Hyperspace: V - part two


Dustil Onasi:

I waited until the garage of the Ebon Hawk had emptied out before finally making my way there. I felt them - Dak and Kel and the Cathar and bloody Jen Sahara, starting their little Force lessons that I hadn't dared join. I don't want to join in. I'm not scared, I'm just not interested.

It was galling when I couldn't even convince myself.

I could have gone with Mekel. I should have gone with Mekel. What the frakk was here for me, after all?

The broken parts of a swoop bike littered half the garage, and that was my reason for checking this place out. I'd just knelt down, releasing my invisible Force weaves as I bent to investigate whether it was possible to salvage this mess, when the hatch swished open.

"You plan on hiding the entire hyperspace journey?" Jen said mildly, stepping inside.

I could feel myself scowl, and deliberately didn't look at her. "I think everyone would be happier if I did," I muttered.

"Your father wouldn't be."

"He can frakk off," I spat, suddenly angry. "My entire life he's been too busy fighting for glory, and now that I actually moved on he wants to be a part of it. Frakk him." I felt my mouth twist. We'd barely spoken two words since the ship left Korriban behind. I didn't know what to say to him, so I hid. It wasn't like I couldn't work out how to use that disgusting synthesizer after everyone had cleared out from the common room. The only sent I'd come across was that damn ugly Mandalorian, who'd given me a derisive sneer before stomping away.

Jen wore a thoroughly unimpressed look when I turned to face her. "You chose to come onboard, Dustil. Your dad's pretty stubborn. You're going to have to talk to him sooner or later."

"No I don't," I said automatically, and glared when she snickered.

"Here, catch this." She threw a lightsaber to me unexpectedly, and I caught it on reflex, staring at it dumbly. It was a training one. I wondered if she'd nicked it from the Academy. There were chests full of them back there, but sometimes peeps used real ones. I remembered a time when that pissant Shaardan somehow got a hold of a white colour crystal in a real 'saber and used it to cut down an unsuspecting Trandoshan in the training rooms. He was a tool, Shaardan, but I'd always been kinda surprised he kept failing graduation.

Jen was holding a training lightsaber, too. "You didn't join in with the Force lessons earlier."

"Well, no, I did just torture and cause the death of Belaya Linn, so excuse me for avoiding a really pissed-off Cathar," I snarled. Not to mention Dak. We'd gotten along okay, as far as Sith students did, but that was before Belaya. And Kel- well, Kel hadn't looked me in the eye since I'd betrayed that mercenary to Uthar. I scared him.

This wasn't even talking about Mission Vao, who glared bloody death whenever she spotted me. And she had a damn Wookiee bodyguard. The only one onboard who wasn't pissed at me, for some reason or another, was the Mandalorian mercenary. He merely thought I was beneath his notice. And I still didn't get how my father was travelling peaceably with a Mandalorian.

And- Jen Sahara. Or Ness Jonohl. Or whatever the frakk her name was. She, who'd slaughtered Uthar and turned the Academy upside down. Who was – so I'd found out eavesdropping – Force-bonded to Bastila frakking Shan, a paragon of the Jedi Order. How could a stand-up Jedi like Jen Sahara even have an inkling of my situation? The darkest thing she'd probably ever done was tell my useless father off for drinking all the caffa.

"What you did to Belaya was abominable," a voice hissed from behind us, and I spun to see Juhani lurking in the other doorway. Her alien eyes gleamed yellow, and I tensed, ready to reach for the Force at a moment's notice. Jen stepped up next to me.

Jen opened her mouth to speak. "Juhani-"

"I cannot forgive you for that," the Cathar spoke over Jen. "Belaya was my truest friend, and she deserved better than an end like that."

I felt the dread circle sickeningly in my belly. For what, really, could I do on a ship where everyone hated me? I didn't believe Jen Sahara would stand by me against her friend, no matter that she tensed in readiness at my side. And Juhani – well. She had a right to vengeance. I couldn't refute that.

"But maybe I can understand it," Juhani said softly, and I felt my mouth drop open in surprise. Righteous anger and despair still marked the Cathar's face, but there was something else I couldn't decipher. She turned to look at Jen. "Did you know that, after I fled Dantooine, I returned to Taris first?"

At Jen's mute shake of her head, the Cathar continued. "I was full of rage, rage at what Quatra had put me through, and despair at what I thought I'd done." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and her eyes gained a faraway look. "There were- some people I tracked down on Taris. Some I held grudges against from my childhood. They didn't live long."

Her gaze snapped back to mine, then. "I can understand that you may not have had much of a choice, Dustil Onasi. I may not be able to forgive you for what you have done- but I do understand it. Better than you would think."

Think. I didn't know what I was thinking anymore. The Cathar was bristling with anger, and yet almost seemed to be condoning my actions. Because she'd killed, before.

Maybe she wasn't cut from quite the same cloth as powerful Jen Sahara and heroic Bastila Shan.

"Dak does not blame you. You should know that," Juhani added softly. "He was with you on Korriban, all these years. He understands. Now-" She cleared her throat, and glanced over to Jen. "Why don't you turn on that training lightsaber so we can see what you have been taught."

I glanced back to the older human, to find her grinning impishly at me. "Come on, kid," she teased, a white bar activating innocently from her hand. Hers was a short, off-hand blade – she'd tossed me the superior one. After witnessing the showdown with Uthar, though, I didn't really believe I held the advantage. "Let's see what Carth's son can do with a lightsaber."

I turned mine on and faced her warily. She was still grinning, her eyes dancing from behind the beam of white. I stepped forward, somewhat awkwardly, and lashed out.

Jen blocked and stepped to the side, and I followed her, flicking my 'saber down by her legs.

Again, a block and a side-step. She wasn't attacking, I realized, but giving me a chance to warm up.

"Look for her weaknesses," Juhani called. "There is an opening in her guard. Find it." Jen bared her teeth as I swung again; once more parried by her shorter weapon. I had the reach advantage, but more than that- there was an awkward shift to her pose, her 'saber wasn't covering her body adequately.

I swung high, but abruptly changed direction when she rose to block. Jen was too quick for me, though, and dodged backwards.

"She is used to wielding two blades," the Cathar added, and Jen shot her a mock glare. "She leaves her side unguarded when she only has one."

I could see what Juhani meant, now. Jen fought like she expected a shield on her off-hand, and when it wasn't present she failed to fully compensate. But Jen Sahara was too quick for me to land a blow, and she refused to attack.

"Stop hiding, Dustil," Jen said, dodging me again. My eyes narrowed, and I stepped sideways before launching a blow at her weak side. She blocked, still, and grinned at me from behind our crossed weapons. "I expect to see you at the next session."

"I'm not going to be a frakking Jedi," I retorted. I didn't care what Dak and Kel planned on doing, but there was no way I'd go scurrying to some robed Master to beg for enlightenment. I had zero interest in the Jedi Order, and a lifetime's worth of distrust.

"Then use it as an opportunity to learn skills for yourself," she snapped, leaning backwards from an overhand lunge. It was getting annoying, the way she refused to attack. "We've all got things to teach, yourself included. I'd love to know how you keep hiding the way you do."

I stalled, momentarily surprised. Sith didn't share skills on Korriban. Not the Adepts, not the Initiates. We were all too busy vying for prestige and individual status. "You want to learn my trick, huh?" I said, somewhat guardedly. Everyone wanted something, after all.

"I'd be interested, but it's up to you. We're not your enemy, Dustil." Jen paused, too, a serious look on her face for once. "Stars, the only one on this ship likely to lash out at you is Mission, and she's not a Force user."

I could feel my cheeks heat at the mention of the Twi'lek. I wished I'd never met her on Korriban. Then we could have started with a clean slate here. I'd actually enjoyed speaking with her before I'd frakked it all up.

"Why don't you try facing up to her and apologizing?" The words were soft and genuine and I felt my lip curl at the stupid idea.

"Apologizing?" I spluttered. "What, sorry for scaring the stuffing out of you and threatening to lop your headtails off? Yeah, I bet that'd go down real well."

She shrugged, her lightsaber lowering. Mine was at half-mast, too. "Mission has the biggest heart of anyone I ever met. An apology worked for me when I screwed up."

I snorted in disgust. "What did you do, pinch her pazaak cards?"

"No," Jen said absently, but her gaze had travelled behind me to the open hatch. I could sense someone else enter the room, the faintest touch in the Force, and it was more familiar and welcome that I'd ever admit. Dad. Jen's lips tightened and a high colour of red bloomed on her face. "I scuttled the Ebon Hawk while Mission – and everyone else – was onboard. Caused them to crash-land in the Manaan Ocean and almost get captured by the Sith while I ran off-world."

My mouth dropped in shock as I stared at Jen disbelievingly. Her eyes snapped back to mine, and she grinned. "We're not that different, Dustil." She switched off the 'saber and threw it to Juhani, who caught it effortlessly. "I'll leave you guys to it."

I turned to watch as she wandered to the exit, where Dad was still standing, his arms folded casually as he stared at her.

"Excuse me," Jen said tightly, motioning for him to move. She looked either uncomfortable or angry.

I thought they were friends. Is she pissed at him? Maybe I'd have an ally. For I sure as frakk didn't know if I wanted to punch Dad or hug him.

"You're leaving so soon?" Dad asked in a neutral voice.

"I have- things. Things to do," Jen muttered.

"Coward," he said mildly, but sidestepped out of the way. She shot him a fiery glare before disappearing. He stared after her for a moment, in silence, as the Cathar exited in her wake.

Then, with a quiet sigh, Dad turned back around.

"Dustil," he acknowledged quietly.

I could feel the scowl on my face, and hated the awkward feeling inside. Everything in my life had been overturned in a matter of days. While I was glad to be free of Uthar – truly, I was – I felt completely directionless. Like I had no idea what I actually wanted.

"I wish things were easier between us," Dad admitted, and I opened my mouth to retort that it was his damn fault but he bet me to it. "Look, I know you have every right to be angry at me. For not being there, for always putting the war first. I- I can't change the past, Dustil. I can only try to do things better this time around. To be there for you, if you'll let me."

He looked so serious, so damn earnest, talking to me like an equal for the first time in my frakking life, and I felt the anger completely vanish, leaving only an uneasy residue of bitterness behind.

"I don't know," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. I sighed. "I don't think I know much of anything anymore."

His mouth twitched; almost a grin, but not quite. "Believe it or not, son, but I know how you feel."

Son. The word simultaneously annoyed and warmed me – annoying me further. "Really?" I said in disbelief. Like he'd ever felt that way. Seriously, I'd lost count of the commendations Dad used to receive from his superiors. As a boy, I'd weigh his medals in my hands when he was away, awed and proud and sad all at the same time. Dad had three of them, then; shiny titasteel with colourful ribbons. I wondered if he'd been awarded more since Telos.

"Yes, really," Dad answered, his voice dry. "These last few months, especially."

My eyes narrowed. "Why were you on Korriban, Dad?" I could hear my voice twist on the last word, and saw the flicker in his eyes as he noticed it, too. "You're a fighter pilot. What the frakk were you lot doing there, with Bastila frakking Shan of all people?"

He hesitated, and I felt myself scowling all over again. "Suppose you can't tell me, huh?" I said bitterly. I'd always wanted details, as a kid. The few times Dad was actually home – home, not on the frontlines, not at Base where Mum refused to let me go – he never wanted to talk about it. Always seemed more interested in my studies, or what stupid holo-movie was doing the rounds, or who my friends were. He never let me catch a glimpse of his glorious life, out there, being a famous warhero.

"I can tell you parts," he said quietly. "I'd like to know what you've been up to as well."

I snorted. "I've been training to be a Dark Jedi, Dad."

"Yeah, I got that," he snapped. "I didn't mean- look, we've got a lot of catching up to do. And- and you've grown into a man since Telos. I- I can't begin to tell you how it feels to know you're alive, Dustil. At how- how happy that's made me."

I shrugged uncomfortably, looking away. "Guess I always thought you'd throw yourself into the war. Y'know, like you've done your entire life."

"Well, I did I guess," he conceded, ignoring the bitterness of my last words. "But I thought of you and your mother every day, Dustil. Every single day."

I blinked and glanced down at the ground. It was the same slate grey durasteel as everywhere else in the ship. "She shouldn't have died. It's not fair that she did. I… I miss her."

"I know, son." His arms were around me then. I hugged him back, awkward and ill-at-ease and maybe a little bit comforted, before stepping back.

