Refuge Denied
- Carth Onasi -
I sipped my caffa slowly as I stared blankly out the cockpit window. I found it almost hard to believe that we'd actually made it – recovered Bastila and escaped a Sith blockade – and were now on our way to safety. It seemed that everything had fallen perfectly together in one last rush. Even the hit to the Ebon Hawk was minor; the astromech droid had confirmed what was displaying on the navicomputer – other than our communications relay, the rest of the ship was sound.
It was the devastation we'd left behind that stopped me from feeling any joy. It didn't matter how many times I'd seen this sort of onslaught, it was always the damn same – innocent people being slaughtered under the banner of conquest. Every time I was confronted with the burning ruins of civilization, I only had to close my eyes and it would morph into the ruins of Telosian architecture.
Telos. My home planet. Bombed into oblivion by the Sith three years ago, so viciously that the atmosphere acidified and left it uninhabitable. I forcibly turned my thoughts away, unwilling to, yet again, dwell on the darkest part of my past.
But Taris… it'd been hit before, during the Mandalorian Wars, and had survived the economic aftermath only by negotiating an uneasy truce with the Sith. There'd been a push in the Senate to offer Taris Republic status some years back. Its geographic location near some of the primary hyperspace routes in the Outer Rim made it a logistical gem, but as I understood it, too much political wrangling on both sides had deadlocked that suggestion. I sighed. Republic citizenship may have alleviated this mess, or the Sith may have simply attacked earlier, when the escape pods of the Endar Spire had first rained down on Taris.
My eyes slid to Bastila, who was deep in thought, knees tucked up under her chin in the co-pilot's chair. She looked young, so young, even though I knew her to be in her mid-twenties. The Sith attacked to get at her. It was a grim thought, but I couldn't think of any other objective. Darth Malak had laid waste to the Endar Spire, all to capture Bastila. When she escaped to Taris, the Sith descended and quarantined the planet. Had Malak's patience worn thin enough that he'd fire on a neutral planet just in the hopes of killing one Jedi? But Bastila Shan wasn't just one Jedi. She was an emerging icon of Jedi heroism, whether she knew it or not. Her star was rising, much like Revan's and Malak's once had, and the galactic news loved nothing more than to speculate on the strength of her battle meditation.
I'd seen the effects of her talents before, and it was hard to explain. Every soldier affected felt braver, their focus sharper, and their reflexes honed. Somehow, risky manoeuvres paid off, while the defense of the Sith would blunder, seemingly stymied by relatively weak attacks. Battle meditation couldn't pull victory out from a lost cause, but it could tip the scales. And it had, more than once.
Which made it all the more questionable why the Jedi and the Republic would risk her on a secret mission. I'd had little success at gaining any information about why the Endar Spire had been travelling to Tatooine, other than the standard Jedi Business riposte. I'd been a figurehead there, ostensibly keeping an eye on the pilots, but in reality doing a terrible job at engaging the Jedi onboard in any sort of tactical discussion. I grimaced, glancing back to Bastila again. She had been conspicuous with her absence back then, avoiding most of the command discussions and leaving them to Master Galdea, the senior Jedi who blandly stated on numerous occasions that Bastila was the effective commander of the mission. It seemed like he wanted to ensure Bastila had authority, in case she was ever required to make snap decisions without any consultation.
I frowned. That didn't really make sense, either, although I assumed it had something to do with her battle meditation again. I wondered if, now that we had idle time, it would be possible to draw her into conversation.
"So," I began, feeling slightly awkward. "Dantooine. You mentioned a Jedi enclave?"
Bastila blinked, as if coming out from deep thought, and turned to face me. "I- yes. It is not widely known. The home of the Order is located on Coruscant, of course, but we do have Enclaves and Academies further afield. Dantooine is my home Enclave."
I nodded. "It seems our communications are down, so we won't be able to give anyone fore-knowledge of our arrival."
"Oh," she replied, and looked a little lost.
I grunted. I would have liked to contact Admiral Dodonna after these weeks of silence, but hyperspace communication wasn't the most reliable at the best of times. A warble from behind had us both turning to face the astromech, and a message illuminated briefly on a small display panel he was facing towards us.
