Hyperspace: V - part one
Juhani:
Dak turned, slowly, his dark eyes wide with alarm as he stared desperately at me. Belaya's screams replayed again and again in my head. The flush of rage fired through my blood. Everything felt so hot.
All I could think about was Belaya. My dear friend, my only friend, cut down by one who had professed to love me.
Betrayal snarled from my lungs, and the scalding hot of tears blurred my vision. Belaya… Belaya cannot be dead! My fingers clenched hard, and I raised the blue bar of Jedi justice high. My teeth bared. How could he… how could he have done that to Belaya!
"Juhani!" Dak pleaded. He thumbed the off-switch on his weapon in a deliberate action. "Don't believe that bastard's lies!" Oh, Uthar was an evil blight on this dark planet, I knew that, I was not an idiot! But how had Belaya been brought here, except by someone she trusted? How had Uthar known of Quatra? Of Dak's twisted feelings for me?
To think that Dak had fallen so low went beyond understanding. It went beyond forgiveness.
The Force picked up around me, heightened by bitter grief and rage, and for once I welcomed these dark emotions, embraced them, drew in the power deep enough to serve justice where it was needed.
It felt… it felt like it had when I faced Quatra.
"No," I shook my head. Denied it. Threw away that comparison. This was nothing like my trials, no matter if the Force tasted the same. This was about justice – justice for Belaya.
I ran at him.
Dak threw himself to the side of the room, avoiding my wild overhead lunge, his deactivated weapon held tight in his slimy, betraying grasp. If he thought I would not strike him down due to a lack of defense, then he was grossly miscalculating the depths of my anger.
Dak pressed himself against the far wall, beneath a set of hideous manacles chained high into the chrome. It seemed an indictment of his character, of this evil, evil, place.
"This is why you left Dantooine?" I hissed, stalking forward. "To kill and torture-" My voice broke on the last word, and the replay of the Headmaster's villainous video flashed through my mind. A howl ripped from my lungs, and through my blurry vision I saw Dak wildly shake his head. My fury snapped, then, and I was back on Taris, enacting vengeance against the slavers of my youth. Xor, Dartmoor, Elijuur the Hutt… I could still the hot blood on my face, the sweet vindication of revenge.
The despair had come later, alone on the hot sands of Tatooine.
I lunged forward wildly, barely aware of my motions, the anger driving the Force into my muscles with unworldly strength.
Dak dodged, and my hand flung out an upsurge of energy that smashed him sideways across the room. He slid across the shiny metallic floor before halting with a crunch into the desk. Dak crumpled forward with a grunt, and took a moment to slowly stagger back to his feet.
"Think, Juhani!" he whispered hoarsely. "Uthar brought us to this room to meet someone! It must have been Belaya!"
His gaze on mine was still desperate and wild, and his cursed lightsaber remained off. I did not understand that. His lies will not trick me. I have always been stronger than him, and he is searching for any means to escape. Belaya's screams rebounded through my head once more, and I launched myself through the air, fury-filled and unnaturally fast, the blue of my lightsaber aimed directly for his rotten, evil head. He leaped to the side, and I slammed straight through the poraclay desk with a shattering crack.
He was running from me, like the coward he had always been. I spun to face him; he was once more backed against the wall. I threw myself forward. The Force rode a frenzy within me, dark and bitter and toxic, and it tasted like the despairing Tatooine sand, the raging Tarisian slaves quarters, the resentful Dantooine trials…
…it tasted like failure.
I found the Dark Side within me. Revan's words whispered in my head.
My vision blurred, as my lightsaber paused a hairs-breadth from his neck. Dak twitched, his eyes squeezing shut. He wasn't even trying. His lightsaber dropped in a deliberate action, clattering to the metallic ground. The sound echoed throughout the room.
"I won't fight you, Juhani," he said, and I understood his passiveness then was choice, not weakness. "But I will profess my innocence to the end."
"Of course," I hissed. "You always were the talker, Dak Vesser."
His eyes snapped open, and there was anger amongst the despair. "You told me you were a Jedi, Juhani. I'm pretty damn sure the Jedi don't believe in killing the unarmed."
My lightsaber was wavering, and so was my righteous conviction. I shuddered in doubt, and it caused me to land an accidental glance against his collarbone.
"Shavit!" Dak cursed viciously, jerking sideways, one hand clapped against the side of his neck.
I froze, glaring into his dark gaze through the blinding blue of my 'saber. Belaya deserved justice, Belaya deserved so much more, and how was it possible Uthar Wynn had known so much of everything if Dak had not played a part in it?
Dak was a Sith, a Sith here on Korriban. And this was exactly the vile sort of behaviour I expected of Sith.
But is killing him the path of a Jedi?
It was not. I knew that.
"Uthar's a manipulating chivhole," Dak said in a low voice. "And a frelling mind-reader." His hand dropped from the side of his neck, and I saw a vicious red burn. Simultaneously I felt the urge to crow in righteousness and apologise for my fumbling. "Juhani, I've not seen Belaya since the day I left Dantooine. All the stuff he said… he's picked from my mind. You must believe me."
And now there was uncertainty gnawing deep within me. For Uthar had brought us here to meet someone. He had expected there to be someone here.
Was it possible that Belaya might still be alive?
There was a thump, then, from behind the durasteel door, and we both turned in alarm. My unworldly anger was diminishing, and in its place returned the calmer presence of the Force I was more familiar with. It picked up on the energies of my environment, and my eyes widened in disbelief.
"What's going on out there?" Dak whispered, echoing my thoughts. He stepped closer, having picked up his lightsaber once more, and placed an unsteady hand on my arm which I shook off roughly.
"Do not touch me," I said through gritted teeth. "I do not trust you, Dak Vesser. This is not over. Not until I find Belaya."
"Not until we find Belaya," he returned, glaring at me. "She's my damn friend too, Juhani. I don't know what the frell she's doing on Korriban, but I want to see her away from here as much as you do!"
"Shut up!" I hissed. His words were confusing, and I no longer knew what to believe. He let out a pent-up sigh, and then a massive wave of Force energy right outside the door had us both stiffen. Dak's lightsaber activated in his hands.
"There's lightning out there," Dak muttered, his eyes widening in alarm. "Numerous Force users. Yuthura… Yuthura must be attacking. I never thought she'd actually have the guts."
Revan. It did not feel like Revan, not directly outside, but further beyond there was something else. A growing darkness that was beginning to eclipse whatever was next door. It could be her. It had been hours and hours since I left the Ebon Hawk, for what was meant to be a short visit. I had only planned to give Dak a small amount of my time, and yet Uthar's drive to find me had left me trapped in the Valley all day.
"Open the door, Dak," I said hoarsely. "Now!"
He shot me a startled look, before striding forward and slamming his hand on the door controls.
Nothing happened.
"Shavit!" Dak cursed. "Uthar must have locked us in!"
I stared at him in bafflement from the centre of the room. "Why would he do that?"
"So I couldn't escape before you killed me," Dak bit out, thumping uselessly against the control pad again. He shot me a bitter look. "Uthar's figured out I'm a dead loss and hoped to recruit you, Juhani."
"I would never join the Sith!" I hissed, the heat of outrage flaring briefly once more.
"Oh no?" Dak turned fully around, then, staring at me intently from darkly bitter eyes. He folded his arms. "Not even if you killed your old friend and then realized you were in the wrong? If the Jedi didn't turf you out a second time, then your own guilt probably would."
I felt myself flushing hotly in shame, even as I reminded myself that Dak would say just about anything to wriggle out of trouble. And yet… I did not know the truth. I had almost killed him on nothing but an evil Sith's word.
The only thing Uthar proved is that Belaya was here.
The thought that I may have almost made a colossal mistake – again – burned a sickening humiliation in my gut.
Not now. Now is not the time. Energy sparked and unleashed just beyond, and I glanced back to the door. We had to get out. This we could sort out later. Uthar wished us trapped inside, and that meant we had to get out.
"Can you use your lightsaber to cut the door open?" I suggested. It took time, but lightsabers could slice through almost anything, no matter what the locking mechanism was. Dak had already turned back to the door, leaning in to face the keypad unit, but I saw his shoulders bunch at my question.
"No," he said shortly. "The durasteel's woven with cortosis to stop anyone with a 'saber escaping. I'm afraid Jedi prisoners are not that uncommon, here." It was hard to bite back my disgust, and I felt the grimace on my face. Perhaps Dak was innocent of Belaya… perhaps. But it did not sound as if he were unfamiliar with this room.
Dak jabbed a finger at the panel, and cursed again. "I'm just pushing buttons here, Juhani. Unless you know how to slice a lock or hack the console?"
Another wave of Force power was unleashed beyond the walls that imprisoned us. I looked over to the console. A log on prompt stared at me uselessly.
"I do not, Dak," I whispered. My anguished eyes rose to meet his despairing ones.
He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. "Then we're stuck."
xXx
Belaya Linn:
The room was a blur as I raced with all the speed of the Force, intent only upon reaching the bitter rage that I sensed was my dearest friend. Juhani… Jen Sahara said she walked in the Light, now. Whatever was being done to her in this cursed, evil place - I could not bear it if she fell again.
The stimulants and the pressure band beneath my armour were enough to keep me going. There was a hallway ahead, and that was the direction I needed to take. It looked familiar. I knew where it led.
My entire being shied away from that cursed place, but Juhani was there. I ran on.
Then blinding white torment sheered into me, crackled through the chromex suit and sent me collapsing to the ground. I screamed in anguish as a thousand stabbing needles pierced deep into the marrow of my bones. Pain blitzed through every rational thought, except - move!
My muscles convulsed as I forced them to obey, rolling frantically to the side. I heard the shink of a lightsaber stab into the ground behind me, and the lightning dissipated just enough for me to draw on the Force in a desperate pull.
It engulfed me with life, shucking the remnants of dark power from my limbs. I stumbled to my feet, turning to face four Dark Jedi I had not known were chasing me. Oh no. Horror was instant and acute. Even were I not injured, this would be too much for me. My lungs felt tight, and every breath was agonizing.
I was so close to Juhani. Which still meant failure if I were cut down now.
The leader, a blonde female human, had closed her off-hand in a fist. Blue shards of energy crackled around it, sparking against the smirk on her face. Dread tasted like ash in my mouth.
Fury roared in the form of Wookiee outrage, and the tip of a bloodied blade protruded from the chest of a yellow skinned Trandoshan flanking the blonde. The Dark Jedi gasped, and I echoed him in surprise as the Wookiee snarled again, shoving the reptilian Sith off his vibrosword. As the Trandoshan collapsed, blaster fire spat and deflected around the remaining three Sith who sprang into action. One bolt was launched directly into the Wookiee's chest, and he howled as he staggered back.
My breath rattled. My ribs felt like a burning prison of pain spiking into me.
Jen Sahara's droid appeared out of nowhere, stepping to my side as he fired a projectile at the blonde leader. She dodged, turning back to us, her teeth bared in a rictus of impassioned hate.
"Juhani is down that corridor," I said desperately to the robot. "We need her assistance. Find her!"
Maroon photoreceptors gleamed at me in assent just as a spinning lightsaber was thrown at him. I drew the Force under my command into a tight ball of compression and flung it outward, hitting the blonde in the chest as I heard a metallic sheering behind me.
The human fell to the ground, fumbling her lightsaber as it returned back to her grasp.
The footfalls of HK-47 disappeared behind me, followed swiftly by a short Rodian female wielding a double-bladed lightsaber. My gaze landed on the prone blonde.
I launched toward her, only to be faced by a snarling Togruta whose blood-red beam crashed into my upraised shorter lightsaber.
