Echoes of the Past

- Jen Sahara -


The passage seemed to drag. Hulas had told me it was only a four-hour flight, but it felt like I'd already spent half a day crammed in a transport ship that reeked worse than a Wookiee's breath. I was pressed up against the window by a heavyset Duros, who had finally stopped initiating conversation after I'd threatened to gut him. That was real slick. I have the subtlety of a Gamorrean prostitute. I wrenched my thoughts away from that ludicrous image quickly, before it could stick.

I felt pressed in, claustrophobic. Children were squalling in a variety of languages, playing on my tense nerves and rising temper. My head was still pounding, and it was hard to stay focused. Flashes of people and places shot randomly through my mind. I closed my eyes in despair and breathed in deeply. Consciousness faded.

"Let's get outta here!" he hissed from his vantage point by the doorway. "We've got what we need, so let's go!"

Stars, it's not like I'm gonna get caught. I never get caught. But he had, once. He'd never told me what the bastards did to him – they called themselves the Enforcers, but in reality their only job was to ensure no Uncitizen left the Western Underground. I'd seen them slaughter countless of the hungry, starving homeless in the name of their 'duty'.

Still, to this day, he wouldn't tell me how he escaped. Perhaps I didn't really want to know.

"Got a cit ID chip," I grinned, as I pocketed my tools and a stash of credits.

"It's not like that's much use to us," he muttered. "We're not registered on the NCD, remember?"

I closed the locker, and stood up. "Sod the National Citizen Database. It's all a load of kath crap anyway. Telling us we don't have the right to live because of where we're born." I could feel myself scowling. The injustice of my homeworld always stirred my anger, but not his. Not anymore. Somehow, he seemed to have grown resigned to it. Not quite acceptance, but a close cousin.

"It's the way it works, little gal," he quipped as I walked over to him. "You can't change the system."

"Don't call me that," I said automatically. "And that's such a cop out. Just accepting things 'cause they've always been like that."

He shrugged, motioning me out as he closed the door. We were thieving in one of the poorer parts of Altizir, which meant less of a haul, but also a smaller chance of being caught. Considering the grim consequences of exposure, it really was our only option if we wanted to eat. It would have sat better with me if we'd looted some rich bastard's joint instead, but I always made sure not to take everything. Only what we needed to survive.

"Well, maybe one day you can change the world," he muttered, grinning wryly at me as we walked quickly through the abandoned apartment building.

"Well maybe I can!" I retorted. "Sun and stars! Why do you always make fun of my views?"

"'Cause they're dangerous views, I guess. That old man is always putting ideas in your head." He grabbed my hand suddenly, stopping me in my tracks just before the back exit we'd come in through. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you." His eyes had darkened in intensity, and I felt desire stab deep through my belly. His other hand moved to cup the side of my face, its comforting warmth sending unbidden shivers down my back. Humour crinkled his young face, and I wondered if he could sense my uneasiness. He'd always been able to read my thoughts. Uncannily, at times.

A grinding noise startled me, and a lead weight plummeted through my stomach as I recognized it. The sound of that half-broken side door opening. Blank shock dulled his dark eyes, and he wrenched me behind him abruptly.

Be calm, my mind muttered swiftly. It's probably just a normal cit' who'll ignore us.

"We have been looking for you," a voice said mildly. My throat dried up, but I jumped out from behind the safety of his back regardless, brandishing a dull, chipped shiv that was my only weapon. I ain't going down without a fight!

To my utter surprise, the figures standing before us weren't clothed in the loose blue and silver uniform of the Talshion Enforcers. Instead, all three of them were draped in dull brown robes - like clerics or something - and their body language was relaxed. The leader, who had spoken, was a female of some race I'd never seen. Two small, sharp horns protruded from her forehead, and her eyes blazed a brilliant turquoise against her dark skin.

I blinked. "Who the frell are you?"

"Hey, wake up."

Something prodded me in the side, and awareness flared, followed immediately by a heavy pounding in my head. I bit back a groan; the lingering headache seemed to be getting worse. I turned to glare at my neighbour, who retracted the offending arm from my side. "Sorry," the Duros said mildly. "You were muttering in your sleep. Sounded like a nightmare."

I nodded once, and winced. Damn this! My arm ached, my head throbbed, and my vision was fuzzy and unclear. The last thing I needed was to be inundated with flashbacks from one of my pasts. At least I know that Karon woman is from Street Kid's past. Figures. Damn these riddles in my head.

The Force was still teasing me with possibilities, promising me with power. I couldn't stop the longing to reach out, and as I did so I slammed straight into Bastila's walls. Schutta!

Jen? Are you listening? Please, you have to come back!

"You okay miss?" the Duros repeated. His grating voice stabbed into my ears. "We're almost there. Just an hour away."

My head pounded, my vision blurred...

"Only one hour until we reach the Genoas system, my Lord," a man said. He was dressed in a formal military uniform, with Admiral pips on the shoulders. Funny, it looked like a Sith uniform.

