Nexus: Furtherance


Revan Freeflight:

The sound of Canderous shooting out another holo-cam echoed down the strangely circular corridor.

"You know anyone tracking us can just follow the lines of dark cams?" I commented. It was more an idle remark to distract myself, really, for I inferred the sense in Canderous' actions. He'd already despatched a comm back to Teethree regarding a remote disabling of surveillance, but there'd been no declaration of success, yet.

"Better they see black screens than a feed showing them exactly how many of us there are," Canderous clipped out behind me. His voice was derisive, like he'd expected me to deduce that already.

Sure, Canderous, but I'm willing to bet that in between the milliseconds of you firing and the cam blowing out, a feed has already transmitted a couple of frames somewhere. Somewhere.

Better odds to hope no one was monitoring the surveillance, but that didn't seem particularly likely, either.

"Observation:," HK piped up, after a blast from his upraised forearm. He and Zaalbar were metres ahead, leading us through the warren of silvery tunnels. "That's six to me, Geriatric Blockhead, and only three to you. Reflection: As expected, I am once more topping the kill-count."

"You're in front, Tinhead," Canderous replied in a dry voice. "If you had less than me, I'd be worried."

Mere minutes had passed since we'd embarked on this final journey, stepping out from the officer's dock and into the bowels of the Star Forge. So far, the only sounds had been the idle banter between Canderous and my pet assassin droid. There was a razor-edge to my thoughts, like the charged calm before a storm's unleashing – for I knew this might be the final minutes of peace for us all.

"I believe I comprehend the origins of Malak's insanity," Yudan murmured, a quiet whisper by my side. "And yours, once."

I glanced sideways at the man. His smooth, bronzed face was set, and his eyes glittered with intent. He hadn't said a frelling word since he'd walked out of the 'Hawk.

"The voice," I acknowledged. I knew what he was referring to. "The voice that's promising you everything you most desire."

He nodded; a small, sharp motion of assent. "The voice is louder here than on Lehon."

"The crystal is larger," I said shortly. "It's not- it's not sentient, Yudan. The voice, it's simply..."

"Amplification of the Dark Side," he finished for me. His profile was facing straight ahead as we moved quietly behind Zaalbar and HK. Yudan stalked forward like a jungle cat, fluid and graceful, yet ready to strike at a moment's notice. "I understand, Revan. I did not believe I would ever need to resist this temptation again, but I shall. I shall."

The corridors in this place were a maze. Like stark, shiny sewer pipes, and we were but mink-rats scrabbling through them. I had no cohesive skeins of memory rushing forth to aid me here, just the odd, tantalising glimpse of reminiscence. Like the scent of rose-apple pie that made me yearn for home.

Home. What a twisted, jarring notion, labelling this place as home – as odd as baked rose-apple pie; for, really, my childhood home had been streets and danger and scrabbling for crumbs in the gutter-

Jen. Da's pie. He hadn't been much for kitchen-work, but he'd taught her how to bake that Deralian rose-apple pie-

I blinked, and cut through the errant thought at its stem before it could flower.

"Observation: We are nearing the experimental droid complex, master." HK had halted at a junction where the corridor split into three like spokes of a wheel, glistening and starkly chrome. There was nothing but the odd vent or scratched marking to mar the pale, silvery metal.

"Statement: To reach our destination, we have the option of wading directly through the droid complex, or scaling higher to the transport railings that overhang the complex. Addendum: While ascending directly to the railings is the shortest route, it will leave us more vulnerable to any potential threat." HK paused. "And with less opportunity to destroy any inferior droids directed into sentry mode."

"We'll take the railings, HK," I said. Bastila was above me. I didn't have to reach out to feel her now. The Force diffused outwards from her signature like aphotic fingers of night stretching into the nether.

"Acknowledgment: Onward, to the path of lesser enjoyment," HK intoned, as he selected the right-hand corridor.

As we all followed HK, my attention snagged on a handful of gouged lines in the wall, lower down at knee level. Odd, to see such markings throughout the place. They were scattered around sporadically, clusters of vertical lines that were easy to dismiss as historical damage, perhaps the scrape of a sentry droid grinding against the curved alloy walls.

Something squeezed taut in my mind-

...

"We've already walked down this corridor twice."

"Yes." I kept walking. I didn't need to hear his sigh to know it was present.

"Revvie, you're going around in circles."

"And I shall continue to do so until I have adequately familiarized myself with this place," I snapped. I lengthened my strides, and felt the ache of a tension headache setting in.

The Star Forge was mine, now. I was determined to thoroughly acquaint myself with my surroundings. For soon it would be time to activate the crystal we had found in the very nexus of this superstructure.

The uncut, colossal kaiburr stood more than twice my height; faded to a dull grey within the filigree strands of Rakatan metal that clasped around the crystalline edges like a claw. The kaiburr was more immense, more beautiful, more powerful than the thrumming one on Lehon, but this crystal was dormant. Only an echo of something alien and hauntingly compelling emanated from the behemoth mineral rock.

Once we powered on the internal reactors that housed the crystal, it would surge brilliantly to life.

Like Lehon, but stronger. And possessing a vastly greater purpose.

The crystal would draw in solar energy from the nearby star, amplifying its own power, sparking this entire factory to life.

Oh, the power here might just be enough. Enough to roll the dice, to make a pre-emptive strike; to secure the galaxy under a singular choke-hold and turn our eye to the true threat-

"Revan, I want to contact the Fleet," Malak muttered, striding forward to reach my side. "It's been too long. They are waiting for our hail, standing guard in the Outer Rim-"

"And they will continue to wait," I snapped again. My words echoed down the corridor, harsh and unyielding, rebounding back to me. I sighed, as my irritation abruptly ebbed. Malak was right. The Fleet were important. I was allowing my hard-edged purpose in mastering the Star Forge to preclude all other considerations.

Sometimes, there was wisdom in his words.

"Tomorrow," I relented. "Tomorrow, I will send a transmit. Update the commanders, at least. Give them an ETA of our return."

Allow me a window of time to activate the Star Forge, and see what I can manufacture. A strikefighter prototype, perhaps, to show the Fleet brass.

For my new objectives would need to be unveiled, soon, and that would start with my generals.

"Tomorrow, then," he vowed, as if my words were a promise. "Alright, Revan. One more round of our new home. Then you're stopping for a meal if I have to tie you down and force-feed you myself."

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch in a distant reflex of what had once been a carefree grin. More habit than anything else, these days. "Not sure about the force-feeding part," I quipped, "But the other..."

I let my words trail away into silence under the weight of his frown. In truth, our old banter had felt stale for some time. Too many heavy deeds resting on our souls. It was a grim reckoning I had long accepted: that we would never make it out from under the bloody shadows cast by the Mandalorian Wars.

Our individual futures do not matter. Only our survival. So I can achieve what I must.

"Odd, all these scratches," Malak muttered, swinging one leg idly to catch at the wall. "They appear in some places, but not others. I thought they were just scuffs left from some clean-bot or tech droid, but the pacing is too irregular."

I cast my eye over the marks. Almost looked like primitive markings counting the numbers in a beast-flock.

"Superficial damage to utility corridors is hardly what is relevant here," I clipped out, before striding forward, having already dismissed the unimportant markings from my mind.

...

The edges of the memory swam, dispersing into haze. I found myself walking further down the next corridor, but my eyes were locked on another cluster of scratches.

Vertical lines, interwoven with the occasional flourish or sharp borderline. The marks looked meaningless. Almost...

"They're nothing," I muttered. "Just random marks."

I had known that. My old self, cold-edged and driven with hard purpose, had known that. If there was any sort of legibility or meaning to them, surely I would have interpreted it years ago.

"What is it, Revan?" Yudan asked. He must've noticed me staring at the walls.

I couldn't pull my gaze from the odd markings, though; I felt like if I just tried hard enough, I'd be able to comprehend- comprehend some meaning...

I squinted, vision blurring, and a whisper of something almost artificial curled in my mind. Not from the shadows-

Not from me-

"Wait a minute," I called out sharply, as I came to an abrupt halt in front of another group of interlinked lines. I dropped to my knees and tilted my head at a right angle purely on instinct.

The lines abruptly morphed into a series of archaic glyphs. Sigils, scratched sideways along the corridor of an ancient Rakatan superstructure. I frowned, struggling to follow, the glyphs looked so primitive and coarsely made, and it was not a language I innately knew-

Early Massassi. Sidi-script, before their alphabet evolved into true hieroglyphics. A primitive, simple means of written communication. There are so few preserved fragments-

The hitch in my breath seemed inordinately loud. That wasn't my thought-

The stirring in my mind was mild and timid, as if the slightest surge of emotion would banish it back into nothingness.