My breath was wet and wheezing, a worrying concern for a later time when I was not facing imminent death. My strength and my focus would not be dictated by such physical limitations. I drew deep on the Force and revitalizing energy coursed through me, overriding the pain of my body.
I sidestepped, ducked underneath an overly optimistic lunge, and stabbed at the Togruta's side just as the blonde human returned to her feet, lightsaber in hand. The Togruta shrieked, and the Force added strength to my next swing. It cut deep, higher now, into the breadth of one of his montrals.
There was a flash of blue-white, then electrical laceration engulfed me in a paroxysm of pain, slamming me back to the ground in tandem with the Togruta.
The agony bit deep; my ribs were splintering and my throat was hoarse with screaming. Stop the pain! The Force was riding with me still, energy that I used to disengage all nerve endings. A blessed numbness followed, even as my muscles still twitched spasmodically under the electrical charge.
"Belaya!" someone yelled. There was a sudden pressure against my ribs, and my eyes opened to see that woman – no, girl, really – withdrawing her lightsaber from my side. I must get up! The blonde was looking beyond me now, attention drawn by the shout, and the Force under my command pushed at her weakly.
I struggled to move, to push up from my shaking arms and clamber to my feet. As I stood, there was a shout and a blur past me, moving to engage the woman. It was hard to feel much of anything, with the Force blocking out the sensation of pain. A dangerous talent, but useful, too.
Hands gripped my elbows tight, and a beloved face appeared in front of me.
"Juhani," I whispered through senseless lips. Never had she looked so dear. Her golden eyes were intensely fierce on mine.
I heard a violent yell of agony. Juhani's gaze slipped passed me, widening with alarm. "Dak! No!" There followed a malicious laugh and Juhani dropped my arms, a lightsaber appearing in her hands as she withdrew from me.
I staggered back, unsteady.
"You schutta!" a man screamed. "See how you like that!"
I felt cold suddenly. Ice cold. The Force was weak in my grasp, like it was slowly slipping away.
"Belaya." Juhani was back, catching me just as my legs began to buckle. There was a feral victory painted on her face. I could see a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead. "She's down. Dak got her." I tried to smile, but my lips were stuck together. Her forehead furrowed, then, in deep lines of concern.
My vision blurred as I collapsed against her. The Force skittered away, leaving a hollow feeling behind. I felt vague surprise that no pain immediately followed.
"Oh no. No, no. Belaya, you cannot die. We will get help – Dak!" Juhani cried out in desperation, lowering me to the ground.
I looked up to see two figures leaning over me. The man's face was deathly pale, and he clutched a bloodied stump tight against his chest. Juhani drew a hand back from my side. It was covered in the dark red of death.
The coldness was moving up my chest to my throat, now.
"Hold on, Belaya. Just – hold on!" Dak muttered hoarsely. Juhani's fingers touched my cheek. They were hot, and I could not feel much of anything else.
"I do not think I can," I whispered. There was so much to say. I am dying. "Please… please..." I blinked. Juhani's slanted eyes were shimmering and full of despair. "Walk in the Light. Both of you… you are both strong enough. Please… walk in the Light."
"Can you- can you heal her?" Dak demanded. His face was contorted in pain and horror. "Belaya can't frelling die. Not now. She can't!"
I felt my eyes close, and Juhani's palm was still resting against my face. Its warmth was fading, and each breath grew more difficult.
"I- I cannot," Juhani stuttered. She sounded lost.
"Be at peace, my friends." The words were mouthed; I did not have the energy to speak. Behind my eyelids there was a growing whiteness that seemed to encompass everything. It was nice.
I could not feel Juhani's touch anymore.
"Oh, Belaya," someone said. "You always were the best of us."
xXx
Yuthura Ban:
The physical intermeshed with the psychic, and it was my area of expertise, my interest, my particular strength. One could use one's body to seduce, to intimidate, to manipulate or coerce, and when combined with the Force that could become powerful indeed.
Body language. It could speak volumes about what a sentient was thinking and feeling, and when combined with the natural Force vibrations that emanated from a sentient, it was easy to tell when someone's strength was guttering.
The human, Ness, had intrigued me from that start. I'd been surprised Uthar hadn't paid her more note; but he'd been too interested in Staria. But I - I knew where the strength in the pair was, and it hadn't been the quiet Cathar.
I'd entertained the thought of truly allying with the human at one stage, but Ness Jonohl was too reckless and too disrespectful of her betters. She was also unusually strong, and her very existence now stood a threat to the position so close within my grasp.
And I could barely sense the Force around her. It was weak, spent; and I understood this might be my only chance to triumph over the human whose sheer power – if I was truly honest – eclipsed my own.
My jaw set in fierce determination as I sprinted towards her, weapon poised.
Surroundings blurred in a swirl of granite and uniformed corpses, and the distance between us stretched, a long channel that I could overcome in a split-second as the Force lent velocity to my bunched muscles.
Her off-hand snapped out, and the lightsaber from a dead Initiate came whistling through the air. She wouldn't have her guard up in time, though, and I swung low, aiming for her legs.
Ness jumped at the last second, somersaulting in the air and landing behind me with a thud. I spun, head-tails flying, frustrated rage boosting momentum to my choke-hold on the Force.
From behind a cross of red and cyan, Ness stared at me warily.
My environs snapped back into real-time. Damn that human! She'd unsettled me the moment my eyes had landed on her, when she'd been more interested in the braying of Mandalorian mercenaries than my own authority of the Sith. Since then, she'd trumped Mekel, decapitated Jorak, and finished off Uthar.
My gaze slid to my Master's corpse, a black and red gaping wound visible in his torso. If I truly was to take his place, my only option was her death. And even with that wild launch in the air, I could still barely sense Ness in the Force. She was exhausted.
I could take her, now. And I would.
"You don't have to do this, Yuthura," she said in a low voice. Her entire posture slumped with weariness and resignation which echoed in her aura. The lack of fear disturbed me a little. Her eyes trailed over my lekku, taking in the tattoos that had cost me pain beyond tears to mark. They were a shield - a shield of the past - and I wore them proudly.
"I do," I contradicted, annoyed she was still belabouring the point. "For you are the Headmaster now, Ness Jonohl."
Ness gave a snort, an irreverent response that was entirely in keeping with her personality. "Going by that logic, lopping off Jorak Uln's head made me Headmaster."
"Either way," I replied, inclining my head. "I will not be second place anymore." Certainly not to a garrulous human who has only been on Korriban for days. The outrage and anger at the situation built deep within me, and I coaxed it, fanned it, caressed the flames of Force power within me. It was building to a crescendo of power, and still she sneered at me from beyond the guard of her 'sabers.
"For the last time, Yuthura, put your glow stick away!"
Oh, she was powerful enough, when she wasn't already spent. But Ness Jonohl didn't understand the workings of the Sith or she would not be begging for my mercy. "No," I said softly. "For to truly be master, one must prove their strength. And so I shall!"
"Ness Jonohl doesn't stand alone," a pained voice came from the training rooms, and our joint attention was wrenched to a bloodied figure limping slowly into the room. One arm, severed just below the elbow, clutched tight into his stomach. The other held his lightsaber. He looked pale, and sick, and determined.
I heard Mekel snort in derision behind me, the sound vocalizing that same opinion I held. Dak looked out for himself, and himself alone. He was irrelevant, one of Uthar's, and probably the first rat to scurry from the room when the violence had been unleashed.
I wondered, briefly, how he'd lost his forearm.
"Stand down, Adept," I ordered scornfully. "You are injured and a weakling."
I glanced back to my opponent. She was staring at Dak in disbelief.
"Sod it," Dak said, his voice bitter as he stumbled close to Ness. "I'm not doing things wrong again."
"Juhani…" Ness murmured, and her voice caught on the name.
"She's alive," Dak said, but the words were broken. "Belaya's not. Juhani's still with her."
Air expelled out from Ness briefly, a desolate sound, and her shoulders slumped. I tasted her despair as it rode out on the Force, and prepared to strike.
"Mekel," I hissed. "Take Dak out."
But there was an echoing howl in the direction Dak had emerged from as Ness' pet Wookiee limped in. Blood clotted the side of his leg, and his vibroblade wavered in his grasp. And further beyond, against the wall behind Ness, her soldier slowly rose to his feet. He was holding his blaster firmly at half height.
"An injured Wookiee and a broken soldier," I scoffed, shaking my head in disgust. "Wrong place to bring non-Force sensitives, Ness."
But she smirked at me - the schutta - and her very confidence was enough to rattle. "You'd be surprised to learn who got the killing blow on Uthar, then," she drawled.
I scowled in anger, feeling the control of the situation shift from my grasp, like a slippery codfish wriggling back to its den. My passion stuttered before igniting again when I felt the presence of another. One of mine.
"Kel," I ordered silkily, my gaze lifting to the far side of the circular cavern. He stood awkwardly to the entrance of the living quarters, a dozen or so corpses between us.
I'd never seen the place so dishevelled. Uthar's pet soldiers that manned the holo-cams and torture fields were sprawled like broken toys against the edges of the room. Black scorch marks marred the granite walls and statues alike. Even Naga Sadow bore the burn of a blaster bolt right in the centre of his face.
"Come here."
"Um…" Kel hedged, shuffling his feet. Ness turned to face him.
"You master bids you!" I snapped, motioning him closer. Kel had always been passive, but he was one of mine. Mine, dammit!
"Sorry Yuthura," Ness murmured, her tone wry. "I'm afraid I promised Kel a ride off this rock."
The outrage was sharp, now, sharp and dangerous. Who was this human who dared to turn my apprentices against me? Thalia, still alive, had preferred to run rather than find me. Kel… Kel wouldn't even walk to my side, I realized in mounting frustration, as he stood there, evading my gaze.
"The Dark Side erodes loyalty," Ness said softly. "Except in exceptional cases." I swung my furious gaze back to her, but she was staring at Mekel. "And even then, Yuthura, how long do you think you'd hold onto Mekel? For, in the way of the true Sith, one day he'll rise to challenge you."
"That is the way of the true Sith, you imbecile!" I hissed. "How else do you expect to be the strongest?"
"Through allies, of course!" Ness snapped, her green eyes flashing. "Allies you can trust at your back. How much stronger would you be right now, Yuthura, if Thalia and Kel stood next to you?"
"Mekel," a young voice whispered, and it was from Dustil, the weakling that Uthar and Mekel were both so enamoured of. He had clambered to his feet, standing next to the soldier. "Uthar killed Selene. I know that now. I'm- I'm sorry I was such a frakkhead. But… but I… damn it…" he trailed off uselessly.
I'd never seen the appeal in the boy. Mekel had latched onto him, probably due to their shared heritage, but I'd been glad when Uthar had taken Selene out of the picture and dissolved their friendship.
I expected some backlash from my apprentice over that one, though.
"You're gonna stand with them?" Mekel sneered from my back. Surprisingly enough, it seemed so. Dustil and Dak, the two most useless Adepts, looked ready to fight with Ness Jonohl. The one who'd taken out their Master. I could scarcely believe it.
"I saved your life, Mekel," Ness said in a low voice. The fury grew when I realized her ploy. If she dared try and wrest my favoured apprentice away from me, after Kel had faltered-
"I don't expect you to stand against your master," Ness continued. "But don't stand against me. Or Dustil."
"You're drained," I spat. Ness Jonohl had an irritating habit to continually draw me into conversation, and it was beginning to move beyond annoying. Her piercing gaze was roving once more over my lekku, and I twined them around my neck reflexively. They were a source of fascination for many, I knew, but this was hardly the place for Ness to lose concentration. It was almost insulting. "And your allies are broken."
