A darker turn of mind

- Jen Sahara -


I dodged underneath a crudely designed gaffi stick, before impaling the offending primitive on one of my lightsabers. My face flushed with the heat of battle as I spun around, throwing the second 'saber at the last remaining native. It scored fatally into his neck before returning to my outraised hand.

The room was now empty, other than HK and I. Perspiration itched underneath the constricting disguise I still wore, and my chest heaved with fast, uneven breaths. Broken bodies with cauterized battle wounds covered the area.

I could hear grunts of Sand People, further back in the perimeter of the base. I wondered if Zaalbar had followed us... if not, he'll be going mad. I'd left him behind in the desert, much to his howling protest. Stealth had been the plan, of course, so I'd informed the Wookiee he could accompany us if he fit into one of the Sand People garments.

As we departed, he was still soulfully staring at the offending robe.

I'd lost Carth and Mission upon entering the base - the natives had ambushed us after we'd slipped past the turrets, and in the ensuing carnage I'd simply hacked a way out.

HK and I had cut through them with devastating ease.

The Sand People should have listened to us, the primitive fools. I'd commanded HK to attempt communication, but as he began Sand People had recognized our disguises for what they were - and were not happy about it.

Their loss.

I eyed over my surroundings; I was in a long clay-walled corridor. The ceiling was no more than light-coloured tarpaulin strapped tight onto the plaster walls. While it might be shelter from the sun, it was hardly permanent - although I recalled this was a newly dug-out stronghold. The outer perimeter of the base was more fortified than this inner sanctum.

My heartbeat slowed to near-normal, and I became aware of the sting of bruising on my back where a few gaffi sticks had broken through my guard. The armour stopped it from being anything serious - good thing, too, for while I could easily best a handful of Sand People one-on-one, the earlier mob had been a challenge.

I'd tried to reach out to the Force, but it had danced tantalizingly out of reach. Somehow, I'd known it was due to my own incompetence rather than Bastila's interference.

She's been too busy lecturing me to bother blocking my Force use. Perhaps she'd gathered enough sense not to push my anger any further. Not that it would change things - I didn't plan on returning. Regardless, Bastila's attention had been drawn away from me. Something had her panicking. Now that there was no imminent danger, I felt my curiosity spark to life.

HK trod insensitively on a corpse as he neared me. "Observation: These organic meatbags are very poorly designed. All soft and squishy, infinitely easy to blast into a pile of rendered flesh." Was that a note of glee I heard in my droid's metallic voice? Probably. Whoever programmed this sarcastic robot is someone I'd like to meet. Where my lightsaber had failed to strike down one of those annoying hooting Sand People, HK dispatched them with expertise that seemed unusual even in a combat droid.

I turned, intending to go after Carth and Mission. HK and I made a solid team, but it never hurt to have more backup. I hope they're okay, a weak voice whispered in my mind.

Quiet! I didn't need the vulnerability of attachments. What I needed was their firepower, at least until I had mastered my Force ability and could truly stand on my own. When I acted on pure instinct and emotion the power flowed effortlessly through me, melding into a truly magnificent feat. But when I consciously try to use it, it's like rolling the dice.

I sighed, and focused on clearing my mind. The Force had evaded me since our altercation with those Czerka miners hours earlier, and I didn't comprehend why. Bastila said one's mind had to be clear and serene to access the Force. But she'd also said the Dark Side was weak. Why am I trusting her lies? My own experience tells me that I am strongest when the battle rage has consumed me. When I'm angry.

I could feel the fire of passion still warm in my gut. It had ignited with fury - with power and life - during the earlier battle. I seemed to move faster and strike harder, possess an awareness of where my enemy was going to move next. Even without any overt Force ability at my fingertips, my own rage fuelled my battle prowess.

And the irritating doubt that sat in a corner of my mind, questioning the rightness of these emotions, was nothing more than a weakness.

I will conquer any weakness, and I will master the Force. I took a determined step back toward the base entrance.

My attention was snatched by the sound of impending footfalls behind me. I twisted around as a barbaric roar echoed through the chamber, and saw a mob of Sand People spill into the room.