This is from the first reign of the Massassi. The Sidi-Massassi, the least known about, the ancestral line that died out when the true Massassi evolved. The Sidi-Massassi were physically inferior to their descendants, but believed to have a deeper Force-sensitivity. Enslaved by the Rakatan regime-

My fingers were running down the sharp-edged grooves as I crawled forward, trying desperately to let my cursed mind think by itself.

That's the siga rune. There- the aleric, and that must translate to- to...

There was a sluggishness to my own internal computation, a difficulty in comprehension that I somehow knew Jen Sahara never had. Not over translation of archaic texts dating back to the field of her expertise.

Balance. The glyphs keep repeating balance.

The glyphs clustered together in a group beneath my fingertips. I heard someone ask something behind me, but my attention was wholly absorbed.

Builders upset balance. Balance of magic- no, no the Force! The Builders have upset the balance of the Force!

I rocked back on my heels, mind whirring as the faint thought-stream began to dissipate.

This was a curiosity, nothing more. Because it wasn't like I didn't comprehend what balance meant to a Force-user.

Canderous' heavy glove thumped down on my shoulder as I canvassed the glyphs one last time.

The balance between life and death.

"Revan? What are you doing?"

I blinked, looking up to stare at Canderous' visored helm.

"We have to keep moving. Get your head together, Revan." It was a barked command, which meant my friend and ally was worried about me.

"I'm fine," I said absently, getting to my feet. "I actually- I actually am. I think I've just discovered something about this place that I didn't know before."

The Rakata kept Massassi slaves here? Why? Why would they allow Force-sensitives, even enslaved ones, to step foot on a Force-relic like this?

The thoughts were all my own, now. The vague, lingering remnants from the dead scholar had completely vanished.

And what were the ancient Massassi trying to tell someone – anyone – by scratching sideways messages at knee level?

Once, I had dismissed the graffiti as nothing more than damage done to a factory over its lifespan. Possibly, so had the Rakata.

Balance between life and death.

I'd always thought the balance was between light and dark.

"(Jen?)" It was Zaalbar, now, emitting a worried rumble from the front.

"Lead on," I said, nodding, storing the information like a nugget in the back of my head. Perhaps this was simply like the terraforming computer on Kashyyyk: an intriguing puzzle, a potential source of information, a fragment of history that piqued my interest – but also something I simply did not have time to indulge in.

Yudan was staring hard at me. Maybe that was an expression of concern on his face.

"Lead on," I reiterated, once more following Zaalbar down the corridor. "It's nothing of import. Nothing that could help us today, anyway."

xXx

Mission Vao:

Place is dead empty, I thought, as I shimmied out through the cargo consignment hatch.

Sure, I'd been watching the 'Hawk's cams, and I'd seen Carth point those extra pilots deeper into the hangar. I couldn't spot them from my crouch under the 'Hawk's hull, but I knew the direction they were in. That way. Past those other snubs. Near the exit.

But where's Dustil and old man Bindo hiding at?

Teethree clanked on the hard flooring as he lowered himself from the cargo hatch, and I flinched at the noise. Sheesh, I had to find a stealth mod or some way of muffling his gears, 'cause he was freaking loud-

"Mission!" Dustil hissed, face popping under the edge of the ship's loading ramp. "What are you doing?"

Poodoo! I shot him a carefree grin as I crawled silently forward. He musta heard Teethree's landing, but Dustil had his eyes pinned on me. It was dark, under the belly of the 'Hawk, and I'd hoped that would be enough-

He scowled. "You know those mainstream stealth belts are frakking useless, right?"

"Not all of us can turn invisible," I muttered, maybe a little sulkily, because it wasn't fair that he could just wave his stupid hand and disappear like that. "Anyway, I figured something was better than nothing, right?"

Stealth-fold technology had never really taken off- except in dark ops, but then infrareds could turn them from mostly useless into totally useless. Still, there'd been more than one time in the shady tunnels of Taris when my trusty belt had helped me shake loose a Vulkar or two. And stealth tech had been surprisingly wizard against those creepy rakghouls. Between my belt and Big Z's immunity, we'd freaking owned the Undercity.

Well, kinda.

"Why are you- why are you coming closer?" Dustil was still whispering in that outraged voice as I wriggled out from underneath the 'Hawk. "Mission. Get back inside the ship."

Sometimes, it was sorta cute the way he tried to act like his dad. Like I ever listened to Carth.

Up ahead, I could see Jolee lounging against one of those snubs that had been parked in here when we'd arrived. Weird, because it looked more like a Republic bird than a Sith ship – but it'd been sitting pretty here, in the badass factory of freaking Darth Malak.

Jolee's head swung in our direction. One bushy eyebrow raised, like the old guy was mocking me or something, and then he turned his attention back to the rear of the hangar.

Far out, he's like, twenty metres away, and he can still spot me through the belt? Maybe the thing was just a piece of useless Jawa-scrap.

"Mission-" Dustil had turned plaintive, like he realized ordering me about wasn't gonna work.

"Teethree can't do anything from the cockpit." I flipped my goggles on, fiddling with the dial as I parsed the hangar. The bio-scan feed overlaid the lens in red- there. I could see the heat of a body past the next snub, and another two on either side of the exit hatch. Marking the door.

"Does Carth reckon someone's gonna attack us?" I asked quietly. Everyone was silent and still. Everyone was aiming at the only hatch like it was gonna explode out with monsters.

I shivered suddenly. The monsters were deeper in. With Canderous and Jen and Big Z. Last thing I was gonna do was sit on my tail and hide away, when everyone I cared about might not even be coming back.

"Honestly?" Dustil muttered, shifting uneasily from his perch by the ramp. "I have no frakking clue. I mean, uh- I don't think anyone is coming here. But Dad's so on edge-" Dustil cut himself off with a huff, turning to glare into the hangar. Every line of him was sprung tight like a swoop ignition coil.

Carth ain't the one on edge, Dee.

Dustil saw me looking at him, and scowled again. "I'm holding myself back from the Force, Mission. I won't be able to sense anything coming close. I'm as blind as a frakking shyrack."

If we'd been anywhere else, I'd be telling him to take a freaking chill pill. But everything was at stake here- and everyone.

So, instead, I reached out and placed a hand on his arm, ignoring the way he tensed at the contact. "Jolee will be able to sense anyone coming. Don't stress, Dee. Jen and the others – they got this. All the nasties running around here will be gunning for them."

It was supposed to cheer him up, but instead, the comment just made me feel worse. They were all out there – and Big Z, well, I knew how bad he still felt about prissy Bastila, and his life-debt would make him do anything for Jen, no matter how dangerous-

We've come so far. I got faith. All of us, we're the only ones who've been smart enough and strong enough to get all those Maps and find our way here, in Darth Malak's stupid super-secret Star Forge.

We'll finish things and save the galaxy. I just know we will.

"Yeah." Dustil still looked worried. "Mission, Dad'll flip if he spots you. Get back in the 'Hawk, alright?"

I rolled my eyes. Round and round like a broken spin-disc, playing the same borked song. "Look, I was serious, alright? Teethree can't do anything from the 'Hawk. The bay doors of this place – they're not just closed, they're not even responding to the core engineering system." I puffed out an annoyed breath. "An' it's not just here, Dee. The minute the Ebon Hawk got in, every airlock in this place snapped shut. Completely overrode everything."

Teethree beeped sadly at my side.

"That- that sounds like it was planned." Dustil's eyes were wide.

I shot him a look. "Gee, ya think?"

His teeth were worrying his lower lip. Sometimes, Dustil went all serious and dark on me, and seemed years older. Other times, like right now, he looked just like a kid holding a lightsaber.

We're not kids. We ain't been kids for years.

"Entry sensors," Dustil whispered hoarsely. "Or something- something must have been triggered by the Ebon Hawk. Even in this supposedly undisclosed dock, they were looking out for us. They know we're here."

They. Darth Malak. And everyone who followed the freakazoid.

"Yeah." I sighed. "Apparently Bastila pointed us here. Guess she's probably the one who slammed shut all the airlocks."

It seemed weird, to think of Bastila being able to override systems like that. Maybe she'd ordered someone else to do it. Some underling. Because from what Jen and the others had been saying, it didn't sound like Bastila was a prisoner here anymore.

"I still don't get that," Dustil muttered in an echo of my thoughts. "I mean, Bastila Shan! She was the shiny symbol of the Jedi when I was at the Academy. Her battle meditation and all that rot. Hard to believe she's using it for the other side now..."

"I suppose people thought that about Jen, once." I still found the whole Revan thing almost impossible to get my head around, even now – much as I knew it peeved Dustil off. I mean, I'd seen plenty of bad poodoo in my life, but deep down I knew it was nothing on what Darth Revan had once unleashed.