"Slave tattoos," she said abruptly.
"What?" I snapped, as a wave of ice-cold slammed into my gut, diffusing the heat of anger. No! Strike her, now! In instinct I charged once more.
My off-hand rose, flinging a poisoned wave of Force directly at her, and I followed it with a precise swing. Ness batted aside my toxic attack in a quick flick of the Force, sharp and bright and stronger than I expected, and somersaulted over me again. How did she draw on the Force so quickly, merely for it to gutter out around her again? I would have sworn her abilities to be near empty.
"Headtails are meant to be excruciatingly sensitive, especially near the base," Ness panted. I spun around to face her once more. Dak and Dustil flanked her now, twin beams of red at either side. Mekel was behind me, uncertain at the thought of facing either his old friend or his rescuer, and I damned Ness Jonohl all over again. "Why would you go through the torture of tattoos, unless you were trying to cover something up?"
"Shut up!" I yelled. There was a frantic sense of fear in my gut, and that cursed human had to stop speaking. "You don't know what you're talking about! There's surgery, there's tattoo removal-"
"Sure, but I hear the Hutts use a permanent tissue-deep method of marking their Twi'lek slaves," Ness retorted. Her eyes had narrowed to twin slits of green, and there was a fiercely intent expression on her face. "Surgery might work, but it'd go pretty deep into the nerves."
"Shut up!" I echoed, my voice growing hoarse.
"Master," Mekel pleaded from behind me. "This ain't gonna frakking work."
"No one talks about my past and lives!" I howled. Even I could hear the despair. After all these years, I could get through days without remembering, and then to have some unknown, wild Force-sensitive latch onto something only Uthar had picked up on-
"Why?" Ness snapped. "Being a slave isn't something to be ashamed of. It isn't something you had any damn choice about."
"My past is my past," I bit out, feeling my teeth grit. "It is none of your business, Ness Jonohl. Whatever I do about it has nothing to do with you!"
She looked taken aback, and I realized I'd said more than I'd planned to. "Whatever you do about it?" she asked in puzzlement. "What have you done about it?"
"None of your business!" I repeated, flustered.
"It's not like you would have done anything here, playing teachers and schools with Uthar Wynn," Ness drawled sarcastically. Her gaze narrowed. "Did you plan to do something about the slave trade, Yuthura? Now that you're free, and powerful… but of course, one's never free with the Sith, not really, you always have to pander to your Master-"
She was too perceptive. Too damn perceptive and clever by half. I didn't know if Ness just made a lucky guess or if the Force itself showed her the connections, but I found myself inwardly damning her yet again. The Hutts bred pretty Twi'leks, kept them chained and marked for their entire lives, rented them out to customers and agents before dragging them back in again. It wasn't a life for a tuk'ata, let alone a sentient.
I was going to do something about it. One day, when I was free and powerful.
"When I'm Headmaster-"
"When you're Headmaster you'll bow to Malak and do his whim," she cut in, her voice cold and low. "For that's the way of the Sith. Kiss the arse of the one more powerful, and if you're lucky, you might make it to the top, but by then you'll be so dark and sodding insane that nothing will really matter anymore."
I lapsed into an uneasy silence, and the cursed uncertainty radiating from Mekel at my back encompassed me, too; filtered deep into the rage I had been so carefully fanning. My fingers clenched on my lightsaber in frustration.
"For frell's sake, Yuthura," Ness said, and her voice turned weary. She actually deactivated her 'sabers; which caused Dak to stare at her in alarmed disbelief. "Turn your sodding weapon off."
Mekel took a step to reach my side. He was more than just my apprentice; I leaned on him when I should stand alone. I… cared for him, in my own way. There was no one else I would bed for sheer companionship rather than gain, and our similar roots created a foundation of understanding that I would be sad to see go.
With the Sith, I guess I knew that one day it would.
"This won't work, Master," he whispered, and he switched off his lightsaber.
Shavit, I cursed inwardly, lapsing back into the slang of my youth. Curse that kriffing Ness Jonohl. Oh, that she had never set foot on Korriban!
"Go, then," I hissed angrily in defeat. I could still rebuild from here. Somehow. My fingers twitched, and clicked the off-switch on my lightsaber. "You said you'd leave. Just... get away from here."
"I haven't found Kylah," Ness muttered. "I'm not going anywhere until I find that schutta."
My frustration flared again. "What makes you think she's even here?" I snapped angrily. "She's hidden out in Dreshdae ever since she landed. She didn't bother checking in with Uthar. Force, he even thought she might be hiding from Malak!"
Ness blinked, visibly startled.
The soldier standing behind Ness took a step closer to her. He'd lowered his weapon, but it was still firm in his grasp. "Well, she did run away from you on Manaan," he murmured to her. "Maybe she was hiding from Malak. Maybe her being here on Korriban was just one terrible coincidence."
Run away from Ness Jonohl? Who was this human, who could defeat the likes of Jorak Uln, Uthar Wynn and Kylah Aramai? I would have sworn she was no Jedi, but curse me to the Outer Rim and back if she were a true Sith, either.
"Zaalbar," Ness called out to the Wookiee. He was standing nearby, wavering on his feet. It seemed like only sheer force of will was keeping him upright. "Sithspit, you're injured," she cursed, walking towards him. Dak made a sort of choking noise, and Ness jerked her head back to him, her gaze landing on his severed arm. She winced, and cursed again. "We've got to get out of here," she muttered in frustration. "We've got to- Zaalbar, why did you tell me that Kylah went to see Uthar?"
"(Kylah Aramai took her to Uthar Wynn at the Academy)," the one called Zaalbar howled in Shyriiwook, but his intonation pricked goose pimples against my neck. I recognized that flat, automatic tone, and moreover, now that I pushed out with the Force, I could sense the unnatural neural patterns in his mind.
"He's been placed under compulsion," I snapped. I strode over to the Wookiee. His black eyes bored into mine from an impressive height, exhausted and anguished and angry. "Why didn't you remove it, Ness Jonohl?"
"I didn't know how to," she replied, walking to my side. "There's so much I don't know. I- I tried compelling him into thinking his own mind was free."
I shot her a look I hoped contained the utter depths of my incredulity. "You do understand the paradox of that statement, I hope?" I said slowly, and was gratified to see the red flare of embarrassment mar the human's cheeks.
She pursed her lips and evaded my gaze. "Can you help, Yuthura?"
I sighed. I did want the human gone, but I'd planned on it being at the end of my lightsaber. That didn't seem possible, now. My rage had departed me, leaving only the embers of frustration and a galling uncertainty. I clipped my 'saber back on my belt, and reached out with psychic tendrils of Force, wrapping it around the Wookiee. He tensed, grimacing as I probed for the occluded constraints that threaded through his mind.
It wasn't difficult, to disperse Ness' touch, but the other – which I assumed was Kylah's – went deeper, much deeper. It was stronger and more exact than any I'd come across before, but Kylah Aramai was a Dark Jedi whose Force presence I'd never encountered. I could feel the lines of coercion bedding low within the Wookiee's psyche, and they unravelled under my will.
The deeper, shackled ones were harder to dissolve, and it took several attempts before I was satisfied. I pulled back, weary and resigned and wishing only to see the back of these people who had upended my territory so thoroughly.
The Wookiee gave a lung-rending howl that echoed throughout the ceremonial cavern.
"It is done," I said.
"Zaalbar?" Ness called. She stepped forward, and grabbed a furry paw. "Zaalbar?"
"(She is gone)," Zaalbar moaned. "(I put her in a ship, and Kylah has taken her off-world)." The Wookiee collapsed to the ground, his great shaggy head dropping to his hands. Blood seeped out from his side and splattered to the ground, and pain radiated out from him in black waves on the Force. His body language suggested that the pain barely even registered with him.
Ness dropped to her knees beside him.
"Zaalbar, we'll get her back," she was murmuring. "Stay with me, fight with me, and we'll get her back if it's the last thing I do." Ness rested her head gently against the crumpled Wookiee.
"Kylah took the Cathar?" I hazarded. I hadn't seen Staria since they'd gone to Hord's tombs, although Mekel had told me she'd survived. It certainly sounded as if Kylah had taken someone of import to them.
Ness looked back to me, her face drawn and bleak and defeated. "No," she sighed. "I suppose you may as well know. It's not like you can stay on Korriban now."
My eyes narrowed. If she thought she could send me away-
"Bastila Shan," Ness said, clambering to her feet. Her anguished gaze looked past me to the soldier standing next to Dustil. "Kylah's taken Bastila off-world."
"Oh no, Jen," the soldier breathed in mirrored despair.
"Bastila Shan?" Mekel spluttered. "As in… as in... the Bastila Shan?"
Ice froze my insides. Bastila Shan, Jedi hero of the Republic war effort, taken captive by Kylah Aramai on Korriban? Kylah had betrayed the Republic's Endar Spire, I knew that much, and Bastila Shan had been on the run since then… my mind struggled to recall the news reports Uthar had shared with me.
"What the frakk would bloody Bastila Shan be doing on Korriban?" Mekel continued, his voice loud and incredulous in the blood-smattered room.
They'd been tracked to Tatooine and Manaan, I recalled, hiding in a freighter which just smacked of incorrect information, for why would the young Jedi be sneaking around instead of fighting on the front-lines where her awesome powers could be of use? I frowned, my fingers clenching as I struggled to remember the apparent make-up of Bastila's crew. Uthar hadn't been overly interested, Darth Malak had other agents onto it and we'd received no alerts of import. I vaguely recalled hearing she was travelling with a Wookiee-
My eyes slid to the crumpled, hairy mess on the floor.
"And two Jedi; one Cathar, one human," I murmured to myself, my gaze sliding back to Ness. She stared at me with an inscrutable expression, all apart from the anguish in her eyes. And there was a Fleet captain, the war-hero Carth Onasi. I looked over to the soldier in suspicion. And a Mandalorian, and hadn't Ness walked into the cantina with one? "You idiots lost Bastila Shan." I shook my head, and a hollow laugh escaped my lips. What a colossal cock-up. Honestly. Whose bright idea was it to hide out on Korriban?
"Yeah. Thanks," Ness bit out, eyes flashing.
"Well, I hope your stay on Korriban was worth it," I drawled.
Ness sighed, but didn't answer. I recalled her previous comment, and my eyes pinched tight again. "What do you mean, I can't stay on Korriban?"
But she didn't need to answer. Ah, shavit. I couldn't stop her crew from walking away, and as soon as Darth Bandon or Darth Malak learned I'd let Bastila's crew go…
"No…" I denied hotly. "There's a way. They won't need to know I was here - you took out Uthar, after all-"
"For frell's sake, Yuthura," Ness snapped. "It's not like there's much of an Academy left for you to run. You don't even want to be here, not really."
It was too much. It was all too much, and the chances for my survival were far too kriffing slim. And I despised myself when I descended into the common slang that Mekel was so fond of.
Ness reached one hand out to the Wookiee. He howled softly, before grabbing it and clambering to his feet. Ness' piercing eyes fixed on me again.
"Walk us to Dreshdae, Yuthura," she said softly. "Let's… let's talk on the way."
For the first time in years, I felt completely lost amongst the anger, uncertainty and frustration. And yet, deep down, there was a glimmer of something… something new. I didn't recognize it, and for lack of a better option, I conceded to Ness' wishes.
xXx
Mekel Kadoni:
It had to be the most frakking ridiculous group of kooks ever stumbling out of the Academy.
