On the run

- Jen Sahara -


The clinical chrome walls of Ahto City surrounded me as I walked down one of the circular corridors that branched through the place like the spokes of a centrifugal space station. The entire city had a stark, utilitarian feel to it that reminded me gloomily of a med-clinic; albeit without the lingering tang of bacta. The utter lack of litter, graffiti - even so much as a speck of dirt - made me feel like a raggy trespasser roaming unwanted through a pristine dream. The dull pounding from my head dogged me with each step, merely adding to my detached, numb state of being.

The Selkath sure do like it clean and stark around here. There were no lurid neon signs, hopeful beggars, or dark strangers doing dark deals in corners. Considering the plain attire of the people walking cautiously past me, it wasn't because I was in the rich side of town. This entire city is one controlled, unreal place. I didn't like it.

But people were people; no doubt crimes were committed, information exchanged, spice sold – like on any other planet. In Ahto City, one just had to be a little more discreet.

Small flying service droids buzzed over the heads of sentients, ostensibly to keep an eye on things. My vision snagged on the cameras hung high into the gleaming silver walls, and I restrained the urge to tug my hood down lower. Good thing HK had the foresight to suggest I wear concealing clothing over my armour. I had no idea if the Selkath would be tracking me – would this Master Karon's influence extend that far? I fought down the rage brewing in my gut; the mere thought of her or Bastila was enough to tear at the edges of my fragile control. Priorities. Focus on getting off Manaan first.

But thoughts of the crew warred for prominence; a masochistic side of me kept imagining Mission's reaction when she found out I'd left. Stop it. It's not like I really betrayed them. The crash won't have hurt anyone. But I knew how Mission would see it, so soon after facing up to the scummy nature of her cowardly brother. I'd had half a mind to stay on Tatooine, find Griff, and beat him to a satisfyingly bloody pulp. Mission was a weakness. It is better that I left her behind. Weaknesses should be shed.

The corridor exited into a sweeping, open courtyard; sunlight pouring in from the heavens through the dome above. The atmosphere within the city's enclosure was both warm and overly humid; making it mildly unpleasant to wear clothes let alone armour. The Selkath are a reptilian creature. This city is probably climate-controlled for their comfort.

A sharp spike of pain stabbed at the side of my head; remnants from the recent knock in the escape pod. I rubbed a hand through my messy curls, grimacing. I'd had enough head injuries to last a life time, and while the latest was no more than a mild concussion and superficial bruising, I could've done without the residual dizziness.

It'd certainly made the speeder trip back to Ahto City a challenge.

I'd managed to dump the rescue bike quickly and hightail it out of the commercial port before being questioned by any of the authorities, but as soon as I'd made it into the Selkath City itself, I'd almost fainted.

Concussion is what I really don't need right now. A passing Aqualish glared at me in suspicion, and I realized I was still clutching my head. I slapped a more composed look on my face, dropped the hand, and moved on. I'm a mess. My arm ached, still weak from the fracture back on Tatooine, aggravated by the violent humming of the speeder's unstable steering. I've got to pull myself together and actually appear competent, or the GenoHaradan won't give me a chance.

I glanced around my surroundings. I was somewhere in the eastern part of Ahto City, walking through a large courtyard graced by a rather ugly statue of a toothy shark. I wandered towards it, making out the words 'Eastern Quadrant' inscribed in Basic on a small, bronze plaque. More was written below in Selkatha, but I couldn't make out all the words. Something about a god, and wrath. I stared back at the shark. Trust the Selkath to worship a fish.

I heard a snide laugh, and turned my head sharply- bringing on another wave of dizziness. A group of mostly Humans stood sniggering near the edge of the courtyard, eyeing me over. They were all clothed in a tan, tight-fitting uniform, and with a spark of awareness I recognized it as the casual attire of Sith troops. They didn't seem inclined to approach me, but it was obvious they were mocking me from afar.

I shivered as the hairs rose on my forearms. Dark spots speckled around the periphery of my vision, and the tang of nausea rose at the back of my throat. I steadied myself with one hand leaning against the fierce statue, but it was too late...

Frustrated rage simmered inside me; I knew I should work through my anger and control it, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as ranting within my own head. Why is he questioning me? We've got this far, and now he's uncertain?

There was one more location after Manaan and now, I wondered, if it would be better to go alone. Send him back to the others, who had been waiting for some time on the edge of space, now.