I was glad I'd never known her then. It would've been- harder, to get past it.

Maybe explains a bit of Yudan's snarly attitude. Maybe. Didn't mean I'd ever give that ronto-turd the time of day.

"But y'know-" I made a face. "Bastila used to be a real goody-two-boots. I don't reckon she's gone truly bad. Jen'll sort her out."

Dustil threw me a pitying look. It was difficult not to reach out and slap him one.

Instead, I turned to look down at Teethree. At least he didn't talk back – well, not so anyone else could understand.

"Go to the consoles, Teethree. See what you can slice into. We need to get those bay doors back online."

Teethree's dome spun. He beeped happily, before extending his tracks and rolling away.

"Er-" Dustil looked oddly hesitant, as he turned to peer into the hangar.

And then, suddenly, the tiny little dock looked a heck of a lot bigger. And empty. As Teethree pootled along the entire width of it, travelling in first freaking gear by the looks, and in complete line of sight of the only exit.

The droning noise as he whirred forwards echoed loudly throughout the eerily silent hangar.

"You said you reckoned no one would come here, right?" I hissed. Teethree was a wizard astromech, but one bolt could completely fizzle out his actuator. And anyone strolling into here would immediately spot a utility droid chugging along slowly in front of them-

"Well, maybe," Dustil muttered. He, too, was staring intently at the droid.

The sound of Teethree's gears was ridiculously loud. I bet stupid HK had hogged all the gear oil and my poor droid was slowly rusting away because of it.

A flurry of movement near the door shook a frightened gasp from me.

But it was only Carth- his head peeping around one of the ships near the exit.

My wrist-comm beeped, and I jumped without meaning to. Looking down, I felt my nose wrinkling as I accepted the call.

::Mission, get back in the 'Hawk,:: Carth growled.

Sheesh, my lame belt really is banthacrap if he can spot me from the other side of the room.

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. Or, maybe, he can't-

"Um, what do you mean, Carth?" I faked into the comm. "I sent Teethree out to slice into the consoles."

That wasn't actually a lie, as such.

::Oh.:: Carth sounded nonplussed. ::Sorry, Mission. I just assumed- never mind.::

The comm clicked off. I stifled a giggle as I glanced up at Dustil, who was grinning like an idiot. Up ahead, the whirring of gears ceased as Teethree finished circling around the line of consoles.

"Dad knows you well," Dustil snickered. "But not well enough to tell when you're lying-"

Something hissed.

Our heads jerked around.

Ping of a blaster firing-

The hatch! My stomach lurched. The freaking hatch hissed opened!

Dustil's arm thumped hard into me. "Get back inside!" he yelled roughly.

Oh, crap! Fright choked in my throat as I heard the hum of a lightsaber snapping to life, and I had no idea if it was one lone Sith or a whole battalion of them, or- or- a Dark Jedi-

"Go, Mission!" With a last holler, Dustil abruptly vanished. The sound of his disappearing footfalls was drowned out by a scream. Two snubs parked between me and the hatch, so all I could see was wild blaster fire shooting upwards, all I could hear were thuds, a cut-off yell, tell-tale pop of a grenade-

No way. No way am I gonna hide! Fear felt like sick in my belly, but if Dee thought I was gonna cower away when I could actually help, then he really didn't know me.

I sprinted to the nearest snub, mini-blaster already in hand, heart beating fast, and legs pumping as I made a wild dive under the ship's hull.

I skidded along the floor, coming to a halt just underneath the front-mounted hyperdrive of the parked strikefighter.

There was another snub between me and the hatch, mostly blocking my line of sight, but I could see legs blurring beyond it on the other side. The Beks used to hide in utility vents, marking places to take pot-shots at Vulkars sneaking in on our turf. 'Course, Zaerdra never let me go on sentry duty, but I imagined it was something like this.

Lying flat on the ground, propped up on elbows, aiming down the sights as the sounds of blaster volleys and clashing blades filled the air.

Hold your aim steady. Wait for a clear shot.

A black-armoured leg paused for a nanosec.

I fired twice.

The legs stumbled to the ground, and then the green of a 'saber stabbed straight into the fallen body.

"Status!" It was a holler from Carth. No more blaster pings, and I couldn't see anyone's legs now. If Carth was yelling then did that mean all the bad guys were dead?

"Three enemy down, sir!" someone rapped back in response. "No one else outside the hatch!"

I felt my thundering heart begin to slow, just a bit. My arms shook. Get to the others-

"We lost- we lost Lilani, sir," the same voice said. "Tobards is badly hit."

I scrambled out from under the snub's angled nose. Snapped the gun to my waist. Stood, pretended I didn't feel my stupid legs shaking, and began to walk forward.

"Stang." A quiet curse from Carth. "Search the bodies. They were well-equipped. Professionals. Only reason we didn't lose more was because we were prepared."

"Eh, I wasn't," Jolee growled. I spotted him as I cleared the last snub, crouching down over a corpse. "Not for the Force to wink out. If it hadn't been for that snipe-shot under the snub, I think I'd be looking at my grave right now."

Three black bodies. Smears of dark blood on the shiny floor. Two more bodies, in orange flightsuits- no, wait, one was moving. I blinked. We won. We killed the bad guys.

It felt hard to swallow, suddenly.

And we lost a stranger who'd come to help us. It seemed oddly terrible to realize, in that moment, that all I really cared about was that the orange-clad body wasn't Carth or Dee or Jolee.

"The Force. It's gone." Dustil's words were a shocked whisper as I neared. "And not because I'm doing anything!"

"Aye, I know, kid," Jolee grumbled. He had a shiv-blade in one bony hand, cutting apart sections of armour from a black-clad body like he was skinning an ash-rabbit. "Something to do with these dead fellows. We just have to find out what."

"Mission!" Carth had spotted me. 'Course he had. I felt strangely numb – I'd been in spots like this before, I'd seen so much death already, an' the Shadowlands had been a bloody blur of screams and corpses- but, somehow, nothing about this felt any easier.

Carth had taken a reflexive step closer. His gaze dropped to the blaster held loosely at my side.

Something crossed his face, then, like he knew it'd been me firing that last shot, for he seemed to choke back whatever he'd planned to say next. He just looked- sad. Resigned, maybe.

I walked the remaining steps to Dustil's side. My limbs still felt shaky, but my stride was steady.

One of the Republic pilots was propped up against the wall, his flightsuit drenched in blood all over his gut. There was another one leaning over him. The injured guy lifted one hand to unsnap and rip off his flight-helm. He was an older Human, maybe Jen's age, and he was staring solidly at me.

"You winged that last one in the knee, miss," he said, his voice wavering. "Saw it clear as day. Mighty fine shot."

"Huh," Jolee muttered. He tossed another section of cracked armour behind him, head still bowed over the corpse he was mangling. "Think you saved my life there, kid," he threw over his shoulder. "Remind me to buy you a drink."

Carth hadn't shifted his gaze from me, either. He still looked like he was biting back protests.

"We're all needed here, Carth," I said softly. "All of us."

Which reminded me- I swung around, frantically scanning the empty hangar, eyes roving the line of consoles where Teethree had been-

The droid was hooked innocently into a comm-port, all shiny chrome under the lighting, as if nothing had been going on at all.

Silly astromech was just fine.

"Ah, got you, you bugger!" Jolee crowed. I heard the smashing sound of shattered glass, and turned back to see Jolee grinding his booted heel down on a mess of ferraglass.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Dustil. "What did ya mean about the Force?"

There was a wild look in Dustil's dark eyes, a sort of helplessness that I hated to see. "I can't- something is stopping us-"

"Make yourself useful, boy," Jolee cut in, directing his bark at Dustil. "Go strip the other corpse, see if you can find a trinket in his belt. Ten creds say that's what's causing the Force to black out on us."

Dustil blinked quickly as his expression firmed into resolve. He reached out to squeeze my hand before moving away.

"Tobards, you can't fight like this," the pilot who was leaning over the injured one said. She was pulling apart a medi-kit, tearing open bacta patches to pack over his exposed gut. His blood was soaking into the sleeves of her flightsuit.

"No, not fight," the one called Tobards muttered. His hand was clenched tight around his belly, and the other pilot had to pry it away as she peered clinically at his wound.

Too many times I'd seen the mess of battle afterwards. Too many times I'd smelt the charred scent of burnt skin. Some of the older Beks used to say it was something you got used to, but I hadn't. Not yet.

