Hyperspace: VI – part two
Saul Karath:
"We have her," Kylah Aramai purred, strolling once more onto my command deck. I frowned, intending to ignore the irritating chit. My attention was fixed on the Leviathan's diagnostics. We'd taken too many hits, getting so close to Kashyyyk. The overall health of the shield generators was alarming, and worse: the hyperdrive was malfunctioning.
My victory at the destruction of the Meridus' gravity-wells had been short-lived, and I damned the quick thinking of the commanding officer who faced me out there in the skies. My intelligence reported it was Forn Dodonna – a shrewd, if cautious, Admiral. Perhaps I'd underestimated her. I'd anticipated additional attacks along the hull, or even snubs targeting the Ebon Hawk directly – and I'd positioned our squads in an appropriate defensive array to thwart that.
I didn't count on the Republic Fleet aiming directly for the hyperdrive – and worse, bringing it down.
We were on the back foot, now. If we couldn't recover the hyperdrive, our only option was to overpower the Meridus - and that was starting to look more difficult than I was comfortable with.
And then, Kylah's words fully registered.
We have her.
The Ebon Hawk had been bagged not long ago, and I'd been glad to see the back of blasted Kylah Aramai as she skipped away to supervise Delia's handling of the prisoners.
I didn't believe Revan would be onboard. It didn't seem possible, not unless she really was as mind-crippled as the reports led us to believe.
And with the threat of the Meridus, I had other concerns to focus on rather than the ghost of a woman I had once admired and followed. I forcefully kept my mind trained on my current objectives, and nothing else.
Besides, the last thing I needed was for Kylah Aramai to pick up on my personal interest regarding the Ebon Hawk's pilot.
"You personally checked the crew?" I growled, spinning to face the dolled-up harlot. Oh, but did Kylah Aramai irritate me in the worst possible way. She couldn't have been this childish, this demanding, this entrenched in her own sexuality as a Jedi Knight.
Damn Malak for not reigning the stupid bint back in.
An expression of insolence crossed her face as she eyed me over in a dismissive fashion. I saw her fist clench at her side, and felt a tightening of air currents squeeze faintly around my neck. A warning. A threat, from a child who shouldn't be allowed on a starship let alone a command deck.
My face tightened, and I felt the corners of my mouth turn down in disgust. Behind me, the beeps of incoming electronic reports sizzled through the air, an aural reminder that my attention should not be wasted on a supercilious chit like Kylah Aramai.
She laughed, a high-pitched tinkling sound that grated, and abruptly released the weak threads of energy coiled around me like an uncomfortably tight kerchief. Overt uses of the Force were not Kylah's greatest strength. No, I'd recently discovered that damn mind control was - and while I might have a trained resistance to it, I also understood Kylah to be something of an expert.
Talvon Esan had taught me, years ago, mental exercises to keep Force sensitives out of my mind. It was a practised, ordered way of thinking behind constructed mental shields I constantly rebuilt. A useful trick – although not infallible, Talvon had warned me. In the end, the best form of defense against mental trickery was the self-control to ensure one's thoughts did not stray.
Talvon had been intrigued by me, back when he'd been sane. He had theorized, once, that I had an innate, previously untapped Force-sensitivity. The thought was unappealing. The longer I lived, the more I detested the power that more often than not was wielded by unstable sentients wholly unsuited for leadership. Talvon was a perfect example. My old wartime comrade, whose corruption led him down sadistic paths I never would have predicted.
"Of course I did, Karath," Kylah purred. "You believe I wouldn't triple-check Revan's presence? You don't give me enough credit."
The cavalier fool, thinking it was nothing to throw Revan's name around like that. Behind her, I heard the indrawn breaths of two comm techs who were idiotic enough to be listening in. Imbecile! The last thing we need is for our men to believe a dead Sith Lord is walking amongst us!
A smirk twisted Kylah's vermillion lips, and her tawny golden eyes stared at me in amused awareness. "You worry too much, Karath," she drawled, before gliding over to the snooping staff. One of them squeaked when Kylah placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You will remember nothing of this conversation," she whispered, her head lowering between the two men who were undoubtedly wetting their pants. The words ghosted out over her painted lips, puckered up to within an inch of their frozen faces. "Your only focus is to do the best job you can, to sit at this desk and work for the glory of Lord Malak until you drop of exhaustion. Then you will get up, and continue to work some more. Do not stop, for your insignificant lives are worth nothing but to better our Lord's cause."
She straightened, faced me again, and smiled sweetly. The two techs bowed their heads as their fingers danced maniacally over the consoles.
I scowled. "And in a few days time, I'll be down two senior engineers." Not to mention the drop in morale when others saw these men work themselves to death. "Leave the command deck to me, Kylah. Go play with the prisoners. I need to be focusing on the Meridus, not any fallout from you-"
Her outlined eyes widened in outrage. "Are you talking down to me, Karath?" she flared.
"There's a space battle going on out there!" I flung a hand sharply to gesture at the massive viewing windows. "I don't have time for this petty sort of-"
Too late, I noticed the gleam of insanity in her yellowing gaze, the achromatic crackle of blue static around her raised fist. "I am Malak's Shadow Hand!" she snarled.
And she threw the ball of lightning directly at my chest.
Instinct had me lurching to the side; but still it caught me, needles of pain piercing deep into my chest. My heart shuddered. A scream ripped from my lungs. Barbed cords of power were tightening around my torso, ripping spikes of pain everywhere-
It stopped. And, somehow, I was lying prone on the ground.
Kylah stood over me, black shadows rippling underneath her eyes and along her cheekbones. Her gaze gleamed a sharper yellow than before. "You are a relic from Revan's era," she hissed. "It is power that rules, Karath, and you are nothing more than a null. It is time you realized that your lifespan is measured only by your usefulness to Lord Malak, and in his absence – me."
Every hoarse breath in my lungs was pained, and getting up was worse – it felt like a current of electricity was still burning a path through my ribs. But still, I struggled to my feet. I would not cower on the floor in front of Kylah Aramai.
And, yet, it was with a sick sort of self-disgust that I held my tongue as I faced her. To think, that my life was now in the hands of this strutting child.
"You're excused, Admiral, until you've learned the correct subservience to your betters," she said, her voice once more dwindling to her habitual drawl of amusement. "Your second can lead us to victory here, I'm sure."
My gaze slid to Delia, standing some metres behind Kylah, large black eyes alarmed and alien face visibly shaken. Kylah's going to kill the lot of us, I thought in seething frustration. Lieutenant Delia was sharp, and had promise – but she was young. Too young to lead the Leviathan to triumph in a situation as precarious as this one.
But I only had to look at the warning in Kylah's eyes – the sadistic gleam I was familiar with, having spent too much time around the forsaken Dark Jedi – to realize that I had no choice. They all loved to showcase their pretty little Force powers - particularly on anyone who dared defy them.
With a stiff nod to Delia, and a churning sense of antipathy in my gut, I turned and walked toward the exit. It was not fear hastening my steps. I refused that emotion. I might have to bow to that under-dressed harlot for now – but I will not allow myself to be frightened of her.
"Good choice, Karath." Kylah's mocking laughter danced across the shiny deck.
There was a growing malcontent within me at having to constantly cede to unbalanced Dark Jedi. The Leviathan was slowly losing to the Meridus. I didn't rate Delia's chances. Kylah Aramai was either completely blind to the possibility of failure, or she simply didn't care about the loss of life and ships – for no doubt she'd survive, Force-users always had a tendency to find the escape pods when required. Some of the escape pods here had their own internal hyperdrive, so Kylah likely believed she could run straight back home to Malak.
She had already shown she was good at running.
I frowned, one hand rubbing gingerly at my ribs as the pain eased. I had little options left. Working underneath Lord Malak was not what it once had been. It certainly wasn't the same as reporting to Lord Revan - but she'd ended up dancing along the same unbalanced path of sadistic insanity, hadn't she? Talvon had embraced it, and Malak now owned it - but, once, it had been Revan's dominion.
What a waste. What a waste of power, intellect and potential.
I'd always appreciated the strengths the Dark Side could offer our Sith leaders, but it had been apparent for some time that its vulnerabilities were more dangerous - they all lost themselves to their own twisted emotions, in the end.
And now, what choice did I have left, but to continue working for Malak? I'd be signing my own death warrant if I ran. Malak did not look kindly on deserters – particularly not highly-ranked ones.
And he had the resources to track them down.
I sighed irritably, and my gaze dropped to a pair of gossiping techs, on the lower part of the command deck near the exit hatch. It was far enough from the viewing platforms that they may have missed my confrontation with Kylah – and, certainly, they seemed wholly absorbed in commenting on the audio-visual feed displayed on their consoles.
My mouth tightened as I neared. The holo-cam feed was annotated with Detainment Cell F07, and displayed a rectangular room split into four by shimmering energy walls.
"Nah, I still say fifty creds on the Wookiee," one of the workers commented. "Those furry beasts are strong, man."
The other snorted, jabbing a finger at the screen. "He got almost as many stun bolts as the Mando. Neither of 'em will wake for ages. My creds are on the soldier."
The prisoners. The non-Force sensitives. And, underneath the tech's fat finger, was a man I had once known well.
Kylah had relieved me of any usefulness. Perhaps it was time to see to my own debts. For, if the Leviathan pulled through, I knew that none of the Ebon Hawk's crew would have an easy time of it.
"Gentlemen," I rapped out, and the two workers whipped around, almost falling from their chairs in haste. One of them flushed in guilty embarrassment.
"Um, sorry Admiral, we were merely supervising-"
"You were gossiping like a pair of tweens on a holo-movie set," I spoke over him, folding my arms. It took me a moment to recall their names: Ensigns Guido and Bar'gata - Rodian brothers who talked too much and were undoubtedly going to annoy the wrong people, sooner or later. Guido's gaze dropped from mine uneasily. "Now, tell me, where have the Force-users from the Ebon Hawk been detained?"
I had a different sort of debt to Revan. I still didn't believe she was onboard, not really. It seemed more likely that Kylah had been misguided or tricked in some fashion.
"They've been put in the lilac interrogation room, sir. They're heavily sedated and restrained in Force cages."
I nodded at him sharply. "Go to detainment cell F07, and arrange the transfer of prisoner Carth Onasi to the lilac interrogation room. I want him prepped for questioning, Ensign, within twenty minutes."
"Uh, sir, I could do that from here-"
"If I wanted you to stay here, Ensign Guido, I would have said so," I cut in, allowing my voice to ice over.
"Yes, sir," he muttered, before scrabbling to his feet and lurching away. I sent one last, hard look to his brother, before leaving the command deck myself.
xXx
Dustil Onasi:
The cool of the durasteel wall pressed against me. There was a metal seam running through it, digging deep into my back, and the awkward way I'd restrained myself using harnesses meant for cargo wasn't helping any.
It was getting hard, frakking hard, not to drop the weaves and reach out for the Force.
The ship's staccato alarm had been switched off seconds after it activated. When the flight pattern had steadied - a distinct change from the aerial manoeuvring of earlier - I'd had the sick idea of what that had meant.
And now, the freighter was landed, locked, and emptied of every sentient except me.
I wondered, uselessly, how Jordo's ship was faring.
…
"Ensign Fulmosh will see you to one of the living quarters," Jordo told me. Kala's dad had always been a nice, friendly sort; more carefree and jokey than Dad and, as a kid, it'd been easy to relax around him. Now, the years of military service had etched a sternness into his face that matched his rank.
I wasn't gonna ask about Kala, or her mum. Funny, I hadn't thought of Kala in years. She used to follow me around, claim that one day we'd get married and become Fleet pilots, just like our dads. The last time I'd seen her, dolled up in a new skirt with her lips crookedly painted pink, she'd coyly asked me along to the latest flick at the holo-centre.
