meditate and find my center, my calm. So much had happened; the deaths of those I cared for, Brejik's violations, and simply the mental trauma of being near Revan. Ever since she rescued me, I find myself acting less and less like a Jedi. Canderous' sarcastic words taunted me. "How very Jedi-like of you, princess." I snapped my eyes open angrily. I detested that loathsome Mandalorian.

But in some ways, he may be correct. I lied to Revan about Alderaan, I tripped Mission using the Force, and now I've sedated Revan. I reminded myself that she was simply too dangerous for me alone to handle, but I could not quite swallow the excuse. She frightens me. That is the truth.

I am scared. I have faced Darth Revan before. I do not wish to do so again. It had been mere luck that Malak had fired upon the ship when he did; happenstance that I'd had warning and Revan had not. For I still did not know who would have won our encounter. Undoubtedly, Darth Revan was far more powerful than I, and my companions had already been killed, but we were duelling through the mental side of the Force… a place where my strength and even experience outweighed hers. Would she have kept challenging me so, had her old lover not intervened? For all that Darth Revan had to do was pull her mind back, activate her lightsaber and attack, and I would have been lost. Without Kester and Jai'lel, I would not have had a chance.

But it was a mystery I might never know the answer to. I pushed away the memory of how frightened I had been in that encounter, and told myself over and over that I was strong, I was confident, I was capable. I am weak, and scared, my mind echoed back. I wondered briefly if Revan had ever felt that way. She always seemed so sure of herself and what she was doing. I could never fathom why someone so bright and powerful would turn to the decaying road of the Dark Side. I had tried to understand, before she had regained consciousness as Jen Sahara. The old memory resurfaced, and I could still see Revan's broken body strapped down into the Enclave's life support system, tubes feeding kolto and nutrients and sedation into her body.

"Why do you think Revan and Malak turned to the Dark Side?" I asked softly over Revan's comatose body. I'd heard many theories, and formulated my own, but I was especially interested in Master Karon's viewpoint. After all, the Zabrak had been one of three involved in the rebuilding of Revan's mind, and was also the Sith Lord's first master.

Master Karon sighed softly, her turquoise eyes troubled. "It is not merely one thing, Padawan. It is a complex set of issues. Although certainly, your own master always argues that their age worked against them."

I nodded; Master Vrook was a vehement believer that Jedi needed to be brought to the Order young, while their emotions could still be moulded and their familial ties cut. Attachment was a danger to all Force users.

"They could count fifteen galactic years when you found them, is that right, Master Karon?"

"Sixteen," the Zabrak corrected quietly. "We have learned from the past, and normally would not train sentients at such an age. Or if we did, we would do so very slowly and warily."

"So why the exception?" The meteoric rise of Revan and Malak through the Order was well known. Their training, unlike my own, was the very opposite of slow.

"Their sheer power. It burned and glowed like a supernova." Master Karon looked at me steadily. "I was with the team that went to Talshion, where we first discovered them, and I have never sensed so much raw Force strength in an individual. In them both. Leaving them behind on the streets of a forgotten Outer Rim planet was not an option."

I turned back to face the prone figure, wrapped in a thin if discreet surgical robe. Revan's skin was still pallid from the length of time spent in the bacta tank.

"Do you think they were doomed to fall, then?" I asked. To fall from such heights of heroics… there must have been something innately flawed in them both. There must have.

"No. I do not believe anyone is, Padawan." Master Karon rested her hand gently over Revan's limp and pale one. The Sith markings had begun to fade with her disconnect from the Force. The bond allowed me that control - to separate her from the Force - once Master Galdea and Knight Vima had worked out how. Their tutelage had been enlightening, and I could now manipulate the Force that connected me to Revan.

Provided she did not know it was there, Revan – no, Jen Sahara - would have no reason to suspect she could access the Force, or that there was a barrier in the way.

"The War, too, played a part in their fall," Karon continued, her voice soft. "For no one can go through the horrors of battle and remain untouched. The decisions that Revan had to make as a general – that all the Jedi Thirteen were forced into as they led troops against the Mandalorians – would have caused scars on their souls. War is harder for Force sensitives, Padawan. The Order knows this. We feared what would happen if Jedi once more walked the battlegrounds of men."

I nodded. The Order had forbidden any Jedi to fight in the War, and Revan and Malak disobeyed that twice. Once, for a year-long reconnaissance mission. Twice, with dozens of Jedi Knights following them, the brightest forming the Jedi Thirteen - the Jedi leaders who worked with the Republic commanders against the Mandalorians.

"But my belief is their forbidden love was the primary factor." Karon's voice was so low now I struggled to hear it. "Passion clouds one's judgement. It is hard to remain logical and serene when in love. Perhaps if we had separated them from the outset, things may have been different, but Zhar and I feared what such separation may do to two so emotionally intertwined with one another. Perhaps we were wrong. "

Master Zhar had been Malak's master once. Kind and affable, he and Karon were lifelong friends, so it was only natural that they would take on Revan and Malak together. Revan and Malak, who were childhood friends and teenage lovers before the Jedi found them. Perhaps Master Karon and Master Zhar expected Revan and Malak's passion to fade away to something like the camaraderie they themselves shared. But anyone who had ever met Revan or Malak before their fall would know what emotive characters they had been – they were nothing like the calm Karon Enova or the gentle Zhar Lestin. "It is a good lesson about the pitfalls of passion, is it not, Master Karon?"