"Excellent." I strode across a large command deck, staring out at the flaring stars. "It starts, Admiral. Soon we shall create a new order. Never again shall we be at the mercy of any threat like the Mandalorian scum."

The Admiral turned to look at me; an older man, lines of age pitting his face. His hair grew white under a ridiculous military hat. Honestly, I really need to change that ludicrous uniform. His eyes were serious and intelligent, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Something prodded me in the side. Man and starship dissolved.

"Huh?" I mumbled.

"You gotta pull yourself together, lady," someone was muttering. Belatedly, I recognized my annoying neighbour. I should silence him. No, a civilian ship was not a good place to start a fight. I don't want to hurt him, he's trying to help!

"The Selkath won't let you into Emnaad if they think you're stimmed up," the Duros was saying. What is he jabbering about? "Here, have some of this."

I stared at the Duros; really looked at him this time. Odd, he seemed to be sincere as he held out a small syringe.

My eyes narrowed. "What the frell is that?"

"Shhh!" he hissed. "It's just an energy booster. Clears your mind, sorta thing. Looks like you could use it." I could see the red veins in his big, bulbous black eyes. He's a junkie. Stoned up to his ugly eyeballs. And yet, he was offering me a solution to my unstable dizziness.

"I'll be fine," I said shortly, and turned away. I wanted him to stop talking so I could think. I commanded an admiral? How crazy is that? Can I really believe all these memories? Well, it was obvious that I had been powerful. Really? And maybe next I'll dream I'm the head of the Senate. I snickered, and the Duros looked marginally offended.

"Come on, it's only Gree Spice! And you won't get into Emnaad if you keep blacking out."

I shrugged, annoyance winning out. Why not, it'll make him shut up. And I won't make it to the GenoHaradan if I keep fainting.

You always were too reckless, someone muttered. Always too quick to jump into situations, without a thought for the consequences.

"Emnaad?" I questioned as I took the proffered needle. "What's that?"

A prick in my arm, the feeling of salvation.

"It's the main Selkath colony on Rii'shn. Y'know, the Selkath have to live in domes, the planet's too cold for them. The rest of the place is mostly Czerka mining colonies, all sorts of temporary towns where the Exchange hang out. People disappear, all the time." The Duros was rambling, and I wondered that I hadn't picked up on his state earlier. "The Selkath keep things pretty peaceful and controlled in Emnaad. Frakking hard to find any spice around."

"So why are you going there?" I countered. My head cleared marginally, and my thoughts calmed down. Everything seemed less important. My fragmented memories and lost past reduced in importance; I'd made it this far without knowing who I was. Why did it really matter?

Jen?

Heh, Bastila was still talking to me. Funny, I wasn't so angry at her anymore. But I wanted what she continued to deny me. The Force. Let's think about this rationally. I can break through her shields, one step at a time.

No!

I've done it before, right?

Jen, I- I. Bastila sighed. I'll let you have access to the Force, if you tell me where you are going.

I thought about that for a moment, clearly and logically. But if I tell you that, then you'll find me. I don't want that, right?

A sense of astonishment radiated from her. What's wrong with you?

The Duros was grinning idiotically at me. I think I have concussion. I wonder if taking spice was such a good idea, after all.

Spice?

"How long does this last?" I asked curiously. It didn't really matter. Things were so much clearer now. It didn't matter whether I was Evil Bitch, or Street Kid, or Jen Sahara... no, I couldn't possibly be Jen. Everything seemed to point to Evil Bitch. She was the strongest, right?

The Duros giggled. "It'll probably wear off by the time you're in Emnaad. Doesn't last long, shame. If you want more, I'll need some credits." He hiccupped, and a sane part of me realized he'd taken more than just an energy booster himself. He's probably on glitterstim. It didn't matter, he seemed to be happy. Of course it matters, you moron! Snap out of it! This guy could get us into trouble! No, it didn't really matter.

Spice?! Bastila sounded outraged and incredulous. I giggled. She was funny like that. I-I cannot- I will not deal with this anymore. A sort of weary resignation emanated through the mind-link. You forge your own path, Jen.

The touch of her presence against mine faded, and part of me was surprised. She left? What happened to the overbearing, neurotic woman determined to manipulate and betray me to her masters?

Apathy and relaxation overcame me, and the feeling drifted away, superfluous. My thoughts cleared, and everything seemed so simple, so easy to understand. I'd spent so much time raging at the unknown without doing anything about it. So many days until I'd finally left the others. Of course, Bastila still had control over me. Time to do something about that.

I drew my mind back to my first encounter with Juhani. I'd confronted her as a meek, empty shell, and walked away alive, invigorated, and furious. Somehow during our duel I'd shattered Bastila's shields in the midst of rage. My eyes closed, and I heard the faint giggle from my happy neighbour, overlaid with the heavy noise of too many people confined into a too small a ship.

Images danced through my mind, as clear as if they happened yesterday. Well, it wasn't really that long ago, if you think about it. It felt like a lifetime. I could see Juhani, facing me, a feral snarl twisting her features. Despair lurked in the recesses of her amber eyes. Odd, I hadn't noticed the despair before.