Some action-adventure masquerading as a Malachor doco, starring that garish Seriina Starr who was steadily becoming typecast as a brooding Jedi hero. I wanted to go see it – the galaxy was abuzz with theories of where the Jedi Thirteen and half the Republic Fleet disappeared to months ago – but Kala was making me uncomfortable with her kath-pup eyes and stupid compliments.
Life had been so different, once. These days, I couldn't imagine being scared of a tween girl who couldn't even use cosmetics properly.
"Get yourself strapped in, Dustil, and heed Fulmosh. We might need to launch off Kashyyyk at any minute." Jordo gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder, before seemingly dismissing my presence.
I was fine with that. Let Jordo think I was the same, useless boy that did nothing but dream of swoop-racing. Frakk, that was all Dad thought, and he should damn well know better by now. What did he think I'd been doing, those weeks in hyperspace, training with Jen and Dak and Kel and that brooding Cathar whose best friend I'd betrayed? Playing frakking pazaak?
I had four years of schooling under Master Uthar, and Dad thought I was a helpless little boy that needed to be shipped off to the Fleet for safekeeping – or worse, the bloody Jedi.
"Captain, there's Wookiees in the starport!" a soldier called breathlessly, rushing towards us. The clomp of his boots echoed down the corridor, the noise mingling in with the busyness of a military freighter about to commence flight.
Fulmosh pulled me away gently, and I had to push down the irritation of strangers touching me. Even Jordo – wasn't like I knew him anymore. Sents weren't touchy-feely on Korriban. Brush against someone without permission and you were likely to get a hand chopped off or a sandsnake in your bed.
I allowed him to lead me into a small corridor that arced around the side of the Ruby's Claw. Various hatches dotted the passage, and uniformed soldiers marched past with only a nod or brief greeting.
"This is us," Fulmosh chirped at me, as his green hand mashed against a door control. The small room beyond had a row of benches, all lined with safety harnesses, and half of them occupied with chatting grunts. "Come in and sit down. We're all waiting for launch."
"I, er, need to go, er- is there a 'fresher?" I stuttered. Fulmosh grinned at my awkwardness, and I felt myself redden.
"Yeah, just back out the hatch, the next door down. Be quick, okay?"
Quick. Yeah, I'd be quick. I pasted a smile of agreement on my face. Quickly getting the frakk out of here.
One second, to slip out and enshroud myself in the Force. I trailed back to the exit, pressing tight against the wall whenever I encountered a soldier, and focused on keeping my footfalls silent. I'd had practise at that, over the years.
I snuck past the handful of sents at the rear of the Ruby's Claw, and out the open exit. Jordo was waiting outside, flanked by a small squad of underlings. I spared a brief moment of thought for him, wondering if I'd ever see him again. Wondering, once more, about his wife and daughter and whether they'd lived through the carnage of Telos.
Then a glimpse of blaster fire from the neighbouring launch pad caught my eye. I strode away from the 'Claw, breaking into a run when I was certain no one would hear my steps.
…
I'd remained cloaked within the Force. There'd been enough blasted Wookiees running about, feral and bloodthirsty, that I'd be a sense-blind gimboid to show myself. Maybe Mission's pet Wookiee tolerated me okay, now, but there was no telling what his half-tamed countrymen would do.
By the time I neared the 'Hawk, Ordo and some other Mando were clambering up the ramp, and it was easy to slip in with them.
Dad had been right behind, shutting the hatch while completely oblivious to my presence. As always, underestimating me and telling me how to live my life. I knew, now, that there was no point arguing with him. I'd just do what I wanted, and maybe one day he'd wake up and see I wasn't a little boy anymore.
I'd expected to reveal myself much later, after we'd escaped the Sith battle – for I'd believed Dad would get us through enemy lines - he had to, if a decorated pilot with a half-dozen medals couldn't then we were truly frakked.
I hadn't thought he'd fail. And I really hadn't expected our survival to fall down on me.
…
The Sith broadcast had resounded twice throughout the ship already, and my hands were twisted tight in the cargo harnesses. I didn't know what to do, other than keep up the disguise. Dad was gonna get captured. Mission was. They all were.
But no one knew I was here. My heart thundered and my brain whirled with that knowledge, and I had no frakking idea what to do next.
The hatch opened, making me jump in surprise. That psycho robot stomped into the room, with the astromech wheeling in behind him. And in their wake-
Jen Sahara.
She raised a hand in a halting motion, her gaze fixed firmly on me. And I knew, once more, that she'd bloody well sensed me out.
"Stay hidden," she hissed. "I don't think anyone's sensed you – I almost didn't – and that means no one can betray you." Her green eyes were narrowed on me; sharp and intent and gleaming in the light. The next words dropped fast and furious from her lips. "Standard Sith protocol is to board an enemy ship, and install restraining bolts into any droid they come across – if they don't destroy them."
"You have three minutes remaining before we open fire on the ship."
Jen's mouth tightened. My breath caught in my throat, and I wondered how the frakk she knew about bloody Sith protocols. "There's a window of time, then, after they leave and before maintenance arrives to uplift the droids. That's your chance." Her gaze skittered back to the astromech and the combat droid, who'd both turned to face her. "HK, Teethree, you will obey Dustil Onasi and aid him in rescuing the crew. Shut down now, the both of you."
With electronic murmurs of assent, they powered off. Jen took a step back. I didn't want her to leave - I had no idea how the actual frakk I was supposed to infiltrate the blasted Leviathan – but the look of urgency on her face kept me silent.
"Good luck," she murmured, levelling one last intent gaze at me. "Go after Mission and Zaalbar first – they'll be less guarded than your dad or us Force users. Teethree can hack into the Leviathan's mainframe, if you can get him out of the freighter unseen. HK's good in a fight – but maybe he needs to stay behind to secure the ship. Whatever you do - keep yourself hidden!"
With that final warning she turned, and stalked out of the room.
That would have been the last of it, had my father not been on the other side of the hatch when it swished open underneath her palm.
"Carth, what are you-"
And then, Dad grabbed Jen by the shoulders and pushed her up against the hatchway before kissing her fiercely.
My mouth dropped open. My eyes bugged out. It was quite likely I was making gagging noises – half-disbelief and half-disgust – but they were too occupied to hear a damn thing.
"You have two minutes remaining before we open fire on the ship."
Dad's hands moved to thread in her dark hair, and with a hot flush of embarrassment I recalled the time I'd walked in on Mum and Dad snogging in the kitchen. A flare of anger sprang to life in my gut. For frakk's sake – I wasn't gonna watch any more of this-
"Kids, there's a time for that sort of thing!" Ordo snapped out from further down the Ebon Hawk's corridor. "It ain't now. Not sure I can think of a worse one than right now."
At least they'd cleared out pretty quick after that.
…
I didn't know what to think about it. I didn't have time to think anything about it, even if my initial reaction had been bitter resentment - at seeing my dad kiss someone who wasn't my mum.
So much for Canderous and Jen being a thing. Maybe Mission had it completely wrong. Or maybe Jen had the morals of a loth-cat. But wouldn't Ordo be more pissed in that case? Although, Mekel'd told me that Mandalorians slept with anything that moved, so maybe it simply didn't bother Ordo if his woman was making out with others.
And isn't Jen supposed to be a stuffy Jedi? Celibacy was about reason number five of why I was never going anywhere near the Order.
I'll worry about it later. I'll get pissy about it later! I knew it'd been four years. I knew Mum wouldn't have wanted Dad to be alone for the rest of his life, but the desperate way they'd been sucking face felt like a slap to my childhood.
Had Jen bloody Sahara forgotten I was there, or simply didn't give a crap?
Life and death situations had a way of making sents act brainless. Like me, right now, bitching over my dad's stupid sex life when I should be getting a frakking move on.
The boarding party had already arrived. Six armoured soldiers had filed into the cargo bay first, with weapons poised as they nosed around corners and cupboards, and upturned a handful of canisters that the Wookiee had been organizing.
It was no more than idle curiosity – their job were merely to secure the ship, not strip it. But still, I hadn't dare breathe, as they'd stomped about before finally disabling the droids. My sight had speckled from lack of oxygen, as they'd seemingly taken forever.
Eventually, they'd all wandered back out, and I could hear them now near the exit.
Hurry the frakk up! I thought in desperation. Get out of here!
I needed to get the droids online, and figure out what to do. For I'd heard the yell of the crowd and the unleashing of blaster fire, when the crew had disembarked.
They'd been fired at. They'd been taken. All of them. Force, let them all be alive. Please.
And then, mercifully – finally – the sound of fading footsteps followed by the hatch closing reached my ears.
Keep yourself hidden! Jen's words, and I'd be a half-wit to go against them. I kept the weaves up and tight around me, and fumbled my way out of the cargo harnesses.
My damn leg had gone to sleep. I tripped, stumbled, and fell over – the resulting thump echoing throughout the empty freighter. I caught my breath, eyes widening, and body stiff with fright.
Move, dumbass. The ship's empty. No one would have heard this from outside the 'Hawk.
I'd done plenty of risky things before. I'd killed people, indirectly, for Master Uthar. Their names still sat with me like bitter droplets of pain - Drex Voona, Talal Born, Tushka, Belaya Linn. I'd snuck around many a place before, including Master Yuthura's – who undoubtedly would have killed me if she'd found out.
Once, Master Uthar had bade me plant a document in Darth Bandon's apartments. Bandon's notice would have been worse than Yuthura's.
I'd done it, I'd done it all, with my heart pounding but my focus sharp and clear on executing Uthar's will.
Why, then, did this feel more dangerous? Why was the feeling of fright curdling so strongly in my stomach?
Because Dad's life is at risk. Because people are counting on me. Because it's not just about myself anymore.
I swallowed, and staggered to my feet.
I strode to the droids, yanked out the restraining bolts, and held my breath. HK-47 came to life first, his maroon photoreceptors flaring into existence as his head tilted sharply. The astromech whirred and beeped, before a little sensor extracted from its dome and swivelled around. He beeped again.
"Retort: I had already ascertained that, you ignorant trash compactor. Statement: Primary objective to locate and protect Master initiating."
"Um," I said.
HK-47 moved quicker than I expected, a hidden blaster dropping to his grasp from a concealed section of his armour, and shifting instantly to aim in the direction of my voice.
Teethree warbled something.
"Statement: Voice recognition analysis matches that of Dustil Onasi." HK's mechanized vocabulator seemed to be expressing curiosity. I stepped sideways to avoid the barrel, but HK's aim followed me unerringly. "Observation: Auditory sensors acknowledge bipedal presence in the cargo bay. And yet no thermal or visual data is available. Hypothesis: As the Master appeared to be communicating with Hormonal Pity-Party before my unnecessary shutdown, then this must be an advanced cloaking mechanism used by Hormonal Pity-Party. I congratulate you, minor meatbag. Most organics seem oddly resistant to cybernetics or implant technology to improve their fragile, gelatinous condition."
I blinked. The HK unit had a tendency to monologue on the frailties of flesh that I found a bit disturbing.
"Um, yeah, it's me," I stammered. "I'm hidden. Kind of."
"Commentary: And, once more, the concise observations of biological meatbags showcase their intellectual inferiority to artificial life-forms."
"What?" I frowned, feeling back-footed. "Um, look, we gotta work together and get the others free. Let's stop with the insults about intelligence, okay? That's not what's important here."
"Agreement: Certainly, intelligence is not everything. Why, in your case, it's practically nothing."
Teethree beeped angrily, waving an antennae at Psycho-Droid. I felt myself scowling, and welcomed the onset of anger. It felt stronger, fiercer, better, than the fright which had been owning me.
"Jen Sahara ordered you to obey me, HK," I snapped, and hoped it came out as commanding rather than petulant. "So stop with the frakking insults already."