"The relay's totally fried," I muttered, reading his second diagnostic. "No comms at all, no chance of repairing it onboard without replacement parts, even if we had a mechanic. Sourcing the parts shouldn't be a problem on Dantooine." The rest was the same as earlier; apart from some minor damage to the hull's main shields, the ship was fine. "As long as a lack of comms isn't a problem landing."
"Dantooine is a farming community. We may receive a fine and reprimand for not announcing our atmospheric entry, but that can be resolved once we dock," Bastila answered. I nodded in response. Some ports were overtly hostile to incoming traffic that didn't negotiate with spaceport control. Manaan tended to claim control of any unknown ships, while Nar Shaddaa just fired on everything that hadn't paid in advance.
"From there, what happens to the ship? The crew?"
"What do you mean, Carth?" Bastila replied, frowning. I sighed at her ignorance. She was either showing a remarkable lack of foresight, or she was too deep in whatever Jedi ruminations were running through her mind to adequately consider our situation.
"Look, the Mandalorian is liable to claim the ship is his and do a runner. Mission's just lost her home." That made me pause. She'd be taking it terribly, all her friends behind, with no knowledge if they survived the bombardment. I'd have to go check on her soon. "I- I guess she and Zaalbar are going to follow Jen, who's not exactly acting like herself in case you hadn't noticed."
Bastila's face had paled, and whether it was due to the thought of Ordo pinching the 'Hawk or Jen's erratic behaviour I didn't know. Jen was still out cold, I'd found out earlier when I'd brewed a quick cup of caffa in the kitchenette. It had been hours since the hyperspace jump, and her injuries from the mad dash through Davik Kang's stronghold had been minor – she should have been awake by now. Maybe her body needed a break from acting like different people. I scowled.
"Jen is one of my crew," Bastila said at last, and her voice was quiet and low. "Her employment contract is with the Jedi Order, and she is under our protection."
I could feel my brows lowering with irritation. Not so long ago, Jen had seemed determined to run; run from Bastila and the Jedi and the Republic. It had disappointed me… angered me, even, that she'd turn her back on a mission so obviously critical to the war effort, even if I didn't understand why her skill set would assist the likes of Bastila Shan. But now, this meek game she was playing… and, it had to be a game. The only other conclusion would be that Bastila was using the Force to manipulate Jen into submission. Bastila was uptight, inexperienced and occasionally snappish, but the thought of Bastila manipulating the Force like that on Jen seemed bordering on paranoia.
Even though I'd known Jedi in the past who'd turned into monsters they never would have dreamed of, it was a lot more likely that reckless Jen was the one at fault here. And that bugged me. Scratch that, Onasi, how about it straight out pisses you off. Our interactions had hardly been peaceful, but I owed Jen my life, as much as she owed me hers. She was amazingly competent, scholar or not, and would be an asset to the war effort. She'd be better off fighting as a soldier than helping the Jedi with research. It just didn't… fit with her character.
Except it did, back on the Endar Spire,I realized that with a cold clarity that had me straightening in my seat. I'd seen her only a few, brief times; only taken note of her really because her transfer onboard had been at the direct order of the Jedi team, and the lack of any other scholars made it stand out. I recalled her, once or twice, blushing in my direction before scurrying away, but all those impressions had disappeared since our explosive crash landing on Taris and the days that followed.
She was the epitome of a quiet, shy scholar from a backwater planet, then. And that is exactly how she has been acting since we rescued Bastila. No, no, it was the day after Bastila joined us, but the timing might still be significant. I frowned. Do the Jedi scare her for some reason? The thought of the Jen Sahara I knew running scared seemed ridiculous. But she wanted to run from Bastila. Is this some game to lull Bastila into complacency before she runs?
I didn't like thinking ill of Jen, which was stupid in itself, considering how reckless her words and actions sometimes were. My thoughts were turning full circle in on themselves, and the introspection was starting to irritate. But, just as I decided that it was time to leave the cockpit, Bastila spoke up.
"What do you think of Jen, Carth?"
I twitched slightly at the question, unnerved how accurate it was with my current thoughts, and bit out a blatant lie. "I generally try not to."
I turned to see Bastila raising an eyebrow at me. "Really, Carth. You've been working with her for what- weeks now? Surely you must have some idea of her character."