How did I break through Bastila to reach the Force? Rage had overcome me at Juhani's attack. Fear for myself, fear for Mission. I tried to rekindle that anger, rekindle the fury that constantly blazed within me. For the first time, the fury wouldn't rise. Maybe it was the 'energy booster', maybe my exhaustion. My eyelids drooped. A kaleidoscope of colours stretched outwards, encompassing me. Odd, I felt like I was floating. I couldn't see the transport ship anymore, just small flickers of life dotted around me. A thick cord of bright white dazzled me, blinded me. It seemed to connect me to someone else. I followed.

I will not think of it anymore. I will not think of her. Master Karon had advised me to trust in the Force, and in a way it was a relief to let go of the incessant worry, the continuing darkness suffocating me through that cursed bond.

The glistening walls of the Republic Embassy engulfed me as I strode back towards my assigned room. Karon had gone to see Juhani; I dearly hoped the Cathar would find some peace. The end of the opulent corridor twisted back towards the exit of the embassy, and a flash of blue in a burnt orange flight jacket darted past. Mission? Followed by a lumbering Wookiee.

I sighed internally. So they are leaving. I didn't really expect anything else; the duo certainly hadn't tagged along because of my presence. For all that the impressionable Twi'lek seemed to do nothing but irritate, part of me worried what trouble she would run into out on the streets of Ahto City.

It is not like she would listen to me. If she wants to leave, I cannot do anything to stop her. It is better she does not get any more involved with my quest. I wondered briefly how much longer Canderous would stay around. He will be off soon, no doubt.

The door to my room swished open, and I walked inside with a feeling of relief. A small meditation mat adorned a polished chrome floor, next to a large bed that begged to be used. My eyes snagged on the comfortable mattress, and although I berated myself internally, I could not stop my feet from walking towards it. I should meditate first. The bed's soft comfort engulfed me as I lay down, and a weary sigh escaped. Perhaps I need rest first. Karon wanted me to travel to Hrakert Station, and so I would. This time, I would not fail in my duty.

Whoa, this is surreal.

My body tensed as shock sparked through me.

I felt myself forcibly hurled from Bastila's mind, and the Jedi faded. Were those actually her thoughts? Bastila's angry indignation wafted after me, and then suddenly her presence vanished. Like she deliberately blocked it.

I was flying away from her mind, back along the thick cord. Is that the bond? I'd never seen it before; it looked so pretty. Stars. What sort of moron am I, taking spice like a crazed idiot? The voice was a familiar sneering whisper; quiet and less powerful than usual.

The Force sparkled around me, like viewing fireworks from a distance. I felt so lethargic, so, so... at peace. Everything was alright. And suddenly I saw it for the first time. Remnants of Bastila; a barrier between me and the Force. The shield I'd slammed into countless times, and shattered only twice. It was pure Force energy itself; humming thick with life. Fashioned into a net, cascading tightly around me, and hooked back through our bond. No matter how I try, I can't draw on the Force with that thing in the way.

How ironic that a barrier of Force energy would keep me from accessing Force energy. Now that was a curious thought. What if I...?

I tugged gently at the barrier, drawing it in the way I usually pulled on the Force in my surroundings. It gave a little; crumbled. I tugged harder.

It shattered.

Without realizing it, I was holding my breath, waiting for a shrewish mental scream from Bastila. My eyes flew open, and I found myself back in the cramped ship. Noise and smell slammed into my senses, then muted as the Force flooded through me. Powerful, intoxicating, healing. A bigger rush than a syringe could offer. Is that it? Is that all I have to do, to break her shield? The passive way certainly was a lot easier.

Still no response from the snot. Maybe she had fallen asleep, at last. Now that's a good idea. Maybe when I wake up, the effects of this drug will have worn off. I closed my eyes again, content for the first time in a long, long while.

xXx

I was rudely awoken later, by a Selkath jerking on my shoulders.

"Wake up!" he slurred. "We have landed. You need to leave."

I prised open grimy eyelids as familiar aches surged back into existence. My weak arm, reminding me of its poor condition. My head, throbbing with a dizzy pain. I gasped in a breath, tentatively drawing on the Force. I called to it, and it answered. I couldn't sense Bastila, but the Force swirled through me invitingly, begging to be used.

I smiled. Finally, something was going right. My Duros companion had already left, and I noted the transport was remarkably empty. The Selkath scowled, his amphibian features wrinkled in annoyance. It's time to get moving.

I disembarked, picking up HK from the droid storage unit. The datapad Hulas had given me lay heavy in my pocket, detailing where and who to meet. Interestingly, the meeting place wasn't in the domed city. Hulas had given me a small purse of credits, enough to order a taxi-shuttle to a nearby mining village. There was no time to lose; even on Rii'shn I felt too close to Bastila and her little Master.