Ness Jonohl, almost dead asleep on her feet, had first led us to the bloodbath in the training rooms. I'd thought the central hall had been bad, but next door looked like the insides of a meat blender turned on high. The smell was even more disturbing; blood, faeces and burnt flesh combined and reeked worse than a five day-old dead whore.
In the hallway beyond was a smoking heap of droid. Closer, in the centre of the room, Ness' Cathar friend was leaning over the body of Ness' human friend, forehead touching forehead like a macabre prayer to a nameless god.
There'd been a bit of solemn snivelling before the injured Wookiee picked up the broken droid, stuffing its dismembered head into a hairy armpit. The Cathar followed, limping, as she carried the corpse she'd been mooning over. Dak trailed quietly at her heels.
He was surprising me, actually. Dak had lost half his bloody arm, and was smeared in the innards of frakking Lashowe. Lashowe. I'd not have picked Dak to have big enough balls to take that ice-bitch out, but apparently he'd finally grown a pair when she'd hacked a limb off.
I'd always expected to face down blondie myself. Never thought she'd be taken out by one of the Adepts on her side, but then loyalties on Korriban were ever-changing.
I hated that, and I hated this place. I hoped Yuthura would stop being so damn power-hungry, and listen to frakking Ness Jonohl.
"I cannot leave just yet," Yuthura was saying, as the first touches of dawn lightened the Korriban night sky. It was bloody cold, lumbering along to Dreshdae in the dark. "I must see who is still alive here."
Ness paused, as if she were considering her words. She made me uneasy; there was no other bleeding word for it. She damn well shone in the Force, like a piercing light that stabbed you viciously in the eyes. And then her strength would vanish, causing me to doubt my own senses. And all the while, her emotions seeped out of her like a pus-filled wound. Even now, when she was relatively calm, I could feel the grief simmering from her. It was strong enough it almost felt like my own.
I'd never been so aware of someone I had no interest in banging.
"Kylah's been gone for hours, for close to a day, maybe," Ness returned in a low voice. "We're wanted by Malak as well, Yuthura. He'll send someone to Korriban soon."
"I understand that," Yuthura replied, her voice tightening. "But I will not walk away from the Academy with nary a glance. There are loose ends I must wrap up first."
My gaze slid to Kel, who'd been silent since… well, actually, Kel was silent nearly all the damn time. I never got how he'd managed to scrape through his graduation - I'd always suspected Yuthura must have helped in some way.
Kel was a nice guy. Genuinely nice. He had no place with the Sith.
"You really gonna go with her?" I muttered, jerking my heard towards Ness. "Our Master's leaving Korriban as well, y'know."
I thought I was being quiet, circumspect. Yet both Yuthura and Ness stopped and turned to face us. Yuthura was composed, but I knew my Master - the thought of Kel leaving her rankled.
"Kel," Yuthura said, and Kel's nervous gaze flicked away from me and over to her. "I am your Master, Kel, and I can protect you. Mekel and I will be travelling from this place in no more than a day. Come with us."
"I'm not going to engage in a pissing contest with you, Yuthura," Ness muttered. "But you haven't even worked out where you're going yet. Kel should be with the Jedi, and we're headed to a Jedi Master."
"You have no authority over my apprentices, Ness Jonohl," Yuthura hissed. I could see my Master's anger from earlier flare in her eyes, and a responding smirk threatened to emerge on Ness' face. I even felt like I knew what the cocky woman was going to say. But you named me Headmaster yourself, Yuthura. Oh, no, she wasn't going to have a pissing contest. Yeah, right. I snorted.
"I can speak for myself," Kel mumbled, looking down. Yuthura sighed and walked over to him, a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, dark eyes lifting reluctantly to meet her gaze. "Master… you've told me before. I'm not Sith material. I don't want to be Sith material."
"They have Darth Malak's forces after them, Kel," Yuthura countered. Ness kept silent, surprisingly, and her gaze moved back to me. I tried to pick her age. Mid-thirties, maybe. Tallish, athletic - if a bit on the scrawny side - and obviously used to combat. She'd been travelling with Bastila Shan – Bastila sodding Shan – and it made sense that the Jedi hero's companions would be strong in the Force. And Ness was very strong in the Force.
They must have had a critically important reason to land on Korriban - either that or Ness Jonohl was as stupid as she was crazy.
"I'd… I'd like to join the Jedi, Master," Kel whispered. There was a set to his jaw I'd never seen before. "I want that choice."
Yuthura's eyes hardened. Her hand dropped from Kel's shoulder, and slowly, she turned to face Ness. "I wish I had killed you when we first met in the cantina, Ness Jonohl," she said bitterly. "And I swear I will remedy that, should your companionship endanger Kel. Keep him safe and away from Darth Malak, and we shall have no reason to meet again."
Ness' face was blank as she stared back at Yuthura. "I'll deliver him to the Jedi, Yuthura. He won't have to travel with us for long, and the Jedi will be a damn sight safer than a Sith Academy."
I glanced sideways, and saw the rest of the sorry group had paused to wait for us. Dustil, walking next to that old soldier, was staring at me. We hadn't spoken, not since his admission of stupidity.
It had been good to hear the words, though. Satisfying to have him admit that it was Uthar's fault, not mine. I'd mourned Selene, as much as he did, and it frakking cut deep to live with his mistrust day after day. I'd expected more from him. I'd trusted him more than that.
My gaze slid back to Ness Jonohl. I didn't really like her much, but I owed her for Uthar. I owed her for Jorak, too.
"We should get going," the soldier said in a short tone. He had a Telosian accent, I realized, and wondered if that was why Dustil was hanging around him. I frowned, and remembered Ness saying they'd be taking Dustil with them. That makes as much sense as Bastila Shan being on Korriban. What would Ness want with Dustil?
I strode forward, catching up to them as the group resumed walking. The soldier shot me a cagey look as I flanked Dustil on the other side, and I glared back, mentally willing him away.
"Kel's going with this lot, rather than Yuthura," I told Dustil. I felt torn over that. I'd rather Kel be with us… but he'd probably make a frakking good Jedi. I scowled. "Dee, you could come with us, y'know. Yuthura would take you."
Dustil's eyes widened in surprise, and there was a shocked sort of cough from the soldier. I scowled at him. "Look, this ain't got nothing to do with you. Frakk off," I snapped.
The older man's brows lowered. "No." The words were flat and resolute, and I wasn't going to take this crap from a non-Force sensitive, even if he was friends with Ness Jonohl. I drew in the Force, irritable and angry-
"Mex," Dustil intervened quickly. My anger derailed as I frowned at him in surprise. He hadn't called me that in over a year. "Look, I- uh, I've got things I need to sort out. I, frakk," he cursed, sounding awkward as he did so. His eyes closed briefly. "You're my friend, and you deserve the truth." He motioned jerkily towards the soldier, all the while looking pissy and highly uncomfortable. I'd never seen him at ease, not really, not even when Selene used to hang off his arm and stare adoringly into his stupid brown eyes-
"This is my dad." Dustil's voice was low - but still, it echoed through the pre-dawn rocky slopes outside of Dreshdae.
I blinked. Well. I had nothing to say to that, and the surprise sat like turned shyrack stew in my gut. Dustil met my gaze, his eyes pleading for understanding or something - I didn't know. I could barely comprehend the thought of Dustil's dad being alive after Telos, let alone frakking rescuing him from a Sith Academy.
I floundered behind as Dustil allowed himself to be led away. We were entering the colony, and I fell into line next to Yuthura, not paying the least attention to whatever snark was going on between her and Ness Jonohl.
I could see the resemblance, now. It was pretty frakking obvious. The soldier was what Dee would be in a couple of decades. I scowled, and knew I should be happy that my old friend had family left that would look out for him.
I was walking past half-asleep Czerka officials before I realized it, confused and unbalanced. As we entered a docking bay, Dustil glanced over his shoulder back to me.
A last look between us was a crappy farewell. After Selene, after all these frakking years on this chivhole of a planet, I'd have liked to have a drink or two at the least. But there he was, his father's arm guiding him toward the relative safety of a smuggler's freighter.
His father. How the frakk did that happen?
But we were friends, once. And now he knew the truth about Selene, maybe that bond was still there. Know your family. Choose your own blood. My handler had taught me that, back in the Pillow Palace, where I'd spent most of my formative years. It was a sacred whisper in the brothels, and we'd only trusted fellow lays, while our nights were spent twisted in silk sheets thick with the sweat of rich politicians.
Telos was a civilized world, but it had its own rotten underbelly. And I was such a pretty boy.
But on Korriban, I'd chosen Dustil and Selene as my blood.
"You!" a young voice shrieked from the loading ramp, and my eyes shot to a pretty young Twi'lek, whose face was flushed with shock and hate as she glared down at Dustil. He stopped, stunned, as his father looked frantically between the two. "You disgusting piece of Hutt-slime!"
"Mission!" Dustil's father said, his voice stunned. "What-"
"Oh, frakk," Dustil muttered, his eyes closing. The Wookiee howled, bounding past me over to the ship, coming to a halt by the girl. He almost seemed to be petting her or something weird, as he continued to howl in that annoyingly loud voice.
"Uh uh, no way, that murglak is not getting on this ship!" the Twi'lek demanded, shoving the Wookiee's paw off her shoulder roughly. Despite myself, I was impressed. Not many people would so readily push a fully grown Wookiee about. "Big Z, that's the ronto-face I ran into days ago!"
"Mission!" a cold voice snapped from behind me, and I knew it was Ness Jonohl. Her authority sang on the Force. Damn me if I didn't one day expect to run into a Darth Ness. Or a Master Ness. Either of which sounds frakking ridiculous. She'd have to change her name to something a little more intimidating. "Dustil is Carth's son. However he's slighted you, we'll sort it out later. Let him onboard."
The girl scowled, her young face twisting, and she jumped down from the ramp as Dustil and his father entered the freighter. At the hatch, Dustil turned again, his bleak face meeting mine.
I wished he was coming with us.
[Be safe], my fingers twitched against my thigh. It had been a long time since Dustil answered me, a long time since Selene had gone and he'd begun to doubt our friendship.
[Stay alive], he signed back, before his father's arm propelled him inside. The Cathar, lugging her beloved corpse, followed them in with Dak right behind her. I looked back to the Twi'lek, standing on the docking bay floor, scowling angrily at the hatch of the freighter as the Wookiee continued to moan at her. Bloody horrid language, Shyriiwook, and I wondered that anyone could bear listening to it for more than five seconds.
My curiosity propelled me forward, and before I knew it I was facing her.
"What?" she snapped belligerently, light brown eyes focusing on me.
"Dustil frakked something up, I see," I said by way of greeting. Her dark expression deepened. "Look, this place is a cess-pit. I dunno what that gimboid did to you, but this ain't an easy planet to be a Force-user on. Try to remember that next time you go nova on him."
She folded her arms, a mulish look in her pretty eyes. "Who're you?"
"My name's Mekel. Dustil and I were friends- are friends. He was a good guy, once. Maybe he can be again."
She looked over to the Wookiee, who was staring at me. Even from this distance, he smelled like a wet dog. He howled something, again, for frakk's sake.
"Fine, Big Z," she sighed. "He's still a rotten space-slug."
I snickered, and her lips twitched.
"Bitch him out all you like, just…" I didn't even know what I wanted to say. Dustil deserved a chance to leave the Dark Side behind. Myself… I didn't know. Yuthura and I would go somewhere else, sure, but I didn't think it would be so easy for the likes of us.
"I'm Mission," she said at last, and graced me with a smile. I found myself liking her. "I'll keep what ya said in mind, Mekel."