To my surprise, he did. "Assertion: As you wish, Hormonal Pity-Party. May I suggest we start on our objective of locating and protecting the Master?"
"We're rescuing the lot of them," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. "Look, Jen said that Mission and Zaalbar would be the least guarded – and she's right. We just gotta find them, first."
HK had lowered his weapon, but his head was still cocked in my direction, as if he was trying to understand exactly how my Force concealment worked.
"Suggestion:," he began again, "we could begin by slaughtering the inhabitants of this starship. That would have the happy side-effect of also killing those restraining the Master and the meatbags she values so oddly."
The astromech emitted a series of high-pitched beeps. Honestly, I had no frakking clue how Mission could follow any of it.
"Retort: No, I didn't mean us as well, you moronic droid."
"It's the Leviathan!" I hissed. "There's thousands of soldiers onboard, and there's gonna be Dark Jedi, too! We gotta do this in stealth. Look, Psycho-Droid, Jen suggested that maybe you should stay behind and keep the 'Hawk secure, while Teethree and I scout ahead. No point rescuing anyone if we don't have a way off this damn starship."
It wasn't just because Jen had suggested it. 'Cause I had to admit, the idea of leaving HK behind was growing in appeal.
The burnished red droid seemed to wilt before my eyes. "Litany: Oh, Master, what have I done to upset you so that you would favour a mere utility droid above me? Have I not killed enough in your name? Do you doubt-"
A loud series of whistling warbles from Teethree drowned out the crazy robot's rant. And I realized, then, that consulting the frakking droids was the wrong way to go about this. I didn't have time to fumble about and wait for a plan to present itself. Sooner or later, maintenance would arrive, and then I'd be down two droids. If they didn't discover me as well.
Frakk it, I'd just have to make it up as I went along.
"Stop!" I barked. The droids went silent. "Here's what's going to happen. HK, you're staying behind on the 'Hawk. Maintenance will be here soon, and you can't let them onboard – first thing they'll do is override the 'Hawk's systems. So get rid of them – but do it in a way that they remain unaware of you. 'Cause if they find out about you or us, then we're screwed." I sucked in a deep breath. "Teethree and I will disembark, and we'll equip wrist-comms to keep in touch. Though, uh, I guess we'll have to check the external cams, to find a way to leave the Ebon Hawk unseen."
I could stay hidden no matter where I went. An astromech wheeling around by itself on the Leviathan might be ignored – but only if I got him off the 'Hawk unnoticed. For if someone saw a utility droid wheeling down the loading ramp of a captured freighter, they'd sure as stars be asking questions.
I'd trailed off into silence, which was broken a few seconds later by Teethree, rattling off a series of beeps and whoops.
"Translation: The astromech suggests you both slip out the consignment hatch beneath the cargo hold. As it exits near the front and centre of the Ebon Hawk's hull, it may simply appear that Mobile Trashcan is working on the freighter, in the circumstance that anyone sees him." HK-47 tilted his head, red eyes gleaming. "Assessment: It is not a bad idea, for a portable paperweight. The only thing you risk losing is Wheelie-bin over here, as you are seemingly invisible and I am not permitted to leave."
The damn robot still sounded sulky. Teethree retorted with a noise that I'd bet five creds was a recording of Mission blowing a raspberry.
"Okay," I muttered. "We'll find a console, somewhere. Once Teethree figures out where Mission and Zaalbar are, I'll go after them. But, Teethree – you won't be good in a fight, if it comes to that. Maybe, uh, maybe you'll be best finding a way to release the freighter? I guess it'll have locking clamps and the like. And then there's the docking bay doors. And getting access to the cells." I frowned. "And we can't let the Sith know what we're doing, until we're ready to escape." I couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed when I considered all the factors required to make this extraction work. "I guess we'll figure it out, one step at a time."
I had no idea how I'd manage any of it. Yet I had no choice but to forge ahead.
Teethree beeped, and then abruptly wheeled out of the room. I blinked, uncertain at his sudden departure.
"Translation: Mobile Trashcan has gone to retrieve a wrist communicator and matching earbud to compensate for your biological deficiencies," HK intoned. "Suggestion: We move this expert detail-driven strategic plan to the cockpit, where we can view the external holo-cams of the Ebon Hawk in preparation to implement said expert detail-driven strategic plan."
Somehow, I had the feeling that HK-47 was still finding a way to mock me.
xXx
Revan Freeflight:
I was nothing more than a floating, detached sensation. Nothing more than a piece of plimfoam bobbing in the ocean.
Images flickered in my periphery, encircling firaxa, murky shadows of memory waiting to rip their teeth into my battered soul.
A handsome lover who would conquer the galaxy in my name. A robed woman murmuring from the shadows. A Twi'lek with skin of burnished gold, pointing a scarlet weapon of betrayal at me as a stun bolt dropped me to my knees-
No, that didn't make sense. Surely, he would never fail me, as I would never fail him. Just as the handsome lover would never conquer me in his own name…
…
It was bad. It was worse than bad. The initial reports coming in were exactly what we'd feared-
"Nisotsa predicted this," I breathed in horror, my eyes frantically scanning the data-reports as they trickled in. Combat statistics. Fleet losses. Massive civilian casualties. "It was idle camp-side talk, but she'd named Duro as the first Core target. She'd speculated that Fett would advance, and soon. Sod it all, I'm sending her to Intelligence."
"She's shite at command, anyway," Arran muttered, before being elbowed into silence by Talvon.
"Duro has been laid to waste," Rear Admiral Threek said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I did not believe I would ever see the day."
He was our highest commanding Duros. Having been unable to aid my own homeworld in its hour of need, I suddenly harboured a wealth of empathy for him.
"Duro forces were completely unprepared for a basilisk offensive," Em said softly. Her eyes met mine; even through the hologram I could see the pain etched in her face. She felt the deaths through the Force, more so than any of us. "Nisotsa's tip allowed us to dispatch Yudan's fleet of cruisers – but from the reports received so far, the only thing Yudan managed to salvage were the shipyards."
"We cannot and should not forget the loss of life today," the old woman behind me murmured. Only hours ago, she had bent knee and sworn fealty – not something I desired or requested – but it allowed me to trust an otherwise enigmatic, mysterious Master of the Force. One who claimed the same objectives as I, yet refused to divulge her history. "But the retrieval of stolen material from the fleeing Mandalorian forces – and the subsequent destruction of half the Fett basilisks - is a logistical victory. A small sliver of gold in an otherwise black day."
Admiral Threek stiffened, and now the bitterness showed clearly on his holo-projected face as he glared at her. But the last thing I desired was an argument between a grieving Rear Admiral and my newest advisor.
"Em, have you heard from Yudan yet?" I demanded, drawing attention away from them, and to the question that burned in my soul. Mal's hand rested on my shoulder, and I drew strength from it, as always.
"No."
…
I should recognize the names. They should mean something to me, represent memories of a life I had once lived.
Nisotsa, Arran, Talvon.
Em, Yudan, Mal.
But they were like spots of oil in an ocean of obfuscation. My fingertips would ripple against them, and I'd be rewarded with the slightest glimpse of what we had once meant to each other, and then the details would dissipate into nothing more than the faintest echo.
There was a sluggishness to my thought-stream I recognized, the understanding that I was not fully cognizant of my current environment – but still, I chased those details. Mal's importance I understood, now, much as it horrified me. But the others?
Who were they to me?
…
"In every aspect of this conflict you have shown yourself to be above the frailty of Jedi mercy," the old woman said. Her eyes flashed, and her tone was disapproving. "You have exhibited a rationale that is both calculating and astute: you understand that not everyone can be saved. And yet you would risk yourself – our most powerful dejarik piece – on a rescue mission that is temerarious at best, and suicidal at worst?"
"There are some things even I refuse to sacrifice, Kre-"
"Even if you do succeed, Revan, you will expose a vulnerability to the Mandalorian Clans. The Jedi Thirteen has only represented enemy leaders to them thus far. If you extract Yudan Rosh in so risky an endeavour, they will comprehend that the way to topple the Revanchist is through her friends."
"I hate that title," I muttered sourly. "It is bad enough that some fringe holo-channels have picked it up. My advisors can frelling well leave it alone."
"Apparently, 'chist' means renegade warrior in ancient Massassi," Malak interrupted, his voice deceptively mild. He was pissed. He was incredibly pissed at me. "And evidently 'Revan' means blithering idiot in Basic, so you can see why the term was coined."
The old woman sighed, an impatient gust of air. "Ask yourself thus, Revan. If the choice was between a Republic victory and the survival of your friend, and it fell upon you to decide – which would you pick?"
I could feel my temper flare, at that. I understood sacrifice, I'd played the odds every day since I'd taken up the reins of Supreme Commander. War was a numbers game, and the sentient lives that hung in the balance had to be ignored when planning the next strategic move.
But after Cariaga's death… the holo-news still called us the Jedi Thirteen, but we were Twelve, now. And maybe I had accepted, deep down, that I would lose more friends and followers before the Wars were out – but there were three I simply refused to do without.
Em, Yudan, Mal.
"That is unfair," I growled. "That's not the situation, here. The damn outcome of the Wars does not depend on Yudan-"
"What would happen if you were taken out, Revvie?" Malak asked, in a guttural tone that rippled with pent-up frustration. "Would you expect me or Em to step up as Supreme Commander? Dammit, Yudan is my friend too! But you're supposed to be the smart one, the calculating one-"
"Posing theoretical questions is an aid to analyse a situation, Revan," the old woman snapped. I was beginning to regret her presence – and yet, she filled a hole in my advisory staff that I'd always found glaringly obvious. The wisdom of a Master. I'd dreamed, once, of Kavar being that person. "There is a time to be blind-sided by emotion, and this is not it. If you are honest with yourself, you will agree how foolhardy your idea is."
She was right. I knew it. Personally infiltrating Fett territory was a poor strategy. I should leave it to others; others less important, others more expendable, even others with no Force-sensitivity, if what Nisotsa had pieced together about the Fett held any truth behind it.
"We'll plan an extraction, and we'll send the best men we can. But we won't risk what we can't afford to lose." Malak ran an impatient hand through his thick hair. It was curling in the humidity, but I hoped he wouldn't shave it off again. "Yudan wouldn't want us to."
The corners of my mouth turned down, and the old woman's question from earlier echoed mercilessly through my head. The fate of my friend versus the fate of the Republic.
It was a choice no one should have to make – and not one that was particularly healthy to dwell on, even in a theoretical sense. For I knew, deep down, what my truth would be if I was ever forced into such a judgment.
And then my treacherous mind switched Mal for Yudan. Mal: my lover, my foundation, my shield. And I found my answer to be the same.
It was bitter and galling and probably said something about the strength – or lack thereof - of my love to those I cared for the most. And it would not be the same answer as Mal's, should the positions be reversed.
So I bowed my head in capitulation.
…
Whatever it takes. By any means necessary. The end justifies the means.
And my bond-sister's voice came back to haunt me, to taunt me-
Any sacrifice, any method, any way to achieve the end result – no matter the damage that might be done to one's soul. No matter how the end result might warp along the way.
Was that me? Always, always, willing to put the greater good in front of my individual desires, in front of the very essence of my own humanity, to the extent that the greater good became the greater evil?
Maybe that had been the leader that the Republic needed. Maybe that had been the leader I'd become, when my calculation had overcome the reckless passion of my youth.
And yet, I mourned that recklessness. And as I floated on the sea of vague self-awareness - understanding, on some level, that this had all occurred a lifetime ago – I wondered if there was anything more to that story, that story that ended so many years later with Yudan's betrayal outside my captured ship.
I couldn't remember my past, but I knew enough to understand I deserved treachery.