He trusted me, I knew that as a core truth… but he didn't fear what we'd discovered. Somehow, the danger had ebbed in his mind. He didn't grasp the totality of the threat we faced.

His doubts over that, and what I sought as a counter-measure, were beginning to grate. There were times when I felt it would be easier to command him to hold his tongue. I'd never had an issue with hearing viewpoints that opposed mine - stars, it made sense to look at all angles of any objective - but belabouring the point when I'd chosen the path forward was inefficient, wasteful and irritating.

There weren't many who would dare... and, at times, I wished he wouldn't either.

Striding blindly through the gleamingly perfect streets of Ahto City did nothing but raise my ire further. I hate this place. Frelling Selkath. The shining chrome walls of the corridor glided out into a large courtyard, marred by a hideous statue of a firaxan shark. Their mythical god. The Selkath should go back to the bottom of the ocean and stay there. Unfortunately, it sounded like I would be the one journeying to those murky depths. I grimaced.

"Hey!" a mocking voice called out, and I stiffened, whirling around. A group of four Sith were watching me, cocky condescension all over their faces. Sod the Manaan neutrality laws. It might be fun to pick a fight with those idiots.

"This street is for Sith only," the closest woman told me, nose in the air, her lips pursed in disdain as she eyed over my ragged clothing. "You got to pay a twenty credit toll to walk down this street."

My amusement warred with a growing anger, but these days my anger was winning more often than not. It hadn't always been that way...

"You can have your credits when you take them from my cold, dead hand," I snarled, and blinked suddenly as I stared up into the grinning face of the shark. In the distance a Selkath was glaring at my hand; I jerked the offending limb away from the statue, but still his eyes bored into me. Just what I didn't need to do – draw attention to myself.

"Well, well," a smarmy voice called, and I turned to see the group of Sith soldiers walk closer. "Lookee, it's a drunk wanting to pick a fight."

I stiffened, and felt my face tighten as the Sith sauntered towards me. I felt disastrously light-headed, and although the feeling was dissipating, I wasn't sure if I was up to conflict. Up to it? I can't actually desire violence – not here on Manaan! Oh yeah. The neutrality laws.

The leader of the gang crossed her arms and smirked at me. Her fair hair and cold blue eyes appeared identical to the Sith I'd just seen in my mind. Could it be the same one? Or do all the pathetic Sith minions look so similar?

"What?" she drawled. "Got nothing to say now, gutter trash?" A man behind her sniggered, and two of the group surreptitiously moved to flank me. My latent anger stirred once more, firing adrenaline through my veins.

"I've got plenty to say," I said flatly. "I just doubt your ronto turd of a brain could comprehend it."

A look of surprise flashed sparks in the woman's eyes, and then she tilted her head back to laugh. "My, my," she purred. "Looks like the drunk rat has claws."

My mouth twitched in amusement; the Sith caught my expression and her smirk dropped like a stone in the Manaan ocean. An ugly scowl took its place.

"You want a fight, gutter scum?" she sneered, and took a threatening step closer. The woman's face was mere inches from mine; I could see the residue of cheap cosmetics padding her skin, smoothing it into the face of someone younger. Like she could challenge me. I can rip her head off in one second flat. "Go on, I'll even give you the first shot," she taunted, spreading her arms open in invitation.

My gaze roved over her companions: four of them in total, standing passively as they watched our altercation. My fist curled. One quick jab to her throat, and she'll be down. The muscles in my weak arm ached as I tensed them. I stared back into the mocking blue eyes of my aggressor, and suddenly, something about the whole encounter seemed slightly off.

Why is she pushing for me to start the fight? I looked over her shoulder and had my answer.

A group of armoured Selkath were striding purposefully across the courtyard, directly past us. Sithspit! I'm a brainless Gamorrean! Is my desire for violence so strong that I overlook common sense? I flung my hands upwards, palms first, in the universal gesture for peace. "I don't want a fight," I said loudly, concisely, my voice ringing false over the flawless beauty of Selkath architecture. "I'm sorry if I caused offence, I did not mean to."

The woman dropped her arms, and I caught the flash of disappointment on her face. Pathetic. Is this how the Sith prove themselves on Manaan? Try to get an unsuspecting stranger to hit them first so they'll be jailed? And I thought the Sith on Taris had been weaklings. I smirked, but bowed low to the woman, aware of the close proximity of the Selkath. "I beg your pardon," I repeated my empty platitudes.