My rage flared.

HK lifted his rifle, and the natives raised their sticks high in challenge, honking a war cry as they charged.

"HK, take out the blasters at the back!" I yelled, holding my ground. The Force pulled at my senses, and I mentally floundered after it. Focus! I parried the swipe of the first one who reached me, knocking him down with my off-hand 'saber.

"Statement: With glee, master," HK chortled, firing into the midst. Two Sand People charged at me simultaneously, and a surprised snarl erupted from my throat as I lurched backwards just in time. Build on the anger, a dark voice sneered in my head, let it become one with the Force! A gaffi stick whirred past my ear, and I feinted to the left, stabbing someone clean through in passing. He shrieked, his arm lashing out in a dying attack that was easy to avoid. As he crumpled to his knees, my 'saber cleaved through his neck.

A masked head bounced onto the dirt floor.

I glanced up; deeper in the room one of the remaining mob was aiming something directly at me. My vision narrowed. Kath crap, that's a sodding rocket launcher! I snarled in reflex as the threat registered; my hand punched into the air and my mind pushed outward.

The rocket - pilfered Czerka technology, no doubt - had barely ejected before it slammed back into the Sand People.

The heat wave of pressure hit me as the entire back wall of the dwelling exploded, tossing bodies around like limp rag dolls. I stumbled back, barely keeping my footing. HK was still firing, his blasts tearing into the fallen. I saw one move; launching forward, it was all too easy to ensure he didn't move again.

I turned. It was just me and HK left standing, once more. My breath came in short bursts, and a mild satisfaction filled me as I eyed over the carnage. The Force came to me again. The more I practice, the easier it becomes. In a way, I was glad the others were not with me. I wasn't comfortable experimenting around them.

That's because I turn into a blood-thirsty psycho when I let the Force overpower me, Street Kid snarked.

And yet, how many times had it saved my life? How much more powerful was it making me?

We are trapped. Trapped under a mountain of rocks, with no way out! Bastila's thought hissed through the bond. With a start of surprise, I realized it wasn't directed at me. She hadn't meant for me to hear. I'm starting to pick up on her thoughts now. Maybe that made sense, for she had already shown her ability to read my mind, and surely it was a two-way hyperlane.

I wonder then, if it's possible for me to cut her off from the Force?

That was a very interesting idea, but I quickly shut it down before she could overhear. Keep the thoughts small, I berated myself. If nothing else, the close mental proximity I had with Bastila had to be good for my emotional control. I'd be damned if I'd allow that snot access to my mind.

I noticed, then, the large hole the rocket had torn through the clay walls of the base. There was another room beyond, occupied with more Sand People who were strangely quiet... and hadn't rushed us in a vain attempt at evisceration. That was... interesting.

We may as well finish this lot off. I need the practice, after all.

"Supposition: These meatbags appear to be guarding something, master. Maybe their leader?"

"Let's go find out." I could feel a smirk on my face. This felt natural, testing my mettle in battle, proving my superiority. I tamped down on the uncertainty wrestling with a corner of my mind, the feeble concern that this path led to ruin.

It didn't. This path led to victory. What were a bunch of Sand People worth, anyway?

I strode forward, ducking through the shattered wall. The sentients beyond hooted in protest, raising their weapons in a defensive guard. They were surrounding one figure, whose robes were decorated in colourful beads. HK was right. This is their chieftain.

I ripped the constricting mask from my face, and threw it to the ground.

The leader hooted loudly.

"Statement: The meatbag chieftain appears to have recognized us, master."

"Huh?" I blinked in confusion. "I've never been here before." I glanced around at the barbaric building. Wicker baskets and grass mats covered the dusty floor. Some odd sticks hung on the wall. No sense of déjà vu hit me. And this bas was new, that hunter in Anchorhead had said something about that, so it didn't seem possible any part of me could have been here before.

"Extrapolation: It appears the chieftain recognizes both of us, master. He is now demanding an explanation for our presence."

I looked at HK, who was staring unblinkingly at me with his eerie, red gaze. "Have you been here before, HK?"