"Mekel," my Master's sultry voice had me turning, although I wasn't sure she was my Master anymore. Not if we were leaving Korriban. Maybe, somehow, we could be equals. Friends, perhaps. Her unnatural violet eyes seemed to contradict that. "It is time for us to leave."
"Think about what I said, Yuthura," Ness spoke from her side. Ness's eyes were a moss-green, sharp and almost as vibrant as Yuthura's, but not corrupted. Not yet, anyway. And, again, I could feel the drowning grief surrounding her. It was as depressing as she was unsettling. Bet she doesn't get invited to many frakking parties.
Ness was still staring intently at Yuthura. "I nudged Thalia toward Coruscant. It's a valid option, and a damn sight more satisfying than here."
"I shall find my path, Ness Jonohl."
I walked to my Master's side, and looked down into her serious gaze. She indicated the exit with a sharp jerk of her head, and we left the docking bay in silence.
xXx
Data Analyst Ajax Zarr:
I took a long pull on my turin-spiked caffa, following it with a massive yawn and a slow stretch. It was late, that quiet time when data had a tendency to merge together into fuzzy lines of meaninglessness. Jeebra Noob, the Rodian working with me on the case, sent a condescending smile my way as his wart-covered fingers scrabbled through a bowl of cracklenuts.
"Flakin' out?" he grunted, crumbs dropping from his whiskery snout as he followed his words with a chuckle. "Jeebra sez ya need to get laid, Ajax. Jeebra sez there ain't nuffin' like ruttin' with one of them tailheads or redskins to sharpen Jeebra's mind again."
I felt my mouth twist in vague disgust. "Twi'leks and Zeltrons," I growled. "Stop being a cock, Jeebra."
He chuckled again, tapping a key on his console. "Eh, Jeebra wouldn't call them that to their faces. Ajax, yer missin' the point. Don't ya Zabraks have needs? 'Coz Jeebra's got needs!" He sniffed. "The GenoHaradan provides. No matter what a chivvin' tighthole ye are, the GenoHaradan provides."
I ignored him this time, turning my attention back to the exception list on my terminal. Jeebra Noob was a filthy degenerate who enjoyed finding different ways to belittle me. Last week it'd been my lacklustre fashion sense – for Jeebra was nothing if not flashy with his silver bodytights and aquamarine shark suits. Now it was the frequency of my sexual proclivities – or lack thereof. The GenoHaradan might pay for free lays every night of the week, but I hadn't been interested since my eye had caught on the quiet assistant to Overseer Eridius.
To a chivving Overseer. Like I ever had a legitimate reason to knock on those ominous doors. I reported to Spymaster Gaalin – and even as his best data analyst, I'd still only ever seen Overseer Eridius once in the decade I'd been working here. Jeebra thought the man was nothing more than a rumour.
But Jeebra was a twat. A twat who was slowly pipping me in the ranks, these days. He had an uncanny ability to remain focused and sharp the whole way through a night shift – despite pretending he was no more than gutter-slime.
I tapped to the next exception, skimming through the report. Jeebra had scored the match list, this time, and we both knew the match list was far more likely to find a hit than the exceptions.
We'd been working on it for weeks. The sheer breadth of data the galaxy offered was overwhelming, and Gaalin had been pushing us hard on this one. Of course, our supercomputers sifted through most of it, but it was the exceptions and the matches we had to manually counter-check. Computer programs could only minimize the pool of possibilities so much; with so many recorded sentients in our databanks, doppelgangers and mismatches were not uncommon.
Out there in the galaxy, there were thousands of people who looked almost exactly like you.
But I was convinced that Jen Sahara was not the real Jen Sahara. We had no definitive blood or DNA samples to go on, so we were reliant on facial recognition software. The clearest image we had of the pretender was from the Endar Spire's feeds, and comparing that to the original from Deralia had proved challenging in itself. The two humans were similar, but the Deralian was slightly shorter, younger, with a wider face and different eyes – all things that could be modified via surgery, but combine the personality and life changes and it added weight to our original conclusion: Jen Sahara had died on Deralia, and an imposter was taking her place.
An imposter with Jedi backing, which was curious in itself.
Currently Jeebra was working his way through the facial recognition matches, while I had the joy of skimming through the exceptions. The exception listings were facial matches that the supercomputer had discarded due to an unexplained anomaly or filter – maybe the age difference was too great, or the gender or location didn't match – things that might be explained away by medical intervention or some other factor that computer programming just didn't pick up on.
All too often we didn't find the answers this way. There was just too much data.
But the exception listings usually provided an amusing profile or two. With a smirk, I discarded one for the human actress Seriina Starr, who'd shot to fame due to a highly contentious holo-vid portrayal of Revan Freeflight during the Mandalorian wars. It was dismissed as "heretic at best" by the Official Republic Broadcasting Authority, and not commented on at all by the Jedi Order.
The next exception was even more hilarious, being Revan Freeflight herself.
Seriina Starr was in the exception list because her life was considered too active to be a plausible match for the imposter Jen Sahara. Revan Freeflight, of course, was in the exception list because she was dead.
The accounts varied on exactly how, though. Either due to her flagship being destroyed by Darth Malak, or the confrontation with Bastila Shan. Fraud-Jen Sahara, on the other hand, had a contract placed on her by Darth Malak, and was in the company of Bastila Shan.
Wow. That's weird.
A buzzing hummed through my mind, the jittery feeling I experienced on the cusp of a breakthrough. I hurriedly pulled up the exception report of Revan Freeflight on one console, and the clearest image of fraud-Jen Sahara on the other.
Revan Freeflight – pre-Mandalorian Wars – had long dark brown hair, usually braided out of the way. The picture I was studying had her garbed in Jedi brown, standing tall and confident with a slight smirk playing along her lips. Her skin was a dark olive, her face narrow and plain, her eyes a striking green.
Fraud-Jen Sahara, stationed onboard the Endar Spire, lacked the same proud bearing or skin colour. I frowned, flicking through the different stills we'd captured from the Republic security footage. The tone of her skin had a dusty look to it, suggesting months of time spent indoors. Her posture was inhibited, and her gaze often downcast – but, also, the same moss-green.
Same height. Both unusually strong in the Force – Revan Freeflight uniquely so, while fraud-Jen Sahara foiled a trap Spymaster Gaalin had thought too excessive. My eyes closed as my thoughts raced. Darth Revan. Holy frakk-titties. Could we have been sending out our agents against Darth Revan?
It was starting to seem surprisingly likely.
Darth Malak put the contract out on fraud-Jen Sahara himself. For a price exorbitant enough that Spymaster Gaalin passed it by an Overseer first.
Oh, this was big. This was colossal. If Darth Malak had tried to play the GenoHaradan without divulging all the facts… I leaned forward suddenly, and cleared the consoles. Jeebra's attention caught, and he shot me an inquiring look.
I smiled tightly. "Bathroom break," I lied, and walked carefully out of the room. This… If I was right, this was big enough to bypass Gaalin.
I was at the obsidian double-doors within minutes. Taking a deep breath in the hopes it would settle the shaking nerves in my stomach, I tapped lightly and entered.
Seated behind a desk made from an exceedingly rare maroon ferracrystal – could have been transparisteel but I knew better, the GenoHaradan management were nothing if not keen to show off their power and wealth by any means possible – was the perfectly poised form of the Overseer's personal assistant, Tealia.
She blinked, obviously surprised. "Ajax Zarr!" she exclaimed, before she blushed.
She knows my name. I felt the heat colour my face, too. She smiled, dark eyes creasing as a hand rose to rub at her horns. The self-conscious gesture was endearing.
"I, um- I need to see the Overseer," I stammered.
The friendliness vanished from her face. "Do you have an appointment?" The words were politely spoken, but cool. I'd misstepped, I realized with a jolt.
"No, but it's important. I mean- it's big. Very big."
Tealia stared at me quietly for a moment, darkly-lashed eyes intent on my face and yet inscrutable. I hopelessly wished her smile would return. She sighed, then; a small sound in the overly large room, before raising a hand for silence and clicking a button on her headset.
Her conversation was brief and muffled before she turned to look at me again. "Overseer Eridius will see you now. I trust you are prepared, data analyst, for the Overseer does not look kindly on impromptu consultations without a very compelling reason."
Tealia's tone was neutral and not at all disapproving, and yet I still felt I'd disappointed her somehow. She looked so composed and professional and utterly unattainable.
"He is waiting for you, data analyst," she prompted, and I realized I was staring at her like a goon. I flushed.
"Will you still be here when I come out?" The words tumbled out, abrupt and awkward and painful, and I felt like kicking myself.
Tealia frowned. Her hand rose to rub at her horns again. They were sharpened to shiny points that glinted under soft lighting. "I work here, data analyst. Of course I will be here."
"Oh, great- I mean, I'll see you then, Tealia." My face was flaming. It's official, I'm the galaxy's biggest dork. After this, I was going to hide in the supply cupboard for a week.
And then, somehow, Tealia was smiling again. At me. "I look forward to it." She glanced behind her at the closed doors to the Overseer's office. "You had better go in." Her smile deepened, and her eyes were warm. "I'll see you after, Ajax."
I was a fool… but maybe a fool with a chance. I grinned back and headed towards the Overseer's office.
Suddenly, Eridius didn't seem quite so scary.
xXx
Carth Onasi:
"Stay buckled in guys," I called over the comm. "I'll be pulling us into hyperspace shortly." I eased off the repulsors and allowed the sublight drive to kick in as we left the gravity well. Dustil hadn't wanted to sit in the cockpit, his face had been lined with misery and exhaustion and stubborn anger – the latter solely directed at me. The last thing he needed was that confrontation outside the 'Hawk.
Blast. How is it possible that he and Mission have already met? And what in the Outer Rim happened? Another mystery. I'd planned on sending Dustil to the starboard living area, but for now- he'd crashed on the bed in the pilot's quarters. Emotionally he was a wreck, and his body succumbed to sleep before I'd even wrested the ship's cockpit from Ordo.
Once the freighter was safely in hyperspace, I could see about sorting Dustil out. For now, there was no reason he couldn't rest.
The hatch swished open behind me, and I threw a quick glance over my shoulder; Jen, looking miserably haggard as she slouched her way into the co-pilot's seat. Belaya's death and Bastila's capture lay a mood of desolate grief over everyone, but Jen would be feeling it the most. She'd saved Belaya, only to see her die a day later, and as for Bastila… I'd never seen such a haunted look on Jen's face. And her apparent anguish just made me want to hold her and never let go.
Steady on, Onasi. I cleared my throat, keeping my eyes on the instrumentation panel. "Plug in a course for Kashyyyk, would you? And strap in, sister, we'll be making the jump soon."
Jen didn't respond verbally, but her fingers danced over the navicomputer as she obeyed me. She silently buckled the restraints around her torso. I shot her another sideways glance; her face was tense and grieved. Aww, heck. Of course she was taking Bastila's capture terribly – we all were, but it was so much more personal for Jen. Bastila was her only link to a past she couldn't remember. I hope Jen's not feeling anything through that bond. If she… if Bastila gets hurt, how much will Jen feel?
The thought was chilling. Will it… will it bring back what happened on Deralia?
I wondered if Jen's struggles with the Dark Side were enhanced due to her past trauma. The incident earlier, on the 'Hawk, had frightened me more than I wanted to admit, even to myself. Jen had completely lost herself, and yet… and yet she'd come back.
She'd faced that evil Headmaster - the one who'd held Dustil's loyalty for years - and stayed true to herself.
The Dark Side was real and more compelling than I'd ever realized. And it was something Jen would always face… it was something she shouldn't face alone. But Bastila had been taken from her.