The commercial port was situated on the outskirts of Emnaad, outside the major dome. Surveillance drones were buzzing over the crowds of sentients wandering around the starport. Exits into the city itself were heavily guarded by Selkath authorities, and my eyes flicked over a stimmed Duros being searched and arrested. I restrained from sniggering, mentally berating myself for taking his offer in the first place. Part of me still felt woozy despite my grasp of the Force; whether it was due to the spice or the escape pod crashing, I didn't know.

Smirking to myself, I strode towards a nearby taxi.

xXx

It was freezing. An icy wind blew straight through my armour, chilling me to the bone. The hills behind the ramshackle town were dusted in white, and I began to understand why the Selkath did not set foot outside of Emnaad. They probably wouldn't last longer than an hour out here. I might not either, if I didn't find some shelter.

"Observation: The designated cantina is up ahead, master." HK pointed out. I squinted, and made out a lurid pink sign stating 'The Lady's Garter' in bright Basic. A human followed by a protocol droid were busily entering, and I wondered if it was the only popular place around here. The mining town was an odd mixture of old and new technology; half the buildings looked as if one gale would blow them over. In this weather, it would probably happen soon.

A few sentients were out in the elements, but it was a far cry from the bustling noise of Emnaad. My doomed flying companion had warned me the Exchange and Czerka controlled these areas, so in a way it wasn't surprising the GenoHaradan wanted to meet here. Scumbags attract scumbags. And when you've got a whole bunch of them together... who knows what could happen.

I spotted a Rodian nearby who was backed up against a wall, surrounded by a Bothan and two Gamorreans. His desperate eyes fixed on mine, and I looked away quickly, focusing back on the cantina. I should help. No, I needed to stay out of trouble, and get to the cantina. Why should I help a pathetic weakling, anyway?

"(I didn't know!)" the Rodian objected, his voice frantic and high-pitched.

"You expect me to believe that you were unaware your best friend and partner was going to betray Tasoan?" the Bothan sneered.

"No one betrays the Exchange," one of the Gamorreans grunted.

No one should be cornered like that. I gritted my teeth, and walked on.

"(He said he was loyal! He did!)" the Rodian gasped.

"I am loyal! I swear it!" The woman gasped as I lifted her in the Force, slamming her hard against the wall behind.

"Tell me who betrayed me," I snarled viciously, my rage fuelling the Force thrumming and pulsing through my body.

I shook my head, stumbling against HK as I strove to clear the fogginess from my mind. I've had that vision before. I pulled on the Force, for no reason other than to feel its glorious power surge through me.

"Are you looking for trouble?" a voice snarled from behind, and I turned to see the Bothan and his Gamorrean henchmen glaring at me.

"No trouble," I said flatly. I heard a whirring of HK's gears as he focused on the new potential threat.

The Bothan turned back to his captive, muttering something about drunks under his breath. The Rodian was still gazing at me with pleading eyes, and my fists clenched. No, dammit! I will not turn into some sort of simpering little Jedi, helping out everyone in need! This is beneath me!

I walked on, pushing away a dark, sinking feeling. The thugs had gone back to interrogating the Rodian, and the icy wind blew his words to my ears, torturing me with my decision.

"(I really don't know!)" he pleaded. "(You have to believe me!)"

"I do not know! I wasn't part of it!"

I could hear the sincerity in her tone. She was of no use to me then, and I was not in the mood to be sparing. I squeezed my fist, and her neck yanked to the side. And audible snap sounded through the room. Now that was a waste. That sort of carelessness is more often displayed by my apprentice, I berated myself ruefully as I exited the room, stepping over the twitching body. My apprentice... No, he couldn't be the one who betrayed me. Not him. It would be one of the other remnants of the blasted Jedi Thirteen.

"Query: Master, is your watery shell malfunctioning?" HK's metallic voice snapped me back to reality yet again. Frell! This just keeps happening! This was the first time I'd experienced a recurring memory... or vision... or whatever those flashes really were. An iron band was pushing in against my temples, but I couldn't stop for rest. The GenoHaradan were waiting.

"I'll be fine, HK," I muttered. There was an ominous silence behind me, and I twisted around to look for the Exchange thugs. The street was deserted.

I grimaced. I guess they decided to do their little interrogation elsewhere. Sod it, maybe I should have helped him.

A thickset Nikto guarded the entrance of the cantina, casually grasping a large blaster rifle. Small, pointed horns lined the side of the bouncer's leathery face, and the reddish tint to his skin belied the fact he belonged to the most common branch of Nikto; the Kajain'sa. That's odd. Nikto usually work for the Hutts. I wouldn't expect one to be a bouncer in a Czerka controlled village. His sharp eyes focused on me as I approached, and he smiled ferally. All I could see was the baring of teeth.

He grunted, pointing his gun in HK's direction.

"No droids allowed inside," he growled. My brows lowered. What is it with cantinas and this no droid policy? Anyone would think HK was planning to blow the place up. My eyes slid to the dark red combat droid, whose intent gaze was pinning the Nikto... hostilely. Heh. Maybe I can't blame them.

"(Observation: This meatbag looks like the bastard offspring of a diseased Hutt,)" HK stated boldly, in a language I understood but could not identify. The menacing tones of the odd language struck me first, and then the insult registered. I stiffened, and my vision snapped back to the Nikto. "(Which doesn't say much for his mother,)" HK finished.