"Answer: I have no recollection of such a visit, master. However the majority of my memory is still locked within my core. Extrapolation: It could be that I have been here before, or it could be that another similar droid has and these primitive meatbags cannot distinguish between us."

"Your memory is locked away?" I vaguely remembered HK saying something about that back in Yuka Laka's store, but picking out the details from the haze of my memory proved impossible at times. Thank you, Jen Sahara. And Bastila, and any other Jedi responsible for my screwed up mind. "HK, remind me to ask you about that later."

"Response: As you wish, master. Suggestion: Perhaps I should say something to the decorated meatbag before we blast them all?"

The Sand People were still protesting loudly in their guttural tongue. At any moment they were going to attack again, and I would never find out what they meant. "Ask them why I was here earlier. And who else was with me. And ask about Griff."

HK honked something in that ridiculous language. His vocabulator was surprisingly good, and when the leader responded I found it difficult to distinguish between their voices.

"Statement: He appears confused by your question, master. He has said that one other human meatbag was with us, and we met him in his old stronghold, deeper in the desert. He says you were searching for ruins in the Eastern Dune Sea. He also demands that you answer his earlier question, and explain why you have attacked his people when you did not last time. Observation: He appears unwilling to answer any more questions until we respond to his."

I almost stumbled in surprise at HK's response. Searching for ruins in the Eastern Dune Sea? That was precisely what Bastila was doing right now. That seems awfully coincidental. If I really was here before, then why did the Sand People not attack me then?

"HK, inform him that his people fired on me first, and would not respond to our attempts to talk or negotiate."

The droid did as instructed, and turned to face me once more. "Statement: Fortunately, it appears bloodshed cannot be avoided, master." At HK's ominous words my muscles clenched in readiness. "The chieftain has responded that he must slaughter us to avenge the death of his people. Commentary: I find this a satisfactory and most enjoyable conclusion."

So did I. Feel the rage, the passion, the power as it fires through my veins!

I raised my dual lightsabers, and stared through the red glow at the Sand People ahead. I smiled. Well, the voices in my head can't object. It was the chieftain's decision to fight, not mine. The Sand People cried out in challenge, and charged. There were only six of them in total, but these appeared to be more elite in their capabilities. Two of them flanked the chieftain, spraying blaster bolts from stolen Czerka rifles.

I lifted one of my hands high, feeling the Force coalesce around my fist. How had I created that lightning against Juhani? Every time I reached out, I felt like I was a blundering bantha in a cantina, struggling to find the exit but knocking into walls instead.

The power was there, though. It grew. And as the Sand People neared, I roared and abruptly loosed it.

There was a loud cry of protest as an invisible energy hit them. Two dropped their weapons, their hands wrapped around their neck as they made gagging noises. The Force rode in the air around them, an insidious taint twisting through their bodies. What the frell was that?

A gaffi stick shot close to my head, and I lurched back before counter-swiping in a blow that sliced deep into a chest. A second hit followed. Power and strength. The Force calls to me! I dodged another blow, coming back to stab the next one in the stomach. A cry of exaltation escaped me. No one can withstand this!

Then came another, snarling, lifting his pathetic stick high. I laughed, moulding the humming power in my grasp. As he launched into a wild swing, I hurled a charged ball of energy in the centre of his chest. He went flying.

My lightsaber followed, thrown from my grasp, slashing with precision into his neck. I heard the sentient's cry end in a gurgle, a moment before my weapon snapped back into my hand.

Satisfaction surged through me.

Both of the chieftain's aides had fallen to HK's blaster fire. I stalked forward, intent on the leader, but another primitive came running in from the sidelines. My lightsaber cut straight through him.

Two more followed. I laughed as my hand shot out, static crackling at my fingertips. Pathetic imbeciles! They think they can survive my onslaught? Their bodies convulsed and crumpled beneath the sharp white lightning. Their cries of pain dwindled into silence, and the bodies turned into corpses.

I sneered at the chieftain. The exultant power surged through me, the mastery of life and death. It was power to do anything I desired, and it swept away all logical thought or reason. The Force bent to my will, and clenched satisfyingly around the leader's neck.