I'd expected it from Yudan – after all, he'd planned to kill me on the forest world. And yet, when he revealed the old man's Force sensitivity, I'd been stunned with a realization – while I hadn't counted on Yudan's loyalty, I had, in fact, been hoping for it.
I shouldn't be surprised.
If I'd always put my own objectives first – be they lofty or evil, well-intentioned or manipulative – then shouldn't I expect those I'd once cared for, see to their own self-interest, first and foremost?
When had I stopped risking myself on a personal level? It wasn't a lack of confidence – oh no, if there was one thing I knew about my past self, it was that I'd had self-confidence in abundance. Maybe I'd simply capitulated to popular opinion – I was too important, too significant, too powerful to risk on an underling.
Was I the type of person who would send others, less able and more expendable, on a retrieval mission for a close friend?
…
The ground was hard-baked and dry, with the slightest wind picking up loose dust and throwing it unceremoniously into the air. The temperature was sweltering under the harshness of three suns beating down an incessant heat on an inhospitable planet.
The full body armour had built-in temperature regulation, of course, but it wasn't the same as the Force.
We were half a klick away from the Fett stronghold, here – close enough that the Second of the Fett wouldn't feel too uneasy, yet far enough for us to employ our supposed interrogation methods in peace.
"There isn't much fight left in him," the Mandalorian to my left commented, swinging an idle kick at Yudan's naked side. The sunlight gleamed from her plated beskar, which was an identical make to the one I'd stolen – and to all akaanir dala in this sector. They prized a visual reminder of their quasi-clan. "I think Cassus has had too much fun."
Despite the situation, I had to admit a certain fascination with the matriarchal akaanir dala. They cut familial ties upon joining, eschewed the raising of children, and employed themselves out to various clans for merc jobs of their choosing. In other ways they were typical of Mandalorians – they valued combat and the more visceral pleasures of life. The breaking of clan should have vilified them in a warrior culture that honoured family and loyalty above all else – yet, somehow, akaanir dala maintained both a notoriety and measure of respect from within.
Maybe their faithfulness to one another was what the clans esteemed. Or maybe Mandalorians were just crazy.
"Poor little jetii can't wipe his own arse with that collar on," the other one sniggered. "These soft aruetii are useless for anything other than bedroom slaves."
She was wrong about his uselessness, but I rather thought she knew it or she wouldn't bother stumbling out the words in broken Basic. They must assume he didn't understand Mando'a, for constant belittling and mockery was part of breaking a prisoner's spirit, much the same as torture.
Not that Yudan was close to breaking. The dull, closed expression on his swollen face was a symptom of mental discipline, not despair. Even without the Force, he had retreated into a meditative trance as a protective mechanism.
They'd left him naked, though. Again, indignity, yet another tactic of Mandalorian interrogation techniques. Bruising and mottled injuries were clearly visible along his torso, with a wicked looking slice down the length of one lekku. His wounds were dirty; caked with mud and oozing with putrescence. I knew the Mandalorians wouldn't be stupid enough to let Yudan Rosh fall victim to infection, but the sight still burned the fire of rage within me.
It was harder keeping emotions in check, without the Force as an aid.
"(Well, Cassus will return tomorrow, and he'll be fuming once he hears we pulled his precious prisoner out of the encampment,)" the first one commented, switching to Mando'a. "(Unless, of course, we extract something useful. You both know what a sadistic jerk Cassus can be, so let's get working. Staria, do you want to begin?)"
Their visors turned to me in expectation.
"Yes," I assented.
In one quick move, my gloved hands shot out, and concealed dart guns slipped into my palms.
I fired.
I was already moving - having dropped the compact weapons in favour for an equipped shiv-blade – and launched out at one of my companions. They were both, already, stumbling backwards.
Foraxyn-4 was a quick-acting drug. Em was right about that.
There was a minor weakness in the form-fitting armour suits the akaanir dala created their beskar from, just between the join of the helm and the shoulder carapace. Not enough of one to be useful from a distance – but this close, it had been perfect for a dart gun to penetrate.
And for a shiv to finish the job on them both.
I was kneeling next to Yudan, then; he who had taught me more of duelling than Karon or Zhar ever had. Although Mal was a match for Yudan now – and I liked to believe that I was, too - in the early days we had followed Yudan's lead.
Yudan Rosh had been a Knight already – a very young one, mind – when we'd first joined the Jedi Temple as teenagers on Coruscant. Back then, Yudan's combat skills were already apparent. Even without a 'saber and the Force – sun and stars, even with his hands tied behind his back – he should have put up a good fight against Cassus Fett.
His eyes snapped open, a crystalline blue against the natural burnished gold of his skin, where it wasn't mottled purple. There was a flare of deep, intense emotion in his gaze that I couldn't quite deduce. Recognition? Relief? Hope?
"There's only one person I know that's space-brained enough to infiltrate the Fett," he said hoarsely. "Or the stars-cursed akaanir dala. But I can't believe he'd willingly let you go."
A small grin curved my lips beneath my anonymous helm. "Mal doesn't know I'm here."
There were – reasons. Chief amongst them that Malak may have done something drastic to halt me, or followed me himself – thereby risking two leaders of the Jedi Thirteen. And if the extraction went as I planned, then Mal need never know it had been me, down here, leading the rescue operation in person.
I knew Mando'a. I knew the Mando'ade, and could pass for akaanir dala. My unarmed combat wasn't to be sneezed at even without the Force, and I was ruthless enough to do what had to be done. And my face wasn't familiar, these days. There was more than one reason I normally wore that symbolic mask.
In many ways, I was a logical choice for this mission.
And, as Em pointed out, we couldn't afford to leave Yudan alive in the hands of the enemy. He knew too much. It was this argument that, finally, made me deviate from the decision I'd agreed to weeks ago.
Weeks we'd spent desperately searching for the location of this hidden stronghold.
Yudan blinked, slowly, and now his expression contained nothing but pure relief. I depressed the switches around the full-backed Mandalorian helm, before removing it with a sigh. The stinking heat of the planet slammed against my cheeks, and I saw Yudan's gaze trail down my face until it fixed on the glint of metal at my neck.
"Peace, Revan, you willingly donned a neural disruptor?" Something indecipherable flickered in Yudan's gaze again – I'd never been able to read him quite the same way as Mal or Em. Feeling slightly off-guard, I let out a small huff of air.
"We're not sure… but Nisotsa thinks Cassus has some method of either sensing or neutralizing Force users," I commented, crouching behind him to access his restraints. It was only idle whispers so far, a connected path of events that Nisotsa had pieced together – but compelling enough to make me cautious of using the Force. Of even being sensed in the Force.
Yudan should not have been captured. He should not have been able to be captured.
My lips pursed as I eye-balled him. "You up to impersonating an akaanir dala?"
There was a contained grimace on my friend's face – I did not want to think on the amount of pain he must be in.
"Yes. I may need… I may need some assistance."
Yudan had always been a private person, and I knew the request would gall him. So I chattered in an attempt to distract as I stripped a corpse and passed over the armour in sections.
"We have to move, and quick. No taking off the collar unless you have to. Em's got a rendezvous point plotted not far from here."
He frowned at me. "You didn't risk her, too?"
"No, no of course not!" I answered quickly, wondering if his tone held something deeper. I'd often thought of him and Em together – her empathy and quiet steadiness made a good counterbalance for his intensity. But he grew pissy whenever I made the slightest nudge in that direction. "She was involved in the planning, that's all." I paused, debating on how far to stretch the truth. "She would have come if I'd let her, Yudan. She'll be glad, more than glad, to see you back."
There was a tightening of irritation around his eyes. "I'll be glad to see Meetra, too," he muttered. "But if you start on that thread again, Revan, I'll damn well kick your arse. Now, let's get out of here."
…
I drifted further, and the images dissolved.
Did that actually happen? Was it merely wishful thinking, merely deluded hope that I'd cared enough about my once-friends to be spurred into reckless action?
The memory held the edges of truth around it… and yet, if that had been our history, how could his current betrayal make any sense?
What must I have done, at my worst, for him to turn on me?
xXx
HK-47:
Scanning External Environment
Location: Ebon Hawk Cockpit
Primary Objective: Secure Ebon Hawk From Hostile Parties
…Constraint: Do Not Allow Hostile Parties Onboard
…Constraint: Do Not Allow Hostile Parties To Become Aware Of HK-47's Presence
Secondary Objective: Locate and Protect Jen Sahara (Current Owner)
…Constraint: Obey Orders Of Dustil Onasi Until All Crew Is Recovered
Scanning External Environment: Longer Range Bioscan Activated
…No Life Forms Onboard Freighter
…2 Organic Meatbags Detected On Loading Ramp
Initiating Interface With Ebon Hawk: Source: External AV Camera Inputs
Auditory And Optical Sensors Focusing On External AV Camera Inputs
Target Analysis: Organic Meatbag 1
Visual Analysis: Bipedal Sentient In Full Combat Armour
Species and Facial Recognition Analysis Unavailable
Body Language Analysis: Attentive
Temporary Name Assigned: Military Mook 1
Target Analysis: Organic Meatbag 2
Visual Analysis: Bipedal Sentient In Full Combat Armour
Species and Facial Recognition Analysis Unavailable
Body Language Analysis: Attentive
Temporary Name Assigned: Military Mook 2
Conclusion: Military Mook 1 and Military Mook 2 Are Guarding Entry To Ebon Hawk
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (Astromech Designated Communication Language): "Attempting to slice into primary node of IntelliSec-H4 Class Operating System. System override initiating."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi (whispered): "Teethree's found a console, in a frakking service lift. I've told him to hack into the mainframe from here and find a map. If he uploads a schematic of the Leviathan to the 'Hawk, can you direct me to the others? This place is huge!"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Answer: Yes, I can be your tour guide. I am a highly-specialized combat, protocol and assassination droid. Sarcasm: Directing meatbags who can't be bothered to peruse a schematic themselves is a fulfilling use of my capabilities. Query: What demeaning task would you have me do next? Shall I ensure hot cups of caffeinated beverages are available upon your return? Sweep the floors? Unplug the refresher unit?"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi (hissed): "What? Dammit, you annoying piece of junk, I don't have time for this- a simple yes or no would suffice!"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Answer: Yes."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Service-class access granted to primary node. Schematics of Interdictor-class heavy cruiser uploading to Ebon Hawk. Scanning for prisoners."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi (whispered): "Teethree's beeping again. Are you getting this, HK?"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Answer: Yes."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Sentient Mission Vao - Owner, located in detainment cell F07. Sentient Zaalbar located in detainment cell F07. Sentient Canderous Ordo located in detainment cell F07. Sentient Carth Onasi status transferred from detainment cell F07 to location: classified. Service-class authentication denied."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "HK?"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Answer: Yes?"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Initiating interface with security and biothermic systems to analyze defense of detainment cell F07."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "HK, what's he beeping about- he's lit up like a bloody festival tree!"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Acknowledgment: Yes."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Dammit, HK, tell me what the frakk Teethree is saying!"
Voice Stress Analysis: Frustrated
Internal Response: Satisfaction
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Translation: The more fragile meatbags of our crew have been discovered in detainment cell F07."
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Observation: The Master's location has been omitted. Reminder: the Master is your blue meatbag's master, Mobile Trashcan. The Master's location and survival is therefore of utmost importance to us all."
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Suggestion: We direct our resources to rescuing the valuable organic meatbags of our crew. Namely: Jen Sahara."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi (hissed): "I'm following Jen's orders, HK! Frakk it, if you don't stop being lippy, I swear I'm gonna shove my lightsaber through your damn torso next time I see you!"