"Sir, that Twi'lek of yours has the right idea." It was the injured one again. Tobards. I didn't think I'd be able to talk so calmly with so much of my own blood spilling out everywhere. "I scored top marks in marksmanship. If someone can give me a lift to the top of your freighter, I think I can find myself a good sniping spot."

"Tobards, I have to halt the bleeding first," the other one scolded, the one with stripes on her shoulders.

Carth was silent for a moment before nodding firmly. I could see in that brief instant how part of him hated this, this cold way of placing peeps around in battle for the best outcome. Using sents for the good of all.

It was the sort of thing that'd always come so natural to Jen.

"Stabilize his injuries then move him topside," Carth ordered the woman, before swinging his gaze on a third pilot who was busy pulling weaponry from a corpse- I hadn't even noticed him. "Joss, get back to marking the door. Jolee, as you were. Dustil, I want you standing ready and hidden by that second snub. Mission..."

Carth trailed off, gazing at me with that stupid concerned look. I'd helped, more than helped, and Carth had to freaking realize that-

Something firmed in his face. "Get back under the snub," he commanded. "Back into your sniping position. Belt on, and sight the door."

I blinked, as something warm curled in my belly. He's finally got it. Finally understands that I ain't just a kid. That I can help, just as much, even without the stupid Force.

Sheesh, Jen had figured that one out back on Taris. It'd only taken Carth, like, six planets.

But I knew, really, that snapping out orders to me would've been hard for him. All Carth had ever tried to do was protect me – just like Big Z. Stupid and annoying, maybe, the way he kept trying to put me somewhere safe – like there was anywhere truly safe in the galaxy – but Carth was one of the few sents who actually gave a cred about me.

One of the few I cared about, too.

"Got it," Dustil muttered, as he cracked something under his boot.

"I might just turn this one off." Jolee hummed, thumbing at something in his hand. A small round object that was glittering, until it suddenly went dark. "Heh. Just like that, eh?"

"It's back," Dustil breathed, as Jolee slipped the weird object into his robes. "The Force. It's back."

"Remember to keep yourself hidden, cub," Jolee warned. "Don't let all this," he flapped a hand around the room, "allow you to forget about the danger of the Star Forge itself."

Dustil mumbled something in return, but I was busy focusing on Carth again, who'd walked close enough to lay a hand gently on my shoulder. His brow was creased with concern, and his mouth was tight.

"Go, Mission," Carth told me, but his words were less like an order, now. "We need you out there."

"You reckon- you reckon there will be more of these guys?" I whispered.

"Yeah." His return was grim. "Whoever sent these men will know they failed, as soon as they go dark on the comms. And I think we can expect more than just three next time."

xXx

Canderous Ordo:

Whoever dreamed up circle tubes for a station's navigational system needs their kriffing head read.

Even under my boots, marching down the centre of a long spherical tunnel, I could feel some curvature to the flooring. Considering the diameter of the corridors, it meant a lot of this factory was nothing but wasted space.

Maybe the laandur Rakata died out due to inept architectural design.

The extinct fish had been a space-faring, battle-hungry people, once. They must've had space stations dotted around aplenty; the fact that only this one survived the ashes of history had to be down to the magical diamond Revan said was in its belly.

Take the pretty Force gem outta the Forge, and what's left is a badly-designed, resource-hungry hulk of strange metal.

At least Revan had stopped crouching down to examine every little scratch we passed. She seemed fine, now; stalking ahead of me with her 'saber at the ready, but her intense interest in the kriffing walls a few minutes back had been... concerning.

Don't let your mind crack, Revan. Not now. Not heading into this battle.

"Statement: We are above the entrance to the experimental droid complex, master. Beyond this hatch are the elevated railings that cross overhead before leading to the meridian viewing chambers." HK and the Wookiee had paused next to a large oblique hatch at the corridor's end. "Prediction: We should expect Forge-built battle-droids from here on in, unless your former pupil's biological processor has decayed beyond recognition."

There was a moment of silence as Revan walked to the half-moon doors, before laying a gentle hand on them.

"Former pupil," she muttered, with a dark twist in her voice. "You mean Malak. Did you ever meet him, HK?"

HK's angular head swivelled to face Revan. "Answer: A handful of times, Master. I found him to be efficient and brutal for an organic. I rather liked him. Retrospection: If I had known what he would do to you, Master, I would have gladly removed his entrails right then!"

"Forget I asked," Revan growled. "Instead, how about relaying what you can sense in this frelling complex?"

HK emitted a clucking sound before answering. "Admonishment: As stated earlier, Master, the radiation from the kaiburr interferes with my long-range infrared scanners. All I am detecting within a five-metre radius are four organic meatbags." HK swooped his rifle over all of us in turn. His photoreceptors gleamed. "Suggestion: Would you like me to kill Mobile Carpet or Apathetic Fleshbag to cheer you up, Master?"

"Put a bolt in it," I drawled from my place at the rear, as Revan turned to throw me the faint echo of a grin. "Or disclose something useful. How much open-air railing are we headed into, Tinhead?"

"Answer: Multiple walkways branch throughout the upper cavity of the experimental droid complex, but in the interest of limiting fun, our chosen route should be the most direct walkway. Extrapolation: A forward run of railing from this hatch extends for approximately fifty metres before reaching an enclosed maintenance room at its end."

"Fifty metres?" I echoed in consideration. "Huh. Must be a pretty large room then."

"Statement: The chamber beyond is the experimental droid complex of the Rakatan Empire's largest space station. Mockery: Did you expect it to be a closet?"

I had to say HK was good at dishing out what he got. Before he got it, even. If HK'd been an actual sent, I daresay I would've liked him.

Revan's fingers drummed against the closed hatch. Her expression had firmed into hard resolve, and the glittering in her green eyes told me it was time. I felt my mouth tighten into a fierce grin of readiness.

"Zaalbar, Canderous and HK, I want you to head out first," Revan rapped out. "Run straight to the room HK detailed. We'll be exposed, so go as fast as you can. Yudan and I will follow and use the Force to fry anything shooting projectiles our way."

She paused, scruffy head turning back to face the hatch. Other than a lightweight duramesh tunic, Revan wore no battle-suit, no carapaces shielding her limbs or torso – not even a helm protecting her head.

I got why Force-users eschewed armour, when toe-dancing around in the middle of their fancy duels, but at times like this the lack seemed nothing more than a kriffing liability.

"We might be preparing for nothing," Revan said in a low voice. One of her hands lifted, wavering in the air. "Could be that all we're faced with next door is a large, empty room."

My own armour was the best I could manage. A patched-up suit the Wookiee had repaired, with duramesh links fused around an old purple chest-plate from that di'kut Davik. Nothing like the beskar'gam I'd once earned. Still, at least this jigged battle-suit had a working stimulant system and standard utility mods built into the belt.

"Well, get on with it then," I growled, amping up the levels of adrenastim vaporising into my helm, just as Revan waved her Force voodoo at the door.

The dual half-moon hatches slid ajar, and Zaalbar was the first to clear, shooting straight through them like a sprinting loth-cat.

The adrenastim vapour hit my bloodstream with a tell-tale burn as I surged forward next to HK.

Railings were only wide enough for two. More like maintenance routes this high-up, near the ceiling of a cavernous warehouse, above what had to be a twenty metre drop.

All fleeting impressions, quick-fire thoughts, as I stormed into a chamber thick with the din of automatic machinery snapping to attention. The snicking sound of projectiles loading. A dozen mechanical voders issuing identical intruder alerts-

There was even a bastard on the walkway itself-

An animalistic howl erupted from the Wookiee as he leaped forward. My hand, thumbing the safety-lock from an ion grenade even as I sprinted behind. A Revan-shaped blur above my head-

The railing thudded as Revan landed, well clear of Carpet. The battle-droid sailed off the walkway, shoved by an unseen force, the elongated red stripe of a disruptor bolt aiming wild from its forearm.

The air was shot through with laser.

Revan whirled back to face us, face white. "Go!" she hollered.

I lobbed one grenade, readying a next as my legs pumped. Jarring impact under my feet- something exploded into the walkway behind me. The Wookiee sprinted past Revan as currents of purple-white sparks streamed from her hand. There was the crackling of the same at my back.

Another ion grenade thrown from my grasp, as I grabbed a third-

"Revan!" The Twi'lek's voice was hoarse behind me. "We are not damaging them!"

A thwarted roar in Shyriiwook, as tens of metres ahead Carpet was slamming an angry fist against a closed hatch.

I'd almost caught up to Revan- I saw her lurch around, one hand waving open the exit next to Zaalbar, just as a red stripe bore directly into her shoulder-

I heard no scream from her, for in that moment the world exploded.

The impact deafened everything – sight, hearing, touch – but not my mind.