What the frell is he doing? The Nikto merely looked bored as he waited for me to send my droid away. HK stared back at me. "(Extrapolation: The guard doesn't understand me. Master, I observed a droid entering this establishment as we walked down the street. Conclusion: He is trying to separate us. This might be a trap. Suggestion: I can easily blast this meatbag now, master.)"

HK's words washed through me, and surprise was chased away by irrational anger. My muscles clenched, and I instantly grasped the Force. No one traps me! Somehow I had the common sense – or maybe self-preservation – to grin and nod agreeably at the guard. Calm down. HK's psychotic – can I really trust his instincts?

"Go back to the hotel, HK," I said mildly to the droid. "This time, make sure you find the back entrance." We didn't have a hotel. I hoped HK would pick up on my meaning. This is going to mean trouble if he's wrong. A cynical part of me pointed out that the worse trouble was if he was correct. Oh yeah.

HK stared at me with his piercing red gaze. "(Affirmation: At once, master,)" he responded, and strode away. I smiled more confidently than I felt at the alien, who stared back, impassive, and moved aside to let me pass. The lurid pink of the tacky neon sign shone brightly over my face for a brief moment.

The bar inside was fairly deserted, and I was beginning to see that cantinas looked the same all over the galaxy. This particular place was occupied by the same type of ruffians who populated Javyar's cantina back on Taris. My eyes sharpened on a human who was lurking in the corner, nursing a drink as his droid sat powered down next to him. Right. No droids allowed. I could feel my fingers curling into fists.

A wide door marked 'Private' at the back of the room was guarded by a type of alien I didn't recognize. So much for being the cultural know-it-all. I hadn't realized how reliant I'd become on this hidden knowledge of my past, this innate ability to speak languages and recognize cultures and technology, even though I had no idea where it came from.

Alright, time to plan. I drew further on the Force, and reached out with it. I can do this. Once before, unintentionally on Tatooine, I'd done it. I can use the Force to sense... My head cleared further, and I felt more alive than I had for days. Faint sparks of life registered around me, and with a sudden boost of confidence I realized I was sensing the drunken inhabitants of The Lady's Garter through the Force.

The guard further ahead straightened, looking at me suspiciously. He was dark skinned, hairless, and the faint light glinted off sharp teeth. My eyes roved over his muscular frame, menacing claws and bulky armour. Confidence and fury raged, and I reached further out. Somehow, the Force didn't register on the guard. What? Why can't I sense his life essence? A latent anger stirred within, blazing heat through my body. What's really going on here?

I took a step towards the shadowy guard. Never mind. I'll find out. My fury encompassed an icy core. And if it is a trap, then... then we'll just see who walks away alive.

I walked further, well aware a trap was waiting for me, but my pride would not allow for anything but to show I was the strongest. No one can best me. No one ever has, and once again, it looks like I have to prove it.

A large chrome door opened. Of course, they are expecting me. I had been lured onto this pathetic hovel of a planet merely to be led into an ambush, organized by Deralian troops and some of my own traitorous Dark Jedi. I will lay waste to this festering planet.

But first, the matter of this scum up ahead. I will show them what happens to those who dare to betray me!

I squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them again. Concentrate, dammit! I am stronger than this! The comforting presence of my lightsabers hung at my belt, concealed by the loose clothing I'd worn since I'd left the Ebon Hawk. Funny, I wasn't cold anymore.

I strode forward towards the back door, and the alien stepped aside.

"Name?" he all but spat.

"Alieya." I smiled tightly, offering the false one the GenoHaradan had given me. He snorted, and opened the door.

"Come with me," he grunted, motioning me inwards.

"No, after you," I offered in a pleasant voice, baring my teeth. He rolled his eyes, an exasperated expression lacing his dark face. Nonetheless, he stepped through the door first.

Questions buzzed insistently through my mind as I took the first step into danger. The door swung ominously shut behind me, but the warehouse itself was well lit, despite a lack of windows. Numerous bright, fluorescent lights hung low from the ceiling, creating a sheen of dazzling brilliance that all but blinded my eyes. Various storage crates lined the walls; probably brimming with alcoholic supplies for the cantina. A small desk graced the far end of the building, behind which a waiting human sat.

I paused, stretching out my Force senses as I did so. A straight path to the waiting human would take me directly between two small stacks of crates, oddly separated from the larger storage boxes that lined the shadowy walls. The alien guard walked nonchalantly between the crates, but something about their position raised my mistrust.

Pinpricks of life flared through the Force, alerting me to about twenty waiting sentients hidden behind the larger crates. Sithspit, it is an ambush! The guard had already passed the middle of the building, nearing the desk at the far wall.

Who am I that a group as powerful as the GenoHaradan would go to all this trouble of killing me? I barely had the self-control to restrain a feral snarl from erupting. The best way to foil an ambush is to trip it and charge.