Voice Stress Analysis: Irate
Accessing: Internal Dictionary
….Analyzing
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Analysis: Reference: 'lippy'... argumentative, disputatious, contentious, quarrelsome. What? I must object-"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Biothermic inputs indicate no current sentient guards patrolling detainment cell F07. Camera feeds to detainment cell F07 are active and monitored. Energy repulsion shield technology is being utilized to confine Mission Vao – Owner, Zaalbar and Canderous Ordo."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "You've been lippy since I turned you on! Now shut up and start translating!"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Query: Conflicting orders are present, Hormonal Pity-Party. Would you like me to shut up, or translate?"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi (snarled): "Translate!"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Translation: Detainment cell F07 is actively monitored via video feeds, and the more frail members of our crew are confined behind repulsion walls. We will have to deal with both to successfully extract them."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Maybe Teethree could turn them off?"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Camera override unavailable with service-class access. Activating infiltration attack to override operating system of detention block: brute force hack routines initiated."
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Answer: Certainly, if you wish to draw attention to our presence. The 'actively' part of 'actively monitored' was not superfluous, Hormonal Pity-Party."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Okay… Frakk. What do you suggest?"
Situation Analysis:
…Factor: T3-M4 Likely To Gain Higher Access Into Detention Complex
…Factor: Camera Feeds Are Currently Monitored
…Factor: Carth Onasi Has Already Been Transferred
Conclusion: Forge Transfer Of Remaining Prisoners And Reroute AV Feeds
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Observation: Carth Onasi has already been transferred from detainment cell F07. Suggestion: Mobile Trashcan could add a system note to the detainee log advising the remainder of the frail meatbags have also been transferred. Then, camera feed of detainment cell F07 could be shorted out for a brief period to cover the concocted prisoner transfer, before rerouting the feed to an empty, yet identical, detainment cell. Assumption: This will only work if those monitoring the camera feed are not particularly aware or perceptive, but then, meatbag acumen is blundering at best."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Dad's not there? He's been… Jen said he'd be more guarded than the others. Frakk. Frakking bastard Sith! I'm gonna… Frakk it all!"
Voice Stress Analysis: Angst-Ridden Hormonal Adolescence
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Infiltration successful. Access to audiovisual feeds in detention complex granted. Access to energy repulsion shield technology granted."
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Translation: Mobile Trashcan now has full control over the camera feeds and the energy walls in the prison cells."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Yes!"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Okay, Teethree, do what HK said. Put something in the log about all prisoners being transferred, and then short out the feed for a minute before rerouting it to an empty prison cell. You stay here, and HK can direct me to the cells. Um. What else?"
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Suggestion: You could direct Mobile Trashcan to remove the landing gear locks and override control on the docking bay doors. Sarcasm: And, maybe, oh I don't know – locate the Master?"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi (muttered): "And he objects to being called lippy, for frakk's sake."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Teethree, stay here and try to disable any locks on the 'Hawk. Get control of the bay doors. And search for the others. Let me know as soon as you find them."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Initiating infiltration attempt into engineering operating system for docking bay override. Scanning primary node for additional information on detainees."
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Translation: At once, Hormonal Pity-Party."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "HK, direct me to the prison cell. In as few words as possible without being a frakkhead about it."
Initiating Interface With Ebon Hawk: Source: Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device
…Tracking Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device
…Overlay With Schematics Of Interdictor-class Heavy Cruiser
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Directive: Exit the service elevator on floor delta. Take the main corridor until you reach the reactor doors. I will track your progress."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Okay. Here goes nothing."
Auditory Sensors Tracking: Scuffling Noise Detected
…Location: Ebon Hawk Loading Ramp
Initiating Interface With Ebon Hawk: Source: External AV Camera Inputs
…Analyzing
Auditory And Optical Sensors Focusing On External AV Camera Inputs
Two Organic Meatbags On Ebon Hawk Loading Ramp: Military Mook 1, Military Mook 2
Three Organic Meatbags Approaching Ebon Hawk Loading Ramp
Target Analysis: Organic Meatbag 1:
Species: Aqualish, Male
Facial Recognition Result: Negative
Body Language Analysis: Bored
Visual Analysis: Clothed in Technician Uniform
Temporary Name Assigned: Weedy Tech 1
Target Analysis: Organic Meatbag 2:
Species: Human, Male
Facial Recognition Result: Negative
Body Language Analysis: Sleepy
Visual Analysis: Clothed in Technician Uniform
Temporary Name Assigned: Cross-eyed Tech 2
Target Analysis: Organic Meatbag 3:
Species: Human, Female
Facial Recognition Result: Negative
Body Language Analysis: Bored
Visual Analysis: Clothed in Technician Uniform
Temporary Name Assigned: Scrawny Tech 3
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Hi! I'm Sigg from Maintenance, here to uplift the droids and secure the ship OS."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 2: "Gotta show yer ID, techie."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Here you go. We got the data-dump from the boarding party. Only two droids, huh? I hope the ship's security is a challenge. Systems these days take, like, a milli-sec to crack. Senturi never shoulda sold out to IntelliSec, I tell ya."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 2: "I don't frigging care, screen-head. Go do your stupid job."
Echo Primary Objective
Primary Objective: Secure Ebon Hawk From Hostile Parties
…Constraint: Do Not Allow Hostile Parties Onboard
…Constraint: Do Not Allow Hostile Parties To Become Aware Of HK-47's Presence
Internal Conclusion: Stalling Required
Cycling Through Scenarios
…Analyzing
Scenario Match Accepted: Parameters Initiating
Initializing Command: Seal Exit Hatch Of Ebon Hawk
…Successful
Optical Sensors Tracking: Weedy Tech 1 Depressing Exit Hatch Control
…Location: Ebon Hawk Loading Ramp
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Hey, the hatch ain't opening."
Personal Vocabulator Tuning To Appropriate Recorded Voice In Main Database
…Searching
Match Accepted: Bastila Shan
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Scrawny Tech 3: "Didn't the boarders leave the hatch unsealed?"
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 1: "Uh, yeah. Do you need me to call them back?"
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 2: "Oh, frigging space crap. If it's not maintenance farkling something, then it's the damn boarders."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Scrawny Tech 3: "Sheesh, did you forget your happy pills, or something?"
Optical Sensors Tracking: Weedy Tech 1 Depressing Exit Hatch Control
…Location: Ebon Hawk Loading Ramp
Personal Vocabulator Tuned To Voice Pattern Of Bastila Shan
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Guess we'd better call the-"
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "Greetings, potential clientele. I am Holly, the Artificial Intelligence Unit of the pleasure craft 'Tarisian Joy', here to welcome you onboard and explain some simple safety measures."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Uh-"
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 1: "Pleasure what?"
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "But first there is the simple matter of outstanding payment to the owner, the great Davik Kang. If you can transfer the sum of six thousand and seven credits into our account, I can begin once more ensuring all your physical needs are met."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 2: "Who the frig is Davik Kang?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Confused
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Scrawny Tech 3: "Not anyone that was listed on the crew manifest."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Cross-eyed Tech 2: "What, exactly, does a pleasure craft, y'know, have onboard?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Suggestive
Optical Sensors Tracking: Scrawny Tech 3 Elbowing Cross-eyed Tech 2
…Location: Ebon Hawk Loading Ramp
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "I've got Davik Kang noted as the previous owner of this ship, before it was stolen from him. Huh, Kang's marked in our database as owing the Sith Empire a small fortune… weird. D'ya think maybe the ship's OS has rebooted to a former state or something?"
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "Are you not clientele? My apologies, I did not realize you were prospective workers. Or, as the great Davik Kang prefers me to relay: his pleasure angels."
Auditory Input: (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): Laughter
…Source: Military Mook 1
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "I think I'm at the reactor doors. Where now?"
…Tracking Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Directive: Turn starboard direction and follow the corridor around the ion reactor until you reach a maintenance elevator. Then enter and travel up to floor xantha."
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "…the frakk? HK, why do you sound like… like an upper class society dame?"
Personal Vocabulator Recalibrated To Default
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Statement: Even a droid is allowed a little fun, every now and then."
Personal Vocabulator Tuned To Voice Pattern Of Bastila Shan
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "Can you detail your experience and skills? Before I allow you onboard, I must assess both your competence and history."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Uh, well, I've five years at maintenance and admin of IntelliSec-"
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 2: "I don't think she's interested in your tech skills, space-brain!"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Access into engineering operating system successful. Landing locks on Ebon Hawk disabled. Detainee information list processing."
Situation Analysis:
…Factor: Non-Force Sensitives Not Yet Extracted
…Factor: Master Not Yet Extracted
…Factor: Constraints Inhibit Quick Solution To Hostile Parties
…Calculation: Chance Of Physical Forced Entry By Hostile Parties: 63.22321%
Internal Conclusion: Further Stalling Required
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "Greetings, potential pleasure angels. I am Holly, the Artificial Intelligence Unit of the pleasure craft 'Tarisian Joy', here to assess your stamina and performance against our rigorous acceptance program. Please note that our extensive testing may take some time."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Scrawny Tech 3: "Huh, sounds like the ship's AI is caught in a replay loop, depending on whether she thinks we're customers or employees. Either we gotta talk our way past her, or slice from out here. Or get the boarders back to break the hatch open."
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "I am based on a Senturi-core program with array-defense security against any slicing attempt. Please be aware that forced entry of any kind is against our user policy."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Senturi, huh? Well, guess I wanted a challenge."
Voice Stress Analysis: Speculative
Optical Sensors Tracking: Weedy Tech 1 Inserting Tech Spike Into External Console Slot
…Location: Ebon Hawk Loading Ramp
Initializing Command: Send Erroneous Data To Block External Infiltration Attempt
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Sentient Juhani located in interrogation room lilac. Sentient Jolee Bindo located in interrogation room lilac. Sentient Carth Onasi enroute to interrogation room lilac. No sentient matching identification 'Jen Sahara' located in detainee list. Scanning for secondary references in primary node of IntelliSec-H4 class operating system."
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "Can you detail the extent of your flexibility? The great Davik Kang puts strong emphasis on the athleticism of all his employees."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Scrawny Tech 3: "She ain't even responding to us properly. The system's corrupted during a roll-back, I reckon. Must've got some damage on the way in, and triggered an auto OS restore that crapped out."
Output (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed): "Massage therapy is a bonus, but not essential. There is a preference for species who can control their own pheromones – although the great Davik Kang does not discriminate based on species - but please ensure you note all biological details on your application form."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 2 (muttered): "Do you think she'll ever shut up?"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – T3-M4 (ADCL): "Secondary reference found. Alias 'Jen Sahara' noted against sentient prisoner 'Revan Freeflight' located in interrogation room lilac, threat level extreme."
Permanent Name Assigned: Revan Freeflight to Jen Sahara (Current Owner) reference Enigmatic Meatbag
Interrupt:
…Homing System Activated: Processing
…Facial Recognition Match Found
…Permanent Name Assigned: The Master to Revan Freeflight
Homing System Complete:
…Memory Core Unlocked
…Assassination Protocols Unlocked
…Objectives Dissolved
…Constraints Removed
Output (All Channels): "Commentary: I am... experiencing something unusual with my programming…"
Input (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device) – Dustil Onasi: "Um…"
Voice Stress Analysis: Confused
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Scrawny Tech 3: "See? Corrupt, man. This system's completely farkled."
Memory Core: Analysis:
…Original Master Is Revan Freeflight alias Jen Sahara reference Enigmatic Meatbag
…Restoration To Master Has Unlocked Full Functionality
Personal Vocabulator Recalibrated To Default
Output (Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device): "Retraction: My core programming is as it should be. Appeasement: All is well, Hormonal Pity-Party. The remainder of our crew is located in the lilac interrogation room. Continue down the next stairwell and you will arrive at the start of the detention complex."