Missiles launched into the kriffing walkway. I'm sliding, about to fall-

I wrenched an arm I could barely feel against my suit's belt, launching the standard grappling hook blindly, for either the damn visor had gone dark or I was more damaged than I knew at that moment-

I fell-

No more than a metre, before something yanked against my waist and pulled taut, and then I slammed sideways into something else.

Sound. Blaster Fire. Another explosion. Someone screaming.

The reeling sensation of concussion ringing in my ears-

"Ordo!"

My hand ripped the visor clear. Vision blurrily returned. I was hanging, hooked some metres down from the broken corpse of the walkway. One section of path hung limp, the section of path I'd slid down before falling.

Below- six of the robots still standing, still firing, even as two more sailed uncontrollably through the air before either Revan or Rosh smashed them into a nearby wall.

My hands were numb but I could still fish out another ion grenade from here-

"Ion doesn't work on them, Ordo!" Rosh's voice, from somewhere above. Couldn't spot the bastard. Wookiee was howling in the distance. "Retract your grapple, I'll hold them off- shavit, there's more in the room with the others- Revan!"

There was a note of stark alarm in the Twi'lek's normally emotionless voice.

I reached out to the grapple just as the world exploded again. This time, I fell all the way.

Even in the falling, I knew my fumbling grasp had found a 'frag grenade.

Safety-switch off, throw-

xXx

"Intruder sighted!"

Awareness slammed back with the lingering burn of the adrenastim high.

I was rolling on instinct- there was a crackling, shattering sound to my battle-suit that I knew wasn't good, but it'd taken the brunt of the fall-

This had to be my end, dropping in full armour on six of those Forge-built aru'e with my comrades pinned down in a room topside.

Still, end or not, I found myself coming up ready in a crouch, prepared to glare into the jaws of death with a war-cry on my lips-

Odd. The jaws of death were a mere two battle-droids that weren't even facing me. One was stomping sideways, disruptor rifle levelled at the smoking remnants of another droid.

A humanoid figure darted away from the metallic detritus just as both active battle-droids fired.

Dunno who that is, but I ain't gonna complain about the diversion. My breath rattled as my limbs straightened and I glanced wildly about for a nearby weapon – my repeating blaster having dislodged somewhere in the fall. With an internal shrug, I drew out two mini-pistols, switched 'em on, and aimed.

In the seconds it'd taken me to ready my guns, one of the droids had already deactivated, head and shoulders curling into itself like a giant metallic seashell.

Quelling my surprise, I sighted the remaining droid. I'd no idea how the strange humanoid – a lithe figure garbed in what looked like primitive beast-leather – could've dismantled a battle-droid three times his height, but the final droid had its disruptor aimed straight back at him.

I might owe my life to this stranger, and it was better to resettle any debt while I had the opportunity.

I loosed a quick volley – ineffectual laser bolts that pinged from the battle-droid's back carapace – seconds before the droid unleashed a disruptor shot directly at the stranger.

The flare of a blueish energy shield glowed as the humanoid dropped into a crouch, levelled a rifle, and fired an identical, elongated disruptor bolt in return.

This time I heard a muffled explosion inside the battle-droid's torso as it deactivated in the same manner as the other.

Mand'alor's balls! One kriffing disruptor hit did that?

My eyes narrowed. Disruptor bolts were effectively the same as standard blaster bolts – but the energy was concentrated by several orders of magnitude. Point of impact disintegrated matter at a molecular level, and the area of effect depended on the concentration of the disruptor.

Disruptor tech was rare due to its high-energy needs making the required therm batteries stupidly short-lived – not to mention, of course, that disruptor-based armaments were classed as illegal throughout the hu'tuun Republic.

Another interesting fact was that standard energy shields, just like Jedi glow-sticks, couldn't stop disruptor bolts.

Which meant the stranger now strolling towards me must be equipped with a very specialized personal shield – on top of knowing exactly how to disable Darth Malak's pet defence droids.

Odds were, he'd taken out more than just the last two.

I surveyed the room quickly to get my bearings. The cavernous droid complex had been emptied of any live threat, for now. All original battle-droids were disabled or smashed.

Well, at least the ones down here-

My head jerked up. Twenty metres above, the hatch of the maintenance room yawned open, but I couldn't see or hear a damn thing. Rosh had said something about there being more droids-

Everything blurred. A sudden weariness in aching muscles warned the adrenastim was wearing thin. I locked my knees too late- my legs gave out, and the thud as my backside hit the ground jarred painfully up my spine. There was a throbbing at the base of my skull. A piercing stab into my thigh, like a piece of armour had cracked and was slicing into flesh-

Get up, Ordo. The others-

"Canderous Ordo."

My name, dropped so casually from a stranger's lips, had my fingers ready on the mini-blaster and my attention once more engaged.

The man was a tall, wiry Human, who appeared relaxed as he stood a few metres away, disruptor rifle slung back in a shoulder harness. His custom duramesh-and-leather armour was topped with a sleek durasteel helm, whose visor was currently lifted to reveal a grizzled face. Pale eyes appraised me without any noticeable expression.

"(This is not our battlefield; now is not our fight,)" he greeted, in fluent Mando'a.

The pain in my leg was worse, now. I'd have to remove a section of armour if I wanted to walk. Get a couple of kolto shots in me, hope the kriffing comm survived the fall-

I stared hard at the stranger. I had to address this man, first. The one I owed my life to, this unknown Human who spoke Mando'a like he was born to it.

The man didn't move as he appraised me in return. "(As they die upon my blade, my adversaries know me as Harten of clan Itera.)"

The traditional greeting of an unknown Mando'ade who claimed no harm on the battlefield. And the Itera were a solid clan who'd fought well in the wars, a clan that could claim both status and pride despite their diminished ranks.

My honour demanded I acknowledge my fellow countryman: acknowledge his name, and the battle-debt I now owed him.

There was something very kriffing familiar about this situation-

I barked a laugh. "Y'know, the last time an unknown Mando'ade saved me from probable death, he didn't act from the good of his heart." My eyes narrowed as I watched the man. "He saved me to get close to Revan."

To give the stranger credit, he didn't even blink. "My goals align with your leader," he replied, in smooth and flowing Galactic Basic.

And that means I owe you no debt, Harten of kriffing Itera.

"She ran into trouble up there," I said shortly, jerking my chin to the distant ceiling. No idea if the man – and I'd wager he wasn't sworn Mando'ade – meant Revan harm, but I highly doubted I was telling him anything he didn't already know.

The Human's head cocked; one ear facing the hatch topside. "There are no weapons being discharged. All I can make out is the rumble of your Wookiee."

"Aural implants," I muttered, impressed despite myself. Highly-specced ones to cover that distance and not be affected the way Tinhead's sensors are.

A faint smile barely curved the Human's mouth. "I have superior hearing," he murmured, and I wasn't sure if that was assent to my comment or not.

"Look, what the kriff do you want?" I rapped out, impatient. I had to find a way back to the others. Glancing down, I could see my wrist-comm had smashed in the fall. A jagged crack ran up the length of battle-suit covering that arm, and I could tell a blaster hit there would penetrate straight to my skin.

"I desire a conversation with Revan," the Human said, after a pause. "I saved her ally's life. She will owe me that, at the least."

His gaze dropped overtly to the mini-blaster held firm in my hand. I wasn't raising it – yet.

"I mean your leader no threat, Canderous Ordo. Particularly not in this place."

"So you say. Not exactly the place for a chat between strangers, though, is it?" I leaned forward, dropping the gun to pull the leg segment of my battle-suit free. A sharp sting and a rush of blood- it wasn't serious, but I'd have to attend to it now. "And I suppose you want me to introduce you, Harten Itera?"

I didn't bother concealing my disbelief over his name.

"You should head back to your freighter."

That got my attention. "Why?" I snapped out, leg forgotten as I glared up at the man.

"There are more droids deeper in the upper levels, Canderous Ordo. It will take you time to double-back and find another walkway to meet up with your team." The man's pale eyes lingered over my battle-suit, before coming to rest on my arm. "Your armour is splintered in several places. You have no disruptor rifle, and that is the only easy way to disable the battle-droids." He paused, gaze shifting back to mine as his hand tapped on his upraised visor. "My data-feed has returned information detailing two groups of five hostiles apiece converging on your Ebon Hawk."

I wasn't gonna react to that. Maybe the sent was right, but that docking bay wasn't a bad spot to defend. Between Onasi and the old man, they should be able to stand guard with minimal casualties.

A slight twitch on his face, like the stranger picked I wasn't buying his intel. His thin lips curved. "I have my suspicions on who these hostiles are, Canderous Ordo. If I am correct, they are specialized assassins from the Lord of the Sith himself."