"Break it up!" one of the Selkath exclaimed in a slurring voice. "You Sith, always trying to cause trouble! Leave that Human alone!" The three Selkath marched around the Sith party, their armour gleaming a burnished bronze colour that was as stark and shiny as their architecture.

I bowed in overt deference to the Selkath, and stepped away from the crowd. The first Selkath nodded to me brusquely before turning to continue his tirade at the Sith leader. As I strode away from the courtyard, I could still hear the words 'trouble-maker' and 'no respect for the law'.

xXx

I walked out into a large courtyard that seemed to hold nothing bar a rather dismal view of the nearby ocean through massive panes of double-glazed transparisteel. Nearby, leaning unobtrusively under a hanging pillar, stood a dark red humanoid droid. A smile curved my lips as his eyes flared in recognition.

"Greeting: It is good to see you again and in one piece, master."

My smile broadened as I glanced around the area. HK had been ordered to meet me in the southeast quadrant, the same place mentioned in the GenoHaradan's mysterious message. The inner hub of Ahto City was organized into eight large quadrants, laid out like dinner plates surrounding a banquet. This had to be the place, but where would I find Hulas?

The courtyard itself looked identical to the earlier one I'd passed through, sans the grotesque statue. A waist-height ferracrete wall bordered the half of the enclosure that faced the sea, stopping sentients from physically reaching the transparisteel. The wall seemed a popular place to gather nonetheless; a group of Selkath were hissing something in Selkatha, a Rodian was idly shuffling what appeared to be pazaak cards, and a trio of merchants were disbanding a makeshift market stall under the disapproving eye of an armoured Selkath.

Pivoting on my heel, my gaze roved throughout the entire quadrant. Sents strolled in every direction, but I couldn't see anyone lurking about that appeared to be a secret agent for a cryptic organization.

I frowned. "HK, do you think any of the people around here could be contacts for an assassination order?"

HK gave me what could have been construed as a dubious look, in so far as a droid could, but dutifully scanned the area. "Observation: I highly doubt it, master."

"Yeah, me too," I muttered. What was I asking a droid for, anyway? My eyes snagged on a dark doorway set into the towering chrome walls, and I walked closer. A tiny plaque above the opening read "The Spacer's Break." A cantina. Of course. Where else would you go looking for disreputable sorts?

As I neared the entrance, I made out a large figure slouching against the wall within. It jerked upright at my approach and strode forward to meet me, one eye gleaming maliciously from the shadows.

"No droids," the Abyssin grunted, jabbing an accusatory finger at HK. I had a suddenly urge to override his will, to pull on the Force and demand his obedience- but I can't reach the Force. Not yet. And I need to focus on other objectives, first.

I smiled tightly. "No problem. HK, stand guard outside."

"Protest: But master, how can I protect you if I am not with you?" HK objected.

"HK, this is Manaan. Nothing ever happens here," I idly threw over my shoulder as the Abyssin moved aside and let me pass.

The interior of the cantina was dimly lit, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Empty booths and pazaak tables lined the walls; the only sents in the place were talking in hushed whispers. I noticed the lack of Selkath around, and wondered absently if the reptilian species didn't appreciate frequenting such places. They may not come in here, but they're watching all the same. Cameras hung discretely from the ceiling and a buzzing surveillance droid circled the centre of the room. The Selkath authorities still kept an eye even on places such as this.

The bar itself was deeper into the cantina, and as I strode further inside, I heard the soft wailing of Bith musicians. A few halogen lamps dotted around the place offered only dismal illumination, and the ensuing shadows mated with thick cigarra smoke. A handful of people sat smoking near the band, but the rest of the cantina had an eerie, empty feeling to it.

The Ithorian behind the bar grunted as I walked up to him, and focused beady eyes on me.

"What'll you have?" he asked roughly.

I grabbed a handful of credit chits HK had obtained, and slapped them on the bar. It was well more than a mug of beer. "A Forvish ale," I stated. As the Ithorian moved to take the cash, I leaned forward. "I'm looking for Hulas," I murmured in a lowered tone, and then thrust the small pile at him.

The Ithorian blinked, looked down at the credits, and then back at me. "I don't know no Hulas," he said.

I scowled, and pulled out another handful. At this rate I'll be all out. "Maybe this will help," I commented, and slid the chits over the beer-stained bar.