"You're almost as tall as me now," Dad said, startled.

I laughed, surprised at the inane comment, and looked at him. We were close to the same height. "Four years of growing, Dad," I said wryly.

He smiled, but it was sad. "Look, come and get something to eat in the common room. You can tell me about that, er, colourful friend of yours who looked like he wanted to kill me outside the Academy." Dad grinned, then, looking about ten years younger. "And I'll tell you how I crash-landed on Taris and met most of the crew onboard."

xXx

Zhar Lestin:

The air on Kashyyyk had a wildness to it that I found strangely freeing. Amongst the branches of the great wroshyr trees, it was easy to forget the galactic battles being fought elsewhere. In other circumstances, I would have found myself at peace on this unkempt world.

But the indigenous tribe in this part of the planet were under a Czerka-sanctioned stranglehold due to a corrupt leader, and the presence of several Jedi was not exactly welcome. Staying in temporary Czerka huts mounted by hanging plysteel ropes was a viable alternative to the dubious hospitality of the Wookiees, but Vrook, it seemed, had valid reasons for imposing upon the natives.

I sat back in a woven lee-cane chair, my fingers pressing deep into my temples. The situation of the Wookiees was an unpleasant one, with any dissenters being sold by their chieftain as slaves, and was the sort of unjust scenario that we as Jedi should be investigating.

But this Wookiee business is as significant as a tach in a krayt dragon's den. For years, now, I lived with the crushing despair within me that the padawan I'd trained had turned into one of the deadliest villains in the galaxy. When the news broke that he'd turned on the one he'd once loved more than life itself, something inside me truly died. It was the final step into the darkness, and I did not know if there was anyone who could turn back from that.

I transferred back to Dantooine when Malak first fell. Coruscant was too busy, with the weight of my old padawan's fate on my soul. And Karon was already there, had been for years, since just prior to Malak and Revan's initial flight to investigate the Mandalorian threat. She'd transferred for Revan, at the time, to try and ease her ex-padawan into a new enclave away from her lover. The High Council in Coruscant themselves decreed the separation of Knights Malak and Revan, despite both mine and Karon's heated arguments against it.

But Revan was too outspoken, and Malak too convincing. And there were too many on the Council who, I believed, feared their views and their charisma. Other powerful, more experienced Knights like Meetra Surik and Yudan Rosh started clustering around them, and sometimes I believed the Council-sanctioned separation of Malak and Revan had less to do with their supposedly forbidden love, and more to do with their growing power bloc.

But, regardless, Revan's stay on Dantooine had been brief. Three weeks, all told, before the news of Talshion burning hit the galactic HoloNet and they both ran to the frontlines. It was a year before they returned to Coruscant, and this time, when they left, they took damn near half the Order's Knights with them.

Dantooine was a quieter place than Coruscant, and a calmer one. Karon and I had been children there, a lifetime ago, before we moved to Coruscant for padawan training. We'd both been fresh-eyed and adolescent, and we'd bonded early. If we'd not been Force-sensitive, then perhaps we would have been something else to each other. Something more. But the combined complexities of an inter-species relationship and the emotional pitfalls of the Force were enough to keep our feelings for each other at a strictly platonic level. We'd both believed that, given time, perhaps Malak and Revan's relationship would fade in the same manner, as the effervescence of youth did.

Who knew? Given different circumstances, perhaps it would have. The Coruscanti High Council did not agree.

Karon had been elected to the Dantooine Council a year ago. We had worked together our entire life, so a part of me was surprised to find her involved in something distinct to me. I held no contention over it… excepting that it conflicted her. Karon had been deeply torn over something, something from the Council meetings that she could not unburden on me.

Something so staggering that the entire reason she'd been elected to the Council was because of who her padawan had once been.

I found it difficult to forgive Karon for keeping Revan's survival from me. While I understood that secrecy was part of one's ascension to the Council, in some ways I was as much Revan's Master as she had been. Just as she had understood Malak as well as I.

It had always felt wrong to be mad at Karon, and doubly now that she was one with the Force. I sighed, feeling the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. Vrook had showed me Karon's last holo-message, and for once he'd been peaceably quiet. He had viewed it weeks ago, before I had even known the name Jen Sahara.

The dark-skinned Zabrak stared at the camera, her eyes a bright turquoise even in the shaky light emitted by the holo-token.

"I am on Manaan, having spent the last day in discussions with Padawan Bastila Shan, and Padawan Juhani. Let me say at first that Padawan Juhani is fine, and has been redeemed by none other than Jen Sahara." Karon smiled, then, and it looked heartbreakingly sad. "But Jen Sahara herself has run off-world. Although she does not know the truth of her identity, she is filled with rage and frustration that does not come from the Deralian scholar. I… have had a premonition, a strong one. The reason I have not raised an alarm about Jen's departure is that the Force has shown me she will return to Manaan. What happens from there, my fellow Jedi, I do not know – but I do not believe I shall be much longer on this physical plane."

Karon sighed deeply, her gaze moving away from the holo-cam. "I will strongly recommend once more that you include Zhar Lestin in the knowledge of this mission. After myself, there is no Jedi Master who might understand Jen Sahara better… or calm her, if the need arises."

There was more in the message, explaining about the Star Maps, that the Ebon Hawk would be directed to Kashyyyk afterwards, and an odd observation on the emotional state of Padawan Shan that seemed meaningless when contrasted with the mind fractures of Jen Sahara. But it was the last recording from Karon, and I had re-played it more times than was emotionally healthy.

I heard a forced cough from outside the wicker-lashed room, and raised my head as Vrook Lamar walked in, a customary scowl on his lined face. He took great delight in his curt and intimidating demeanour. We all had our faults, and Vrook's was that he believed a gruff exterior was necessary for emotional detachment.

No, it's that he believes emotional detachment is necessary. Bah. He'd have us all walking like automatons. He always was a bit of a blind idiot, even as a kid. It was funny how sometimes thoughts came in the voice of someone else. And that thought, as it flashed through my mind, was spoken in the dry, chuckling tones of a long-lost friend I'd believed as one with the Force as Karon was now.

Vrook came from Coruscant too, although he transferred to Dantooine decades ago. But we'd known him on Coruscant, as padawans training to become knights, and never particularly warmed to him. Those days, it had been three of us who'd been close. And while Karon and I found it easy to ignore Vrook's negative observations on just about everything, Jolee Bindo had always liked to speak his mind.

Jolee had disappeared during the height of the Exar Kun conflict, after his wife – and hadn't that marriage rocked the Coruscanti Enclave – was refused training by the Jedi, and ran to Kun's side. After so many, many years, it seemed only sensible to assume that Jolee had died somewhere along the line. For how many people could truly turn their back on the Force?

But Vrook and Vandar disagreed, now. They had travelled to Kashyyyk weeks ago, starting their search for the Star Map in the depths of the massive wroshyr forest the Wookiees called the Shadowlands. But the planet was so big…

There was a Force presence, though. A benign one, like someone tracking them, far enough away to remain unseen, close enough that Vandar had picked up on it. The presence had faded away when either of them tried to approach it, overtly or otherwise, and that sort of slippery stealth against the likes of Vandar Tokare was impressive.

It was the Wookiees who gave Vandar and Vrook a lead. The Hairless One, they called the human who had made the Shadowlands his home for the past two decades, who kept the dangerous depths free from poachers, and occasionally spoke to the odd Wookiee who ventured down there. Somehow, Vandar had deduced it was the long-lost Jolee Bindo.

And his sum total of evidence was that Jolee and Nayama had celebrated their honeymoon on Kashyyyk. Odd destination, that, but Nayama was a wild soul who had a soft spot for the Wookiees before she fell. By the time she'd left Jolee, that had been burned away.

Perhaps it was a quiet place for him to remember happier times.

Regardless, if there was one sentient who might know the location of the Kashyyyk Star Map – other than Jen Sahara – then it would be The Hairless One who may or may not be my childhood friend. And if it was Jolee, then perhaps he would show himself for me, where he would not for others. My gaze drifted to the pack stuffed full of survival gear that lay at my feet, and I felt ready to find my Wookiee escort and head out.

Vrook coughed again, more of a grunt this time, and I realized I'd completely forgotten he was there. He'd taken a seat opposite me, his frowning gaze locked on mine.

"My apologies, Vrook," I murmured. "There has been too much to think on lately."

"Hmph," he uttered. "Keep your mind together, Zhar. There are too few Dantooine Masters left for you to be daydreaming all the time."

I inclined my head, letting that comment past. "How did Quatra take the news?"

Vrook grimaced. "Not well, I'm afraid. She's been angling to ascend to the Council for years now, and this damn fool mission has her convinced that had she been one of us, we would have done something smarter. Huh. Not sure I can argue with that."

Vrook had been against the plan regarding Jen Sahara, but had been out-voted - or so he'd told me, in a voice as dark and bitter as the caffa he drank.

"It's damn risky and damn crazy, and now two Masters outside of the Council know," Vrook grumbled. "Not to mention a runaway Cathar and a Mandalorian mercenary."

And that had been the reason for informing Quatra, who'd rushed to Kashyyyk once she learned of Juhani's existence and destination. For Karon's missive had told us that Juhani now knew of Jen Sahara's true identity. Vrook and Vandar had both decided that perhaps it would be better for Quatra to learn about Jen Sahara from Council members, rather than from her recently fallen apprentice.

Of course, the Ebon Hawk should have docked here weeks ago.

"I am ready to head down to the Shadowlands, Vrook," I said mildly. I wanted to meet the Ebon Hawk, should she finally land on this planet – but there was no telling when that would be. And, more importantly, we needed to locate the Star Map. We only had two of the four maps so far - the two easy ones we'd already known the location of.

And Malak knew what we were up to.

"I've heard from Vandar," Vrook returned, and the tone of his voice was noticeably pleased. That surprised me, and I jerked my gaze back to his. A slight smile sat lightly on his lined, human face.

"We could do with good news," I replied, not rising to the bait. Vandar had left Kashyyyk some days ago, following an urgent summons from Republic HQ. Vrook would either tell me or he would not; jumping him for it would only add to his amusement.

Vrook snorted softly, but his eyes were crinkled with pleasure. Whatever it was, it was good news indeed. Vrook did not often show positive emotions of any sort. "Republic HQ have received a transmission from the Ebon Hawk that they have decoded. Although they have not yet released it to Vandar – I believe there is some tight negotiation going on – Vandar has been told enough to know what it is."

"The Ebon Hawk?" I couldn't help myself; I asked, and Vrook smirked in triumph.

"Aye," he assented, quicker than was customary for him. "More than that, though. It's the Korriban Star Map."

I stared blankly at him for several moments, allowing the shock and surprise to dissipate before relief followed in its wake. "Korriban…" I breathed. "So that's where the Ebon Hawk has been."

Vrook grunted. "Aye. And a second transmission saying they have left Korriban and are enroute to Kashyyyk. We can expect them to land here in four days."

"All of them?" I asked.

"I don't have a manifest, so we're only working under assumptions at this stage."

"Hmm," I murmured, and my gaze fell on my pack again as my thoughts raced. "I shall delay my journey below, Vrook. Once the Ebon Hawk lands, I shall take Jen Sahara with me to the Shadowlands."

"What?" Vrook snapped.

I kept my face composed as I stared at him. "If she doesn't know her identity yet, then she likely must be told. Such a conversation is best held far removed from civilization of any type. And face it, Vrook - you have never been able to remain on civil terms with Revan beyond a one-word greeting." I saw his face tighten at that uncomfortable truth, and allowed my tone to gentle. "Vrook, you will have your hands full debriefing your own padawan, as Quatra will hers."

"Vandar and I will deal with Jen Sahara," Vrook said through clenched teeth. "I'm not taking any chances with her, not this time."

"No," I disagreed flatly, and heard the steel in my voice. "No, Vrook, you will not. Vandar is unlikely to be back before the Ebon Hawk lands. I will deal with Revan."

"You are not on the Council, Zhar," Vrook bit out.

"No, but you and Vandar made the choice to tell me about the Council's decision regarding Revan. You have made me part of this. Galdea and Karon are dead, Vrook, and Vima's gone gallivanting who knows where. Re-imprinting Jen Sahara is not an option."