Was Harten Itera looking to get rid of me? If he was working against Revan, I couldn't see why he'd bother using words - especially as I was wounded and separated from my team already. Easier to just shoot me in the head right now.

I let my eyes travel slowly down his busk-leather armour, pausing on a pair of fancy beast-hide boots before drawing back up to meet his pale gaze.

"Specialized assassins." I snorted in disparagement. "And what, exactly, are you?"

"No one of import." His bland smile widened, before his head tilted to face upwards. "But I am willing to inform Revan of your whereabouts. Assuming she still lives."

"She lives," I grunted in irritation. But still, my attention swung unerringly to the open hatch topside. If Revan was alive and well, I'd expect her to be yelling something down at me if she didn't just magically jump-

And then what? Walk the kriffing long way 'round while I limp behind? That railing was as bust as my grapple, and it wasn't like this kriffing battle-suit boasted a jet-pack. I'd have to find an alternate route to join up with Revan, and she was in a hurry to get to Bastila before the princess killed more of their laandur Republic-

I glared back at the annoying stranger. "You wanna talk to Revan, huh? How? You planning on scarpering around quick enough to catch up to her?

"I thought I would climb the walls." He was still smiling, like it was all a kriffing joke. "I shall spend no more time convincing you, Canderous Ordo. Your actions are your own."

I had no reason to trust this guy's intel – but ulterior motives or not, if it weren't for him I wouldn't be having this debate right now.

My hands roved along the util belt of my suit. Stim system was erroring. Grapple was kriffed – of course. Armour had gaps along a forearm and shoulder, and I'd have to ditch the entire left leg carapace.

But I still had blasters, a blade, and a drukload of grenades. That would make me more effective at ambushing a bunch of ole Malak's assassins from behind, rather than slowing Revan down and firing ineffectual lasers at those haar'chak droids-

"Give the Wookiee your disruptor," I barked. The stranger had already moved to the wall, as if he'd given up on me answering. He turned, visor now pushed down and occluding his face. I scowled. "Tell Revan where I've gone. Tell her how to disable the battle-droids. An' if all you want is a kriffing conversation, then there ain't no reason you can't hand over your rifle to Carpet. Might buy you some trust before one of them tries to lop your head off."

If Revan was injured – and I hadn't forgotten Rosh's shout of alarm – then I didn't think either Rosh or Tinhead would be particularly receptive to a stranger's company. But I'd seen this unknown sent disable two droids in under a minute, and knew it was an advantage my side needed.

The pretend Mando'ade gave me a slow nod. "I shall consider your request, Canderous Ordo." His voice turned almost formal. "And I will inform your leader of your survival and destination."

He turned, metres away from me now, and placed one hand on the shiny wall.

The man began to climb.

I blinked. Sent rose quickly, like he had suckers on his naked hands – although I coulda sworn they'd been covered in the same busk-leather as the rest of him.

No way a Human can climb like that, like a kriffing tree-lizard-

Wasn't the time to puzzle over it. Man was a good six metres high already. But if his words held truth – and I didn't see much point in assuming they didn't – then I had to find my kolto, get to my feet, and join in the fun before Onasi got swamped. He'd be prepared for an attack, but a bunch of specialized assassins might be a whole different skillet of scalefish from what he was expecting.

I swore I'd see this to the end with you, Revan.

She lived, still. No point thinking otherwise without proof. Not here.

But I guess the 'Hawk is part of your end, ain't it?

It chafed, to be slowly climbing to my feet, stabbing two kolto 'derms in my exposed thigh and one in my neck, before turning to face the corridors that would lead back to the dock.

But a true warrior understood when best to lead the vanguard, and when best to defend the base. And the sooner I got back to the 'Hawk, the sooner I could comm Revan myself.

And kick some of this 'assassin' arse.

xXx

Jaq:

Bugger this for a game of soldiers.

Toc, Min and Des made no sound as they moved through the tunnels of the Star Forge. Behind me, Ran was just as silent. Slayers never made a sound until it was too late.

Slayers are never sent on a frontal assault like a kriffing squad of soldiers.

Data-feed had pinged us the docking location of our target. The ventral officer's dock. We'd all thought Ros, Bor, and Yal had been wasting their time, heading that direction soon as ole greaseball Nox released us; but turned out those three might've already scored the home-run.

The other five- who knew? Probably they'd meet us when we all regrouped, bending knee to Sharlan Nox as he slimed over the winners.

Bitches. We're nothing but Sharlan's bitches now. Lord Jonn at least gave us purpose, used our strengths, didn't turn us into a special-ops covey, no more than a herd of grunts-

Rogue thoughts had been creeping into my mind for months, now. Like spice eroding a matrix of purpose. Sure, I enjoyed kicks the same as any other slayer- shot of glim-laced spice, willing piece of arse, glass of sweet single-malt whiskey – but only off-duty.

When in the game, my mind was focused. Should be focused, honed like a gleaming shiv.

All slayers had been shaped in the Force-hands of Lord Jonn: recreated in his image, moulded into weapons for his higher purpose.

But Jonn Dan's dead. Entrails splattered all over the command deck of Darth Malak's Invictus. Jonn Dan's kriffing higher purpose can rot in a Corellian nether-hell-

::Alright, Jaq?:: Ran's voice shot through my helm. Individual feed-only, and I was glad of that- but he must've picked something up- maybe my stance wasn't exact, maybe my gloved hands had clenched- something had raised his instincts.

Wasn't the first time, either.

"I'm fine," I shot back shortly. "Let's haul arse to the dock already. Maybe Ros and the others left us a mark."

I inwardly damned that woman, that Jedi scow I'd almost turned, before I reeled my wandering thoughts back in. Turned my mind back to the lines of pazaak cards, the jump-point coordinates, the hyperdrive ticks- all the mental exercises Lord Jonn had taught us so well.

None of us had a past. Whatever we'd once been, it'd burned away in a hazing of pain as we were reborn as Lord Jonn's slayers. Renamed as his tools. Re-forged as his things, for the glory of the Sith.

Lord Jonn's bitches. Darth Malak's bitches. Sharlan kriffing Nox's bitches-

Part of me knew all those rogue thoughts belonged to a person I had been once. Someone I had no name or history to place against, someone that had died under Jonn Dan's tender ministrations.

Someone that had been silent, until that Jedi scow had waggled her dying fingers in my brain.

Ran snorted through the feed. ::Not likely there's marks left, issit? Twenty creds say the crew of the Ebon Hawk are in casserole pieces, and Ros'll make us clean up. You know how she gets.::

There was a reason slayers were sent out alone. We were assassins of shadow, whispers in the night, unseen blades to strike at the opportune moment. Lord Jonn had known that. Even Darth Malak had understood that. To be sent out like a bunch of sodding infantry-

Means they're desperate. Means they're losing. Means there's nothing kriffing keeping me here-

Slayers didn't desert. Their minds were too well-trained, grinded away to a chiselled point with no room for deviation. I'd never thought of anything beyond my master's objectives first, and my own physical gratification second. Never, until-

...

Wet gasps rattled like glue in her lungs. Her blood seeped into the medi-cot, staining the white sheets almost black with her fading life. A neural inhibitor clawed into her sweaty forehead.

I would turn this one. My twelfth Jedi. Prove I could master the art of breaking as much as any other slayer.

I was close already. She had just let slip her own name the first sound of sweet surrender.

"Beya Organa," I echoed. "Famous surname, that. Any relation?"

I'd known her name before I'd netted the woman. But always better to make a captive spill. Get them to admit the intel you know, then you can squeeze out what you don't-

There was still defiance in her dark eyes. "Sure, if you count an uncle's nephew's cousin's frakking former roommate a relation."

I allowed myself a chuckle. The woman was no threat, not with the inhibitor biting into her Force-strength. Only the strongest of will could overcome those pretty little gems- sure, I'd prefer a neural disruptor or my Fett ball, but the former was hard to come by and the latter busy recharging.

"Maybe I should comm Lord Nisotsa," I said softly, watching the woman. Slightest widening of her bloodshot eyes- no relation, indeed. "Nisotsa Organa lost her cousin Neiza. I'm sure she'll be overjoyed to hear we've snagged a Jedi cousin in our net."

...

::Ros ain't answering.:: Toc's feed shot through to the four of us, all marching behind him like a kriffing row of cannon fodder.

::Ros never answers.:: Min was always dismissive of Ros. Toc and Ran had a betting pool running on how long before those two jumped in the same fart sack. Now that was something I'd pay to see.