I couldn't… I wouldn't let Jen fight this insidious battle by herself. I didn't know how much help a non-Force sensitive like me would be, but damn the cursed Dark Side if it tried to claw its fingers back into Jen.
Or into Dustil.
I sighed, and realized we were getting close to the hyperspace jump point. Jen reached out to idly play with the communication controls, and I gently slapped her hands away, shooting her a mock-disapproving glance. The faintest twitch of a smirk appeared momentarily on her face, before the damn bleakness chased it away again.
"Jumping to hyperspace in one minute," I broadcast through the ship, before pulling back to the pilot's controls. For a freighter, the Ebon Hawk was manoeuvrable - but it lacked the agility and finesse I was used to. I was generally more at home in a snubfighter, although I had to admit that, over the weeks, the 'Hawk had started to feel like home. My gaze slid back to Jen. And the crew had started to feel like family.
Dustil. And now my son was returned to me. Damaged, scared and angry, but he was whole. He needed me, I knew, but he was asleep at the moment.
And the anguished look in Jen's eyes made me feel that, right now, she needed me more.
I pulled back on the controls and the ship lurched into hyperspace, the minute-long acceleration that no-one ever really became accustomed to. The dizzying nausea ebbed within seconds for most sentients, although I'd heard of some people who were affected for hours afterwards. Hypersickness, they called it. Hopefully none of our new residents would have any issues.
The Ebon Hawk settled down into the automatic thrum of hyperspace travel, and I turned to properly appraise Jen. She was staring blankly through the cockpit window, and even to my somewhat biased eyes she was a mess. Still wearing the same bloodied and damaged armour, her brown hair matted, and streaks of dirt marring her face. The black criss-cross of Uthar's Force attacks defaced what was visible of her neck.
She still looked beautiful.
"Jen," I said quietly. "How are you holding up?"
Her shoulders bunched as she stayed staring out into the black of hyperspace. "Terrible," she said flatly. She turned, and a visible tremor lanced through her face. "Oh Carth," she murmured brokenly. "I've made such a mynock's nest of things. Bastila…"
Her eyes were wide and green and filled with unshed tears. I felt my heart clench. "No you haven't," I denied, my tone sharp. How can she even think that? "You succeeded, Jen. You've done the unbelievable. I don't think anyone else would have been able to-"
"Carth, the Sith have Bastila Shan!" she burst out. "How can that not be a disaster of galactic proportions?"
"Kylah's presence was unforeseeable. And not your fault." I tried to keep my words calm and reassuring. She had to hear the truth, instead of blaming herself for events outside of her control. "If Zaalbar hadn't been outside the ship- or if I'd realized he was acting odd- or if Bastila had been awake-" I sighed. "Any of those things and it could have played out differently. You ordered us to guard the 'Hawk, and it was our failure, not yours."
She laughed, and it was a hysterical sound. "I don't give a womp rat's arse whose fault it is, Carth. Darth Malak has Bastila!"
"And you found the Star Map," I cut in. "If the Jedi Masters have done their part on Kashyyyk, then we might be able to locate the source of Malak's power now." I couldn't help myself; the distressed expression wasn't going away, so my hand reached up and cradled the side of her face. It was warm. "Jen, you found my son. You stood for Canderous, and gained his trust in a way no amount of credits ever would. You saved Belaya, in time for her to reconcile with Juhani. Dak, Kel, Dustil… all with a new chance. How can you not see everything you've accomplished?"
Jen's expression was disbelieving, but she didn't pull away. "I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation," she whispered hoarsely. "Sun and stars, Carth, if I was the Dark Lord of the Sith, do you know the first thing I'd do?"
I blinked; some metaphors were a little too disturbing to think on.
"I'd break her," she continued flatly. "By any means possible. Hurt someone hard enough, and long enough, and they'll do anything to stop the pain. Anything. Even use their gifts against their allies."
I couldn't help a flinch, and my hand dropped. I'm an idiot. Somehow, with everything that had happened, this outcome hadn't yet occurred to me. Bastila's battle meditation in the hands of the Sith… we were already losing the war. Losing Bastila was terrible enough, but the thought of her gifts turned on us… this was dire. Jen's eyes echoed the despair I was just beginning to comprehend.
A tear welled up and dropped on her cheek, right where I'd been touching a moment ago. It tracked a clear trail through the muck she'd not yet cleaned off. Jen turned away from me, shoulders clenching further, and mumbled something under her breath.
"I am a Jedi Knight," the words were muttered inaudibly, and I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly until she repeated them. "I am a Jedi Knight." She's trying to stay strong, I realized. To not cry in front of me. Stang, she doesn't always have to be the strong one!
"Jen," I said through gritted teeth, and abruptly leaned over, unclipped her harness and yanked her unceremoniously into my arms.
She gasped. "Carth!-"
"Shush," I ordered quietly, and pulled her tightly against my chest, one hand firmly on her dark curls and the other wrapped around her torso. "It's okay, Jen. We'll find a way."
Jen was stiff and unyielding in my arms, but I heard a quiet sob rip itself from her lungs. "Shhh," I murmured. "We'll be with the masters soon. We'll plan from there. Shhh." Another sob, followed by another, and then she thoroughly fell to pieces in my arms.
I didn't know what I said to her; nonsensical platitudes as I gently stroked her head and she cried herself out in a purging of emotion she'd likely never allowed herself. The thought of Bastila's battle meditation turned on the Republic was horrific, yet surely there had to be a glimmer of hope. We'd come so far – if the Jedi Masters had found the last Star Map, then we might be close to the endgame. If Bastila could just hold on – if Jen could help her remain strong under whatever evil ministrations the Sith would come up with – then maybe we still had a fighting chance.
I had to believe that.
And Jen had come so far. She'd led the mission, well and truly, on Korriban - and we'd all followed her lead as if it were the natural thing to do. Jen's abilities in the Force had escalated tremendously - likely due to instinct borne from her forgotten past. And she was controlling her anger… she was transforming into the Jedi she must have once been. Bastila had said it wasn't thought possible, but I could see it happening. Jen was… Jen was someone I respected. Someone I admired. Someone I cared for.
Her sobs turned to quiet whimpers, which then eased into the slow breaths of slumber. All the while I'd been murmuring nonsense, and she'd fallen asleep to it. I felt myself smile.
Despite everything, this wasn't a bad place to be. I looked down at the dark head pillowed against me, and could smell the faint sulphuric tang of Korriban air still resting within her curls.
I didn't care in the slightest.
Morgana had been a simple woman, easy to love with every fibre of my being. She had been content with life out on the rural plains of Telos before I'd brought her into the city. After Morgana's death - and, I'd assumed, Dustil's - my life seemed to lose all meaning other than work and a burning hatred for Karath and all things Sith. I'd found myself wholly uninterested in any other woman. I didn't plan on it, I didn't vow to stay celibate, I just- never really got over her death.
Jen was the most complicated woman I'd ever met. They were poles apart in drive and motivations, but in some core ways Jen reminded me strongly of Morgana. Stubborn and sassy. Unable to take anything seriously. Terrible at staying out of trouble. Altogether too accomplished at driving me crazy.
Maybe I had the chance for something here, if I was man enough to take it. I felt the slow burn of desire deep in my gut, and my arms tightened around her reflexively.
Jen stirred at that, and I inwardly berated myself for waking her just as she'd fallen asleep. Her head lifted, and sleep-clouded green eyes stared at me in drowsy confusion.
"Jen," I whispered. Her eyes dropped to my mouth and stayed there tellingly. A furious flush of red blossomed on her cheeks. The desire flared to life, then, and I lowered my head to hers.
But Jen stiffened, scrabbling out of my lap when we were mere inches apart, her eyes widening in surprise or fright. She landed backwards on the ground with a squeak, before standing inelegantly and backing away.
"Jen-"
"I-uh, have to go," she mumbled, and all but ran out of the cockpit, leaving me staring at the exit.
Oh no you don't, Jen Sahara, I thought fiercely, and my brows lowered. I'll give you space for now. But we're going to talk, and soon.
xXx
Canderous Ordo:
It was at least twenty hours into what Onasi claimed was a two week hyperspace journey, and I lugged the spare bedroll into the side of the cargo bay with a frown. The Ebon Hawk was overloaded, and now that Onasi junior had been moved to the men's quarters we were out of bunks. Crashing in here was preferable to sleeping near that bunch of Force-using di'kuts – the Wookiee could have 'em, as far as I was concerned.
We'd lost the princess, and gained three sullen Sithkids instead. It wasn't a fair exchange.
Bastila's capture irked. I'd not expected the Wookiee to be so feeble-minded that a haar'chak mind trick would work on him, not to the extent that it did. If he wasn't so obviously wounded, I'd be laying into him myself.
Bastila's tricks fooled you once, Ordo. Ah, that was galling to remember. There were words to be spoken, between the princess and I, and now it seemed that the chance had been snatched away. Bastila had saved my life, though - in the depths of Manaan when she hadn't needed to. For that, I'd inwardly acknowledged the debt had been repaid.
Bastila was an uptight, neurotic Jedi, but she'd been our uptight neurotic Jedi. All I knew was that we'd better be getting her back.
Revan had called a ship-wide meeting a few hours after the hyperspace jump. It was the most dysfunctional group I'd ever seen, all crowded into the freighter's common room, with half the sad-sacks either avoiding each other or glaring like sullen teenagers.
Come to think of it, half of them were sullen teenagers.
There was the quiet one, standing awkwardly against a bulkhead, biting his lip like a toddler as he stared uneasily around. The dark-skinned injured one leaned against Juhani, stimmed and drugged, but his expression was guarded. I'd mentally taken note of him, I'd heard he'd killed the Sith who'd lopped his arm off. After she'd lopped his arm off. And then there was Onasi's glowering offspring, who hadn't raised his angry gaze from the ground.
Revan had led an awkward conversation about the robe we were meeting on Kashyyyk, and how our low kolto supplies were reserved for the injured. I'd rolled my eyes in boredom as she went on about some embargo on fighting, friendly or otherwise, due to the dwindling meds.
I'd sent her a look, then; her return expression had been wry as she'd extrapolated that light sparring was permissible, provided it didn't cause any injury. Then, she'd launched into an idea about sharing Force tricks or some rubbish with the new Sithkids, and I'd snorted before heading away. I didn't know if Revan planned to train them or convert them – but she was going to need some luck with that lot.
Still, this was Revan. It was likely she'd trained worse in the past.
"Canderous." A quiet voice from the rear of the ship had me glancing up; the Cathar had entered silently as I'd been eyeing over my temporary living quarters. She'd worn a broken look on her feline face since we'd left Korriban. In the tail of the freighter, wrapped in metres of cloth, lay the corpse of her friend.
It wasn't how Mando'ade grieved. We burned the remains of our loved ones, sang their battle songs to the stars, and plotted our vengeance. We found a way to move on, to shape our clan into something stronger, and saw the memories of the departed live on in our future.
"Hey," I acknowledged, pulling open the pack I'd brought into the shyrack caves. The cargo bay was a bit of a mess, now – the Wookiee usually did an alright job of keeping order, but since the princess' capture he'd fallen apart into a hairy, howling mess.
"I must speak with you, Canderous," Juhani said softly. I dropped the pack, meeting her alien gaze. It was solemn. "This is important."
"What's up?"
"Hear me out, Canderous, please." That caught my attention. The next words set my teeth on edge. "It's about Jen."
Oh, I knew what she was going to say. In Bastila's absence, I could damn well guess. My eyes narrowed. The Cathar truly was a secret-keeping Jedi at heart, even if she had spent the last year communing with wild beasts in the desert.