Let's see... can I do this better than Juhani?

The chieftain rose into the air, frantically clutching at his neck as he wheezed and spluttered.

Why, yes. Yes I can.

I tried twisting it harder. His legs jerked, and his head flopped to the side. Just as I realized he was nearing the end, a heavy impact crunched into my upraised forearm.

Pain blossomed through my limb. I shrieked, stumbling backward to avoid a second blow from my assailant. But he fell, an instant later, two smoking patches of melted flesh in his back where HK had hit true.

My limb dangled uselessly at my side. The chieftain was on his knees, scrabbling to escape. With a snarl of anger, I strode forward and drove my lightsaber into his back.

Then the Force fled, and fresh waves of agony spiked through my arm. Sithspit, I think that's broken. It hurt like a schutta. I grimaced, and cast my eyes over the room.

The bent corpse of the leader was at my feet. Various body parts bloodied the area. The tinny smell of viscera was thick in the air, and as I looked around, the last remnants of my berserker rage vanished.

There was a sickening sense of dread curling like a sandsnake in my gut. I was clammy, suddenly cold, staring blanking at the dead Sand People. All this crowing pleasure I'd experienced during this massacre, was... was... wrong. The acrid taste of bile rose in my throat.

I do what I want. I prove my worth this way!

This is wrong! This is repulsive! This isn't me.

I closed my eyes, a rising wave of horror overwhelming the earlier satisfaction of victory. The conflicting emotions raged within my soul, and I wasn't sure what I felt anymore. Who I wanted to be.

A surge through the bond shattered my internal struggle, drawing my attention like a lifeline. What was that? I opened my mind once more to my bond-sister. Again, I felt another surge of energy. She's using the Force. I frowned, struggling to make sense of it.

This is not working! I need to make him understand!

Now this was curious. Bastila had not yet sensed my interest in her predicament, and I tried to make my concentration on our link subtle, unnoticeable. I could feel her panic, feel her struggle to overcome it with a dogged determination.

Then there was another surge of Force, even stronger than before. My breath hissed between my teeth. Compulsion, a sepulchral voice whispered in my mind. She's using compulsion.

Finally, it worked. And he has not realized this time. He will not mention this to anyone anymore. Through the bond, Bastila was a mass of pure relief. As if she had somehow avoided some sort of catastrophe.

My curiosity could no longer be contained. You seem to be having fun. I slammed the thought out hard.

Jen! Her response back was quick, and horrified. What are you doing?

Wondering what poor sap you are playing with.

I'm not- I am not playing! This sort of use of the Force is not to be taken lightly! How- how dare you spy upon me! The words were indignant, but her tone... her tone was straight back into panic.

Oh, that's rich, I returned with snark. Well, you don't need to worry about me anymore. We won't be seeing each other again, more's the pity.

A deadly silence echoed through my mind, before her thought-voice returned. What are you saying?

What do you think? I snapped back. I'm not coming back. The desert is a wonderful place to vanish in. I certainly don't trust you, and I'd be an idiot to blindly follow you.

No! No, you cannot be serious! You- you still have so much to learn! She was frantic, I sensed, scrabbling futilely for an argument that would touch me.

I can learn it myself. You forcing that stupid code down my throat is hardly what I'd call productive.

Do not do this, Jen! Please... you are still far too vulnerable to the Dark Side. And- and you are now a target, too!

A target? I felt myself sneering at her through the bond. Is that some sort of threat?

No! I am talking about the Sith! She paused, and I wondered if she was trying to reign in her tangled emotions. Jen. Please, let us talk about this back at the ship. Now is not a good time.

What, because you're trapped under a mountain of rocks?

She was shocked back into silence again. Briefly. That is in poor taste, Jen. How long have you been listening to my thoughts?

I'd hardly spy on you out of choice, I lied. I can't help it if your panic bleeds through to me.

There is no emotion, her mental chant whispered through the bond, there is peace.

I snickered. So you say. What's this about the Sith, anyway?