I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. It was getting long, I realized, and overdue for a cut. "I don't know. She's a loose cannon, Bastila. I mean…" I trailed off, still trying to figure the damn woman out in my head. "I just can't imagine her locked up in some learning institute, studying."
Bastila's voice turned tentative. "Has she been very angry?"
I frowned, turning to look at her. "Angry? Heh. Yeah. She seems to get angry at everything." But that wasn't really fair. Generally, Jen was sassy more than anything. Her inability to take things seriously was, at times, galling, even if it did occasionally lighten the mood. "Maybe that's not entirely true, Bastila. She's reckless more than anything. Brave, too." The rancor in the sewers sprang to mind. "She can be generous." The money she threw away on that harassed merchant was an indicator of that. "Annoying." She had an innate ability to hound and exasperate me. This current meek act was the worst, even if it was directed at Bastila. "Really annoying." Stang, I'm rambling. I sighed. "She's just crazy, Bastila. Recklessly crazy."
Bastila was staring at me with a peculiar expression on her face.
"What?" I snapped.
"Never mind," she replied, but her dark eyes still bored into mine questioningly.
"I'm going to check on Mission." I stood, realizing my departure was somewhat abrupt, but the conversation was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I hadn't yet walked around the freighter, either, although I was already familiar with the layout thanks to the ship's computers.
I left the cockpit and headed down the utilitarian durasteel corridor towards the centre of the ship. A small room, likely the pilot's quarters, was on my left, and further ahead the corridor spilled out into the central common room I'd gone into earlier. It was the largest area in the ship, excluding the cargo bay, and housed a kitchenette on one wall, tatty plimfoam benches around the exterior and a large plasteel table. It was obviously the hub of the freighter, and boasted five exits. One led to a small storage room, and the other four were the main corridors within the ship.
It was empty, although I spotted a dirty dish on the kitchenette bench, and the food synthesizer's heating light was still on. I hadn't thought of eating, yet, not while the destruction of Taris sat so heavy in my mind, but it was comforting to realize that at least we didn't have to worry about the bare necessities.
I briefly poked my head into the small supply room, and was surprised to see a hard bed in there and shelves stocked with medical supplies. At a pinch, this could easily double as a medbay. If this room was anything to go by, then the crime lord Davik Kang had kept his ship well equipped and was used to trouble.
I wandered further around the ship, curious about the cargo bay and it's contents, and stopped when I saw the large form of Canderous throwing what looked suspiciously like short knives at the far wall. What, he doesn't like the décor? After further inspection, I noticed the Mandalorian had hooked up a half-tattered combat suit on the wall that had obviously seen better days. Several knives stuck jaggedly out of it.
"Trying to improve your aim, Ordo?" I muttered.
Canderous turned around to appraise me, and grinned. Before I could blink, he had drawn another knife and thrown it in my direction. I couldn't quite hide a jump of surprise as the blade thwacked into the wall half a metre from my head. It quivered.
"Sithspit!" I growled, glaring at him. "Are you trying to start a fight, Mandalorian?"
He laughed. "If I was, you'd already be down on the floor, Republic."
I scowled at him, inwardly debating the merits of taking this further, before pulling the knife out of the wall with a grunt. It was well balanced and unadorned; a weapon rather than a decoration. I pocketed it and left the room, Canderous' mocking laughter following me down the ship's corridor.
There were two living quarters on either side of the freighter, and it was the port one where I heard the sounds of quiet sobbing. Mission. She was so young to have to deal with something like Taris. Another reason why those Sith bastards had to be stopped by any means possible.
I wasn't sure if my presence would help or make things worse, but I had to try. I opened the door and found Mission curled up in Zaalbar's arms, her face pressed tightly against the snarled fur of the Wookiee.
Zaalbar looked up as I approached, frowning. He rumbled something gently to the Twi'lek, who lifted her head to face me.
"Hi Carth," she sniffed, rubbing at red-rimmed eyes that stood out in stark contrast to her pale blue complexion.
"Hey," I said softly as I took a step closer. "Uh, you okay?" It was a stupid question, and I winced. I was useless in situations like this, but I felt terrible for the girl. I knew all too well the pain she would be feeling. In the corner of my eye, I noticed the prone form of Jen slumped on one of the two bottom bunks in the room.