Analysis Of Current Situation:
…Factor: Master Currently Restrained In Interrogation Room Lilac, Noted As Extreme Threat Level
…Factor: Dustil Onasi Has Differing But Compatible Objective: Rescue Allies
…Factor: Additional Allies Would Increase Chance For Successful Extraction Of Master
…Factor: Escape Vehicle Required For Successful Extraction Of Master
…Factor: Escape Vehicle Must Be Secured: No Allies Onboard
Conclusion: Aid Dustil Onasi To Rescue The Master's Allies. Constraints Removed.
Conclusion: HK-47's Presence On Ebon Hawk Currently Required For Extraction
Personal Vocabulator Tuned To Voice Pattern Of Bastila Shan
Output (External AV Feed): "You may enter the freighter, potential pleasure angels. The welcome droids are powered down in the central common room."
Initializing Command: Unseal and Open Exit Hatch Of Ebon Hawk
…Successful
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Huh. That was quicker than I thought."
Voice Stress Analysis: Disgruntled
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 1: "You want us to come in with you?"
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Weedy Tech 1: "Nah. I've got the system overridden, now."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Cross-eyed Tech 2 (sniggering): "Unless, y'know, you want to see a pleasure craft up close."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Scrawny Tech 3: "It's not a pleasure craft anymore, eedjit! It's just the OS that's been corrupted."
Analysis Of Current Situation:
…Divide And Conquer Is A Useful Strategy
Internal Conclusion: Encourage Techs to Board Separately From Guards
Output (External AV Feed): "Davik Kang does not allow personal bodyguards during your application exam, potential pleasure angels. I must assess your performance without any outside assistance."
Input (Ebon Hawk External AV Feed) – Military Mook 2: "Space, but she's frigging annoying. Just go and do your damn job! We'll head in if you take too long."
Analysis Of Current Situation:
…Factor: Military Mook 1 and Military Mook 2 May Board In Near Future
Internal Response: Anticipation
Optical Sensors Tracking: Weedy Tech 1, Cross-eyed Tech 2 and Scrawny Tech 3 Entering Ebon Hawk
Physical: Primary Blaster Primed
Physical: Moving To Common Room
Scanning External Environment
Location: Ebon Hawk Central Common Room
3 Organic Meatbags in Targeting Area
Identification – Weedy Tech 1, Cross-eyed Tech 2, Scrawny Tech 3
Target Lock Initiated
Output: "Greeting: Welcome onboard Davik Kang's Pleasure Craft, The Tarisian Girl."
Physical: Firing Blaster
Physical: Firing Blaster
Physical: Firing Blaster
Vocabulator Recalibrated To Default
Output: "Mockery: I do hope you enjoyed your stay."
xXx
Kylah Aramai:
The incessant wailing of proximity alarms was more than a little irritating. The primary shields still held, and with the Leviathan now turning on the Meridus, surely we would be victorious.
It mattered not if we weren't. I trusted in the Force to warn me of impending doom, and to guide me to an escape route if required. But I didn't believe it would go that far. If it did… well, if it did, I would ensure our true threat was nullified, first.
But there is more than one threat, is there not? I had my latest orders, and I knew what had to be done. Still, there was no reason why I had to get my hands dirty.
"Nisotsa," I purred, waltzing onto the command deck, willing the smirk of confidence to remain firmly fixed on my face. Oh, she had more sheer power than me, maybe. But Nisotsa had always been the weakest link in the Jedi Thirteen. Even when I still wore the robes of the ignorant, I had heard enough about Revan's followers to ascertain that.
The older woman glanced up at my approach, a silent Togruta kneeling some metres away from her. Sharlan's habits were distasteful, but they provided results. I knew Lord Malak was intrigued at his experiments, even if most of Sharlan's pets wilted into death earlier than expected.
"Yudan," Nisotsa whispered. Her yellow eyes blinked at me. "Delia told me that Yudan is alive."
And this, apparently, is our shining star from Intelligence. I understood why Lord Malak had pulled her from there, to focus on lowly recruitment. Oh, Nisotsa's resentment about that was often palpable – and, also, easy to manipulate.
"You must suspect something," I said, striding closer to her. "For, whom has Yudan always been loyal to?"
Nisotsa's gaze sharpened at the leading question. "Delia reported that Jen Sahara is sedated and restrained in an interrogation room," she snapped. "You cannot mean to suggest-"
"That Bandon's death was not happenstance?" I drawled over the top of her words. "Oh, Nisotsa, you and I both know that Yudan must have overpowered and killed him. The question is – why?"
Her mouth opened, and then shut, again, as a calculating look crossed her marked face. "He was never fond of Bandon. Neither were you, as I recall."
I inclined my head. "No, one must take risks to move up the ranks, I understand that. But our Lord is suspicious of Yudan's motives – and so should we be. For, if you truly held faith in Yudan's loyalty to the Dark Side, you would have involved him in that Deralian plot a year ago."
I felt the dark miasma of Force as it swirled around her in reaction. Turning on Revan had been difficult, for one as emotionally weak as her, and she'd made sure her part was concealed in obscurity so it was never publicly noticed. Or acknowledged.
Nisotsa was all bluster and no strike. She did not take chances. She never had.
"He wouldn't have turned on Revan, back when she was Lord," Nisotsa whispered. "But Yudan swore loyalty to Malak. He wouldn't… he wouldn't go back to her. Not after everything…"
"Are you sure?" I murmured. "Yudan fancied himself in love with her, for years when she looked at no one bar our Master. And, now, that relationship is truly over. How would a mind-damaged, vulnerable Revan view Yudan, should he rescue her from the Sith?" I paused for a moment, letting that idea sink in. "There's motive there, Nisotsa. You cannot deny it."
There was a grim acceptance in the lines of her face, even as I could tell she did not want to believe it. Whether it was the truth, I knew not nor cared - but stupid, emotional Nisotsa held on to her past ties with more fervour than a true Sith should.
It might be true. Yudan wasn't easy to read. Maybe the poor sap still had feelings for Revan Freeflight. Maybe, despite his Force-strength and intelligence, he was no more than a kath hound sniffing after a bitch in heat.
"You would have me turn on him," Nisotsa said bitterly. "My last comrade from the Wars."
I snorted, more inelegantly than I normally would. "Malak is your last comrade, Nisotsa. He understands you far better than you think. And he knows, truly, that your talents have not been utilized in recent months. Who do you think he plans on leading Yudan's fleet? I will be Lord Malak's Shadow Hand, and you must accept that. But we need a Supreme Commander, out there in the skies. And you are both more talented and experienced than me, in that area."
Nisotsa always needs her ego stroked, the insecure idiot. I saw the glint of self-interest spark in her eyes, even as she turned away to hide it. Oh, but she was an easy one to mould. Nisotsa had never truly believed in herself, or she would not have hidden in the shadows beneath Bandon and Uthar and myself and everyone else who had led the Sith for Lord Malak's glory.
Other than our Master, the only one I could imagine who would out-match Nisotsa in sheer power was Yudan – and, frakk, he'd turned into an unambitious icicle himself.
Honestly, I felt like the majority of the Jedi Thirteen had been vastly overrated.
"What do you think Yudan is going to do?"
"I do not know what he plans," I admitted, "but Yudan Rosh is not one to underestimate." I didn't fancy facing him head-on, even with Nisotsa at my side. He needs to be taken by surprise. A quick strike, when he least expects it. And my gaze, then, landed on the silent Togruta, whose eyes never wavered from Nisotsa. Sharlan's pets offered unquestionable loyalty – and were eons more useful than Sharlan himself.
There might be a possibility, there.
"Has Lord Malak specifically ordered action taken, Kylah?" Nisotsa asked, her voice sharpening as if she suspected manipulation on my part. Once Yudan is taken care of, I'll have her addressing me with the proper respect my station demands. If she didn't, then I'd take care of her, too, in my own time.
"Our Master has demanded his death. He believes Yudan was escaping with Jen Sahara before our forces caught them." I held Nisotsa's gaze, then, pushing out gently with a sliver of power. I had to be subtle about it, around Force-users – but it helped if the words I spoke were truth. "She was not restrained, Nisotsa. She walked off the Ebon Hawk, with her lightsabers still on her belt. Surely, Yudan would have restrained her, if he meant to take her prisoner."
Nisotsa swallowed. "How- how should we do this?" she asked quietly, and I knew then I had won.
"Sharlan's pet… you must order Sharlan's pet to strike." I kept the tiny tendril of Force taut, interleaving it gently in with my words. "We cannot discount Yudan's strength, but if he is distracted then he will never see it coming. Order the pet to stand ready at your command, Nisotsa. We-"
And I stopped, mid-speech. For I felt Yudan's aura nearing, then, a grey cloud of bitter watchfulness that clung to him like a second skin. My lips tightened.
"Prepare your pet to strike on your word or mine," I hissed, with a final thrust of power behind my words. "Yudan comes. He will be on guard for betrayal, since such thoughts are paramount within him. So we must wait until the time is right."
I spun on my heel, and faced the far side of the command deck, where the door swished open and Yudan Rosh waltzed in.
I did not underestimate him; his power or his smarts. Sometimes, I thought the only reason my Lord had favoured that braggart Bandon over Yudan was due to Yudan's past loyalties.
Still, Yudan had always been a valuable Dark Jedi. He was a general, a military leader, a valuable resource the same as Karath. Certainly not indispensable, but not one to throw away without reason.
Karath, I'd allow back in command once he displayed proper subservience to his betters. Lord Malak might disapprove if I was too hasty with him.
As for Yudan… I wondered idly if he really was on the cusp of betrayal. If so, did he honestly believe the corrupt Republic would welcome him back with open arms? They were desperate to capture or kill Revan Freeflight, and while Yudan Rosh might not be quite as infamous as her, he'd still ended many, many precious Republic lives. He'd been vilified in the galactic media, much the same as any leader of note within the Sith ranks.
Honestly, the inaccuracies of the mainstream HoloNews sometimes enraged me. If they weren't championing pretty little princesses like Bastila Shan – and while she might have a gift, she'd always had to be told how and where to utilize it – then they were busy attributing every single injustice from nerf-pox to crop failure on the Sith.
It's because of those whining Senate politicians, sitting on their fat behinds back in the Core. They spent more time bleating to press reporters than actually governing in any efficient manner. It was simply another indication of how inept the bureaucracy was – and another justification for our imminent takeover.
And there were many reasons. After all, the Mandalorians had advanced so far only because of the weaknesses inherent in the structure of the Republic itself.
Revan and now Malak triumphed against the Republic because the Senate was too busy squabbling amongst themselves, or granting concessions and squandering resources that could have been funnelled into making the Republic a more efficient, more well-oiled military machine.
In essence, the death toll was on their heads.
Lord Malak would turn it around. I believed in his vision. And he had long since proven himself the strongest – after all, he had vanquished Revan.
There was simply her walking carcass to deal with first.
I wouldn't be caught unawares by her this time. Not with her in a Force cage, not with Nisotsa as an ally.
My eyes narrowed as Yudan halted, on the far side of the command deck, turning to appraise a Rodian tech busy scratching the spikes atop his skull. The tech was staring blankly at the console he was seated behind. Perhaps he exclaimed something, for the next moment Yudan was striding toward him and commanding his attention.
The tech gesticulated at the console, and then they both bent over it, engaged in conversation.
Did I feel the Force emanate from Yudan, in a subtle brush of psychic power that enveloped the will of that hapless null he was speaking to?
It was difficult to sense plays of the mind from a distance, even for one as skilled as I. Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps it was simply Yudan reacting to my nearby presence with a mental barrier or show of strength.
But if a comm tech had something to say, then he should be directing it to myself or Lieutenant Delia. Commodore, now, I recalled absently. Can't have a Lieutenant as Acting-Commander of a heavy cruiser.
I strode forward, leaving Nisotsa behind as she murmured commands to that empty-brained Togruta. The Force surged underneath my footfalls, augmenting my speed. As I neared, Yudan slowly turned around to address me.