Something akin to a sigh emanated from her. Calo Nord has attempted to kill us, and is now after you. It appears that Malak wishes both you and I dead. We must stay together, Jen. You are too vulnerable by yourself.

No way. I told her coldly. Calo Nord was no threat to me. I'm on my own now.

"Query: Master, shouldn't we be moving now?"

"In a minute, HK," I forestalled.

You- you have an obligation to Juhani!

What? Disbelief swirled through me at her utter gall. In case you forgot, she tried to kill me!

Yes, and you redeemed her! She believes she owes you a debt. You owe it to her to ensure she follows the correct path.

I can't believe this kath crap you are feeding me. I am not returning, Bastila. You have your own little quest with those ruins, I'm sure you can keep yourself occupied without my presence.

Please, Jen, allow me to teach you! Why do you have to be so- so frustratingly difficult? She was still flailing, somewhere between panic and desperation.

I don't trust you. You tried to trick me onto Dantooine. Where will you lead me next? I will not see any of your so-called masters.

Bastila was silent for a long time after that. I dragged my attention back to my surroundings, and the throbbing agony of my arm came back to revisit my senses.

"Jen!" A high-pitched voice yelled in the distance.

"I wondered where they had gotten to," I muttered, and then returned the call.

A minute later and Mission popped her head around the corner. She appeared relatively unhurt, and squeaked in dismay when she saw my useless limb dangling to one side.

"Oh, Jen! That looks awful! What happened?" She rushed to my side, her light brown eyes wide in sympathy. "Sheesh, there are so many corpses here!"

There was a loud howl, preceding the entrance of Zaalbar. I shot him a brief smile as he ducked through the entrance to the inner chamber.

"I thought you were in the desert," I murmured.

"(I cannot guard your back if I am not at your side!)" he wailed. His eyes fixed on my arm, and he let out a distressed moan.

"When we lost you and HK in that huge battle, I decided it might be best to go get Big Z. I'd been forced into the turret room anyway, so I deactivated them while I was there and then ran back to find him. It looked like you could use the help, y'know?" Mission looked at me solemnly. I didn't doubt the Twi'lek was brave, and she obviously had been trying to do the right thing.

"Shame you didn't get here quicker." I grinned at her, trying to ignore the pulsating pain radiating from my forearm. "Where's the Paranoid Has-Been?"

"Oh, very funny," Carth's voice snapped for the adjoining room. "Any cuter and you could be a Gamorrean's sister."

"Better than being a Gamorrean's mother," I quipped as Carth appeared through the torn hole in the room, scowling at me.

Would you agree to accompany me to someplace neutral? Bastila's voice entered my mind once more. Some place where there are no Jedi?

I was beginning to feel tired. I sighed in weariness before answering. What are you suggesting now?

You need training, Jen. The Dark Side is ever prevalent. If you refuse to meet with any of the Masters, then I have no choice but to attempt to guide you myself. Please, I implore you to accept my aid.

I was silent, rolling her suggestions around in my mind. I was still fumbling with the Force, it was true. At times it didn't answer, and I couldn't always predict my actions. Then there was the matter of the bond, and Bastila's hold over me. And Juhani- I hadn't pinned her down for any teaching yet, either.

But I didn't want Bastila sensing any indecision on my part. With a forced show of indifference, I tried to mentally shift my focus away from her.

"Have you found out anything about Griff?" Mission demanded

"No," I said, snapping my 'saber onto my belt. I'd dropped the other earlier, when my arm was hit. With a grimace of pain, I bent over to retrieve it.

"You need some sort of brace. We should get back to Anchorhead," Carth said, eyeing me over in concern.

"Hmm," I murmured, not quite sure whether I'd be joining them or not. I can't fix this arm by myself. Not out in the desert. I frowned at the realization, and followed Mission back out into a longer corridor.

What sort of neutral place are you suggesting? I asked Bastila. I felt the spark of hope emanate from her, and gritted my teeth.

I am finished on Tatooine, and Manaan is a planet that I need to visit on my quest. It is also purely neutral in the war with Malak. There is a Republic base on Manaan, but no Jedi are stationed there. The Selkath do not condone any sort of violence.