"N-not really. I still can't believe it. All my friends… everything… I don't even know how bad it is. It looked like the whole place was going up in flames!" She dropped her face into her hands, and the old grief tore at my insides. Taris would be rebuilt over time, perhaps, but it would keep the scars. Just like it had in the past.
"I don't know what to say," I said helplessly. I suddenly didn't know why I had come here. Words had never helped me, either. But I hated to see the kid go through what I had once.
"I don't really think there's anything you can say. I just have to find some way to deal with it, I guess." Her voice was muffled against Zaalbar's chest. The Wookiee was glaring at me; I wondered whether my words were just upsetting the Twi'lek more. She muffled another sob against Zaalbar. "I don't know how people can move on from something like this."
"You- you do," I responded hesitantly. "But it takes a long time. And part of it always stays with you."
"How would you know?" she snapped angrily, her mood swinging abruptly as she twisted to glare at me. Zaalbar growled, less impressed with my presence than ever. I sighed in the face of her anger. Why did I say that? I don't want to talk about the past. All it does is rip open scabbed-over wounds.
"My home world was destroyed by the Sith," I said flatly. Don't ask anymore. Please.
Mission's face had turned even paler, if that was possible. Her mouth shaped into a circle; her eyes widened as she stared at me in shocked surprise. "Oh! I-I'm sorry. I guess you do understand then, don't you?"
The sudden sympathy that grew on the Twi'lek's face humbled me. I don't need pity. But... that she would feel bad for me when it's her own home busy burning... I understood then that Mission had a very big heart.
I looked around for a distraction – the quarters were stark, plain, and empty other than the blankets on the beds – and my eyes caught once more on Jen's sleeping figure.
"She's been out like a drunk since we boarded the Ebon Hawk," Mission said, and her voice had lowered in tone. "Bastila said she just fainted from exhaustion, but Jen ain't waking up. It's been hours now!"
Zaalbar rumbled something in his language, and Mission turned her tear-streaked face to nod at him in agreement. "Neither do I, Big Z."
"Well, I guess if Bastila thinks she's okay-" I began.
"I think Bastila's hiding something. Jen's been weird ever since the Jedi joined us," Mission muttered.
I frowned as I stared at the girl. It was the same conclusion I'd had, before tossing it out as ridiculous. I didn't trust Bastila, but I trusted the wild, reckless Jen even less. "Bastila's a Jedi, Mission. This meek act of Jen that's driving us all crazy must be some mind game Jen's playing with Bastila."
Mission scowled at me and shook her head, headtails twitching in irritation. "No way, Carth. I know Jen. She hasn't been herself. And Bastila has something to do with it."
"You've only known her for about a week, Mission," I answered, in what I hoped was a reasonable tone.
"Sometimes that's all you need! Geez, Carth, where's your loyalty? Jen saved your life!"
Don't start an argument, I warned myself as I stared back at the irate teenager. "I can't – you can't ignore someone's faults just because they did you a good turn." I struggled to keep my tone neutral. "There is nothing worse than blind trust, Mission."
"Blin- how dare you, you overgrown nerf-herder!" she spat. Zaalbar growled loudly at me. "Jen's been nothing but good to us all – saved both your life and Big Z's! And now she's having some sort of problem – and it's got to do with that snooty, sneaky Jedi – and you want to just walk away? What sort of friend are you?"
I backed out of the door before my own anger boiled over. Zaalbar looked like he was ready to jump to his feet. Obviously Jen had captured both their trust, well and truly. "I see I'm upsetting you, Mission. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I- I'll talk to you later."
I exited through the door, and Mission yelled out another curse as my back. I could hear the Wookiee rumble something to her as I walked quickly away. Nice one, Onasi, I thought, wishing I'd left well enough alone. Let's go upset the girl who's just seen her homeworld burn. But I hadn't quite predicted the depths of Mission's loyalty to someone as unpredictable and downright crazy as Jen. The Wookiee had that life-debt thing, and I knew Mission respected Jen, but it surprised me she was so willing to think badly of a Jedi. What if it isn't an act? What if Bastila really has done something to Jen? No... it just didn't seem plausible. I didn't trust the Jedi and their motives, but that was going too far.
Bastila has been totally protective of Jen as well. Which further enforced the theory that it was all a conscious act; for some reason Jen wanted Bastila's loyalty. As well as Mission's and Zaalbar's. Mission could be setting herself up for a betrayal.