The Force begged to be used; my anger begged to be unleashed. The snarl erupted unconsciously from my lungs, and my lightsabers jerked into my hands, the red haze of activation mirroring my burning fury. I could feel the Force all around me as primal power, twisting and reverberating through the 'sabers, surging a dark fury that overpowered any rationality. I wasn't even surprised to feel myself moving, running, sprinting, through the centre of the warehouse, my surroundings elongating in the manner that always accompanied Force induced speed. When you act, strike once and strike hard as if it were your last. Therein lies victory. A dark muttering from Evil Bitch, growing in power.

A large boom sounded behind me; the centre crates exploding as I sped past. Had it not been for my increased celerity, that probably would have been my end. They thought to kill me with a bunch of pathetic mines, a rabid voice growled in my head. They will all die for this!

The heat wave of the blast hit, shunting me closer to the guard who had turned around to look back at me in shock. The comical expression of stunned surprise didn't leave his face even as my outstretched lightsaber seared through his neck. One moron down, many to follow.

The seated human jerked to his feet and bellowed something, as I leaped over the desk and drove my off-hand saber through his throat. The sheer feeling of supremacy swamped me, overloading my senses. I was vaguely aware of a primitive howl of victory exiting my lungs as I whirled around, utilizing the Force to leap onto the now-bloodied desk. Peace, this can't be happening, a soft whisper, drowned out by raging, swirling emotions of hatred and fury. Peace is a lie! There is only passion!

The dim lights of the warehouse cut out, engulfing the storage warehouse into a pure blackness only broken by the eerie reddish glow of my 'sabers. A cold, calculating part of me – the only portion still marginally sane – realized the rest of the GenoHaradan would no doubt be wearing visors. My brilliant weapons were merely showing them the bulls-eye.

I stood still in the doorway, aware that the light from the room behind was illuminating my presence like a homing beacon, but perversely I wanted them to make the first, futile move.

I could sense perhaps ten or so Dark Jedi in the room. The blood of Deralian troops still splattered my robes; yet I was more than ready to add to it. Who organized this? Which pathetic minion dared to believe they could challenge me?

The one nearest snarled, and charged. My lightsabers hissed - twin bands of blood-red. I threw one uncaringly at the oncoming traitor, following it with sparks of brilliant blue static from my fingertips.

The man screeched, stumbling backwards and clutching at his shoulder; now missing one arm. I deftly halted my spree of lightening to catch my off-hand 'saber.

"Cowards!" My snarl ended in a dark, bitter laugh. "You weak fools! All too pathetic to challenge me one on one!"

"Let's just see if you're strong enough to survive us all, my lord!" another figure yelled, his last words mocking as he jumped forwards to challenge me.

Arran. Always brash and fiery, but he's too stupid to organize something like this. I will find out who put them up to this.

The others followed in his wake cautiously, fanning out into a circle.

It started like a dance; an elegant movement of feints and ripostes and blood and lightening and laughter and slaughter... I lost track of everything as the Force bent itself to my will, as my lightsabers cleaved a path through flesh, and my body dodged and weaved around my enemies. My side burned and my leg cried in agony where a 'saber had carved out a chunk of flesh, but pain was a useful tool. Pain and anger. Tools to unleash passion. And through passion, I gain strength!

Shots fired – pinpricks of light I dodged and reflected atop the slippery desk. Memories blurred into reality, and I wasn't entirely sure who I was fighting anymore. Something slammed into my shoulder, with such force that I fell backwards, landing with a grunt onto the darkened floor. Agony resonated down my arm to the weakened bone still mending, and my teeth bared in the darkness. Pain can be used, Evil Bitch growled gleefully. I succumbed further; the Force welled up like a bursting water pipe about to explode. Used to release passion. Passion that can build strength, and increase power.

Something exploded inside of me; a thousand shards of broken ferracrystal pierced through my skin from the inside out, stabbing through in an oddly satisfying way. I screamed; whether in surprise or rage or glee I no longer knew. My senses peaked as sharply as a glitterstim high, and a darkly visible aura pulsed and radiated around me. The true berserker state, at last! Evil Bitch was crowing.

Numerous grenades were lobbed towards me; the Force hurled them back towards their owners as I leapt clear of the desk. Bright flashes of fragmentation danced against crates, and the blissful tones of agonized screaming filled my ears. This is true living! True power!

"Your time has come! Your power is draining, I can feel it!" Arran snarled. He had only two allies left, but all three raised their lightsabers threateningly.

"Surely you don't think you've seen the limits of my power, little Sith pretender?" I mocked. "Let me show you just how mistaken you are. My power is my victory. You will beg for release at the end."

I pulled on the Force, jerking the Zeltron's feet out from underneath him.

"Tut tut," I mocked, leaping backwards to avoid the charge of the others. "You really should guard yourself better." Arran Da'klor was a hot-headed imbecile. He'd seen me use that trick in practise against Talvon, against Yudan, even against my loving apprentice. They'd learned to guard themselves against it - well, Talvon was long dead - but stupid Arran hadn't learned a thing. The others wouldn't have had anything to do with this. Not Yudan. Not Mal. Not Mal...