"I did not agree with that, Zhar, and you well know it," Vrook rejoined, his eyes flashing. "But it's done, now, and reinforcing the overlaid personality is a lot easier than the initial-"

"No!" My voice was loud, and it echoed through the wicker-cane room. Any Wookiee nearby would have heard it clearly. Vrook frowned, taken aback. It was quite possible I had never raised my voice to him before. I sighed, and felt a measure of calm return to me. "No. Revan is my responsibility now. I shall take her with me to find the Star Map. She returned to Bastila on Manaan. They have been successful on Korriban. If there is a possibility for any sort of redemption here, Vrook, then I shall take it. And you will not stop me."

xXx

Zaalbar:

The Shadowlands were a dangerous place on my homeworld for the unprepared. The young would go there, occasionally, to prove their mettle against the wildlife or to eradicate unwelcome poachers gloaming for resources.

The banished sometimes chose it as a final refuge or a means of atonement - and they did not bring weapons or armour with them. I thought I understood that now. My failure hung heavy in my soul, and the idea of disappearing into a predatory underworld with naught but my wits and natural strength held a primal temptation I could not deny. To lose myself amongst the wroshyr trees, until a natural carnivore cut down this body and soul that had been brought so low by shame.

Those named madclaw had the choice of leaving Kashyyyk forever, or spending the remainder of their life in the dark depths as a challenge – or penance – to the gods. I was young – fully grown, but young – when my father exiled me. A future in the Shadowlands promised a quick end, and I had not desired that. Instead, I left with the first civilian transport, injustice and bitter resentment clouding my mind.

But now… now I could understand the allure of the Shadowlands. Now I felt like I truly deserved the name of madclaw.

Bastila Shan was a good Jedi, and it was due to me that her enemies held her. Instead of honouring my life-debt to Jen Sahara, I had been too weak of mind to guard her bond-sister. How was I ever to repay such a debt to Jen Sahara, when I already owed her my life?

I had asked for death, back on that cursed planet, and she had not granted me the leave to do so. Perhaps I should be glad of that. For, if there was any chance to retrieve Bastila Shan, I had to do so. I could not help if I was dead.

But I doubted myself now. Would the others have been so feeble? Would Carth Onasi have betrayed Bastila Shan so? Would Canderous Ordo have deposited her into the arms of the enemy?

The hatch opened, and I turned to see Jen Sahara in the entrance, her strange human face solemn and serious. I was hiding in the stern of the Ebon Hawk, in the engine room, surrounded by the buzzing of machinery. It was one of the few places I could find solitude in this overcrowded freighter.

Jen took a step inside and closed the hatch behind her. "Zaalbar, I can hear you blaming yourself from the other side of the ship."

I wondered at that comment. I had had enough of Force mind reading and manipulation to last me a full lifetime. Jen Sahara must have seen something in my expression, for she grimaced as she took a step closer. "I only meant- sometimes, it's hard to block out someone's emotions. I'm still learning, I guess. And I share the guilt, too."

"(You should not, Jen Sahara)," I growled. "(You did everything right)."

Jen snorted, crossing her arms. "I should have picked up on the inordinately long sleep Bastila was having, but I'd put it down to exhaustion from what we'd done. Yet, I was able to carry on…" she sighed. "I should have realized that a Jedi of Bastila Shan's calibre wouldn't be so easily tired. That there must have been something else going on."

"(Jen Sahara, you did not physically hand her over to a Dark Jedi!)" I was vaguely aware my voice had risen. That she continued to believe herself culpable was ridiculous.

"No, but have you thought of the alternative, Zaalbar?" she snapped back. Her eyes flashed with indignation. "Say you had resisted Kylah's compulsion. What do you think would have happened then?"

I stared back, suddenly mute.

Jen sighed. Her face suddenly had a bleak cast to it. Her brown hair stuck out in all directions; the static aftermath of some time spent in the sonic refresher. The men's starboard one was currently clogged up with fur. I was vaguely aware that it was my turn to clean it out.

"She would have killed you, Zaalbar," Jen finished quietly. "Once she realized you weren't succumbing. Then she would have boarded the 'Hawk, disabled Teethree who likely would have alerted Carth, and killed him also. Bastila… Bastila was still recovering. Even had she woken, Kylah could have overpowered her." Jen paused. Her moss-green eyes pinned mine, as if forcing me to accept what was her truth. "Zaalbar, you and Carth almost certainly would be dead. Bastila would have been taken anyway."

I did not like partaking in what-ifs. It was a redundant exercise that usually served no purpose other than to make one feel bitter about the past. For my what-if did not have the same shape as hers. "I should not have been outside, Jen Sahara."

She stepped closer, laying a hand on my arm. I looked away, my eyes resting on the cloth-wrapped corpse of Belaya Linn that lay deeper in the engine room.

"I understood you were outside for all of five minutes. Look, Zaalbar - Kylah knew we were here. Dustil already implied she was monitoring us from spaceport control. If she hadn't found an opportune moment then it would have been no hardship for her to call on Uthar Wynn for assistance." Jen's voice dropped lower. "Zaalbar, she must have seen us all leave for the caves. She must have understood the 'Hawk was relatively unguarded. She was going to go after Bastila one way or another – before we returned."

We lapsed into silence. Her logic may have been sound, but it had the feel of freedom from transgression that I did not like. At the end of the day, I still became the unwilling tool of a Dark Jedi, and betrayed one of our crew.

"(What-ifs are poisonous, Jen Sahara)," I said at long last.

"Yeah," she sighed. "They are. I just wish- I just wish you didn't carry so much of the guilt inside you, Zaalbar."

"(I cannot change what I feel, Jen Sahara. But I still breathe. I still have the chance to put this right, somehow)." I did not see how yet. We were en route to Kashyyyk rather than following Bastila Shan's trail. Kashyyyk, the one place in the galaxy I was forsworn to travel to. I looked back over to the human I followed, who was still staring at me steadily. She had grown into herself on Korriban. I owed her much. And perhaps… perhaps that meant it was time for me to break the silence of my past.

I had sworn never to speak of my homeworld. Even to Mission, she who held a dear place in my heart. Even to her, I would only talk about my people in general terms. For I held great remorse and great bitterness, and the label of madclaw silenced me.

But our quest continued, and Jen Sahara deserved what knowledge I could provide.

I huffed, uncomfortable and irritable, my eyes landing on the wrapped body once more.

"I think they mean to bury her on Kashyyyk," Jen murmured, following my gaze. "Juhani couldn't bear to leave her on Korriban."

"(I have heard of this human concept of burial)," I said slowly. Whilst entombing a dead carcass within the ground made sense of a sort, as it allowed the flesh to rot and become one with the earth, I could not comprehend why some of them encased the body in containers made of plasteel or other such material that could not easily decompose.

My people left dead bodies to the wild. We would celebrate the life's journey of a departed one, with feasts and ballads and tales of reminiscence. What happened to the prison of flesh left behind mattered not. It was dropped into the Shadowlands, to be transformed into fertilizer or fuel for beasts, in the true continuation of life.

"Deralians bury their dead," Jen said. "I'm more accustomed to burning, myself. It seems more symbolic."

"(I understand that even less, Jen Sahara)," I said in askance. Fire killed the nutrients left behind in the physical body, and left only ash. Jen Sahara came from Deralia; I wondered that she did not follow the customs of her people.

Jen sighed, looking back to me. "Will you be alright, Zaalbar? I don't like the thought of you twisting yourself up in remorse."

"(I have told you before, Jen Sahara. It is the actions that matter. I only hope I have a chance to redeem myself)."

Jen nodded, and looked ready to leave. I raised a hand to forestall her, and she lifted an eyebrow in question. "(I wish to speak to you)," I said haltingly. "(About Kashyyyk)."

Jen looked faintly surprised. My reticence to talk of my homeworld had not gone unnoticed, then. I huffed. "(Where are we landing, Jen Sahara?)"

"The Jedi Master Vrook Lamar awaits us in Rwookrrorro," Jen answered, stumbling over the name of the settlement. She grimaced. "I understand it's close to the largest Czerka spaceport on Kashyyyk."

I could not quite contain a growl. The influence of Czerka was great on Kashyyyk, drawn to the natural resources my planet provided. Most of my people lacked knowledge of the true depths of Czerka's greed.

I had hoped we would land somewhere else. There were many settlements on Kashyyyk. But, somehow, this did not surprise me. Somehow, it had the feel of destiny about it, as if I needed to face the past. And yet, if I left the freighter and set foot once more upon the wicker-lashed platforms of my youth, I might very well lead Jen's party into danger.

Perhaps the decision would be best left to Jen Sahara, to whom I owed so much.

We were interrupted, then, by the arrival of Mission. A few seconds before the hatch opened, Jen was already turning and murmuring her name, a small smile on her lips. Jen Sahara was using the Force like a Jedi, these days, augmenting her natural senses and reflexes. It was necessary for the battles ahead.

"Guys, I've been looking for you," Mission chirped, her gaze flicking between us. "What ya doin' in here?"

"(I was looking for a quiet place, Mission)," I said. "(Come in and close the hatch. I have things to say that you should also hear)."

For Mission was my friend, perhaps the truest friend I had ever had. Although I felt the need to unburden myself to Jen Sahara, it would be right for Mission to hear as well. I knew far more about her youth than I had ever divulged of mine.

Mission's bright eyes widened in curiosity, and she walked in, tapping the door control closed as she did so. "What's up, Big Z?"

"(I wish to tell you of my youth)," I said heavily, turning my gaze back to Jen Sahara. "(I should tell you why I do not live on Kashyyyk)."

"Whoa, Big Z, are you sure?" Mission took a step closer to me, and laid a hand on my arm. "You don't have to speak of it, y'know. I mean, I've kinda figured you must be running from trouble or something – but we don't need to know the details."

I smiled briefly at Mission. There was no one with a heart quite like my young friend. "(Thank you for the support, Mission. But this may prove important to us. This Jedi Master is in the settlement I grew up in, and the only place Jen's Star Map could be is somewhere in the Shadowlands)." Jen frowned at the mention of the Force relic, folding her arms and staring at me intently. "(If I walk once more into Rwookrrorro, I will be led straight to the Shadowlands. But I shall never be allowed to leave)."

There was a brief silence as they both looked at me, broken after a moment by Mission's curiosity. "What's the Shadowlands?"

"(The wroshyr trees on Kashyyyk are kilometres high. My people live in platforms near the top. The Shadowlands refer to the ground – it is not a safe place, Mission. Nor it is easily accessible except through the moving platforms my people control)." When I had left, Czerka Corporation were negotiating for the rights to build their own lift to the ground. My father would never agree to that, however. Access to the Shadowlands was strictly controlled.

"Why can't we just land on the ground somewhere?" Mission asked. "I mean, it's not like the trees can cover the entire planet, right?" She stared between the two of us when I failed to answer. "What, really?"

"(We do have oceans, but the lands are covered in jungle. The inhabitable parts of Kashyyyk are all on the treetops)."

Mission blinked. "Sheesh. Like one giant forest, huh? Has no one ever tried cutting down the trees to clear some space?"

"(No!)" I said, my voice abrupt and loud in the engine room. Mission looked taken aback, and I suddenly felt sheepish. "(I apologize, my friend. That is not something you should suggest to a Wookiee. The wroshyr trees are a crucial part of Kashyyyk)."

"They are held almost sacred to your people, from what I understand," Jen murmured. "The entire ecosystem is based around them."

I nodded in assent. "(The trees are the backbone of life on Kashyyyk, Mission. There are many plants and fauna that only live at a particular height or particular area of the forest. The Shadowlands is but one level of ecology on my planet – however it is the most dangerous)."

"And you think the Star Map will be somewhere there?" Jen asked. She leaned back against a durasteel bulkhead, her face drawn and tired under the halogen luminescence of the freighter's lighting.

"(If it is as old as you say it is, Jen Sahara. I know not of any relic that matches the description of these Star Maps, but the Shadowlands are the least explored area of Kashyyyk. It is where I would start)."

"But you would not be allowed to leave if you took us there," Jen added. Her eyes narrowed. "We could find another way down without your assistance."

I grunted. "(Perhaps. But first I should tell you why. I should tell you both why I do not live on Kashyyyk)." Jen's gaze was dark and serious on mine. So was Mission's. "(I left my planet labelled as an exile, with hate in my heart for my den-brother)."

Mission slipped her tiny hand into my paw, squeezing it gently. She wore a sad smile. "I guess I know all about scumbag brothers. What did he do, Big Z?"