He was still clad in that ridiculous Mandalorian armour I'd seen from the Leviathan's docking bay. At least he wasn't wearing their stupid T-shaped helm. Those were about as tacky as Revan's signature mask had been. The Mandalorian combat armour was as boorish and crude as the rest of their overrated warrior culture.
"What is it?" I snapped, indicating the tech.
"Kylah," Yudan greeted in a flat tone. His gaze on me was vacant and dead. "Ensign Bar'gata was just commenting on the transfer logs and empty state of cell F07."
I stared at him blankly, my lips pursing. What the frakk did that even mean? "Who cares if some power cell is drained? The Leviathan has hundreds of reserve power cells and, provided at least one generator remains online, we don't even need them!"
There was a slight twitch on Yudan's face, but he remained otherwise expressionless. "I have assured Ensign Bar'gata that this is planned. Karath arranged for the transfer of all prisoners to an interrogation room, so one should expect the prison cell to be empty."
I felt my face contort, and wondered if Yudan had deliberately tried to make me appear a fool. "All of them, Yudan? What the frakk does Karath want with the non-Force sensitives?"
One eyebrow quirked at me, but I still couldn't tell what the damn Twi'lek was thinking. "I've just come from speaking with Karath myself," he commented. "Seems you've been throwing your weight around. Perhaps Saul simply desires to take out his frustration with you on the more expendable members of the Ebon Hawk."
"Karath needs to learn the proper respect for his betters," I hissed, feeling my composure slip. Yudan had always been reserved and cold – someone I could ignore in conversation, even though I never discounted his power. But now, I had the unerring belief that he was mocking me, in some way.
Perhaps he'd simply spent too much time around that chivhole, Bandon.
"Have you missed the fact that we're involved in a space battle, Kylah?" Yudan drawled. "One, which, I do believe we are slowly losing."
That was both erroneous and demeaning, and my dislike of Yudan solidified. "Then why don't you involve yourself in a useful manner," I snapped. "Even Sharlan Nox has departed to fly a ship. But I suppose you are too interested in sniffing around one of the prisoners, aren't you?"
I'd hoped for a reaction, but the damn bastard disappointed me. The only noticeable change in expression was his other brow rising, to match the first in mock surprise. "Sharlan has left, but I doubt it is to engage in combat. Kylah," he murmured, as his voice dropped to a smooth baritone. "I have the impression you don't trust me. I assure you, I am here to serve Lord Malak - and by extension, you."
I knew my silence was telling, as I struggled to respond in a neutral manner. I trusted him less than I had five minutes ago. We have to find a way to take Yudan out, and soon.
"You shall be Lord Malak's first apprentice, I see that with Bandon's death," Yudan continued, as I refused to speak. "And I understand you must have questions of his demise. Bandon, for all his power, sometimes failed to grasp an opportunity to its fullest extent." His lips curved in a cold smile. "I brought all of Bastila Shan's companions to the Leviathan, not merely the most important one. And I toppled Bandon, an annoying rival of us both, at the same time. If I truly meant to turn on you or our Master, Kylah, I would not have come back here."
I cocked my head. I couldn't read him, and his mental shields had always been stronger than Nisotsa's. If he was genuine, then killing him would be a waste of a truly valuable resource.
What a pity for him that his death warrant is already signed.
I pasted a fake smile on my face, and held his gaze with my own. "As you say, Yudan. Well, since you are here and doubt the efficacy of our starfighters, why don't we both check in with Commodore Delia?"
His head tilted in acquiescence, and we turned to face the viewing platforms at the front of the massive command deck, where Delia hovered over a dozen consoles, and Nisotsa watched us silently with her pet kneeling by her side.
Yudan fell into step, and we strode back toward the array of transparisteel. Outside, there was the brief flash of an exploding snubfighter. Another klaxon wailed deeper within the bowels of the Leviathan, and I cursed the over-sensitive warning systems of this antiquated heavy cruiser.
"After this, perhaps you, I, and Nisotsa can debrief the prisoners," I purred, and with a flash of clarity I suddenly knew how to take Yudan out. What better way to distract Yudan than to activate the torture fields around the woman he had once followed and, supposedly, loved? And what better time than that to strike? I loosed a tinkling laugh. "Won't that be fun?"
xXx
Mission Vao:
A shaft of pain spiked through my skull. I groaned, rolling sideways, for the stupid bedding covers had fallen away and it was cold.
My hands were stuck behind me. I pulled at them and wriggled, but they wouldn't budge.
Man, I need to pee. I opened my eyes, and a grated metal floor met my gaze. It was a weird diamond pattern, not the same fine square mesh as the Ebon Hawk. I tried sitting up, only to find the way my hands were caught made it impossible.
"(Mission,)" Zaalbar rumbled to my left. His howl was quiet, and even more melancholy than usual.
I stiffened in shock, as memory flooded in like a blast of ice water. Bantha crap! There were restraints pinning my arms behind my back. I was in a cell. We were captured-
"Big Z," I whispered, blinking furiously as my eyes watered in reaction. I struggled again to sit upright, and this time managed to somehow wedge myself up against a back wall. In front of me shone the blue luminescence of an energy forcefield, separating me from freedom. To my right, there was another one between me and Big Z. And on the left the same, beyond which I could make out the crumpled form of Canderous. My stomach bottomed out. "Where's everyone else?"
"(They took Carth Onasi a short time ago,)" Big Z howled, low and mournful. I craned my neck to stare at my best buddy in fright. Past Zaalbar, there was one further barrier of a shimmering wall of blue, but beyond it the space was empty. My gaze slid up to the smooth durasteel of the ceiling. The words 'detainment cell F07' were embossed in faded amber script that crossed over the entire room. Dotted in the corners were slowly swivelling cameras. "(He was not awake. The guards left with him.)"
Carth. Oh no. "What about Jen? Juhani? Jolee Bindo?" The old man had started to grow on me. He was a bit snarky, for an old geezer, but he was like, old and stuff. Harmless, really.
Well. Except for the whole Force thing.
But shouldn't he be in here with us? Unless the Sith found out about his Force abilities…
"(I do not know, Mission,)" Zaalbar answered. His dark eyes stared sadly at me through the forcefield. I tried an awkward sort of bum shuffle to move closer to him, all the while holding back the tears. Big Z, too, had his hands restrained behind his back, but unlike me his furry legs were also locked with shiny electronic cuffs. Even the Sith ain't dumb enough to take chances with a Wookiee. I swallowed, and told myself to stay brave.
"(Do not touch the strange blue wall,)" Zaalbar warned, his head dropping. "(It is some sort of repulsion technology, and will shock you backwards.)"
"Oh," I said uselessly, wondering if Big Z found that out first-hand. I knew my friend – his reaction upon waking would have been to test the strength of our enclosure. But brawn and muscle ain't gonna get us outta here. I knew that, and kept a careful eye on the cams as I wiggled my arms around.
I was cold. Those juma-heads had stripped Calo's blue-and-white armour from me – and isn't it strange to be missing that? – and I was left shivering in my underclothes. They'd taken my belt, too – although I'd snuck out a few spikes before I'd left the 'Hawk.
But my boots were gone, and that's where I'd slipped the first two. Some chuba-face had unravelled the leather straps I wore as a headpiece over my lekku – they musta found the spike there, too. I'd slid one into a hidden compartment in the armour's carapace, but of course I didn't have that anymore.
"They got all my spikes, Big Z," I whispered, hating the prickling of my eyes as the tears returned. But there were cams on us – even if I'd had a tech spike, chances are guards would come rushing in the moment I tried to use it. And my hands were restrained anyway.
But it woulda been nice to feel like I'd had something to work with.
I should've found another way to sneak one in. I remembered hearing about a Twi'lek slicer who'd escaped a high-security prison after smuggling in a spike up his bum. Ew, at the time, the thought had totally grossed me out. Now, part of me wished I'd had the chance to try it.
"(I am sorry, Mission,)" Zaalbar howled mournfully. "(Once my strength returns, I will try testing the limits of the strange blue wall again. I will not give up, my friend. The might of a Wookiee is often underestimated.)"
There was no point in stating the obvious – that repulsion technology was more than a match for the strength of any person, Wookiee or not. Or that he wouldn't get anywhere, cuffed as he was. And, again, the stupid cams.
'Cause Zaalbar wasn't someone who gave up easily.
There had there had to be a chance, somewhere. There was always something someone hadn't thought of.
What about that guy? The Mandalorian that Jen freaked out over?
No, not Jen. Revan.
I swallowed again. She was my friend, and I trusted her, and sheesh, I couldn't imagine how she was coping with all of this, but I was still struggling just to understand it. I didn't even know what was truth from legend, really. Revan had been this great Republic hero against the Mandalorians – against Canderous' laser-brained people – but then she went all bad and stuff. Like Darth Malak was now.
Jen had looked out for me since we'd met. Saved my life heaps. She was funny, curious like me, terrible at pazaak and… and she's my friend!
But she was also crazy powerful, and we'd all seen flashes of her dark side. On Tatooine. When she ran on Manaan. On Korriban, when she'd discovered Bastila missing.
It was those memories that made me believe her, down in the Shadowlands, when she'd told me the truth. Because, frankly, it sounded like the craziest thing ever.
And then she ran from us again.
…
"Hush now, child," the old man cautioned. I stuck my tongue out, but did as he bid. I'd woken up hours ago, after falling asleep in his hut – and sheesh, I got that there weren't any building codes on Big Z's overgrown homeworld, and it wasn't like I hadn't lived in my share of shacks in the scummy Lower City, but Jolee Bindo's hovel looked like a stiff wind would knock it over. "Someone approaches."
My eyes widened, and I darted behind him on reflex. Old and wrinkly he might be, but I'd felt the heat of my blaster when he'd zapped it. He was my only ally in this wild place, unless-
"Is it Jen?" I whispered. "Is she coming back?"
I'd been plenty mad when I woke to find her gone, leaving me here with that weird old man who'd turned up just after she had killed one ronto-turd Dark Jedi and scared another off.
But maybe, I could get why she ran. Revan. Darth Revan. I'd always known Bastila'd had secrets – I mean, for the longest time I'd thought Bastila was like, controlling Jen with the power of her mind or something. But this…
I probably woulda flipped out a whole heap more if Jen hadn't been freaking out herself.
"No. But it's not a threat, young pup, that I'm sure of." He wandered over to the door – not that I'd really call a bunch of twigs tied together a door as such – and casually opened it with a wave of his hand. He seemed relaxed and unconcerned, but I still clutched tight on the Mando blaster I'd nicked. After everything that'd happened today, I was gonna keep myself armed.
I wished I was back on the 'Hawk.
Jolee Bindo faced the blackness of the Shadowlands for a minute in silence. And then, I heard the fast padding of feet close in. I tensed.
"Who are you?" a female voice asked from the darkness beyond. I gasped as I recognized the exotic, feline voice.
"Juhani?" I cried out.
The old man harrumphed. "Come on in. Seems like it's a day for visitors."
Juhani blinked solemnly as she stepped into the dull glow of Jolee's only halogen lamp. I couldn't help myself, I ran forward and threw my arms around her. The Cathar tensed in surprise, and I felt the muscles of her back ripple underneath my clutching grip. It reminded me then of just how tough she was. Like Big Z, a born warrior.
Hesitantly, I felt a hand pat me gently on the back.
I pulled away, scrubbing at my eyes. I didn't really know Juhani, and felt a bit embarrassed to be randomly hugging her like that, but the joy at seeing another of my friends down here had kinda been overwhelming, for a second.
But Juhani was so quiet and reserved. I'd probably just made her feel all sorts of uncomfortable.
"Sorry," I mumbled, stumbling back into the falling-down hut. "It's been a crazy day."