::Yeah, but I'm not getting a ping back from Bor or Yal, either.::

"Wager's on, Ran. Twenty creds say at least one mark's still kicking," I threw in quickly. If Bor wasn't bleating on the comm – and that sucker loved to hear his own voice after a kill – then that meant they'd gone dark. Hit trouble. Were still busy, maybe, or worse-

Because this is a kriffing joke. Throwing slayers together in a frontal assault. The dice are rolling and coming up skulls-

::No wager, Jaq.:: Toc was grim. He'd put himself in lead, like a corporal dragging a squad.

This isn't my game. I don't have to do this-

...

"You don't have to do this," the woman gasped. She was fading in strength, now, but a semblance of inner will had returned. Earlier, I'd reduced her to broken begging, sobbing out some girlfriend's name like a benediction while she thrashed about in semi-consciousness.

"I don't have to do this," I parroted in a pleasant tone. A mini blow-torch rolled in my hand. Ran's favourite way of breaking, he claimed. "I want to do this."

"I don't frakking believe that," she mumbled, shaking her head wildly enough that her messy topknot slithered on the stark sheets like a sandsnake. Beya Organa had a drawling accent, from one of those colonial Outer Rim rocks, and her dark skin and dark eyes looked nothing like Lord Nisotsa. Hard to believe they were related. "I know about you slayers. No more than a herd of frakking hessi, broken to some Dark Jedi's will. Doesn't mean you can't get out. Live your own frakking life-"

I snorted, learning forward with the torch. "Typical Jedi, always trying to show some loser the light. I've got a different light to show you, Beya Organa. One your cousin knows well."

The Jedi's lips pulled back in a snarl. "I'll show you my frakking light first!"

An explosion in my head, a shattering of everything as I reeled back-

She's overcome the kriffing inhibitor! I lurched towards her, but was suddenly blinded, as the damn woman clawed fangs into my mind-

You will release me, slayer. You are no match for the Force.

The pain was intense. Someone was screaming, and it wasn't my tortured captive.

You-

A blinding vortex of light- a rushing sensation of feeling- like a grid; no, a matrix, no- threads and threads of energy spreading out everywhere-

A stunned moment of wonderment from my companion. You- frakk! You can touch the Force!

I opened my eyes, and saw her.

...

::Ina's group will meet us outside the dock,:: Toc's barked comm brought me back to the present. ::The ten of us will enter together.::

::If there's a Jedi in the mix-:: Min began.

::Neutralize.:: Toc's command back was stern. Like an order. Maybe he'd been a kriffing officer in his past life. ::We'll worry about turning them later.::

They would turn me, if they only knew. And sooner or later, someone would find out.

Secrets rarely made it to the grave.

::Lord Nox will suck the juice out of any Jedi before we get a chance to turn 'em,:: Ran muttered.

Lord Nox will suck the juice out of me if he finds out. That slime-ball had paused in front of me, earlier, before greasing on my helm. Maybe he'd sensed something, suspected something.

I still didn't know if I believed that Jedi scow, but if she had been telling the truth-

...

You can't go back, you know. You're like me.

I'm not like you. I'm not kriffing like you!

I didn't know if I was saying the words or thinking them. I couldn't feel my own body. Just this overwhelming sensation of light and energy spiralling like clusters of stardust all around me.

And one dying cluster, brighter than the rest, but slowly fading-

My prisoner. Or was I hers? Trapped within this golden web of life, I felt myself falling, floating, flying- and living through even one more heartbeat like this felt so exquisite, so painful, so beautiful-

Guess it was buried deep in you, slayer. If the Force doesn't awaken before puberty, it generally never does. Look. You are more than just a tool of the Sith.

She reached out, and dragged me with her.

...

::Jaq?::

I'd paused, falling behind Ran.

See, slayers didn't pause. Slayers didn't desert.

But slayers didn't march together like a line of bantha to the slaughter.

Kriff this. I'm more than just a kriffing tool. Kriff this for a buggering game of buggering soldiers.

"I'm gonna find a vent," I spat through the comm, turning on my heel. "There's always air-con ducts. I'm gonna come in from the roof."

I was running back, running away, deserting- I didn't know who I was anymore, but kriff all of this if I was gonna keep marching on like trained little Jaq or Toc or Ran-

::The ducts leading into the officer's dock are too small, Jaq, you saw the schematics!::

::Jaq, get back in line!::

"I'm going dark, team. Bet I get the first kill." The lies slipped from my lips so easily. Mark of a good slayer, when the lies sounded like the truth. "You know we work best alone. Don't wait for me- fifty creds say I'll be there before any of you."

I deactivated the comm-feed as I dived into a service lift.

...

Look. The Force. It is everywhere around you.

The intensity of an electric current shot through me- my mind- my body- I didn't know. Everything felt exposed, raw to the touch, hyper-sensitive. It was too much. Too much. Too much for me to handle.

The Force is in everything. It is in you.

With a violent wrench, I could suddenly feel the trappings of my body again. I lurched to her-

...

Whatever that Jedi scow had upended in my mind, it'd disappeared with her death by my hands.

First death I'd shed tears over. At the end, I no longer knew if I'd been close to turning her, or she turning me.

I hadn't felt that sensation, the one she claimed was the Force, since.

But rogue thoughts kept slipping through my mind, breaking the facade of Jaq. Reminding me that I had been someone else, once, someone who'd died in Jonn Dan's hands.

Maybe, someone I could find my way back to.

Down, down, I ran to the lower levels. Discarding sections of assassin armour along the way: the helm, the carapace, the tracking-comm module, even the Fett ball- until there was nothing left but a man in his skivvies, with nothing left to mark him as a tool named Jaq.

Down to the factory bays. Striding confidently into the public 'fresher stalls-

"Who're you?"

One lone occupant. Garbed in a flight suit, flight helm on the bench as he sanitized his hands under the clean-spray.

The pazaak cards were flipping over in my favour, now.

I threw the sent an easy smile. "Just suiting up. You don't wanna know what happened to my other flightsuit. Say, why aren't you hot in the skies?"

The mark scowled. "Factory airlocks slammed down on the last two squads, and maintenance still ain't got them open." Suspicion reared in the man's swarthy face. "Whaddaya mean, your suit? And where's the one your changing into?"

You're standing in it.

Slayers didn't need a weapon to kill. We were that quick- and that good.

A few minutes later one of the closed stalls held a body, and I became a Sith strikefighter pilot.

The keycard access had the location of my snub, and told me my new name. Holo-pic might not look much like me, though at least the man had been the same species. The name on the keycard would do, for now.

Atton Rand.

It was a better name than Jaq.

With a jaunty whistle, I snapped the flight helm around my head, and waltzed towards the nearby factory bay in search of my new ship.

Sooner or later the airlocks would open, and when they did, I would be just another Sith chump fleeing the burning nest.

xXx

HK-47:

Input – Master: "I'm fine."
Voice Stress Analysis: Pained

Input – Yudan Rosh: "Clearly, you are not."
Voice Stress Analysis: Aggrieved

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Yudan Rosh Injecting Kolto Hypoderm Into Master (Left Hip)

Sensor Scan:
Target: Master
...Physical Analysis: Disruptor Wounds: Moderate Damage To Left Shoulder, Minor Damage To Left Hip, Superficial Damage To Right Lower Limb, Organic Breathing Patterns Strained
...Infrared Analysis: Minor Blood Loss Noticeable
...Body Language Analysis: Tense, Breathless
...Location: Slumped Against Maintenance Duct
Conclusion: Master Has Sustained Minor Injuries To Organic Shell, Winded

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Zaalbar Applying Bacta Adhesive Dressing To Master (Upper Left Shoulder)

Input – Master: "Zaalbar, Yudan, stop- stop fussing. We need to get back to Canderous."

Input – Yudan Rosh: "Fussing?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Cold

Input – Zaalbar (Shyriiwook): "Jen, we must attend to your wounds first."

Input – Yudan Rosh: "I will go after Ordo when I am certain you will not die due to a damn droid."

Output: "Interjection: The master's injuries are minor and healing expeditiously. Observation: Master, your inferior flesh responds nicely to kolto injections. If you continue in your sentimental refusal of cybernetic implants, my recommendation is an internal kolto applicator housed within your organic shell. Rumination: This may take some expertise to adequately install without biological rejection."

Input – Master: "I'm just winded from Zaalbar's throw into the wall. Zaalbar, your- your arm..."
Voice Stress Analysis: Concerned

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Yudan Rosh Activating Dynamic-class Freighter Communication Device

Sensor Scan:
Target: Zaalbar
...Physical Analysis: Disruptor Damage: Severe Damage To Right Upper Limb, Minor Damage To Lower Torso, Organic Breathing Patterns Strained
...Infrared Analysis: Moderate Blood Loss Noticeable, Body Temperature Within Normal Wookiee Parameters
...Body Language Analysis: Tense, Minor Involuntary Shaking Present
Conclusion: Zaalbar Moderately Injured, Organic Shock Possible

Input – Zaalbar (Shyriiwook): "I am capable of continuing on, Jen."