I huffed. Griff Vao was a slippery coward with no real power over anyone except his younger sister, due to the love she held for him. Would that my brother Chuundar was so ineffectual. "(Czerka beguiled my brother into dreams of expansion and power beyond Rwookrrorro's natural borders)," I said abruptly. Jen frowned in confusion. I had to explain, then, what I had never once let slip to Mission, in all the years we had known each other. "(My father is the chieftain, Jen Sahara. I am his second son, cast out and labelled as a madclaw for failing to accurately expose the depths of my brother's greed)."

Jen's eyes widened. Mission's gasp was audible, and echoed in the silence. "Whoa, Big Z! Does that mean you're like a prince or something?"

"(I was a chieftain's son, Mission. Now I am only a madclaw)."

"They'll throw you down to the Shadowlands if you leave the freighter," Jen deduced. She straightened from the wall. "What happened, Zaalbar?"

My mind drifted back to years ago - years I tried to forget during my new life on Taris. It was hard for a Wookiee, to be so far from Kashyyyk. I would never have left voluntarily. "(Czerka Corporation have always held a great interest in my planet. My people do not strip our planet of resources; instead, we strive to live in harmony with the environment. There are many resources that the greedy eye of Czerka rests on. The glands of the tach can be processed into stimulants. The fibres of a syren plant can be transformed into synthetic pheromones. Even the wroshyr trees themselves can be mined for minerals deep within the bark)," I explained. "(Centuries ago, Czerka fought hard for the right to build space ports on Kashyyyk. Since then, they have been doing their utmost to claim more of our planet)."

"And your brother is in bed with them." It was a half-question, as if Jen already knew the answer.

I gave a short nod. "(Chuundar always believed our Father Freyyr should be chieftain of more than Rwookrrorro. Our settlements are self-sufficient, Jen Sahara. We may trade or hunt together, but we have our own system of leadership. There are two towns nearby – smaller towns with weak leaders that my brother believes would do better under his rule)."

I sighed, scratching my head as I dwelled on unwelcome thoughts from the past. "(I am not sure how Czerka fits into Chuundar's ambitions)," I admitted. "(Czerka is a commercial entity, not a military one. But aid from Czerka could come in many forms: superior weaponry, armour, or simple credits to purchase a mercenary force. Chuundar believes himself to be a liberal Wookiee who is listening to the new generation, but many would not agree with Czerka infiltrating our planet)." I paused. "(I found my brother allowing Czerka-led hunters down to the lower levels to trap for tachs. He had started an underground tach trade)." I huffed. "(I accused him in front of an audience. That was foolish. Chuundar denied any involvement, and my father believed him)."

"And what? Your dad kicked you out because of that?" Mission said, her voice sharp and indignant. "Sheesh, Big Z, that's rid-"

"(No. I lost my temper, Mission. I struck out at my brother)." I hung my head. "(With my claws)."

"Madclaw," Jen whispered. There was a look of recognition on her face, and I understood she knew something of my people. This did not surprise me; Jen Sahara had always shown a modicum of understanding for different cultures alongside her gift with languages. "That's a terrible taboo amongst your people, isn't it? I'm sorry, Zaalbar."

Mission leaned her head against my side. I was not overly comfortable with physical affection, but I understood it as a way of the Twi'lek showing me support. It warmed my heart.

"We can find some other way down, right Jen?" Mission implored.

Jen nodded in assent. "You won't have to leave the freighter. It'll be best if someone stays onboard anyway, as we're docking at a Czerka spaceport. Look, I'm sure this Jedi Master will have found a way to the Shadowlands by now." She paused, and then her voice was even quieter. "There's a good chance he may have even found the Star Map."

"I hope so," Mission whispered.

I sighed, a great blast of air releasing from my lungs. I was tired, suddenly, and had spoken more than I normally liked to. "(Thank you both for listening)."

Mission squeezed my arm, before stepping back to the hatch. "I'm gonna go grab something from the slop machine. Oh!" She swung to face Jen. "I almost forgot why I came here. Carth's been looking for ya, Jen, ever since the day's training finished."

Jen's posture changed; her shoulders tensed and a faint colour rose in her cheeks. I wrinkled my nose. She even smelled uncertain.

"I'm – I'm off to the quarters now," she muttered. "If you see him, you can say I'm sleeping. I'll catch up with him tomorrow." For some reason I did not believe her intent. Jen was not meeting Mission's gaze.

"Sure thing," Mission chirped. "See you guys."

Jen stared after Mission as my ebullient friend left the room. When she looked back to me her gaze was wary. "What?" she snapped.

"(I did not say anything, Jen Sahara)," I answered quietly. Her behaviour was odd. And I recalled seeing the Republic pilot searching for her yesterday. I frowned. "(Are you hiding, Jen?)" That seemed unfeasible, on a freighter the size of the Ebon Hawk. And I had understood the two of them to be friends.

"No!" Jen shot back, quick and loud. The flush on her face was brighter, now, but her eyes flashed with sparks of annoyance. "I am not afraid of Carth Onasi." She gave me one last glare before stomping out of the room.

I blinked in the sudden quiet. I had not accused Jen Sahara of fear, so I did not understand her defensiveness. But there certainly was something making her uncertain. It is not my business. Humans are temperamental and odd. Whatever her issue is, likely she will be over it tomorrow.

xXx

Dak Vessar:

The pain meds sat heavy in my system, clouding my thoughts. If I let my mind drift, I could feel the fingers of my left hand again. At times, I was certain I could clench my fist if only I tried hard enough.

It was a small price to pay. I knew that, I accepted that, and I was happy to leave Korriban behind. And still, I was angry. Irrationally, annoyingly angry.

The Force lessons were a good distraction though, and I found myself learning quickly from Juhani and Jen Sahara. Quicker than Dantooine. Maybe even quicker than Korriban.

At the Sith Academy survival had trumped self-advancement. Any Force-tricks and techniques I had discovered had been by poking around in the Archives – usually to thwart a rival or protect my own skin.

Sometimes Uthar would lead a lesson. I swiftly learned to keep my head down and my ears open – don't draw any attention, but keep a quick reply ready, for that bastard just loved to skewer any Sithling who stuttered over an answer.

Uthar's displeasure could be agonizing, or humiliating, or both.

I was viciously glad about his death. Juhani might harp on and on that such a dark emotion wasn't healthy, but it felt good. I would've liked to have seen the blaster shot that took the bastard down.

Master Dorak, in contrast, had pushed me to lead my own study. Maybe that was why I'd been such an unmitigated failure in the Order.

I understood myself a little better, these days. I would learn best under a more structured approach, with a more disciplined Master.

Thoughts like that had me wondering if I'd accepted my new destination as the Jedi Order. I wasn't certain. Juhani was adamant that was the best place for me. Belaya's last request had been that I walk in the Light, and I couldn't ignore my old friend's dying wish.

But what I did understand was that continuing to follow Juhani would lead to my own downfall. I loved her dearly, as a friend and more – but I needed to find my own way, my own standing. A one-sided pining had led both Juhani and I to near-ruin.

The training helped. The only part I disliked was the sparring. I had no interest in more than watching, not with the aching heaviness of my stump preying on my mind, and my senses clouded by the medbay's Ceramol that I was slowly working through. That bloody Mandalorian, however, considered it a great game to goad me into action.

"I fought alongside a Fett, once, who'd lost his primary arm just below the shoulder," the smirking prick commented. "Didn't stop him taking down his share of Republic grunts. Didn't stop him riding a basilisk into battle, either."

Thing was, he was tougher than me before I'd lost my arm. Tall, muscular, and with a face like a slab of permacrete, Canderous Ordo was one formidable opponent. I had half a mind to Force slam him into the nearest wall, but the occasional pointed glare from Jen Sahara stayed my hand. And the feeling that Ordo might make me regret it. Shavit, even Juhani respected his fighting prowess.

"I've got it," Dustil muttered from the other side of the room, facing Jen Sahara. He was joining us now, edgy and wary and sullen, but present. It was something, I supposed.

We didn't have much in common. Between us there was almost a decade and the death of my oldest friend. I didn't blame him for Belaya – how could I? – but the grief was still raw. It wasn't fair that I had survived and she had not.

"Canderous, you were showing me a block," Juhani said quietly, drawing the Mandalorian's attention away from me in what I believed a deliberate action.

"No reason I can't show the cripple," he grunted.

"Canderous!" Juhani flared.

"Settle down, kittycat," Canderous said, and Juhani's face heated in annoyance. I couldn't help a snort of amusement. Kittycat. Juhani threw me a glare, and I ducked my head sheepishly.

"Look," the gruff Mandalorian continued. His gaze had swung back to me. "It might be useful. People will pick on you if they think you're weak. You can spend the rest of your life wallowing in self-pity, or you can improve your situation." It wasn't the first time he'd encouraged me to get up and make a fool of myself. I got the feeling he wouldn't stop until I did.

"I'll get a prosthetic," I said coldly. "No point training until then." I should've joined in with whatever Jen was showing Kel and Dustil, rather than sit to watch the sparring – but I'd always enjoyed seeing Juhani fight, and I'd been curious to see how she'd fare against the Mandalorian.

"Bah," Canderous spat. "It ain't the same as a true limb, Sithling. You may as well get used to it now. At the least it'll keep your mind off things."

At the crux of it, I was sick of his goading. That was what I told myself when I clambered to my feet, glaring and brushing off Juhani's concerned murmurs. My arm was clutched tight to my chest. Juhani sighed, and passed me a training lightsaber as the Mandalorian grinned, raising his vibrosword.

Maybe the distraction would do me good.

"Try to get through my guard. Don't clutch your half-arm into your chest – use it for balance," he ordered. I scowled. Even with the pain meds, my limb ached with a grinding, persistent pain.

It hadn't hurt at the time. A hot burn and then- nothing. Nothing but rage and disbelief at seeing it flop uselessly to the ground.

Sometimes I dreamed that Lashowe had cut my other hand off, followed by my legs and finally my head. Sometimes I wondered how I'd managed to get that lucky stab in, straight into her heart - a swing powered by the fierce need to protect Belaya and Juhani behind me.

Lashowe had always been stronger than me in the Force, and superior in duelling. That wasn't the same as fighting for one's life, it turned out.

I advanced on the Mandalorian, awkwardly striking out in a sweeping blow that the Mandalorian blocked with a sneer. The parry was solid and vibrated through my arm, and I staggered.

"Your balance is crap," Canderous said. "I told you, you need to drop your off-hand."

I scowled, but lowered the stump to my side. It ached.

"Use the Force to cloud the pain," Juhani murmured from behind.

"No Force," Canderous bit out. "We ain't playing tricks here, we're sparring."

"It's a passive use, Canderous, and Dak could do with a little slack," Juhani countered. "And we Jedi fight with the Force – it is important we practice with it so it becomes instinctive to use."

The Mandalorian grunted, but surprisingly let it slide.

The Force lightened my thoughts as I drew it in, dissolved the pain and the tiredness from my limbs, and even assuaged the bitterness that clouded my thoughts. It felt different since we'd left. I wasn't sure if the Force on Korriban had a dark edge to it that was now lacking, or if it was due to the change of direction in my life.

Maybe it was a mixture of both.

I strode forward again, eyes narrowed in concentration as I made to stab him in the torso. I was too overt – his block back was fierce enough to unbalance me, and his riposte halted an inch from my neck.

"Again," Canderous ordered, withdrawing. "Don't look where you're about to swing. It's kriffing obvious."

I glowered at him, but listened. Again. And again. Until I'd fallen on my arse three times, my forehead was beading with sweat, and the pain from my off-hand began to bleed into my connection with the Force. I figured if I showed enough determination – enough grit – then maybe the Mandalorian would leave me alone.

It would have been nice to land a frelling blow, though.

We stopped at the sound of a loud hiss from the other side of the room. The exercise had my chest heaving, and I knew I'd be feeling it the following day. I turned to see Jen Sahara standing over a smoking datapad, a rueful smile on her face.

"I didn't sense anything," Dustil muttered at her side. "What did you do?"

"I was trying to show you how to short the power in a machine, not fry it to bits. I thought my control was better," Jen replied. She motioned towards the circular speaker mounted in the ceiling. "Good thing I didn't try it on the ship's circuits."

"Jen," Juhani cut in. She looked worried, and her ears had flattened against the side of her head. "That- that is not a good idea. I do not believe you understand the extent of your own power with ionization."

"Ionization?" Jen frowned.