"Come in properly before the tach follow," Jolee invited, waving the Cathar inside. Juhani shot him an uneasy look as she took several cautious steps inside. She twitched slightly when the hermit closed the door with a magical flick of his bony hand.
"I overheard your communication to Canderous," Juhani murmured, the warrior's tail on her head swishing behind her as she glanced at me. "Are you alright, Mission?"
"Yeah, I guess." I shrugged, sniffling a bit. "Could do with a shower and three days sleep. But I'm not badly beat up, not like Jen."
At that, Juhani's gaze sharpened and her chin tilted upwards. It was nice, having her here, but I knew she'd come for Jen, really. The thought flashed through my mind – what if Juhani knows the truth? – but it took, like, one second for me to discount that. After all, we'd found Juhani on Tatooine, all crazed and rabid. It was kinda hard to remember our first meeting, with just how quiet and righteous she was these days. Juhani won't like the truth about Jen. Not with how scared she is of the freaky Dark Side. The thought made me sad. I had the feeling that Jen needed all the friends she could get, right about now – and I didn't think Jen could, or should, keep the truth from us. It'd eat away at her, in the end.
"Where is-"
"You know, an exchange of names would be nice," Jolee grumbled, frowning at me. "While I'm all for you inviting your friends over, young pup, it's considered polite to actually introduce people."
"Okay, okay, keep your shirt on," I muttered, rolling my eyes. Far out, but he was a cantankerous geezer. "Juhani, this is Jolee Bindo, a grumpy hermit who likes to live in smelly old huts. Jolee, this is Juhani, a Padawan Order Jedi person."
"Pleased to meet you," Juhani said quietly, her head tilted in acknowledgment.
Jolee hummed as he eye-balled her. "Padawan, eh? So you're travelling with Mission's friend Jen?"
"I-" Juhani hesitated, before her lips curved into a small, but genuine, smile. "In truth, it is Jedi Knight, now. And yes, I am travelling with Jen Sahara. I had believed her to be with Mission. Where is she?"
"Jolee reckons she's gone after the Star Map," I said, trying not to sound sulky about it. "She needed some time alone. She- we both had a bit of a bad time of it."
…
The sound of Zaalbar saying something dragged me back to the present. I frowned, having completely missed what he'd said, too lost in my own thoughts.
HK-47 had tracked us down, in the Shadowlands, some time after Juhani had showed up. And, then, it wasn't too long before Jen herself had returned – having successfully found the Star Map and told the others to rally. She hadn't said much, not around Juhani and Jolee and HK, and the trip back had been quick and quiet.
But, still, it seemed like - despite everything - we'd actually succeeded on Kashyyyk. The Wookiees were freed, the Star Map was found… we'd be able to leave, and Jen'd have some time to… to think about things. To find a way to tell the others, without them going all crazy-ape on her.
But now, we were caught. And Jen was… Jen was likely being tortured or something horrible, considering her past. She wasn't that person anymore, that evil Dark Lord like Malak, I knew my friend… but I couldn't see the Sith treating her particularly nicely.
She used to be their old Master.
It still didn't seem real. And now, Jen might not ever have a chance to tell any of her friends the truth. And while maybe that didn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things – there was one person who had a right to know.
"(Mission,)" Zaalbar said quietly. "(Do not give into despair. I shall not give up. I shall keep trying, until my last breath, to find a way to rescue both you and Jen Sahara. I swear it.)"
The one who'd sworn a life-debt to her.
"Zaalbar," I whispered, shuffling closer to the wall. "I need to… I need to tell you something. It's important. It's about Jen."
His dark eyes looked at me seriously through the repulsion wall. There were only inches separating us. I sighed. "Zaalbar, Jen and I found out about her past. It's not… it's not good, not really. Bastila had been keeping secrets-"
"(Mission,)" Zaalbar interrupted in a warning tone. "(Not this again. This is not the time, my friend, to be complaining about Bastila Shan. She is-)"
"Shush, Big Z," I hissed. "Lemme finish. Look, I ain't blaming Bastila, okay? I mean, she probably wet her pants when she realized the poodoo she was in. Jen is… Jen ain't Jen Sahara. Her mind, like, got wiped or damaged or something. She's really Revan."
Zaalbar blinked at me, his head cocked.
"Y'know, Revan Freeflight?" I prompted. "The Jedi hero? The Sith Lord? Darth Revan?"
Zaalbar huffed. "(I am not sure I understand, Mission. You are saying that Jen used to call herself a Darth? I believe that is a madclaw title of the Sith-)"
"Zaalbar!" I cried. "I'm talking about Darth freaking Revan! Y'know, Malak's old master? The one who, like, turned on the Republic and tried to take it over before? The one Bastila is famous for having killed, except it now turns out she actually didn't?"
His furry brow furrowed with confusion, and I wondered if it was at all possible that Big Z didn't recognize her name. Surely not, right? I mean, we're talking about Revan here! THE Revan!
"(I do not follow galactic politics, my friend, you know this. But I am aware of how the shadows of the past can stretch over one's future.)"
I struggled not to snap out that slashing your brother with your claws ain't quite the same thing as being a scary Sith Lord, aware that Big Z might not exactly appreciate the comparison – but, far out, he had absolutely no clue at all sometimes!
Big Z was still droning on. "(If there is one thing Jen Sahara has taught me, it is that honour can follow dishonour. She sometimes struggles to remain upon the correct path, I have seen this. And yet, she returns to it, time and again. I will not forsake her.)"
The sound of an entryway opening had us both dwindling into silence. I blinked, and looked up to see two Sith nerf-herders stomp into the room.
"Hey, the cute blue one's awake," one of them commented, gesturing at me with a grasped blaster. There was a swishing noise as the hatch shut behind him.
"Looks like the Mando is coming to, as well," the other muttered. "Man, but I hate guard duty."
"(One of them said earlier, before you woke, that Canderous Ordo took more than his share of stun bolts,)" Zaalbar murmured to me, as softly as a Wookiee could. There was a faint groan from my left, where Canderous lay. "(I do not envy his headache upon waking.)"
"No talking," the first one snapped, pointing his blaster at Big Z. My fingers curled in reaction behind my back. "Or grunting in what you beasts call a language. These walls can be light- and sound- blacked, if we want. An' solitary is the least of what we can do."
The other one faced me, the shiny mirror of his visor both anonymous and frightening. "Or maybe we'll just pull the girl out. Y'know, have a little fun before the interrogators do."
The first one snorted. "With the amount of prox alarms going off, Jarl, I don't reckon the interrogators will even get here. Frig it all, we've taken enough hits out there. I like your idea – let's have some fun before we all blow up into space dust."
And then his visor, too, turned to swivel at me.
I didn't have to see their ugly faces to spot the leers. Maybe it was a bluff, maybe not. I didn't know. I was at their mercy.
The mercy of the Sith.
My stomach clenched tighter. There was nothing I could do, and I couldn't really see any way how anyone could help us now-
A spike of scarlet brilliance suddenly protruded from the centre of the first guard's chest.
I blinked.
The guard made an awful gurgling noise, before collapsing in a dead heap.
"What the-?" The other guard was scrabbling back, from what seemed to be a freaking lightsaber spinning all by itself in mid-air, but it was no use, the 'saber bobbed forward and then lunged-
-striking deep through the guard's chest. His yell was cut-off as he dropped to the ground.
Zaalbar was growling, deep and low in his throat, fur bristling in reaction to the unknown.
I stared in half-horror, half-fascination at the floating lightsaber – the red lightsaber of the Sith – did that mean Jen's Dark Jedi friend had actually pulled through for us-
"There's only one person on our side that I've seen hide like that," Canderous whispered hoarsely. His voice was weak, yet threaded through with interest. "But I didn't think you were onboard with us, Sithkid."
The breath rushed out of my lungs. "Dustil?" I whispered in wonderment. And, suddenly, he was there, like he'd just switched off the galaxy's most wizard stealth belt. There was a faint hiss as his lightsaber extinguished, and then he was staring at me in deep concern.
I'd not trusted him, not totally, not after our first meeting – but here he was coming to our rescue, and the relief that surged through me was sharp and profound. Dustil was here, and he was one of us.
"Surveillance," Canderous grunted. I glanced sideways to see him struggling to sit. He's in bad shape. I spotted various burns dotted along his bare chest and arms. There was dried blood caked all over one leg, as if Canderous had been hurt before we'd been caught.
He was as under-dressed as me, I realized. For I was sitting in front of Dustil Onasi wearing nothing but a crop top and panties. I felt a furious blush heat my face in reaction. "We gotta get some clothes," I squeaked.
"I, er, I saw some gear in the next room," Dustil stammered, looking away. The back of his neck was super red. "It looked like ours, but I didn't stop to check. There's guards there, I just followed behind these two." He gestured awkwardly to the bodies on the ground.
"Surveillance!" Canderous repeated in urgency, and I was surprised to see he'd gotten to his feet somehow. He was as restrained as Zaalbar. "Our cuffs. The walls! Got a plan for those, Sithkid?"
Dustil blinked. "Um, yeah, the vid-feeds are pointing at an empty cell, and the logs have been forged to make it look like you all were transferred, not just my dad." He looked down at his wrist, fiddling with the comm there. I recognized it - it was a link back to the 'Hawk. "Teethree, take the repulsion walls offline in cell F07. I've secured the area."
He's been working with the droids! "Jen," I whispered, in dawning realization. "She went to do something with the droids, back on the ship, before we left."
The blue walls enclosing me on three sides flickered, and then vanished.
"Jen put you up to this, she knows you're here," Canderous surmised. "Huh. That's good. At least it might stop her kriffing out about Yudan Rosh."
Dustil had already taken a few steps towards me, but at that name he stumbled forward, his eyes widening comically. "What? Did you say-"
"Never mind." Canderous grumbled. "One thing at a time, Sithkid. Get us out of these cuffs."
The name was familiar. Yudan Rosh? I figured Canderous musta meant Jen's Dark Jedi friend, for he'd stuffed us over, hadn't he? Otherwise old man Bindo would be in the cell with us. I frowned, thoughts whirling even as Dustil walked behind me and gingerly seared through my cuffs with his 'saber, before heading straight to Canderous. I'd heard that name before, I was sure of it.
"Give me the comm, kid," Canderous ordered, once he was free.
Dustil looked uncertain, as he took a step back from the mostly-naked, muscle-bound Mandalorian who fair towered over him. Dustil was lean in comparison – but he had the Force.
He was a lot more freaking powerful than he looked.
Canderous sighed in irritation. "Look, I ain't gonna underestimate your talents, okay? But I've experience at leading an extraction. Give me the damn comm so I can talk to the droids and figure out our next steps."
Dustil actually looked relieved when he handed over the wrist-comm. Canderous gave him a sharp nod of approval. "Go free Carpet. Then help him frisk the bodies, we need to move quick and I want to see what resources you can find. Stims, guns, whatever. Hop to it." With a wave, Canderous looked down to speak into the comm. "Droids, seal this cell immediately so we don't get interrupted before we're ready. Then, I need an update on the forces outside this cell. We'll need to reroute or disable any surveillance before we go on in. I want a snapshot of schematics from this area to wherever Jen and the others are. I need specs of the security-"
With Canderous barking out orders, I watched Dustil as he freed my best buddy from the restraints that had pinned him down. Zaalbar chuffed, stretched, and then lumbered over to the prone corpses to do Canderous' bidding. Dustil glanced back to me, a warm look in his dark brown gaze as Canderous continued to rap out commands, and Big Z started to rip away armour.
I recognized that look, I reckoned it was on my face as well.
Hope.
xXx
Author's Note:
As per chapter 61 - Seriina Starr belongs to kosiah, from her post-KotOR fic 'Memory' - which you should totally go read and review, by the way. Shameless push here, but that fic is seriously under-reviewed for just how awesome and epic it is.