She nodded. "Yes. But the consequences..." she sighed again. "Once, Revan Freeflight's ultimate goal was the stability and peace of the Republic. Yet she did her best to destroy it. Once, Malak Devari's overriding desire in life was Revan's happiness and safety. Yet he tried to kill her, and believes he has. That is the Dark Side for you, Padawan." Her turquoise eyes stared at me unblinkingly. "It grants you power quickly, promises you everything you desire, and then twists you and one day you find yourself destroying that which was once the most important to you."

I shivered.

"The personality rebuild is now complete, is it not?" I asked. After all this talk, some reassurance would be beneficial to my state of mind. Although Knight Vima had already told me of its success, and there was no denying Vima Sunrider's expertise, I was content to hear the results a second time.

"Yes. The persona of Jen Sahara has been successfully implanted, with some of the original Jen's memories repressed, of course," she told me. I winced. I had seen what the Sith had done to the scholar before she had died of her injuries in the Enclave.

"How have you linked Jen Sahara to the Order?"

"A few artificial memories intertwined with Jen's history." Karon took a step away from the body on the medical bed, smiling tiredly at me. She wished to leave, now, I could tell. "I do believe the Council will tell you more, Padawan, when they speak to you later this afternoon."

I nodded, and Karon left me there, staring at the empty shell of a monster. I spent more time in talks with the Council than sleeping, it seemed, since I came back from Deralia with a brain damaged Sith Lord mind-linked to me. While I desired more acknowledgement within the Order, being this close to the corrupted soul of Darth Revan seemed a heavy price to pay.

I opened my eyes again, and stared blankly out at the empty blackness of hyperspace, cut through with lines of white. Soon the masters will take care of Revan. I can strengthen Jen Sahara long enough for the personality to hold, and the masters will do more. Dantooine was less than two standard days away, and the sedation may last for as long as twenty hours of that, if I was lucky. And provided Jen Sahara's life was not in immediate danger, it did not seem like Darth Revan would resurface.

It will not be long until this trial is over. I could do this. I could.

And I would.

xXx

Calo Nord:

My damaged ship was slowly being pulled in by the Sith's trajectory beam, and I scowled at the wait. It had taken enough convincing to stop those diseased bastards from blowing me into space-dust to begin with. But I hadn't had the launch codes, and they were pretty trigger-happy up there, firing on anything that dared escape the mess they were making on Taris.

I had hoped to fly from Taris in Davik's baby, the Ebon Hawk. I'd co-piloted it with Davik before, and she was a sleek thing, the 'Hawk: quick, manoeuvrable, and with more shielding than a freighter her size should boast. I'd even packed the cargo hold full of kit in preparation: food, equipment, armour – all the essentials. The plan was to take some of Davik's top mercs and blast off Taris before the crime lord had even realized I'd gone. End him too, if I scored the chance. Davik had turned on Ordo quick enough, after all. I wasn't fool enough to think I was immune from his suspicion.

Seems like that Mandalorian scum had the same idea as me. Oh, Ordo would get what was coming to him, one day. No one walked away from Calo Nord and survived for long. I'd make him pay and take the 'Hawk back, make him burn or suffocate or drown in one of those ways his stupid people considered dishonourable.

Death is death, whether you're Mandalorian or Twi'leki or Zeltron. Idiot.

But first, I had to appease the Sith. It was the Leviathan pulling me in, an Interdictor-class heavy cruiser built back during the Mandalorian Wars, and probably the most famous ship in Darth Malak's fleet. The Leviathan meant Admiral Karath – a man I'd read a lot about even if I'd never met him. Strategically brilliant, he'd switched sides along with Jedi Knight Revan Freeflight, and was one of the reasons Darth Revan had been so successful. From what I knew, his loyalty had been to Revan rather than Malak, and I doubted whether Darth Revan's demise had made the admiral particularly happy.

Although, by then Darth Revan was getting trigger-happy and ice-cold. Just like Darth Malak was becoming unhinged, if not insane. I'd met Malak before. I'd completed a prep job for him on Deralia about a year ago, but his own idiot Dark Jedi had botched the implementation. Embroiling oneself in a squabble between Sith Lords went deep into the territory of suicidal - but, well. I hadn't known at the time his true target had been Revan. And the credits involved had been... more than alluring.

It all went belly-up, though. Deralia had been all but flattened, Darth Revan had walked away unscathed, and I vanished, deciding the risk of either Sith Lord's vengeance wasn't worth the missing credits. The Dark Jedi involved, I understood, had been cut down by Revan herself – even including Arran Da'klor, and he'd been one of the famed Jedi Thirteen.