"That's creating electricity, isn't it? Like, lightning?" I asked, flicking the off switch on the training 'saber. This was the sort of conversation I enjoyed, the intricacies of the Force and it applications. Lashowe had been particularly strong with lightning. It would have hit Belaya hard. I could feel the scowl emerging on my face again.

"Not quite," Juhani corrected. "Ionization is the working with electricity through machinery – droids, computers, electrical systems. Most Force users who have learned an affinity with this can disable systems, much as you have blown this datapad up." Juhani hesitated, as if unsure of her next words. "Some can manipulate the electricity on a truly minute scale."

Jen's eyes had narrowed, as if in suspicion. "I opened the Embassy's doors on Manaan. Opened the torture chamber in the Academy, too. Is that… is that uncommon, Juhani?"

"That's what you did?" Dustil cut in. "That's how you followed me in there?"

There was a heavy silence at his words. Jen nodded, seeming reluctant to speak further. I saw the twist of anger on Juhani's face at Dustil's admission of being there- in that torture room- where Belaya had spent her last days.

Apart from her final one. At least she'd lived that in freedom, and found Juhani at the end. We all had Jen Sahara to thank for that.

Jen had irritated me on Korriban with her obnoxiousness, but somewhere along the way my dislike for her had vanished. Maybe, it'd only been there in the first place because Juhani had followed her instead of me. Now – after all that had happened – it seemed more important that Juhani's loyalty was to the right person.

Jen Sahara, the Jedi Knight onboard, was the one who'd found and turned Juhani back once before. That was good enough for me.

Dustil cleared his throat, staring down at the ground with his shoulders clenched. I wasn't particularly good at sensing emotions through the Force, but the waves of shame rolling off him were plainly obvious. Then, an instant later, he vanished. Completely.

He appeared a second later, his face contorted in emotion, but he was now glaring at Jen. "You asked how I did this," he muttered. As an obvious attempt to change the course of the conversation, it worked. I'd never seen anything like that before, and I could have sworn his psychic presence disappeared in the Force as well.

"Do that again," I said, chucking the training 'saber to the side of the room and focusing on the angry teenager. I heard the Mandalorian mutter something about party tricks, and then stomp out of the room. Dustil vanished again.

He was gone in the Force; as absent as his body was. I stretched my senses out, curious, but couldn't pick up on anything.

"I knew he could do this," Kel muttered, his brows lowering. He was a nice guy, Kel, but clearly didn't trust Dustil. All of us were going to find it hard to leave Korriban's lessons behind.

Dustil materialized, still looking awkward and ill-at-ease and avoiding everyone's gaze.

"How is that possible?" Juhani asked. The dark emotion had disappeared from her face, which now wore nothing but an open curiosity. "You were simply – gone."

"There's a dead patch," Jen Sahara said. "Dustil, don't make yourself invisible this time. Just hide your Force signature, okay?"

I'd never heard it phrased that way before – labelling the energy all living beings radiated as a signature. Deep in meditation, you could feel the interconnected web of life. Everything, from the tiniest insect to the largest animal. Force sensitives glowed brightly, and some shone like stars.

Jen Sahara was one such. I wondered idly if she was stronger than Bastila Shan. I remembered meeting Bastila a few times on Dantooine – she'd been young, aloof and followed the Masters around like a shadow.

And, not for the first time, it made me speculate about what they'd been doing in a Sith Academy. Juhani had alluded to the importance of their mission – or whatever they wanted to call sneaking around frelling Korriban. So far, I'd refrained from grilling Juhani about the details, but it was getting increasingly difficult to bite back the questions.

Dustil stood in front of us, physically there but missing from the Force. It felt like he wore a neural disruptor around his neck. It felt like there was nothing but empty space.

"Can you sense it? The absence of Force?" Jen said. She actually sounded excited. "Dustil – disappear again? And walk around the room?"

With a nod, he obeyed her, and she turned to face us all. Her eyes were sharp with interest, and her mouth quirked with a smile. "Come on, guys – push your senses out. Who can feel it?"

All I could sense was us. Kel was shaking his head. Juhani, frowning, turned to motion towards the exit, but Jen sighed. "Nope," she negated. She lifted a hand to point behind me, and Dustil rematerialized. He had a small smile on his face for the first time.

"How do you do that?" I demanded. Wouldn't that have been useful on Korriban! I wondered, then, if Uthar had known about Dustil's talent. Of course he did. Dustil was his bootlicker. Did Uthar teach Dustil how to disappear into thin air? I'd never seen any evidence of Uthar Wynn being able to sneak around invisible – but then, I'd never known Dustil could, either.

Kel had, though.

"Well, hiding in the Force is easy," Dustil muttered, and once more he was no longer present in the Force, even as he stood in front of us, shoulders hunched awkwardly. He glanced up to Jen. "You just invert the Force around you, and keep it balanced. Kinda like holding magnets together on the wrong ends."

Jen's eyes narrowed. "I saw it, that time. Can you do it again?"

I hadn't, and didn't the next half-dozen times he repeated it. First I could sense the boy, and then not – like someone turning a light-switch on and off. The frustration on Kel's face and puzzlement on Juhani's showed they didn't follow, either.

Jen, on the other hand, was grinning with mounting excitement as she attempted to emulate him. On her third try, she succeeded for about ten seconds.

It was all the more glaringly obvious with her. Even without trying, I could sense her aura. When she blocked herself out, it was like an inferno had suddenly been extinguished.

"Have you ever seen this before, Juhani?" Jen asked, as she tried again. I could feel her fumble with the Force under her command – again, her psychic presence winked out for a short time before the weaves unravelled. Despite concentrating on it, though, I couldn't see how they managed to do it. It was like the Force just repelled around them.

"No, I am unfamiliar with this talent," Juhani answered.

"Where did you learn this, Dustil?" I asked, stepping back to lean against the wall. I was tired, now, and the throbbing of my stump was growing harder to ignore.

There was an obvious look of discomfort on Dustil's face before his expression steeled over. "I'm tired," he said abruptly. "This is enough for me today."

He turned and left the garage, as subtle as a ferracrete brick swung at a gizka.

"Guess I shouldn't have asked," I muttered, watching Jen throw Juhani an openly curious look. We've all got our secrets. Sith secrets. I wouldn't question Dustil again. I understood too well about topics best left unsaid. "I'm done for the day, too."

With a nod to the others, I followed Dustil out of the garage.

xXx

Jen Sahara / Ness Jonohl:

The days were falling into a set pattern that seemed to suit everyone. Eight hours kip, followed by a light breakfast and group Force exercises. Lunch followed, and then sparring with the Sithkids. Canderous joined, sometimes; insulting and obviously bored but willing to show Kel and Dustil a move or two without getting overly physical. Dak sat out, at first, until Canderous goaded him one too many times.

Then Dak sparred more than the others. One-armed and astoundingly unmatched, Dak seemed determined to adjust to his disability. Although he'd certainly get a prosthetic sooner or later, learning to guard oneself with a weakness was a useful exercise in itself.

Canderous didn't show it, but I thought a grudging respect for Juhani's old friend might be slowly growing. It was with me. My opinion of Dak Vessar had certainly changed from our first encounter.

Mission was conspicuously absent from the garage. I only saw her if I strayed from our set routine, or deliberately sought her out. Normally she was the light of the crew, interrupting everyone's activities with a burst of enthusiasm or curiosity or both.

I didn't know what, if anything, to do about that. It was a mess of Dustil's own making, though, and eventually I concluded that he'd have to find the courage to face Mission himself.

Zaalbar hid out with Mission, mostly – when he wasn't in the cargo hold organizing whatever Canderous had upended. We were running short on kolto, ration bars, stims and – according to Canderous – grenades. Zaalbar had used all available mesh strips and chromex plates fixing surplus armour, and we now had twice as many suits as people onboard. I had the distinct feeling that the Wookiee was trying to keep his mind occupied and away from our impending arrival on Kashyyyk… and off Bastila.

I could feel the guilt gnawing at him. He hadn't appreciated me commenting on it, I knew; and even less so when I'd mentioned my own shame. For I harboured some, rightly or wrongly. I was bonded to Bastila – an uncannily strong Force bond, I'd worked that one out – and yet I hadn't even realized she'd been drugged and taken. The bitter recriminations would well up inside, and the Force would rally in self-anger before I managed to calm down and will it away.

Bastila was blank in my head; non-existent. I had no idea what was happening to her, and it should have been paramount in my mind.

It should have been the only thing I could think of, but it wasn't.

My cursed head was occupied, instead, by thoughts of a much more carnal nature, and it was slowly driving me crazy.

He was damn well stalking me about the ship. Fortunately, between the Sithlings and the rest of the crew, I had plenty to keep me occupied, but I had the feeling it wouldn't hold Carth at bay forever. Just until Kashyyyk. Just until I get off this ship.

It was ridiculous, really, because Carth was the stand-up sort of guy who would back off if I flat-out told him I wasn't interested. The problem being, of course, that I was.

It had come as a bolt out of nowhere, an attraction that was sudden and shouldn't be so strong simply because it was so sudden. Although… he'd always had me on edge, a little. On Tatooine, I'd never really known where I'd stood with him, and that had rankled. On Korriban, I'd felt driven to gain his good opinion. And since we'd first crashed on Taris, teasing him had always been more enjoyable than it should have been, by rights.

He was so, infuriatingly, Republic military, and I had a thing for pilots. At least, I thought I did. I felt like I did. My shot memory told me one man had loved me, once, but how deeply or long I didn't know.

I couldn't remember any damn thing of use. Was that why I was acting like a startled teenager?

My eyes closed. At another time, I'd be jumping right into bed with him. But now? Now, when he just had his son returned to him, and was probably feeling all sorts of emotional highs? Now, when my bond-sister was collared and inaccessible and likely being tortured while we desperately raced to save the galaxy-

I felt my breath catch. Bastila. I could still hear her lecturing me, in that prim and proper voice, about the dangers of emotional entanglements. When we had far more crucial topics of conversation, like our frelling bond, or Kylah, or Darth Revan, or the Star Maps. What I wouldn't give for her to be safe, here, onboard the Ebon Hawk. She'd be a great buffer against Carth.

And probably, if she were here, I'd throw myself at him, I realized ruefully. How could I allow myself to enjoy something so natural when she was in the clutches of Darth Malak?

How could I even think about it, when I had a sodding dead Dark Lord bouncing around in my mind?

It was a rare quiet time in the ship, when we'd ended training for the day and I'd found myself too restless to turn in for the night. Kel was still up, practising combat forms in the garage with one of the training 'sabers. He gave me a small, awkward smile as I came across him.

He'd make a good Jedi, I thought, but not a warrior. He was the weakest of the three both in combat and pure Force strength, but he was definitely the steadiest in temperament. And unlike Dak and Dustil, he was very easy to overlook and forget.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" I murmured, and he ducked his head in acknowledgment. I grinned, and raised my hand. One of the other training 'sabers flew to my grasp.

I was taking the Force for granted, now, in simple and everyday ways. It was instinctive and natural, and I wondered if it'd been like that before.

"Shall we?" I offered, inclining my head.

He was about to answer when the hatch swished open.

"Jen," came a voice from the doorway. I turned to see Carth entering with a decidedly tenacious look on his face. A stab of uncertainty spiked through my belly, and I struggled to steel myself. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," I said brightly, falsely. I motioned for him to speak, and he frowned.

"Privately, I mean," Carth countered in a low tone.

"You can speak here," I said tightly. I could feel my damn cheeks flushing again, and inwardly cursed myself. "We're all part of the same team, Carth. There's nothing you can't say in front of…" and my mind went completely blank. Flustered and unbalanced, I shot my training partner a helpless glance.

"Kel," Kel prompted helpfully.

"I knew that," I snapped, scowling.

"Nothing I can't say in front of someone who not long ago was training to be a Dark Jedi?" Carth shot back, frowning. He glanced at Kel briefly. "No offense."

The tension in the room mounted, and Kel shifted uncomfortably. "Er, I'll just go-"

"No!" I said loudly, and winced when I heard the desperation in my own voice. I couldn't even explain to myself why I felt so unbalanced. "It's fine! Everything's fine! Look, Carth, it's not like anything has ever happened between us so there's nothing to talk about!"