"I ain't keeping the truth from her, Cathar, and if you even think about using the Force-"
"I would not," she cut in, eyes flashing. Her warrior's tail snapped around the side of her head as she shook it. "But I am asking you, as her friend, to let her come to the knowledge in her own time."
I snorted in derision. "In her own time? What, before or after some hu'tuun robe kriffs her mind again?"
"Canderous, we saw something in the Academy." The Cathar clasped her hands together. There was a smear of dried blood that clotted the fuzz on her face, and I didn't think she'd rested since the ship had hit the skies. "A holo-recording of Darth Revan."
That silenced me for a moment, and my eyes fixed warily on Juhani as I waited her out. She held my gaze, her eyes shining an intent entreaty. "She did not recognize me for a time. She did not know where she was, or who she was or what we were doing. If it had not been for Bastila, through the bond – I am not sure she would have returned to a properly conscious state. Canderous, I think it truly dangerous for her mind to comprehend her true identity."
The Force was a slippery thing, and it had completely kriffed Revan over. But if Revan was ever to regain the glory of who she had once been then she needed to know the truth.
I said as much.
The Cathar nodded in agreement. "I do not dispute that, Canderous, and I have already told Bastila more than once that I would not hide the truth from Jen should she ask me directly. But I believe we must wait until her mind is ready for it. We must wait until she is mentally prepared to accept what she has done-"
"The Jedi have made her hate who she was," I growled, staring the Cathar down. I'd had enough conversations with Revan to be fully cognizant of her opinion of her true self. She loathed the very mention of Revan. It made for interesting sparring as an obvious weakness – and that's exactly what it would remain, until she damn well understood the truth.
"No, Canderous, you are wrong," Juhani countered softly. "It was not the Jedi, it is Revan herself. For Revan Freeflight would not condone what Darth Revan became. And I believe that is the crux of the matter. Until she is ready to accept her past actions as ones she herself committed…" Juhani trailed off, sighing. "Her mind was badly damaged. Enough so that any sort of recovery was not expected, certainly not to this extent. We can only hope that she continues to recover."
I folded my arms. "And what are you going to do if your beloved Jedi try to mindwipe her again, huh?"
Juhani's gaze steeled under mine. "I will stop them."
I grunted. She had the look of genuine resoluteness to her, and I believed her - but that wasn't the same as agreeing with her. I'd held onto this knowledge since Tatooine, and that seemed like a lifetime ago.
"I don't deny your intent or courage, Cathar, but you ain't strong enough to hold up against a group of your own Masters."
"We only know of one Master there, Canderous," she countered. Her slanted eyes gleamed with tenacity. "Master Vrook Lamar. He is Bastila's Master." She folded her arms and lifted her chin. "Jen is telepathic with Bastila now. We will have no link with Bastila if Master Vrook does… whatever was done to Revan before."
I stared at her.
"Just wait and see, Canderous. That is all I am asking." Her gaze never wavered from mine. "We are all her allies here. None of us will allow anything to happen to her, and I truly believe Bastila's Master would not wish to lose his link with Bastila. And when they see how far Jen has come…" She took in a deep breath through her nostrils.
My eyes narrowed as I surveyed Juhani; she was stalwart and full of conviction. Revan wasn't the wartime commander she had once been – but she was more than the woman I'd first met on Taris. I followed her now, without reservation – and I planned on ensuring she became the leader I'd once fought against. I'd watch her, and see if I agreed with the Cathar's evaluation.
Juhani was still staring at me in appeal. I grunted. "I'll think about it. Not sure I believe your story about the fragilities of her mind – but I'll think about it."
Our attention was caught then as the very topic of our conversation opened a hatch and stepped in. Revan grinned at us, but there was a serious look in her eyes. None of us had felt much like smiling since the princess was taken.
"Are you ready to join us for practice, Juhani?" Revan asked. "Kel and Dak are in the garage."
"Dak's out of the medbay again?" the Cathar, her voice pitching high in startlement. Her arms dropped and her eyes widened. I was mildly surprised myself, inwardly picking the human would crash within the hour. He'd already collapsed once when he first boarded.
"Yeah. He's loaded up on pain meds and kolto. I think he's having trouble sleeping." Revan looked at me. An eyebrow raised, but her expression was calm. She'd come back changed from Korriban. Stronger, more sure of herself. "You up for some sparring later, Canderous?"
I felt my mouth twitch. "Aren't you afraid I'll mess your face up again?"
"I'm sure you can hold back your punches, Canderous," she said drily. "We are running low on kolto. But I'd appreciate the practice and the distraction."
So would I. I gave a curt nod. "Go play with your Sithkids. I'll see you in a few hours."
xXx
Kel Algwinn:
The garage of the freighter was mostly empty, other than the parts of a broken swoop bike piled against the far wall. Dak leaned next to them, idly rolling a hydrospanner under his boot.
I'd not had much to do with Dak on Korriban. He'd been one of Uthar's, but spent most of his time in the Valley, documenting whatever finds he came across. I knew he had an interest in learning and a keen mind, and had wondered once if he might be a kindred spirit trapped on that awful world, just like me.
Dak was a talker, though, and he'd irritated those on my side. Thalia, Mekel, Master Yuthura. But maybe... maybe their dislike of him had been more due to Yuthura's growing discontent with Master Uthar, rather than Dak himself.
"I'm not in any state to be stuffing around with Force lessons," Dak muttered, his bandaged limb clasped protectively into his side.
"It'll take your mind off things," Jen Sahara said, her tone more wry than sympathetic. I wasn't used to calling her that in my head, not yet. And the other one, Dak's friend Juhani – she was Staria, still, to me. The one who'd offered me hope away from Korriban, and was now delivering. I owed them both, I acknowledge, even as the nervousness sat uncomfortably in my stomach. "And you keep refusing the sleep meds."
Dak looked down, glaring at his mangled limb. "Sleep doesn't help. All the meds do is screw my dreams worse than usual." The fingers of his good hand clenched his opposite elbow.
"You will remember some of our training, Dak," Juhani said quietly, coming to sit next to him. "Kel has never been amongst the Jedi and could benefit from our shared experience."
Jen cleared her throat. "There is something I must say first." She was looking at the Cathar. There was a tight look on her face. "To you and Dak. It's about Belaya."
That was the name of Dak's friend, the one Lashowe had killed before Dak turned on her. The corpse lay wrapped in the engine room of the freighter. It gave me the creeps. Dead matter had no bearing on a person's soul… I didn't understand why they wanted to transport a corpse that would begin to rot and reek before our journey would finish. Amongst my people, we would bury or discard the flesh remnants of a dead loved one as soon as possible. For the physical was no more than a temporary dwelling, and once you left it, it served no purpose other than to fertilize the ground.
"What about Belaya?" Dak snapped, his face darkening with grief. Juhani was silent, her Cathar eyes wide and golden.
I'd not have predicted Dak leaving the Sith voluntarily, but the death of a shared friend had rattled him. I believed in him more than Dustil, at any rate. Everyone overlooked Dustil - but I didn't. That sneaky rat could be in this room, right now, for all we knew.
Jen's gaze hardened. "I'll not have any violence on this ship. Dak, you've been on Korriban, so you damn well know what Uthar's like-"
"Jen," Juhani cut in, halting her tirade. "Speak. What is it?"
Jen sighed, her eyes closing briefly. "It was Dustil who captured Belaya. On Uthar's orders. I- I thought you should know, before you hear it from one of the others."
"Dustil," Dak said flatly. His eyes had narrowed, and his only hand dropped away from his bandaged stump, clenching.
I wasn't surprised at all. Not at all. Dustil had always been Uthar's stooge – I'd seen him, once, lead a mercenary straight to Uthar. Straight to his own death. And I knew he'd had something to do with Initiate Drex's death, even though everyone said it was just the Korriban pox. And what about Initiate Selene? She'd been the nicest sentient on Korriban, and Dustil's close friend – and she'd gone missing. No, that boy was a true Sith in the making, and the one reason I didn't feel entirely safe on this ship.
But here was better than following Yuthura, who would likely try setting up her own Sith Academy one day if she didn't change her mind and stay on Korriban. I'd dreamed of leaving that place for too long. I'd done my best to hide away wishes of the Jedi, in a deep corner of my soul. I'd never met one… not before Juhani and Jen Sahara.
"Carth's son?" Juhani whispered hoarsely. "He's the one who took Belaya? Who… who tortured her?"
"Uthar had a damn sight more to do with it than some angst-ridden teenager, Juhani," Jen countered. Her eyes were intent on the Cathar. "He's avoiding all of us because of it – but… look, I can't ask you to forgive what he did, but…"
"That chivhole Uthar," Dak hissed. "If it were possible to resurrect him so I could stab him through the gut myself, I'd do so."
"Do not even think such things, Dak," Juhani mumbled, bowing her head. "And to think, I blamed you…"
Dak snorted as he turned to look at her. "Don't sweat that, Juhani." He looked serious and genuine. "Uthar was always a pro at screwing with people's minds. Shavit, I've done enough things I'm ashamed of - a damn sight more than Dustil I'd wager."
I wasn't so sure about that.
"Dustil's strong in the Force," I said abruptly, causing their collective gaze to swing on me. "Stronger than any of us here. And he can hide himself… he could be anywhere on this ship."
"He's not here," Jen said, her voice confident and sure.
"You don't know that," I muttered, feeling the unease twist in my gut. "You don't know how well he can disappear."
"Oh, I'm familiar with Dustil Onasi's cloaking abilities," Jen replied. A wry smile played on her lips. Jen wasn't one who took too much seriously, I was beginning to realize. She closed her eyes, still smiling, and the Force coalesced under her command.
I had to revise my earlier statement. I'd felt Jen's power, back on Korriban, facing a furious Uthar. I'd only come near after Uthar was dead. Jen Sahara blew Dustil into the wind.
She raised a hand, pointing deeper into the ship. "He's hiding out in the men's quarters. Avoiding us all." Her eyes snapped open, green and considering. "Look, guys, we can't isolate him. He's angry with his dad, he's pissed off Mission which means he's pissed off a Wookiee, and he's avoiding us. This is not a good situation for him… even if it is of his own making."
"What are you asking of us, Jen?" Juhani said, her voice low and bitter. "I came close to killing Dak when I believed he was at fault, and Dak is a friend. I do not have it in me to forget something like this."
"That's because you've never been on Korriban," Dak cut in, and his hand moved to rest gently on her shoulder. "Juhani… you don't truly understand what living in Uthar's house was like. How he preyed on your fears and weaknesses, how he twisted you into doing things you'd never believe yourself capable of." Dak sighed, his face lined with something akin to disgust. I had the feeling it was directed at himself. "Shavit, it's not like Dustil knew Belaya. I can't hate him for doing to a stranger exactly what I've done, in the past."
The garage resounded with silence after that, and Dak rested his head back against the durasteel wall, shutting his eyes. He surprised me. I wasn't ready to give Dustil an inch of trust, and Dak's words left me feeling slightly ashamed of myself.
"You are more ready to return to the Jedi than you realize, Dak Vesser," Juhani murmured.
Dak snorted, eyes still closed. "We'll see, Juhani. It's not exactly what I planned on doing, but then I can't say I'm sad to see the back of Korriban, either."
Jen cleared her throat, and we all turned to look at her. The corner of her mouth twitched in a wry half-smile. "Well. I'll go about tracking down the young Onasi later. For now, let's keep things traditional. Juhani, do you want to lead a Force meditation?"
The Cathar looked taken aback. "I can if you wish me too, Jen."