It worked out to Malak's advantage in the end, though, for Bastila Shan's secret strike force were in the area and used the ensuing chaos to attack Darth Revan – and then Darth Malak fired on her ship simultaneously. So, Malak had the outcome he wanted anyway, but I wasn't willing to test the bounds of his forgiveness, and gave up the commission without a second glance despite the fact I'd successfully completed my part.

Now, I had a choice between dealing with an unknown – Admiral Karath – or asking him to hail Darth Malak and speak to the Sith Lord myself. The news that Bastila Shan escaped Taris would be worth something, surely. It wasn't my fault that Arran Da'klor kriffed things up so badly a year ago, and lost Malak a dozen or so of his stronger Dark Jedi. Surely the Dark Lord of the Sith would understand that. I'd recognized Captain Carth Onasi with Shan as well – another survivor from the Endar Spire, and a mildly famous one to boot, even if his significance paled when compared to Shan's. In my line of work it paid to remember faces, and the Republic captain was an easy one to recall.

Darth Malak might even be willing to send me on another mission, this time tailing the Ebon Hawk and killing or capturing her crew. I felt the beginnings of a smile. That meant going after Canderous Ordo, and I'd be willing to do that for no credits. I'd have to list the other crew members – that Bek brat, Mission Vao, no danger there. A Wookiee was strong, but easily dispatched by surprise. And then there was that crazy woman Bastila had saved…

I frowned as I tried to recollect her features. A strange sense of familiarity had clouded me when I faced her, when her features had contorted into that ugly, malevolent sneer. I knew her name – Jen Sahara – and that she had braved the Vulkars to rescue Bastila Shan. So there was a connection there, a strong one it seemed. They've saved each other's lives, but she's not a Jedi. So why did she seem so familiar? I frowned in concentration as I rifled through my memories. I prided myself on my photographic memory, and it was annoying that this stupid woman eluded my grasp.

It was that expression I have seen before, the hatred in the eyes. But green… the eyes weren't green.

A recollection from the dredges of my mind resurfaced...

I followed Darth Malak out of the command centre, greed and unease clashing in my head. It was an impressive amount the Sith Lord was offering me but... Getting involved in Dark Jedi politics is liable to end ones life. I was beginning to doubt the ease with which Malak assured me this trap could be laid. If I had known the full extent of this job beforehand, I would never have agreed.

It was too late now. Malak was sure to kill me if I opted out. I'd just have to make sure I succeeded.

"Malak," a deep female voice called up ahead, and Darth Malak stopped in front of me, his black cloak swirling around him.

He bowed. "Master," he acknowledged gravely.

Just the person I didn't want to run into. I cursed inwardly, as the Dark Lord of the Sith herself walked around her apprentice and appraised me. She wore no mask, for once, just a midnight hood casting her face into obscure shadows.

Her black eyes were pits of soullessness in a marked face of depravity. Unfamiliar fright iced my spine as I suddenly felt pinned by that gaze, helpless as a tach beneath a spear, staring into the depths of perdition.

Kiribi is 099,099,011, I thought desperately. Saleucami is 08,05,29. Coruscant is 0,0,0. I continued on, forcing my mind to rattle off a litany of hyperspace coordinates, focusing on the numbers and nothing else.

There were certain mental tricks one could do to fly under the radar of a mental Force probe. It wouldn't stop an overt psychic attack, but it might be enough to convince her of my insignificance.

Maybe.

"And who is this?" she rapped out.

"His name is Calo Nord, Master," Malak said smoothly. "He is a renowned bounty hunter, and I have hired him to infiltrate the smuggling ring around Exinar."

The lies glided effortlessly out of Malak's mouth. I couldn't look away from those swirling lightless eyes, and I saw the birth of malevolence, of rage, darker than all the hells in the galaxy, burning in her black, black eyes.

"You're moving against Exinar without informing me?" Her voice had dropped to a raspy, dangerous tone. The hairs on my neck stood up, and I wouldn't have been able to speak even had she demanded it.

"Of course not, Master." Malak tilted his head in concession. "We are at the planning stage only. I would not take another step further without consulting you."

"Good." The word was a hiss. And then, like a flick of a switch, the fury in those eyes vanished. A smirk twisted her shadowed face. "Perhaps you can now. Come with me."

She turned and walked away, and Malak followed.

A feeling of shocked disbelief whirled inside my mind. No, it can't be! Can it? The eyes were different... but the look was the same. The same hideous, twisted, fury. I quickly recalled the structure of Jen Sahara's face, and tried to match it in my mind. Darth Revan's skin was sickly, pale white. But the cheekbones are the same. Identical slanting eyes, and standard forehead. Small nose, and pointed chin.

Bastila was protecting Jen Sahara. Bastila was the one who faced Darth Revan, and somehow escaped Lord Malak's attack. Was it possible that Bastila had also saved the life of Darth Revan herself? The Jedi are cowering fools. Is it conceivable that the Jedi somehow rescued Darth Revan, and now have her under their power?

The similarities in her face were too close. And that same look of rage...

Darth Malak needs to be told about this.

xXx