"Oh, is that so?" Carth murmured, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Well in that case-" And he stalked into the room. I froze as my fight or flight instinct completely evaporated. Suddenly, he was in front of me, and his arm raised to snake around my neck, and before I knew it he was kissing me soundly-

His lips were firm and warm and his arms were tight around me. The solid warmth of his body pressed against me, and his hand was in my hair, holding me against him. I felt stunned, aroused, and my lips parted beneath his. There was a clatter as the deactivated training 'saber fell uselessly to the ground.

Too soon, he pulled back, dark eyes burning hotly into mine. "So, can we talk now?"

I felt my damn cheeks flushing again, and inwardly cursed my complete lack of self-control. "I-uh, um," I stuttered helplessly.

He raised one eyebrow, an insufferably smug, male expression on his face. "Still not, huh?" and his hand gently tugged me back to his mouth. My own raised to clasp his shoulders, and I felt myself melt against him, a wholly undignified, wanton response that was as uncontrolled as the Force itself at times.

When he raised his head once more, I could hear my breathing, fast and shallow. An uncertain desire was burning like I'd shot back a glass of Corellian whiskey, and Carth looked altogether far too pleased with himself.

I blinked. "Are you… are you kissing me out of gratitude?" I whispered. "Because of Dustil?"

Brows lowering dangerously, Carth stared at me in disbelief. "No." he said flatly. "Are you kissing me out of gratitude? Because I saved your life?"

A surprised laugh escaped my lips, and I felt myself flush. Again. "No."

He smiled. "Good. I'm glad we got that sorted then," he murmured, and moved forward again but I was stepping backwards, now, strangely skittish and uncertain.

"This, this isn't a good idea," I muttered. The wall was cool at my back. "Damn it, Carth, what the frell is this?"

Carth raised his eyebrows, as if in surprise at my question. The side of his mouth quirked. "Well, when a man likes a woman-"

"Oh shut it," I interrupted. He chuckled, moving closer to me. "Carth, I'm serious. This isn't a good idea."

"You've already mentioned that," he murmured, reaching to clasp my hand with one of his. His thumb drew light circles on my skin. "Are you saying you're not interested, Jen? Because I'm not sure I'll believe you if you do."

"I'm saying this is a bad idea," I countered, squeezing my eyes shut. "Look, there's the Star Map – our mission – Bastila – a thousand reasons why we shouldn't be doing this."

"Well, I'll admit the timing could be better," he conceded. He dropped my hand to cradle the side of my face. I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the brush of his fingertips against my cheek. "But we have no idea what's going to happen when we get to Kashyyyk and check in with your Master. We can't do anything about Bastila until then. You're not exactly giving me a reason to stop, here."

I snapped my eyes open. He was close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes pinned me with burning intensity. It was tempting, and I wanted to fall.

"Dustil," I said quietly. Carth blinked, and his expression dimmed a little. That's a hit, I thought, and felt disappointed. "I don't think he'd take the thought of you with another woman well."

Carth sighed, and his fingers stilled against my skin. "I don't know my own son well enough to predict how he'd react. But then, I wasn't exactly planning on broadcasting anything."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Carth. You just snogged me in front of a Sithkid."

There was the faintest colour on his face, even if his mouth did curve into another smile. I liked his smiles, I realized. "Dammit, woman, you asked for that one," he growled softly, and I chuckled.

"Kel will probably keep quiet," I conceded. I hadn't seen him leave, but I could guess it was pretty damn quick. He struck me as the discrete sort. "And he's not exactly best chums with Dustil, anyway."

"Jen," Carth said softly. "To answer your earlier question – I don't know what this is. But I do know I'd like to find out."

So would I. The thought was irresponsible, and yet so very compelling. And a strong part of me felt like I deserved some happiness for a change.

He leaned forward, and kissed me again – but lighter, this time. Sweet and soft and tantalising, before pulling back.

"One of the perks of being the pilot is having my own quarters," he murmured. "If you want to find out also, then you know where to find me." He smiled, and then stepped away before quietly leaving the garage.

I leaned back against the bulkhead, my eyes closing. My lips were tingling, and I felt a sort of buzzing anticipation that made me want to grin stupidly and dig my toes into the ground. This is insane. Bastila would not approve. Stars, would any Force-user approve?

And yet, I already knew what my decision was going to be.

xXx

Nisotsa Organa:

My fingers tapped against the powered-down navicomputer, and I scowled. I'd docked on the Leviathan near an hour ago, and should have disembarked by now.

But frakk them. Frakk Lieutenant Delia and frakk Admiral Karath and frakk that junior officer whatever-his-name-was who'd signalled me when my shuttle had entered the Leviathan's docking bay.

I was Nisotsa Organa, a general of the Mandalorian Wars and one of the most powerful Dark Jedi alive. To be greeted by an underling and commanded to make my way to sleeping quarters was more than just galling. Karath should have been the one to contact me – him or his stuttering second Delia. But, once more, I was overlooked and my authority diminished.

It was familiar, now; this growing resentment and bitterness towards my allies. It was part of the reason I'd supported Malak's play for power, even if Arran had royally farkled it.

In the past - the dead, glorious past - Revan had occasionally deferred to Malak. She'd listened to Yudan, she'd respected Talvon, and she'd empowered Meetra to lead when she wasn't present.

I'd had just as much damn battle experience as all of them, and I'd been shunted into Recruitment and Intelligence. Even if I was surprisingly good at it, I'd never held the same standing or respect. When the holonews spoke of the Jedi Thirteen, they mentioned Revan Freeflight and Malak Devari and Yudan Rosh and Meetra Surik and Talvon Esan… they never mentioned Nisotsa Organa.

Malak had promised me it'd be different, he would be different, as the Dark Lord of the Sith.

He wasn't.

That obnoxious Bandon and that simpering newcomer Kylah held more sway with Malak and Karath, and even with the likes of that nutbar Uthar Wynn. Yudan Rosh commanded more authority, and his backbone had been snapped when Darth Revan had finally bedded him.

Even Meetra Surik used to receive more acknowledgement than me, and she'd been the quietest of us all. It was galling, bloody galling, after all my history to be discounted this way, time and time again.

I had my strengths, I wasn't in-your-face overt like Kylah and Bandon, no, I had the patience to wait for the opportune time, and strike when necessary. Yet it always seemed to be the brash, reckless ones who came out on top – no matter what they risked to get there.

It was as if all my life I'd been waiting for the next event to come along and improve my situation. Joining the Jedi would make my life great. Following Revan to fight the Mandalorians promised adventure and justice. Joining Revan's quest to conquer the galaxy meant being a crucial part of a new empire that would outlast our lifetimes. Agreeing to Malak and Arran's Deralian ambush promised true recognition from a new leader of the Sith. Bowing to Malak's second betrayal promised the same and, finally, an end to Revan Freeflight - who'd been the cornerstone for too many crucial decisions in my life.

I'd agreed out of terror more than anything, though. Sometimes, I still remembered what Malak's face looked like.

The fear sat in my gut like cold, cold sick. My fists clenched and unclenched and clenched again. The trap... the trap had failed.

Arran Da'klor was butchered, along with his team of crack Dark Jedi. Our Deralian ambush had been upended and squashed like a bug. And my cousin wasn't answering her damn comm-link.

I'd sent the lame-brained twit away weeks ago. I hadn't wanted her anywhere near Deralia, not if things had a chance of going balls-up - and, against Revan, I didn't dare rule anything out. Neiza had vowed to stay away - but she was also a love-struck imbecile when it came to Arran Da'klor-

Neiza promised. She swore me fealty, and promised to stay away from Arran until I gave her leave to return. She's just shite at replying to holo-comms.

My inner voice was as convincing as a Mandalorian waving a peace offering.

I was scared. No bones about it. Scared my cousin had thwarted my command, scared she had fallen next to Arran, scared... scared for my own, damned, skin.

Revan lived. I had turned on her, and she still lived. Worse than that - she had eviscerated Malak's allies, she'd taken over the Deralian capital, and she was still the Dark Lord of Sith.

I'd heard Revan had set up torture camps in one of the Deralian communes, a' la Talvon Esan style – our insane cohort she'd cut down herself for being too debased.

Oh, Revan was pissed. Righteously, planet-bendingly pissed.

Malak lay comatose, face mutilated, in the infirmary. I'd not seen him yet, only heard the reports. Revan and Malak had injured each other before, but not like this. I'd heard she'd sliced his jaw off with her gods-cursed lightsaber while he begged for mercy.

My fingers clenched again. Bandon, unearthing a self-preservation most unlike him, had scarpered to the Lannik system, one of our key outposts that Intelligence suggested the Republic would soon attack. I didn't think Bandon or myself were implicated yet – Arran must have kept quiet on the details at least – but Revan had gone after Malak. If she knew Malak was part of it, and he was still alive…

Malak was currently helpless, drugged in the infirmary, awaiting parts for a voice modulator and facial reconstruction. Revan might come back at any moment and pick the details of the disastrous betrayal out of his comatose brain. I could kill him right now-

The noise of the command centre's entry hatch opening had me turning in surprise. I'd ordered isolation; I wasn't in the mood to face anyone just yet, and the Invictus was idly orbiting around Deralia with no clear objective for now. I needed time to consider my options.

The figure in the doorway was truly macabre. Dressed in the medical white of a patient, half his face was a gaping black maw of cauterized flesh. His eyes were yellow and dead.

He'd never eat food again, I realized dumbly. He'd never kiss Revan again.

And then the ominous pulsing of pure Dark Force around him hit me; I'd been rattled and panicked, but I should have sensed him well before he entered the command room. It went beyond strong and into titanic. The air in the room held an unsteady charge to it and it was crackling around him. He shouldn't be up, he shouldn't be able to be up. It was as if the pure strength of his fury alone kept him going.

He walked towards me, step by step, and I struggled against the driving need to flee. I drew deep in the Force, but it was a pathetic, shallow strength compared to the almighty hurricane that blistered around him. There was a shimmering in his aura, as if light itself was bending away from the infernal vortex that was Darth Malak.

He faced me now, and a large hand thumped onto my shoulder. I flinched despite myself, and the stench of open flesh hit my nostrils. Don't look, Nisotsa. But I did. It was black and red and hideous and I couldn't understand how he was alive let alone moving-

Malak had always been strong enough to frighten and impress, but I didn't think I'd felt this level of power before.

Passion fuels the Force. And you have no idea how… passionate I am feeling.

And I'd never heard Malak's voice in my head before. Both he and Revan tended to focus on other areas than mental manipulation. Of course, it still paid to guard one's thoughts around them, for Dark Jedi that powerful could pick up overt emotions or desires without breaking a sweat. I swallowed convulsively, and his fingers tightened into my flesh.

"Malak, you should be in bed," I whispered hoarsely, not daring to move. I'd just been considering killing him, and here he was, standing in front of me and wielding enough power to flatten a city.

My eyes kept drawing back to that hideous wound. There were black strings of dead flesh hanging from it. It looked like it went back as far as his spinal cord.

You thought about killing me because you fear Revan's reprisal. I will have to educate you that my reprisal is the more fearsome. But we will overlook that for now, and I may be merciful depending on your usefulness, Nisotsa. For there is another matter to attend to.

My thoughts froze. I'd have to prove my loyalty, I realized in mounting horror. I was loyal to Malak, but I didn't want to die, either – by his hand or Revan's. He wouldn't kill me for this thought, I was too useful – but Revan might, should she find out who else was involved on Deralia. And that meant-

"Revan," I mouthed the word only. We were down a dozen Dark Jedi, Arran Da'klor, and Malak's jaw. We were in no shape to attack Revan, again. And she knows Malak betrayed her, so she'll be watching us if she's not already on her way to kill us-

No. No, she won't. She truly believes in my devotion, still. She doesn't think I had anything to do with Arran's ambush. His mental voice was arctic. She sliced off my jaw because the other Sith leaders believe me implicated, and she couldn't afford to appear weak.

It took a moment to process that, and I sensed it as the root of Malak's unholy dark rage. He'd already tried to kill her, but his end-goal had been leadership of the Sith and galactic control. Now, I had the uncanny feeling that Malak would damn himself and everything in the galaxy to see Revan's end. Because she'd mutilated him for the sake of her own standing amongst the Sith.

It would have been more understandable if she'd done it believing in his guilt.

Malak valued me and my skills, even if there was a fair amount of groveling in my immediate future. And there was no way I could entertain the thought of standing against the tornado of barely contained dark energy right in front of me.

"How?" I clasped my hands together to stop them clenching again.

I've broadcast a holo-feed of Deralian atrocities Revan has committed to a nearby Republic Fleet. She won't be expecting reinforcements yet – the HoloNet blackout still holds as far as her intelligence is concerned.