I unleashed a powerful Force-compressed blast of air that slammed into all of them as Arran was struggling to his feet. It knocked Arran and one of his lackeys back down, but the other, a human female, grunted with effort as she blocked it. I took the opportunity to jump towards Arran's fallen comrade and sheathe my lightsaber home into his chest.

"There goes another one of your friends," I taunted, turning to face the female. Fear and uncertainty rolled off her in tantalizingly sweet waves I could almost smell. I reached out and massaged that fear, encouraging it to take over. She may have strength, but she lacks conviction in her own abilities. The woman took a hesitant step backwards, and my smile grew as I squeezed my fist tight. She choked, dropping her weapon to clutch at her throat.

"No!" Arran shrieked, charging me like a rancor in heat. I laughed as I sent him flying with another Force wave. My hand clenched again, and the Dark Jedi gagged.

"Neiza!" Arran yelled, his voice twisting in emotion.

"Oh dear," I said softly as the woman suffocated. "Don't tell me you actually care for the girl, Arran?" She had risen into the air, legs twitching spasmodically as her hands scrabbled at her throat. "Lucky for you I am feeling generous. Beg on your knees for forgiveness, and I may yet let her live."

"Never!" Arran snarled, lurching to his feet.

"A shame. I guess you didn't really care for her then."

The GenoHaradan were, however, professionals. A number of them fired modified slug throwers at me; impossible to see in the darkness... unless one could utilize the Force. My lips curved as I dodged the old-fashioned projectiles; some missing me entirely while others melted on my blades.

Four assassins leapt towards me with vibroblades; their movements appearing slow and clumsy to my heightened senses. Others were still firing; I lured the blade-wielders in between me and the cross-fire. The Force hummed through my flesh; the power of life of which I was master. I twisted it to do my bidding, piercing deep into nearby minds with a blast of intangible terror. All but one of the assassins dropped to their feet, clutching at their heads and screaming. The remaining one, an Aqualish, stepped forward with his blade raised. I admired his ability to resist the fear; this one had courage. I let the Force wrap around him, coil tightly over his limbs as I searched for a weak spot. Electrical impulses caught my attention; they emanated from his eye sockets. Curious. Occular implants? Well, that was easy enough to focus on. I tightened my focus, narrowing it on his eyes and finding my target. With a satisfied smirk, I yanked mentally.

The Aqualish screeched so loudly that even the drunken louts back in the cantina must have heard. His eyes landed with a wet plop behind me.

An explosion rocked the ceiling, the noise a slow growling boom in my ears. I looked up to see a blast of light shattering through the cheap plastifoam roof, followed by fragments of insulation floating like fragile snowflakes dusting the warehouse with winter's kiss. A droid dropped down from the heavens, firing a blaster rapidly on his descent.

"Observation: I see you have started the fun without me, master," HK commented as he landed with a thud, in a tone that somehow managed to convey disappointment.

Victory was near; I could almost taste it, despite the fact I was still outnumbered. HK started firing rapidly, his shots accurate and his movements nimble despite his mechanical build. One of the assassins turned to run, but did not make it to the door. Victory is mine. Through victory, my chains are broken.

Someone threw a gas grenade; the GenoHaradan were getting desperate if they believed that would work on a droid and a Force user. The grenade was swept to the far corner; I leapt away from any residue gas. Dark laughter bubbled up, and streaks of lightening danced on my enemies, bathing the assassins in eerie blue. The Force-induced rage was still with me, still firing strongly through my veins, but... the return of a dull ache in my forearm warned me my strength was waning.

A flicker in the Force behind me. I jerked to the side just as one of the last GenoHaradan futilely stabbed the air I had recently occupied. Dim light from the jagged hole in the roof illuminated the assassin, and I realized he was the same unfamiliar race as the guard I'd gutted earlier. I slammed the Force into him, but somehow it twisted – split – divided around the alien, refusing to touch him physically. Some of my shock must have shown, for a confident smirk pleated his face. He made a guttural sound; half-laugh, half-snort.

Dashade. Recognition slammed through me; the force-resistant species thought to be extinct. How the frell had the GenoHaradan acquired two of the bastards?

"You won't find me so easy, Jedi!" the alien spat.

"I'm no Jedi!" I snarled, drawing deeper into my faltering berserker state. The Force was sputtering in my grasp, slithering away. "And while the Force may not touch you, Dashade, it can certainly aid me!" I finished on a howl, and charged.

Speed was on my side, and his attack just wasn't quick enough. His Echani blade whistled through the air, missing my neck as I dodged; sliding onto my knees and slicing through the tendons in his leg with a 'saber. I rolled away as the Dashade howled, hopping onto his other foot instinctively to lurch at me again. One 'saber rose to parry, while the other stabbed deep through his foot, into the permacrete floor. The smell of burning, cauterized flesh tickled my senses.

A scream of pure agony ripped from the Dashade as he stumbled, off-balance, his foot slicing cleaning through the 'saber as he did so. His blade clattered uselessly, a small distance away from his hand.