I scowled angrily at myself, and headed back to the cockpit, resolving to put all thoughts of Jen Sahara firmly from my mind.
xXx
The Ebon Hawk was not a standard Dynamic-class freighter, I was beginning to realize, having spent some time poring over both the diagnostics Teethree had produced and the specifications from the ship's computer. It had been highly modified, particularly for manoeuvrability and speed, and boasted a reinforced hull and more shielding than was custom for a ship this size. It had two turbolaser turrets that Mission and the Mandalorian had commandeered during our escape from Taris, as well as the capability for firing proton torpedoes from the pilot's seat.
We were nearing Dantooine, and everyone had had a good chance to sleep. Bastila had been quick to claim the pilot's quarters, and frankly I wasn't up to the argument. Technically, she was my commanding officer still, and after her capture on Taris I could understand if the young woman required a little space.
Which left me bunking in with the Wookiee and the Mandalorian, and the quarters already had a faint pungent smell of wet fur. I wasn't looking forward to cleaning out the sonic refresher, although, all things considered, our stay on the 'Hawk should be brief. Dantooine was an Outer Rim world not that far from Taris, and I wondered just what my orders would be when we finally touched down and I made contact with Republic command.
I'd spotted Jen once earlier, eating a bowl of synthesizer mush in the common room next to Bastila on one of the benches. The Jedi had been quietly murmuring something to her, but stopped when I'd entered, so like an idiot I'd turned and headed back to the cockpit. Mission had been conspicuous with her absence, and I could only imagine that she was huddled in what had become the women's quarters, dealing with her grief in her own way.
I'd had a brief scout around in the cargo bay, this time encountering both the Mandalorian and the Wookiee inspecting the first of several crates roped against the inner hull. There would be time for a full inspection upon landing, and I wondered idly what surprises Davik Kang had left in store for us.
But now I was back in the cockpit, and we were nearing endgame. I felt a slight loosening in my shoulders with the realization that safety was not far away.
The hatch opened and Bastila strode in, giving me a small smile before skirting around Teethree and seating herself in the co-pilot's chair. A minute ago, I'd broadcast the message that everyone was waiting for: brace for hyperspace exit in five minutes.
"I am looking forward to some rest," Bastila murmured, as she strapped herself into the safety harness. "I only wish I had been able to forewarn the Masters of our impending arrival."
I inclined my head briefly. "We were lucky, though. The damage could have been worse. Much as I don't like to credit the Mandalorian, he was an ace on those turrets."
I heard an audible sniff as I kept my attention firmly on the navigational readouts. "I am sure he has seen a lot of bloodshed," came the rejoinder.
I felt the corner of my mouth turn up at her prim tone. Neither of us were particularly keen on Ordo, and I was sure the feeling was returned. In fact, he didn't seem to care for anyone, other than exhibit a vague fascination with Jen which irked for some reason.
"What will you do when we land on Dantooine?" Bastila asked, interrupting my train of thought.
"Patch a message through to Admiral Dodonna and await my orders," I said, surprised at the question. I would have expected that to be a fairly obvious course of action.
"You would not be willing to stay with the Jedi mission?" Bastila questioned. "I am sure the Council will send another group of Jedi knights to Tatooine. We must continue our quest, Carth."
"The Endar Spire was a heavy price to pay for that, Bastila. And the secrecy's obviously gone, so you have to ask yourself: are these old ruins you are hunting really worth it?" Too many people had died onboard. People I'd known well, strangers I'd only just met. What could be so important about some ancient excavation or relic?
Bastila paused, and I turned to look at her. Her face was ice. "Darth Malak awaited us at a refuelling point, Carth. He may not know that our destination was Tatooine. And as far as the old ruins go, the answer is a resounding yes. It may be our only hope of defeating Malak's armies."
Admiral Dodonna had imparted the importance of the Jedi mission beforehand, but it was good to hear it confirmed from Bastila. It had been frustrating, on the 'Spire, to be treated as an inferior grunt by the Jedi onboard, and told little other than what was already known. "What's so special about these ruins then, Bastila? What sort of Force power do they have?"
"I did not mention anything about the Force," she snapped.