"You recall the most Jedi training, Juhani," Jen said. Dak frowned at her, and I felt the same level of confusion. I would have expected Jen Sahara to lead whatever Force lessons she had in mind. I had thought she was the Jedi knight onboard.
"As you wish," Juhani said softly, and began.
xXx
Yudan Rosh:
The giant wroshyr trees loomed all around us like colossal sentinels forever immortalized into petrified stillness. There was an eerie, ominous feel to the Shadowlands – indigenous wildlife aside. It added to the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on me, ever since I had heard about the resurrection of Darth Revan.
I remembered clearly the first time I'd seen her, alert and enthusiastic, but with a wary edge that was a product of her upbringing. She'd been a few years younger than me, right at the peak of adolescence, but where I'd spent my formative years training at a Jedi Enclave, she had been scraping to survive in one of the forgotten slums in the Outer Rim.
Revan's thirst for knowledge had been staggering. Her ascension to knight was swift, and it wasn't long before her dedication and intrinsic need to understand everything began to inspire others. And not just young greenhorns like her. Seasoned, experienced knights like Arran Da'klor and Talvon Esan began to follow her lead. Myself - well, I'd been one of the first. The same as Meetra, who was older and had significant standing within the Jedi ranks herself.
Not that those old coots would ever admit to there being a pecking order. The Sith and the Jedi were not so dissimilar, really. And these days I found myself dwelling far too often on events from a past that had once been glorious.
…
It was hard to stay focused on Alderaanian politics. The databook glinted in front of me, listing the latest concessions and demands that raged from their capital. Part of me had truly believed I'd left political intrigue behind with the ashes of my childhood when I'd joined the Jedi on Dantooine – but my transfer to Coruscant, the heart of the Core, had dispelled those rosy illusions.
I sighed, placing the databook to the side for an interlude. Meetra was nearby, her soft voice intermingling with the children. She had a sweet, compelling nature, and was already a favoured mentor of the younglings. They loved her. Everyone did, really; some of the Jedi who rallied around Revan's cause did so because Meetra had.
The sound of raised voices from the meeting hall drew my attention, I looked over to see Revan stalking outside with a face like thunder, sparks flashing from her eyes even at this distance. Malak walked behind her, as always, displeasure apparent on his open face.
They'd been gone for a year. Once the news about Talshion broke out, Revan had fled Dantooine – what had been her home Enclave for a brief three weeks - and Malak had followed from Coruscant. Reports had been scant, but we'd heard enough: the two knights had been deep into the frontlines, in the Outer Rim territory, scouting for the Republic. Reconnaissance and information gathering. They'd seen first-hand the collateral damage the Republic was threatened with.
Then a month ago, like a thermal detonator, Revan had exploded back onto the Coruscanti scene. With holovid footage, military reports, and even a Force relic to back her up, she'd spent her time rallying the Jedi to support her petition: intervention against the Mandalorian offensive.
I jumped to my feet and strode over to meet her. The outcome of this audience with the High Council was critical; Revan had petitioned them in the past, prior to the devastation on Talshion, but this time was different. This time she had not only the backing of a powerful Rear-Admiral in the Fleet, but also a fistful of Jedi Knights.
Surely now, the Council would see reason.
Revan was clutching a steel mask in her hand, and her face was a gathering storm.
It hasn't gone well. I could feel my lips compress into a grim line of displeasure, and had to halt the urge to wrap my lekku around my neck defensively. They didn't listen. Again, despite all Revan has worked towards, the High Council refuses to listen. Revan was a charismatic speaker, but there were some on the Council who'd never warmed to her. Lonna and Atris, in particular. Revan's age when she was found would always be held up by her critics as a deficiency, and the last year had hardened her.
She was still the Revan I'd always love from afar, but some of the light had been snuffed out.
"Well?"
"They're deliberating," she answered me tightly. I sensed Meetra come to my side, and spotted Arran Da'klor and Nisotsa Organa walking towards us decisively – both seasoned knights and staunch supporters of Revan's cause. Malak was a towering form of barely-concealed frustration at her side. "But I think we already know their answer."
"I've heard Captain Karath is engaging the Mandalorians at Suurja. There's skirmishes at Jebble, Vanquo and Tarnith." Malak scowled. "They're all resource planets of Taris, so you know where they're going."
"The Council is scared. Scared and tired," Revan whispered; an angry, hissing noise. "It's the legacy of Exar Kun - they're afraid that if Jedi engage in battle, one or more will fall to the Dark Side." She clenched her fists. "They'd rather let the Republic fall than run the risk."
"Exar Kun…" Arran whistled as he joined us, his red skin darkening. One of the few Zeltrons in the Order, he was a good friend of Revan's. "It's before our time. Maybe, they have a point-"
"Since when do we compare atrocities," Revan cut in tightly. "Murder is murder, but if you're going to pull out the scales, then remember the genocide we've heard about from the Outer Rim outweighs the devastation of Kun."
"The reports are scant, Revan. We don't know how much is hearsay-"
"We do," Malak interrupted. "Any Force-sensitive within a light-year felt Revan's vision when she picked up that cursed mask. And it's not just the Cathar who've fallen to the Mandalorians. They've been busy for years before the Republic even paid notice – and now they're steamrolling a path directly to the Core."
Revan's green eyes flashed to Malak. "They'll get Taris well within the year. We need to go there, Mal."
"You're going to join the war?" Meetra questioned in her musical voice.
Revan gave her a short nod. "I'll wait for the Council's answer, but we already know it. Mal and I heard Master Kavar is on the frontlines – you know he's busy fighting, despite the Order's decree? If he can frelling well ignore them-"
"He's a Master, Revan-"
"Exactly," she cut Meetra off. "He's exactly who should lead the Jedi. If we can form a group of knights to work under him, we could make a difference. A real, tangible difference out there on the battlefield." She sighed. "You don't realize how bad the morale is, out there. The Fleet desperately need something to believe in. They're disorganized and fragmented and think the Mandalorians will win. Sun and stars, if Nomi Sunrider had only passed on her gift, think how that could aid the Republic!"
Battle meditation. The lost Jedi art Nomi had rediscovered against Exar Kun, and failed to pass on to her progeny. It was an amazing talent, and had been lost for centuries. Chances were it would never again be seen in our lifetime.
Revan was staring intently at the steel mask clutched in her hand. "The Republic needs a symbol to believe in. A paragon, a hero. Huh…"
"What are you thinking, Revvie?" Malak rumbled at her side, giving her a nudge. She shot him a quick grin, but there was a calculating look in her eyes I recognized all too well. Her quicksilver mind was at work.
"You said a group of knights," Arran interrupted. "Who do you have in mind?"
"Whoever is interested," Revan answered, levelling him with an intense stare. "I won't build it up, Arran. Kavar can get away with disobeying the Order, but it may very well mean exile for anyone who follows us."
"I'll follow you past the Outer Rim and back, Revvie," Malak said in a quiet voice, his hand touching hers briefly. He was always one for dramatics, and sometimes, in my lesser moments, I hated him for it. "I'd follow you against the whole of the Order."
Revan sent him a heated look that spoke of an intimacy foreign and forbidden, before turning to the rest of us.
"I'll ask Xaset Terep and Talvon Esan along," Revan said.
"You know my mind," Arran stated. "Organize a meeting. I'll be there."
"I'm in," I added. As if there had been any doubt. "Invite Jonn Dan."
"I, also, will be there," Nisotsa said huskily, speaking up for the first time.
Meetra was silent, and all eyes turned to her. Her sweet, unassuming nature meant that some overlooked her despite her experience, and her empathic ability was vastly underrated by most. Revan was not one of them. Finally, Meetra spoke.
"I will be there, and listen." She gazed at all of us in turn. "Invite Cariaga Sin. Alaki Vash. Rab Vooktari. And Jexer Te'reda."
…
And that was the birth of the Jedi Thirteen. Or, as the Fleet liked to call us, Revan's Guard of Twelve. For Master Kavar refused to lead, and abandoned the frontlines to go crawling back to the High Council. Revan had been left to command as best as she could, donning that cursed mask and giving the Republic a faceless hero to worship.
Half the damn galaxy even believed that Revan Freeflight was male.
Of course I'd followed. I'd agreed with her from the start, and Revan's sheer power and mercurial charisma were a shining light we all fell victim to. Malak added thoughtful reason to her impassioned arguments, and so many of us were convinced to follow them deep into war. And we'd won.
Oh, how we'd won.
Malak always had her back, then; he was her guard, her wall, her tower of strength. Anything Revan set her mind to, he strived to make a reality. I'd wondered, so many times, what she would have made of herself had Malak Devari not existed.
Who would she have turned to? Who would have supported her, guided her, made her stronger?
Would that person have been able to stop her succumbing to the Dark Side?
Would I have been able to?
We'd been close, I recalled with a bittersweet resentment I'd held at bay until recently. I'd followed Revan most of my life, breathing her dreams and her ideals and victory and twisted power and delusions of conquest. Oh and hadn't the Force tasted sweet then, after the Mandalorian scourge had been eliminated, and we were on the path to power the likes of which no one had ever tasted before. With the Star Forge, Revan would mould the Republic into a better, stronger empire, and I was one of the lucky few who would help make it a reality.
But then her anger began to encompass everything, and Malak's insanity would creep in, and the few others remaining either cowered in constant fear or became warped tools sadistically enjoying the suffering we began to inflict upon the known worlds.
Even then, I still would have followed her anywhere. Malak's betrayal had been unknown to me; perhaps he realized my devotion had always been to her, first and foremost. Bandon and Nisotsa had been part of it, always eager to scrabble for more standing, but even they hadn't dare face her directly. Arran had, and paid for it with his cursed life.
With Revan gone I drew deep into the Dark Side, cold and remote, as my soul slowly withered away.
And then, the news of Darth Revan's resurrection broke through the upper ranks of Malak's Dark Jedi. It hit Nisotsa hard, she who'd betrayed Darth Revan and was the only Guard member remaining - other than myself. And Malak. The rest were long dead, or presumed so, in the case of Xaset and Meetra who were never found after Malachor.
I thought I'd been holding it together, but insidious doubts had been creeping in for weeks, nightmares of all those I'd murdered and tortured in the name of Revan's vision of a better galaxy that was as warped and twisted as the Force we all wielded.
If I drew the Force in, deep to the cockles of my soul, I could forget, I could ride a wave of power that would separate me from the rest of the living. But it always ended, and without it came the recriminations, the remembrance of who I had been, once; a good Jedi who desired peace in the universe and the love of another who only had eyes for her childhood friend.
I would never have turned on her like that, no matter how Dark we'd become.
Now, however, she'd enacted the ultimate betrayal. Mind-wiped, or so the rumours said. A puppet of the Jedi Council, with no memory of her past atrocities, while I was forced to re-enact them nightly. The Force twists and corrupts, I thought bitterly, but that she be ignorant of all that she wrought is the very height of injustice.
It would end here, on Kashyyyk. For the memory of the woman I had once esteemed so highly, I would ensure Darth Revan was no more. Our speeder was loaded with grenades and nerve restraints and syringes of that Force-inhibiting drug Kylah had been experimenting with. Bandon had slipped in a neural disruptor, thinking I wouldn't notice.
He had plans to capture Darth Revan.
But, no. Oh no. It was time for Darth Revan to finally come to an end. If Bandon didn't finish her off, then I certainly would.
But, unlike Malak, I would follow her into oblivion.
xXx
Author's Note:
Seriina Starr belongs to kosiah, from her post-KotOR fic 'Memory' - which is an epic, plot-twisting, character-driven piece of awesomeness that is seriously under-reviewed. I totally recommend reading - and reviewing, it makes us feel appreciated :-)