Information was power, and I knew that better than anyone. Reading the patterns of data and predicting sentient reactions was one of my strengths. My team of security analysts were second-to-none, with not a single Force-user amongst them.

Not everything was about sheer power. Controlling media coverage was crucial to any war or strategy. The opinions of the masses could sway governments, if massaged correctly.

"How many ships? Who is in command?" I asked.

The sickly yellow of his eyes gleamed in the halogen light. They were the same colour as mine, the common Sith-turned colour. Eighty percent of Dark Force users ended up with that shade.

It was a useless statistic I knew. I'd spent some time, once, trying to find meaning in it. Why had Revan and Bandon's turned black as space? Uthar Wynn on Korriban, that new Headmaster who'd been there for all of three months, had white. Alaki's turned a blood red before Bandon had shoved his 'saber through his gut. But near everyone else I knew had gone yellow.

It's a small enough fleet to be insignificant, were it not for the two Jedi Masters onboard. He paused as I absorbed the shock. And Padawan Bastila Shan.

My eyes widened. Now there was a prize Revan and Malak had been dying to get a hold of. The only flip card left in the Republic's pazaak deck, their shining padawan with a newly discovered gift everyone had thought long buried with Nomi Sunrider.

How has Malak discovered this? How has he transmitted a message when Revan had ordered all communications blocked?

I have taken command of your team, Nisotsa, and now I have new orders for you.

I swallowed the injustice of that, reminding myself that Malak, more than anyone else, appreciated my talents and what I could offer the Sith. I kept my gaze fixed on his, and did not drop it.

"What are they, Master?" Master. The acknowledgment had his eyes crease slightly in satisfaction.

Revan is on the Nexus, overconfident and still furious enough that she is not thinking clearly.

I hadn't heard that. Most of our armada in this sector was grounded on Deralia, along with the troops.

I need your team to hack into the Nexus' systems and override the sensors so they don't see anything approaching.

His dead gaze never wavered from mine. His power still pulsed, buffeting against my aura, strong enough to slam a dizzying nausea into my senses.

I need a message sent to the Republic ships about Revan's current location, and the scarcity of her defences. Forge it from a deserter, or something tempting enough to lure Jedi Masters Kester and Jai'lel to the Nexus. This is their chance to face down Revan. If we're lucky, they might even drag Bastila Shan along.

"And us?" I whispered. We were orbiting Deralia, too, on the Destroyer Invictus. It was as powerful as Revan's flagship, the Nexus, and only marginally slower.

The Invictus has been outfitted with the experimental cloaking technology I have been creating on the Star Forge. It's time to see if it works. He paused briefly, and his heavy hand clenched on my shoulder. I felt the bones grinding together, and bit back a wince. If the Jedi don't finish Revan, then the Invictus will.

It had worked, or so we'd thought. Bastila Shan's survival had been irritating, but a minor concession when compared to the end of Darth Revan. Malak had assumed the mantle of Dark Lord, and moved our forces away from the insignificant planet of Deralia and towards the Lannik system, where a mighty battle was brewing.

We'd lost that one, but not before destroying its resources. And we'd won near everything since.

Over time, though, my authority had once more withered. I'd lost command of the Invictus, I'd lost my Intelligence portfolio, and all that remained was floating by after Malak's victories, and picking up whatever Force sensitives I could find in his wake to shunt them towards Korriban.

Things were worse, not better. Every time I tried to change my cursed life, things ended up worse.

And Revan was still alive, damn her black soul.

A light blinked on my wrist-comm, and I looked down. An incoming message through my private channel that required a blood-print to activate. My eyes narrowed. There were only a few who held the hexi-codes for that channel.

I activated the delayed transmission, feeling a surge of antipathy as a small holo-image of Kylah Aramai illuminated above my wrist. Last I'd heard, that shameless schutta had fled Manaan after completely failing to capture Bastila Shan.

::Nisotsa,:: the holo-image purred, flicking her dark tresses over one shoulder. The fact so much glossy hair remained on her head should have been a shout-out to her weakness. No true Dark Master kept a head of hair that complete. ::You should be onboard the Leviathan by now. Our Master has decided that more… authority is required there, so I shall be joining you soon.::

She smirked, and my fingernails dug deep into the palms of my Sith-white hands. Kylah Aramai was only so highly ranked because she liked to frakk with people's minds and suck Malak's cock. She was a cowardly worm who should have been beneath me.

But… she knew Malak had ordered me to the Leviathan. She was with Malak, despite her failure on Manaan. Something had transpired, it seemed.

The eyes in the recording narrowed. ::Ensure that Admiral Karath is on his way to Kashyyyk, and transmit a message to Bandon. Our Master is quite prepared to destroy Kashyyyk if Bandon is unable to find the Star Map or capture that walking ghost.::

Bandon was pissing about on Kashyyyk, waiting to ambush Jen Sahara. I'd assumed he'd have more success that Kylah Aramai.

Maybe I was wrong.

::I have my prize,:: Kylah whispered, her lips curving in smug pretension. ::Lord Malak has promised I could be the one to wake her, so it will be a few days before I leave for the Leviathan.:: Her simper grew to a full-blown grin of pleasure. ::Expect me soon, Nisotsa. Then if Bandon screws his mission up, we'll finish it.:: An eyebrow quirked. ::Even if he's still on Kashyyyk.::

The image winked out, and I sat back, momentarily stunned.

Kylah had captured Bastila Shan. After all this time, Malak finally had his hands on the battle meditation princess of the Jedi. Surely, nothing could stop the Sith now, not even a broken fragment of the old Dark Lord.

Surely that meant, somehow, I could gain a modicum of power back. It was galling to be considered beneath Kylah Aramai, but I preferred her to that obnoxious prick Bandon.

Yudan Rosh is on Kashyyyk, too. We were old friends, and I felt conflicted over the thought of his demise – but, if Bandon and Yudan were both gone, then I could wrest control of Yudan's Fleet. Kylah would step up as Malak's first apprentice – I'd have to bite back the revulsion – but I'd happily do that if it meant leading battles again, stepping up once more as a war general.

My fingers clenched again as my thoughts raced. This might be a turning point that actually worked out for me. I felt my jaw firm, and slowly made to move out of the pilot's chair.

It was time to disembark, and find Admiral Karath.

xXx

Mission Vao:

I poked moodily at the grey slush in the plasteel bowl. At least on Taris we'd get cast-off meat from the Upper City. This synthesizer slop was getting old. Canderous'd made sure the machine was well-stocked before we'd left that horrid Sith planet, but I wish he'd scored some real food, too.

We weren't far from Kashyyyk now, though. I brightened. Big Z liked to eat all sorts of weird stuff – but the key thing was he liked to eat. Wookiees were big on food.

I looked over to Jen, who was seated across from me. They'd finished training for the day, congregating into the common room around the centre table. I'd conned Kel into a pazaak game, even if he hadn't any credits to wager – but it wasn't long before he'd begged off and followed Dak to the men's quarters.

Jen was staring down into her dinner with a funny look on her face. I gave her a small kick under the table.

She blinked, jerking her head up.

"What's up?" I asked. "You look a million klicks away."

She blushed. She actually blushed. That was weird, even for Jen. "Uh, nothing," she muttered, looking away. "Just thinking about training."

"Far out, that's all you ever do these days," I complained. It was boring. And I would have stayed to watch, out of curiosity if nothing else, but that stupid Hutt-slime was there. I never saw him in the common room, though, getting food with the others. I reckoned he was avoiding me as much as I was him. Cowardly little sneak. I can't believe he's Carth's son.

Jen was grinning at me. "You could join in, you know. Canderous is there sometimes, teaching basic sparring. Wouldn't hurt for you to learn a few moves."

I wrinkled my nose. "Uh uh, no way." I'd rather play pazaak by myself. Sheesh, I'd rather help Zaalbar clean out the 'fresher. I was a bit surprised Canderous was there, though. He'd made his opinion of the ex-Sith students pretty clear. Although he's always liked to hang out with Jen.

That thought made me look at her suspiciously, but she'd gone back to staring at her mush. Come to think of it, I didn't see Jen come in to sleep last night. Whoa. Maybe there was something to it. Jen had been pretty quick to deny it, back on Korriban – but then I'd kinda put her on the spot.

I grinned. "So, Jen, did ya sleep well last night?"

Her head jerked up, her eyes widening as she stared at me. One eyebrow raised. "Yes, I did thanks, Mission. How about you?"

I might have believed her neutral voice, were it not for the rather obvious blush on her face. Again. Jen and Canderous! That's hilarious! Her eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down, and I knew I was smirking at her.

Juhani cleared her throat from the other side of the table. I glanced over at her – she had a solemn look on her face. "It is less than two days until we reach Kashyyyk. Have you sensed anything, Jen?"

Jen's expression turned serious, and I knew what Juhani meant. Bastila. "No," Jen replied. "No, Bastila's still cut off. I'll tell you, Juhani, if that changes."

I frowned, staring down. I'd never got along with Bastila, but that didn't mean I didn't wish she was still here. Big Z felt wretched about it, and barely said a word to me these days – except the time he'd spilled his guts about his home.

And wasn't that a surprise. I'd known there were secrets in Big Z's past, I'd known he was running from something – but he was, like, royalty. Royalty that was exiled, though. His dumb brother and father kicked him out, remember? It sounded worse that Griff leaving me behind on Taris. At least I'd had the Beks, sort of, to look after me. Zaalbar hadn't had anyone, and he'd been completely out of his depth when I'd run into him on Taris.

I'd planned to look around Kashyyyk when we landed, but now I thought maybe I should stay behind, and keep an eye on Big Z. I'd never seen him so depressed. Not just about returning to his home – but also because of Bastila.

But it wasn't his fault, not really! The stupid Force was the problem, when it let bad people stuff your mind up or turn invisible while they made threats behind you-

I scowled, and stabbed my spoon into the plasteel bowl.

Juhani sighed. "I was hoping we might have some information for her Master when we landed."

Jen placed her spoon down in a deliberate action, her eyes narrowing. "Master," she said flatly. "Bastila's Master?"

Juhani blinked. Her slanted eyes widened. "Yes, Jen. I thought you knew. Vrook Lamar is Bastila's Master."

Jen's eyes widened, and she appeared visibly shaken. "Oh… oh, kath crap. I did not realize that."

"Whoa," I said. "The guy we're meeting on Kashyyyk? Guess he ain't gonna be too happy, huh?"

Jen snorted, but she'd dropped her head into her hands. "That's one way of putting it." Her voice was muffled. "Do you know this guy, Juhani? What's he like?"

"I do," Juhani said quietly. "He is strict but fair. Some might consider him unapproachable, but he is also held as one of Dantooine's greatest Masters."

"Huh. Well, if he's that great, maybe he'll have the last Map," Jen muttered. She raised her head to stare at Juhani. "And we can go straight to the rescuing Bastila part."

"But what about wherever these Map things point to?" I asked. "Aren't we going after that?"

"We can't make any plans until we find out where we're at with the Star Maps," Jen said. "And talk to Vrook Lamar." Her mouth twisted. "Which is going to be even more fun than I realized."

"I guess I'll stay on the ship with Big Z," I said slowly, wrinkling my nose. "Are y'all gonna go meet this guy, then?"

"Yeah, except Canderous. I'll send him out shopping again." Jen grinned. "We need an alternator to repair HK. Zaalbar managed to affix his arm and head together, but his power core is completely shot. Here's hoping Czerka has parts that'll work."

I didn't like that droid, even if I could admit he'd been useful on Korriban. Still, he acted all evil. Whoever had programmed him was seriously unhinged.

"Hey, maybe Teethree could re-program HK when he's fixed!" I blurted out. "He might be able to, like, turn that insane robot into something with manners."

Jen laughed in delight. "That's an interesting idea. Not entirely sure Teethree would be up to it."

"Hey, Teethree's pretty well-specced for an astromech," I retorted. "Y'know, he's got some pretty advanced hacking abilities. And come on, it'd be nice if we could stop HK calling us meatbags all the time."

"I dunno," she murmured. "Some of his nicknames are amusing." She was looking beyond me, her lips twitching, and I turned to see Carth enter the common room.

"You're going to fix psycho-droid," he said, his voice flat as he crossed his arms and glowered at Jen. "Do you have any idea how close I've been to throwing him out the airlock?"