The Ithorian pocketed the second lot of creds. "Thanks. But it doesn't," he threw over his shoulder as he turned to serve a green Twi'lek that had approached for a drink.

My spine stiffened. He thinks he can just take my credits for nothing? My jaw clenched as a wave of fiery anger surged through me. Abruptly, I felt pushing at me from Bastila through the bond, trying to communicate, trying to reach me... I pulled back, and turned my psyche away from her. My emotions... they attracted her notice, dammit. I had to resist a natural instinct to hammer at her Force block.

What do I do now? No Hulas, no way off Manaan? I felt my fingers twitch towards a hidden blaster. Remember the cameras. This entire place is monitored. I can't get violent!

The Ithorian bartender returned a moment later, and nodded towards the side of the room. "Someone has a message for you," he grunted.

My eyes narrowed, but I turned to stare in the direction he indicated. One of the shadowy booths embedded into the cantina wall held a solitary robed figure. Is that Hulas? How did the Ithorian communicate so quickly to him? I glanced back to the Twi'lek in suspicion, but the green-skinned sentient was already turning back to face the band, a newly purchased drink clasped in one hand.

I shrugged to myself. I've got a lead. Nothing for it but to play along.

The cloaked figure did not look up as I slid into a seat opposite him. He was a Rodian, decked out in an unobtrusive grey robe that covered his torso. His posture was deliberately casual as he leaned his elbows on the cracked and faded table, but he did not meet my eyes.

"Hello, Hulas," I said softly.

The Rodian finally looked at me, ducking his head to glance under my hood. I was glad of the disguise; I did not want him to see my face until I had sounded him out.

"A Human?" he said finally. "There are sentients everywhere, but you choose to speak with me. Am I so different? Do you think I have answers that others do not?"

"That's a rather strange greeting," I replied. "To someone who has been asked to meet the GenoHaradan."

Hulas paused, but to his credit his expression did not change. "You have the advantage of me, Human. There is power in names, yet in the end a name alone can mean nothing." he finished. I had the feeling he thought he was rather more enigmatic than I did.

He's a genuine agent, though. His poise, his stance... a lackey, maybe, but definitely GenoHaradan. How did I know that? What dark dealings had I had with them in the past? "My name is Jen Sahara," I said simply.

Again his expression did not change, but this time I noticed his jaw clenching. He's surprised. He wasn't expecting me to turn up. I wonder why?

"Ah, yes." His tone was light, neutral. And yet something struck me as being slightly off. "You may be wondering just what the GenoHaradan is."

I shrugged. "A secret assassination society who may be interested in my skills."

Again the slight pause. I was beginning to realize that minuscule delay was the only indication Hulas gave of astonishment. "And yet, we are so much more. But this is not the most appropriate place to speak of such things. Come, let us move a more private setting."

Hulas moved to stand, but I cut him off quickly. "I don't have time for that, Hulas," I said flatly.

He stared at me impassively, the only change in expression the slight rise of an eyebrow. "You do not have time for a walk, yet you had time to seek me out? That strikes me as strange, Jen Sahara."

I smirked. "It's very simple. Your organization is interested in hiring me. I, in turn, need to leave Manaan. Immediately." Hulas made no direct reply, so I continued. "I know you have the ability to get me off Manaan, Hulas. Do that, and I'll join the GenoHaradan."

Hulas crossed his arms, and again I inwardly damned the detached expression on his face. Does this guy ever show any emotion? He may as well have been a block of permacrete. I suppose the GenoHaradan choose their agents well. This Hulas must be a contact for all sorts of assassin wannabes. It make senses that he doesn't give anything away. Still, it was annoying.

"We don't make deals, Jen Sahara. You give yourself a lot of credit if you believe we will organize a free trip for you. Why is it that you are in such a rush to leave Manaan?"

I shrugged, and decided on the truth. "I have some rather powerful people after me."

Hulas paused, his eyes darkening in shock, or surprise, or something. I stiffened. Does Hulas know about Bastila and Karon? No, he couldn't, the GenoHaradan would have nothing to do with the Jedi. Surely.

"The GenoHaradan offers protection for its agents, Jen Sahara. But you are not one."

"I wish to be," I countered quickly.

"Even so, the wishing does not magically initiate you into our brethren. We have many trials, a long testing period-"

"Hulas," I hissed. "I am happy to do this sort of apprenticeship on another planet. But if you guys truly want me to be an agent, then get me off this planet within the next hour. If you can't achieve that, then I'm off – right now - to find someone who can."