I stood up, acting quickly as the Force threatened to desert me. My strength is fading. My lightsabers both poised at the alien's neck, I bared my teeth.

"Why?" I yelled. "Why did the GenoHaradan double-cross me?"

"Why do you think?" the Dashade grunted, closing his eyes in pain.

The GenoHaradan fight for money. Someone put a contract on my head. "Who, then?" My voice had grown softer. "Tell me who, before I start randomly slicing your limbs off."

"We have our own honour code, Jedi scum!" the Dashade spat. "Some information cannot be bought!"

"Everything can be bought." I said coldly, dragging a 'saber down towards his groin. "Everyone has a price, my friend. And you are just about finished."

"You are finished, Arran," I said softly, unleashing a bolt of white lightning into the Zeltron. His tortured screams wafted through the stagnant air. "But you know how long I can make you suffer. Weeks... months even. Tell me who commandeered this, and your end will be quick."

He had lost his lightsaber, an arm, half a leg and his dignity. But he was not broken, yet. "I gave the orders! This was my mission!" he spat in between choking gasps of pain.

I laughed mockingly, firing another round of lightening through his living corpse. "Do not insult me! I have known you for too long, Arran Da'klor. You are a follower, and your temper is easily manipulated. If not for your depth of power and early loyalty, you would never have been one of the Jedi Thirteen."

"I curse the day I ever joined your crusade," Arran hissed. A bubble of bloody spit dribbled from the corner of his mouth. "But you're right, we were loyal once. And you burned that out of us, burned it out of us all."

"Who was it?" I snarled, as the achromatic crackle of electricity danced once more through his body. And all the while, my furious thoughts raged. Bandon, Bandon is the most likely. But he's so new, he wouldn't have the resources to pull this off alone. And Nisotsa's too cautious, Yudan's too loyal, and Mal would never… "Tell me! Was it Bandon? Yudan? Malak himself? I'll rip it from your mind if I have to!"

Arran's gasps of pain were broken and unsteady; the Force had long since left him. Or so I thought, and was completely unprepared for his next move.

A sudden, brief jerk on the Force, focused entirely on a small, ceremonial dagger strapped around my thigh. It flew into the air and embedded in his heart before I could act.

"You will never know," he gasped. I flooded the Force through him instinctively, furiously trying to knit together muscle and flesh. I could not heal properly, but damage control was something I had grown adept at. His life ebbed away, despite my efforts. "You will always doubt your followers, my Lord Revan," he choked, his head turning and I felt his spirit depart.

I froze; everything turned to ice, and the Force slipped away, out of my grasp. Agony returned in a flood; muscles complained and burned but nothing could override the growing sense of terror within my own head.

I stumbled backwards, vaguely aware my mouth had dropped open in horror. The Dashade took one look at me, and lurched towards his Echani duelling blade lying nearby.

What did Arran say?

My limbs failed me, my thoughts reeled in denial.

Who is Evil Bitch?

The Dashade grasped his weapon, and pulled it back to throw at me.

-my Lord-

No words could be more damning.

HK materialized behind the Dashade, firing point-blank into his head. The blade clanged to the ground, dropping from lifeless fingers. Just another corpse.

"Statement: All meatbags have now been terminated, master." A smug, metallic voice.

I was lying down. I wasn't sure how I'd made the transition from standing to lying, but I couldn't move anymore. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

xXx

Time passed. Seconds or hours; I wasn't sure and I didn't care. Time lost all meaning when compared to the horrifying revelation rebounding mercilessly within my own head. A logical voice was stating that it was time to move; time to get out before anyone discovered the piles of GenoHaradan corpses that lay within touching distance, surrounding me like a field of red daisies. The sharp tang of bloodied, mortal injuries assailed my senses, and it would not be long before I was discovered.

But that thought paled in comparison with the knowledge of who Evil Bitch truly was. No wonder she kept wresting control. It all makes nightmarish sense. Funny how much importance can be trapped into a name. Jen Sahara, on one hand, meant nothing. A common enough Deralian name, to suit a common enough scholar. But now I know another name. Two out of three.

Bubbles of hysteria trapped in my throat, sticking like cheap fizz-pop. Part of me had almost become resigned to a lack of knowledge about my past. To never knowing who I really was. Not Jen Sahara. I knew that from the start. Evil Bitch or Street Kid? I thought I'd worked that one out those first days on Taris, but everything since then had become... murky.

So what does that make me? Two out of three. Neither name could possibly be correct; one anonymous and sickeningly passive; the other a hideous, macabre monster from a horror vid. Terrifying and utterly unbelievable.

A chill swept through me again.

I couldn't feel. My entire body was disjointed, like I had somehow separated myself from the physical flesh. One thought alone kept repeating in my head, like the monotonous chant of monks praying to their un-noticing god. No rational analysis was possible, not with the numb, detached question spinning around and around, demanding an answer that I did not know. But still, I kept asking myself.

Why do I have the Dark Lord of the Sith in my head?

xXx

Author's Note: many thanks to Kosiah for the beta.