I stepped over corpses of Sand People as we walked further along the base. It was a complete and utter bloodbath. Was this all my doing? Of course it had been; HK and I had ripped through this place. The Sand People were soft, armour-less and ill-equipped. They had plenty of rage and courage, but that could only get them so far.

No one can withstand me, I thought with satisfaction.

I'm turning into something abominable. Ah, that'd be Street Kid acting up again.

All this death! No, I cannot bear it! A quiet whisper from Jen.

My arm throbbed again, a reminder that I needed some sort of assistance. And I couldn't yet rely on the Force consistently. I couldn't trust Bastila, but I could use her - glean what I needed to improve my control over the Force. Juhani would help, too.

And Manaan... a neutral world sounded easy enough to disappear in. Better than a desert one, at any rate.

Manaan it is, then. I responded to Bastila.

"Well, troops, it looks like Manaan's our next destination," I told the group.

"Manaan? What are you talking about?" Carth asked, frowning, as we ventured further into the base.

"Manaan? What's that?" Mission chirped brightly ahead of us. Sometimes I wondered how she could always be so unfailingly cheerful.

"Some neutral planet," I told her. "Bastila's done with Tatooine, and has just agreed to go there next."

Carth stopped walking and turned to face me, his hands on his hips. His dark eyes flashed with frustration. "You're still referring to that supposed mind-link, aren't you?"

I shrugged irritably at him. "Ask Bastila if you don't believe me." Why did I even bother with the man? For some odd reason, I desired his trust, yet at the same time I wished he was anywhere but near me.

"Hey! Is someone there?" a young, male voice called from further ahead. Mission froze.

I strode past her and towards the rickety door it had come from, thrusting it open with my good hand.

A startled and frightened Twi'lek was crouched in the corner, flinching at my entrance. He blinked, and eyed me over, hopeful surprise entering his expression. His skin was pale blue and covered in desert grime. "Uh... you there! I'm... I'm a high ranking executive of the Czerka Corporation! Eh... there's a big reward if you take me back to Anchorhead!"

"Riiight," I drawled in disbelief.

"Griff!" Mission squeaked, running next to me and brushing past me. I groaned in pain, squeezing my eyes shut as fresh agony spiked through my forearm. "Sheesh, Jen, I'm sorry!"

"Mission?" Griff squawked in surprise, his eyes round. "Is it really you? I heard Taris was attacked! I thought you were dead!"

Mission beamed, running further in and throwing her arms around her brother.

"Joy of joys, my little sister is alive!" Griff gasped, and Mission squeezed him.

"(I always like a happy ending,)" Zaalbar growled softly behind me.

"Hmm," I said noncommittally. I wondered what Mission's plans would be now, and if they involved Griff Vao.

"Sheesh, Griff, you like smell like bantha poo-doo!" Mission complained, extricating herself. "Like Big Z on a really bad hair day!"

"(I do not have bad hair days!)" Zaalbar howled in protest. I smirked as I saw Griff jump at the Wookiee's roar, his blue skin turning a few shades more pale.

"What-what was that?" he whispered, his voice weaker than before.

"Oh, that's just Big Z!" Mission explained in a bright tone.

"Hate to break this up, but we should probably head back before Sand People reinforcements arrive," Carth, the voice of wisdom, interrupted. "I hear there are plenty more bases deeper in the desert, and Jen's arm needs to be looked at."

"Your concern is touching, flyboy," I murmured. He eyed me over blandly.

"Alright, let's get going. We'll talk on the way!" Mission pulled on her brother's arm, and I stepped back to let them pass. Griff gasped audibly as he spotted the towering Wookiee.

"Zaalbar, this is my brother, Griff," Mission introduced. As she continued the introductions, I spotted another closed door and my curiosity was piqued. I could hear some sort of chattering behind it. I strode forward and kicked it open, the movement jolting a fresh surge of agony through my broken limb.

A small party of Jawas met my stunned eyes, and started jabbering at me in an odd dialect.