Hulas sighed, and then to my surprise, capitulated. More easily than I expected him too. "Follow me. There are always civilian ships leaving to Rii'shn. I will organize something."

Huh, I was certain he was going to refuse. I guess the GenoHaradan are really impressed with me. I wonder what they've heard? I followed Hulas out of the cantina, noticing the brief nod he gave the Ithorian bartender. There had been some unspoken communication between them then, I realized with a smirk.

As we walked outside into the bright sunshine, HK-47 fell in behind me.

"Yours?" Hulas asked me, indicating the droid.

I nodded. "Yes. These days you can't live without a protocol droid. He'll need to come with me too."

"A... protocol droid, you say?"

"Statement: I am well versed in verbal and cultural translation," HK intoned from behind us. "I attempt to serve my master's every need."

"Are protocol droids equipped with laser rifles these days?" Hulas questioned. His tone was mild, but there was a slight inflection of disbelief, there.

"One can never be too careful," I said, keeping my reply back just as mild.

"Well, you would not be our first agent with a personal droid," Hulas ventured after a short delay. "As long as he is kept under control, and doesn't break any laws-"

"Objection: I am a law-abiding droid!" HK cut in quickly. The robot seemed to think about this for a minute, and then further reiterated his point. "Yes, indeed, law-abiding, that's me."

I wished his tone had been a little more convincing.

I bit back a snigger, and hurriedly moved to change the subject. "You mentioned the world Rii'shn? Where is that?"

Hulas paused, glancing at me sideways. I've surprised him again. "Rii'shn is the closest habitable planet in this system. It is a sister planet to Manaan; its capitol Emnaad is a domed Selkath township much like Ahto City, if smaller. I am astonished you have not heard of it. It is a mere four hour space flight away."

My spine stiffened, and I stopped abruptly. "Four hours away is not far enough, Hulas."

"I gathered as much," he answered, motioning for me to continue moving. "But it will do as a start. I will organize a pickup point outside the dome of Emnaad; a rendezvous with one of our agents. You will learn of your first assignment which shall, of course, be on a planet further away. Do not fear, Jen Sahara. The GenoHaradan look after their agents."

xXx

In the end, it had been as easy as I had suspected. Hulas had gifted me with a fake ID chip – enough to get me off this stars-forsaken planet. My new name – Alieya Djurr'yni – sounded a lot more exotic than Jen Sahara, but either way it was still a false name.

The civilian transport ship was packed with struggling merchants making the quick jaunt over to Rii'shn, the sister planet that Hulas had given me a brief summary of. Although less populous than Manaan, Rii'shn had smaller townships that were not Selkath controlled - which meant easier credits and more flexible laws, provided one could slip out of Emnaad which housed the planet's only starport under its Selkath dome.

The suffocating stench of organic sweat permeated my senses, and I struggled to keep from breathing through my nose. Crowded sents were squashed into tiny seats all around me, talking and gesticulating in a myriad of languages. The slurry tones of Selkatha were the dominant inflection in the hubbub of noise, and above everyone's heads was the overt presence of both mobile and stationary vid cams. The Selkath liked their surveillance as a means of enforcing pacifism. It dogged me with the ominous sensation of constantly being watched.

I resisted the urge to batter once more at Bastila's shields; strongly desiring the strength of the Force, if for nothing else than to drown out the senseless babble. As always, the power was dancing tantalizingly out of reach, teasing me with its inaccessibility. As soon as I was safely off Manaan, I fully intended to deal with the snot's blockade.

I sighed and stared out of the window. For all that Hulas had jacked me up with the lowest-class transport possible, at least I was seated with a view. I heard the engines power up as the starship readied to leave Ahto City, and through the grimy transparisteel panes I could see crowds of departed family waving their loved ones farewell.

The congregation was too far away for me to pick out individual faces, but my eyes caught on one robed figure as it slowly made its way to the front. The repulsors of the transport kicked in, humming loudly, cutting through the cacophony of noise; but my vision stayed fixed on the brown-clad figure. My skin prickled and my fists clenched.

That's Karon. I know it is. The ship began to rise, but still I gazed out the window, trying to distinguish features on a figure too far away to recognize.

Somehow, I knew, she was watching me too.

xXx