I sighed in exasperation. "It's pretty obvious, Bastila. What else could stop Malak?"
She sniffed, and it was a haughty sound. I found myself rolling my eyes as I turned back to the instrumentation panel. Bastila had a habit of retreating into a supercilious prissy shell when questioned, and it was at those times I found myself disliking her.
"Very well, then. Yes. But I cannot say more."
I tried to shrug away my irritation, and remembered Dodonna's directive. The lack of clear information I'd found out about this mission was galling, to say the least."So why did you Jedi need Jen then?"
Bastila made some sort of high-pitched noise in her throat; I jerked my head to catch her expression, but it was bland and unforthcoming. "She is a talented scholar, Carth. She happens to know a lot about the archaeological period of these ruins."
"More than Jedi Masters?" I said in disbelief. "Come on, I know some of those old farts spend all their time researching the past."
"You should show more respect for the Masters, Carth!" she hissed. "How dare you malign-"
"Okay, okay!" I raised my hands in defeat. "Sorry! I- Look, I don't like being left in the dark. Not too mention that Jen doesn't seem to fit in with your whole mission, no matter how much you harp on about her education."
But the sensor on the cockpit terminal drew my attention away – our time in hyperspace had come to an end. I leaned over to open the ship-wide communicator.
"Brace for hyperspace exit in twenty seconds," I broadcasted. I heard Bastila loose a pent-up breath, and I echoed her before guiding the ship out of hyperspace.
The minute-long deceleration was briefly dizzying, but as every second ticked by I felt myself relax an inch more, until the ship entered realspace fully.
Then the sensors went berserk. Flashing lights blinked into existence on the consoles, and the sharp red of laser fire spat on either side of the cockpit window. A proximity alarm in the ship began wailing.
"Stang!" I cursed, steering the 'Hawk abruptly to the left as I spotted a squadron of smaller snubfighters. Ahead, the green planet of Dantooine was prominently visible, and in between us and her was the ominous sight of a half dozen Sith destroyers.
"Get on the turrets!" I yelled through the comm as three fighters ahead abruptly changed their trajectory towards us. "We have Sith fighters!"
"No!" Bastila half screamed, half gasped.
I tilted the freighter up and around, knowing at once that our only chance was to flee. Even as the 'Hawk twisted away, another small squadron of light fighter craft became visible, and the console was showing far too many for any hope of our survival.
"The Force," Bastila muttered numbly. "I can feel the Masters using the Force."
"Bastila, enter a hyperspace route. Anything. Just get us out of here!"
I vaguely heard the sound of turret fire start up. Ordo got to the turrets.It might buy us some time, but we were sitting gizka out here, defenceless against this sort of manpower.
"No!" Bastila protested, and her voice was anguished. "I must help – my Battle Meditation can help the Order!"
"There is no way we can survive out here in a freighter!" I yelled. "A hyperspace jump is our only option!"
"They are bombing the Enclave, Carth! I cannot- I will not run!" she cried. "I do not know where else to turn! I must see the Masters!"
The Ebon Hawk jolted heavily, and a warning alarm joined the proximity one. A hit, dammit. "Are you trying to kill us all, Bastila?" I snarled, and leaned over to the co-piloting navigation console, pushing her aside and ignoring her indignant gasp. The Ebon Hawk had a short list of pre-programmed hyperspace coordinates, and the third one proclaimed the smallest travel time. I stabbed that one in, and turned my attention back to steering as the computer calculated the route from our current location.
"Entering hyperspace in ten seconds!" I broadcasted through the comm. Dantooine was behind us, and I turned the sub-light drives to maximum, heading out into black space. In front of us dropped a squadron of hostiles, all firing. The console blinked a navigational completion code.
"Hold on!" I yelled over the comm and entered hyperspace.
"No! Carth – we're going to hit them!" Bastila screamed as the ship jumped forward. The enemy ships ahead seemed to stretch as our craft surged ahead. I tensed my shoulders as one fighter came closer and closer, and I swore I could almost see the elongated helmet of the pilot.
I pulled back tightly on the steering column, and the ship lurched upwards as it jumped fully into hyperspace. Bastila's shrieks rang through my ears as the enemy craft shot underneath the Ebon Hawk.
A minute later, our view snapped into the serene blackness of hyperspace.
xXx