"(You are not giants made of sand!)" one of them squeaked. To my astonishment, I understood the words, if not quite the meaning. "(Will you help us or enslave us? We are unwilling servants bowed under whip and gaffi!)"

"What the-" Carth muttered incredulously, swinging around to see what the commotion was. "Jawas?"

"Query: Perm-"

"No, HK," I cut him off. These creatures seemed relatively harmless, and the thought of more pointless slaughter raised the bile in my throat.

No, I enjoy proving my worth. But killing these tiny creatures is no challenge.

"(You are free to go,)" I fumbled in their language, struggling with the sentence structure. "(There are no more people of the sand alive.)"

"(You speak the language trade!)" one of them responded gleefully. The other bunch jabbered in excitement, and quickly walked past me. "(We will remember you! Should you wish fair trade, find Iziz in the old city new!)"

I stood back in confusion as the Jawas bustled past me, scurrying swiftly down the corridor.

"Just how many languages can you speak?" Carth muttered in disbelief. "What sort of university teaches Mandalorian, Shyriiwook translation, and Jawa dialects?"

I sighed, exhaustion and numbing pain overshadowing any quip I could throw at him. "I don't know, Onasi. My memory is all screwed up. I don't really remember my past, it's riddled with gaping holes. I told you before; if you want to know more, ask Bastila." My words had turned bitter, twisted. Carth stared at me, his brows knitting in either disbelief or confusion. I sighed, closed my eyes, and turned my back on him.

"(Let us go back. Jen is injured,)" Zaalbar growled. I opened my eyes again to see the large Wookiee staring down at me in concern.

"Yeah, no point sticking around here anymore," Mission agreed, pulling her dazed brother after her.

"Okay," I muttered. "Someone give Mission's brother a blaster, though. Just in case we run into anything else."

I vaguely saw Carth chuck the Twi'lek a weapon, before we trudged out. Our exit was a slow, cautious pace, back out the canvas-lined chambers of the inner base. Splatters of blood marked bright spots at various places. Closer to the perimeter, the walls were made of reinforced plaster and sandstone.

I struggled to keep my pain under control. Bastila's emotions were once more apparent to me. Concern and fright and uncertainty. It was interesting that her mental state was so volatile, so less composed than the outer mask she showcased to the world. Idle curiosity had me, once more, opening my concentration to discover what she was up to. If nothing else, it will take my mind off my arm. And away from everything else that is going on inside my head.

Her panic seemed to be getting the better of her.

What-what does he think he's doing? He will kill us all, the crazy barbarian!

Ah, barbarian. She must be cursing Canderous.

Jen? Bastila's startled mind voice homed in on my thoughts.

Damn.

You are listening into my thoughts, she gasped, again! Her panic was growing. It was hypocritical in the extreme for her to complain, and yet I couldn't help but wonder why the thought of me hearing her thoughts drove her into such a tailspin of fright.

I'm learning from the best, I snapped sarcastically. Besides, your ranting makes me forget my broken arm.

A brief silence. It sounds like you have journeyed into trouble. I suggest you head back to the Ebon Hawk. I will meet you there, as soon as I can.

I snorted, and Mission stopped to look at me, an eyebrow raised. I waved my hand dismissively. "Just Bastila," I told her dryly. "Trapped in a cave with Canderous for comfort."

Mission giggled uneasily as we stepped outside into the bright desert.

I'm in trouble? Sounds like you're having your fair share, I shot back. Stupid Jedi snot, I added quietly in the recesses of my own mind.

Yes, I admit I am not in the most desirable of situations, she responded in a forced tone. However, I – no! No! She cut herself off to concentrate on whatever mayhem Canderous was creating.

Are you alright? I asked, concerned despite myself. No, I thought. I'm only concerned because I'd rather have Canderous alive than dead. Nothing else.

I do believe his grenades worked. Bastila sounded stunned, disbelieving. Now I will never hear the end of it. She seemed to focus on me once more. Jen, do be careful out there. Calo Nord is hunting you in the desert. Please, head back to Anchorhead as quickly as possible.

I rolled my eyes, and refused to answer her.

xXx