"Come on, Carth, you've got to admit HK's pretty useful."

"I'm not admitting anything, sister," he grumbled. "Except that I think we'd all be better off without that thing."

Jen was full out grinning, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Guess I'll have to convince you otherwise."

I yawned, then, loud and obvious in the room. "Oops," I said, a little sheepishly. "Guess that's my cue for bed. You guys coming?"

"I shall," Juhani assented, standing and heading over to the kitchenette to return her bowl. "I find with all this training I require more rest than usual."

"I'll be along soon," Jen muttered, staring at her bowl again. "Might eat some more first."

"Yuck," I commented. "Not the sort of thing I have seconds of. Oh well, it's your stomach." I shot her a grin as I stood, but she was still looking down. I shrugged to myself and wandered away, throwing a carefree goodnight over my shoulder as I did so.

xXx

Atris Surik:

The dark skin and pointed horns of my oldest friend slowly faded from the holo-screen, as did my forced, fake smile.

The anger, the outright fury and utter disgust I had been concealing during our conversation surged to the forefront, and I heard the snarl as it ripped from my lungs.

Ice queen. Unemotional scow. Nothing ever touches her, that frigid Echani robot.

Oh, if they could see me now-!

Through a rage-filled gaze, my hand swept violently across the poraclay desk, knocking over a ferracrystal jug and a half dozen techJournals detailing plans for the Telos restoration.

There was a shattering noise as the water jug fell to the ground and exploded into a thousand sparkly pieces.

There is no emotion, Atris, I counselled myself, even as my teeth clenched. I breathed in a shaky breath. There is peace. And there is a way forward.

But I could not believe what they had done.

Oh, but perhaps I could. Because hadn't the Dantooine Council always thought themselves a special exception to the rules and laws that governed all sentients?

Had they learned nothing from Ulic Qel-Droma? He was Dantooine's child, Dantooine's failure, and yet they allowed him freedom after his crimes against life. Force, they'd sanctioned his exile: escape from Republic justice and all the violence he had enacted under Exar Kun's banner.

It mattered not that he was Force-blind and miserable, after Nomi did whatever she did and could no longer recall – No. What mattered was that he escaped his trial.

I believed in redemption, oh yes, but I also believed in justice. And those idealistic fools on Dantooine never owned up to just how much damage Ulic's freedom cost the Jedi Order. The bitterness of Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma's fall was bad enough, but that could have been mitigated if only we'd turned Ulic over to the Republic Senate after Kun's defeat.

Exar Kun had met his justice with death. And while Ulic's last-minute aid may have helped in Kun's defeat, it certainly did not undo all the damage he had wrought, all the lives he had taken. Ulic had walked free, with the aid of the Dantooine Masters. And for decades, now, that had damaged relations between the Jedi Order and the Republic.

For, after all, how many people out there had lost a loved one, due to Ulic Qel-Droma?

How many, due to Revan Freeflight and Malak Devari?

The righteous anger was building again. How dare the Dantooine Council claim ownership of Revan's soul, and hide this from the High Council? Revan Freeflight belonged to the Coruscanti Enclave, the same as Malak Devari. A transfer three weeks prior to her flight to the Mandalorian Wars did not suddenly turn her into Dantooine's responsibility. But Karon Enova and Zhar Lestin had never let go of their childhood ties with that Outer Rim rock, oh no, so it was not surprising that they both transferred shortly afterwards as well.

I found myself pacing, boots crunching over shards of ferracrystal as my thoughts seethed with discontent. Which Master had thought up this crackpot plan? Was it possible my old friend Quatra had some of this wrong? Quatra and I had known each other for years, and despite being from different enclaves, we remained close. I knew Quatra had been shaken after her apprentice's betrayal, it was true, and now that her apprentice was crawling back to her perhaps the Zabrak's mind was scattered and easily influenced by whispers and rumours.

But, no. Quatra was highly intelligent and logical, with an admirable ability to detach herself from emotional situations. Usually, I reminded myself. For I'd never seen her as flustered as just now. She had only put up a token protest at my digs for information. It had not taken much pressure to unravel all the sordid details. The secret mission. The Star Maps. Revan.

This would not have been Vrook's brainchild. He disapproved of Revan and Malak as much as I. I could still recall the day I'd come across my favourite student, Dajineer, in a fistfight of all things with Malak Devari. Whilst Revan stood back, an Echani blade at her side, laughing at the two of them forsaking the Jedi Code and making idiots of themselves. They were supposed to be learning the art of duelling from the Echani, not rolling on the floor like common Mandalorians.

But I had other reasons to detest Revan. Other, private, familial, reasons. Yet it is not my personal issues that will guide my hand here. No, it was justice, plain and simple. For I knew what the Dantooine Council would do, should their insane plan actually work. They would squirrel away a quiet, redeemed Revan Freeflight somewhere, to live a quiet, redeemed life. Force, they'd do the same with Malak Devari if possible. All without thinking of the consequences, should someone on the Senate discover their existence. What idiotic Master actually thought this was a good idea?

It was that fat fool, Galdea, I swear. He always liked flouncing about with his mental tricks. And what about Dantooine's shining Master-in-waiting, Vima Sunrider? If there was one Jedi who firmly believed in redemption at the cost of justice, it would be her.

My eyes closed as I recalled the last Senate meeting I had been invited to. I'd been spoken over by Senator Akku. Seated at the back like a petitioner. Ignored by Chancellor Nevex, and he owed the Order a favour.

It was inescapable. The Jedi Order did not have the influence we once enjoyed. We were meant to be the guardians of the galaxy, the upholders of peace and light, but we could not do our work without the Senate's backing.

After Exar Kun, after Ulic Qel-Droma, after Revan Freeflight and Malak Devari, there were many on the Senate who believed the galaxy would be a better place without the Jedi. On some level, I could understand why they thought that way. There were enough senators whose lives had been personally touched by darkness inflicted from one of those villains.

Villains that had all been nurtured and trained by the Jedi Order.

It wasn't the plan I had so much an issue with as the secrecy. For this war was being waged against the Republic. That the Senate hadn't been informed of all the particulars was the height of insanity. How could Dantooine not comprehend the magnitude of the fallout if Revan's existence was discovered? Or worse, if she regained her Dark strength - and it became known that the Order had captured her and let her loose?

No, the only way forward was damage mitigation.

And if all we needed now was the fourth Map on Kashyyyk, then there was no reason Republic forces couldn't pick up Jen Sahara before she left that tree-infested place.

There was no reason she couldn't be sent off to face trial and justice while the Republic Forces dealt with whatever threat the Maps led to.

From here, I did not believe it was for the Jedi Order to choose the way forward. I walked back to my desk slowly, making a mental note to send Brianna in to clean the mess on the floor. With a heavy sigh and an inward curse directed at the surviving Lestin and Sunrider, I turned to my console and opened a communication channel to the Senate.

xXx

Bastila Shan:

Consciousness came with a lurch, and it took no more than one fleeting second before I dearly wished myself once more comatose.

They had woken me, earlier. Sith medics running mandatory health checks while I was collared and restrained. The confusion and horror of being captured and away from the Ebon Hawk had been all-encompassing. I had prayed it was naught but a nightmare. I had screamed in fear. I had struggled uselessly against unyielding restraints and the terror of a neural disruptor.

The clinical, emotionless medics put me back under when my hysteria became uncontrolled.

The same helpless, overwhelmed feeling was back, but I did not think it would allow me an escape this time. Not from the two who leaned over me.

"My pet," Darth Malak breathed, a gloved hand caressing Kylah Aramai's cheek. "You did so well, my lovely."

Kylah… my old friend whom I'd known for so many years. Her brown eyes were yellow, now. Her very existence explained Master Galdea's death… the death of all those onboard the Endar Spire.

How did she capture me? How is it I am here? How is it fair that Kylah Aramai is alive in this cursed galaxy?

I stared, morbidly transfixed, as Malak's face lowered down to his apprentice, for all the galaxy appearing as if he were to kiss her. Half his face is metal! I heard a low thrumming noise, and with a jolt realized he was laughing.

He turned to face me, dead eyes trailing down my body. I will survive this. I have survived indignities before and been all the stronger for it. Flashes of being helpless on Taris raced through my mind, but all the while I knew… that was a cakewalk compared to what was in store for me here.

I blinked, and Malak's face was next to mine. Years ago, he had had a thick crop of dark hair over a handsome face. Now, shadowed tattoos inked over a shining scalp, and his skin was mottled and pale. Black markings pitted what was visible of his cheeks. The bottom half of his jaw and throat had been replaced with a metal alloy that wrapped around to underneath both ears. My gaze, despite myself, remained transfixed on the mechanical part of his face.

I shuddered.

"We are going to have such fun together, Bastila Shan," Malak murmured in his modulated voice. It still managed to sound taunting. "Do you know how I lost my jaw, little one?"

I did not, nor did I wish to. It was a recent injury, just before his betrayal of Revan, but that was all the galaxy knew.

"I'm going to give you assignments, little one," Malak continued on, still in that soft mocking tone. "Every time you pass I'll let you have a rest. Every time you fail I'll give you a taste of our interrogation methods. Revan will know some of them, but it was always my pet hobby. I'm sure you'll enjoy experiencing some of my more inventive techniques, dear Bastila."

The sound of my breathing, harsh and uneven, reached my ears. "I do not know what you want, Malak! But torturing me serves no purpose as there is nothing much of value that I can impart!" The words tumbled out, tripping over my tongue, nothing more than fruitless pleas of the desperate.

Kylah laughed, a high and tinkling sound, as she stepped forward next to her master. "Oh Bastila you silly gizka, it's not about you. I guess you expect it, after all these years of everyone fawning over your Battle Meditation."

I stared at her, disbelieving. Jealousy, a little voice in my mind whispered, storing this nugget of information away. Kylah Aramai had been one of the few Jedi my age that I had called friend. To think that all this time, she had resented my talent – despite her superior position as a Jedi Knight…

The terror made my skin clammy and my heart race erratically. My breathing was quick and harsh, and the nausea in my belly was overpowering. Yet, deep down, there was a kernel of growing hatred at that betraying, evil woman who stood smirking in front of me.

But I know I'm not the prize. I tried to calm my breathing, and failed. As long as they do not find out about our mind-link. That would be… beyond disastrous.

"I know enough about your quest for the Star Maps, little one," Darth Malak continued, still in that soft, metallic intonation. "What I'm far more interested in is this bond Kylah's told me all about. Force bonds are very rare, you know. Usually only between lovers… yet even I and Revan did not share one. I am very curious to explore yours."

A wave of sickening dread flushed through me; the nausea bubbled up and I dry-retched, my vision fading out. It was lucky I had not eaten for some time. They know. Sith's blood, they know. How did Kylah find out? The only comfort I could find was the cool press of metal against my throat. There was no bond now, and they would not dare remove it.

For if my connection to Revan returned, I would be her biggest liability. And after how far she had come, I could not bear that. Oh, how the tables had turned!

I felt a sharp prick. My vision sharpened back to normality, and I turned to see Kylah remove a hypoderm from my right arm. She sent me a poisonous smile, her unnaturally yellow eyes gleaming. "This is jerrikerr-kolto. A by-product of kolto, as you may have guessed," she murmured. "It has very mild healing properties, but the main side-effect is a dulling of the senses, particularly to one's connection with the Force. Jerrikerr-kolto doesn't entirely cut you off, but you shall be weak enough that even a neophyte padawan could best you."

"My lovely does so enjoy learning about the intricacies of the Force," Malak commented, turning his attention to the traitorous Kylah. She all but purred beneath his ominous gaze.

"I am already collared and helpless," I said through numb lips. The durasteel restraints were solid and unyielding against my flesh. "You do not need to inject me with experimental poisons as well."

Kylah laughed again, a sound akin to ferracrystal shattering. "Oh but we do, my dear old friend. You see, the mind is the least affected, specifically telepathic abilities. Your charming Wookiee cohort informed me that your bond has grown into telepathy."

"And we wouldn't want you escaping when we remove your collar," Malak added. A gloved hand curled around my exposed throat and tightened. A bubble of hysteria caught in my throat, and my vision faded briefly.

The loud snick of the collar opening was followed by the thud of it dropping to the ground.

"We will leave you in peace for one hour, little one," Malak murmured. "Then I shall return, and ask you again: how did I lose my jaw? You shall not like it if you do not know the answer, so I suggest you try contacting Revan. Do tell her I said hello."

xXx