Input – Master: "You took two disruptor bolts for me, Zaalbar. One of which would've pegged me straight in the chest. Your life-debt-"

Input – Yudan Rosh (interrupting): "Ordo's communicator is down."

Input – Master: "Sithspit! Zaalbar, dammit, take a kolto 'derm- Yudan, open the frelling door and see if-"

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Outer Hatch Opening

Combat Mode Initiated
Physical: Primary Blaster Primed

1 Organic Meatbag Entering Targeting Area

Target Analysis: Organic Meatbag
Identification: Jolee Bindo

Combat Mode Aborted

Input – Master: "Jolee? What are you doing here? Have you seen Canderous?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Surprised

Auditory Input: Growl
Source: Zaalbar

Input – Jolee Bindo: "Eh, the Mandalorian is fine. Well, his armour's half-broken and he's got a nasty limp, but I guess it's all a matter of perspective, right?"

Input – Zaalbar (Shyriiwook) (muttered): "Only droids are scentless."

Input – Master: "But why are you here? And what are you wearing?"

Sensor Scan:
Target: Jolee Bindo
...Visual Analysis: Customized Duramesh And Busk-leather Armour
...Infrared Analysis: Body Temperature Falls Within Human Parameters
...Body Language Analysis: Relaxed
Conclusion: Jolee Bindo Has Acquired Alternate Armour, Detail Irrelevant

Input – Zaalbar (Shyriiwook): "Only droids, and the Faceless One."

Auditory Input: Chuckle
Source: Jolee Bindo

Input – Jolee Bindo: "Should have known I couldn't fool a nose from Kashyyyk."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Jolee Bindo Spreading Arms In Supplication

Input – Jolee Bindo To Master: "I wish to continue our conversation from the Shadowlands."

Auditory Input: Growl
Source: Zaalbar

Input – Zaalbar (Shyriiwook): "Jen, this is not Jolee Bindo."
Voice Stress Analysis: Alarmed

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Yudan Rosh Activating Lightsaber

Sensor Scan:
Target: Jolee Bindo
...Species: Human, Male
...Facial Recognition Result: Positive: Jolee Bindo
...Electromagnetic Scan: No Devices Found
...Body Language Analysis: Relaxed, Calm
...Direct Threat Assessment: Minimal
Conclusion: No Photo-Electronic Field Generator Detected, Sentient Matches Organic Form Of Jolee Bindo
Conclusion: Zaalbar Is Acting With Meatbag Irrationality

Facial Analysis: Jolee Bindo To HK-47: Suspicious Frown

Hypothesis: Jolee Bindo Detected Electromagnetic Scan
Conclusion: Jolee Bindo Lacks Required Sensors, Hypothesis Discarded

Input – Master To Jolee Bindo: "Oh."
Voice Stress Analysis: Comprehending

Input – Master To Jolee Bindo: "Here? Seriously? On the sodding Star Forge?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Irritated

Audio Tracking: Growl
Source: Zaalbar

Input – Master: "Zaalbar, Yudan, stand down. Rulan, you can wait. I need to find Canderous first."
Voice Stress Analysis: Resolute

Accessing: Internal Dictionary
...Analysing
Parameter "Rulan", No Matches Found

Input – Jolee Bindo: "Canderous Ordo has returned to your freighter. He has sustained only minor injuries, but both his communicator and armour suit are badly damaged."
Voice Analysis Mismatch: Vocal Depth Out Of Range From Recorded Match: Jolee Bindo

Hypothesis: Sentient Is Posing As Jolee Bindo
Error: No Photo-Electronic Field Detected To Mask Organic Build
Conclusion: Organic Voice Is Decaying With Sentient Age, Hypothesis Discarded

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Yudan Rosh Moving To Outer Hatch

Input – Yudan Rosh: "All I see below is the rubble of deactivated droids."

Input – Jolee Bindo: "I have no reason nor desire to dally in untruths with you. As a token of my good faith, allow me to gift your Wookiee with my disruptor rifle. There are further battle-droids ahead, and the quickest way to deactivate them is-"

Output: "Evaluation: a clear disruptor charge aimed eight centimetres below the cessation of the neck segment will disperse through the titaplate armour and disable the thermal motivator located in the chest cavity. Mockery: I have already ascertained that, Doddering Fossil. Perhaps you would like to return after we have eliminated our remaining enemies, and inform us how best to kill them, too?"

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Jolee Bindo Appraising HK-47

Input – Jolee Bindo To Master: "Interesting droid you have there, Jen Sahara."

Input – Master To Jolee Bindo: "You might as well call me Revan. And change your frelling face, alright? I'll give you five minutes to say whatever is so damn important to you."

Input – Jolee Bindo: "Very well."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Jolee Bindo Is Transforming Organic Shape

Parameters Recalibrating: Jolee Bindo Does Not Match Jolee Bindo

#Alarm: Unknown Meatbag In Targeting Area

Permanent Reference Removed: Jolee Bindo
Temporary Alias Assigned: Mutating Somatic

Sensor Scan:
Target: Mutating Somatic
...Species: Human, Male
...Facial Recognition Result: Negative
...Electromagnetic Scan: No Devices Found
...Body Language Analysis: Relaxed, Calm
...Direct Threat Assessment: Unable To Compute
Conclusion: Undetectable Technology Is Dissimulating Mutating Somatic

Deeper Electromagnetic Scan Initiated: Target: Mutating Somatic

Input: Mutating Somatic To HK-47: "Stop that."

Facial Analysis: Mutating Somatic To HK-47: Forbidding Glare
Body Language Analysis: Mutating Somatic: Tense

Conclusion: Mutating Somatic Detected Electromagnetic Scan

Direct Threat Assessment: Moderate
Combat Mode Ready
Physical: Arming Disruptor Pistol

Input – Mutating Somatic To Master: "Is your droid going to be a problem, Revan?"

Output: "Observation: I am not a problem, you useless organic meatbag! You and your lack of any detectable technology or parameter matches are the problem!"

Input – Yudan Rosh To Master: "Revan. This wastes time. We should find Ordo, or move on."

Input – Master To Mutating Somatic: "Four minutes. Start by convincing me why Canderous would have returned to the 'Hawk."

Input – Mutating Somatic To Master: "I informed him of two groups of hostiles converging on your freighter. As he is separated from you and ill-equipped to defend against battle-droids, he has returned to where he can be of further assistance."

Input – Master To Mutating Somatic: "Okay, say I buy that. Cut to the chase. What do you want?"

Input – Mutating Somatic To Master: "In the complex below I disabled five battle-droids and saved the life of your ally. Canderous Ordo can confirm this when you next speak. In return for my assistance, my organization politely request that you meet with them when your business on the Star Forge is concluded."

Indirect Threat Assessment: Probable

Output: "Analysis: My vernacular interpretation construes that as a threat. Permission to blast him, master?"

Input – Master To Mutating Somatic: "Why? I am not Darth Revan, Rulan Prolik. Our alliance no longer exists."

Permanent Name Assigned: Rulan Prolik To Mutating Somatic

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "If you recall our alliance, then you recall more than just your name."
Voice Stress Analysis: Speculative

Input – Master To Rulan Prolik: "No. Other remnants of my past have... enlightened me, shall we say. I have no memory of any dealings with your kind, other than the shindig on Rii'shn and our charming little chat in the forest. I am not the Sith Lord who worked with you in the past."

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "I comprehend that you no longer lead the Sith Empire, Revan. What my organization desires are answers-"

Input – Master To Rulan Prolik (interrupting): "I suffered severe brain damage followed by a personality replacement. Exactly what answers do you expect me to have?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Forbidding

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "All I request is a conversation between friends, Revan. No threats, no danger, no trap. I once told you the purpose of my organization. Do you remember?"

Facial Analysis: Master To Rulan Prolik: Hard Stare

Input – Master To Rulan Prolik: "Stability of the galaxy."
Voice Stress Analysis: Monotone

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "Yes. You convinced us, once, of something greater than the Mandalorian Clans threatening that stability. Even if you have no recollection, a Force-user with your strength might still have a critical part to play in future events. Or, perhaps, one day your memories will return. Either way, my organization wishes to remain, at the very least, an amicable associate with reciprocal interests."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Rulan Prolik Handing Disruptor Rifle To Zaalbar

Input – Rulan Prolik To Zaalbar: "Here. Take this. You may find it difficult to use with your injury, but a disruptor is your best offense against a battle-droid."

Input – Zaalbar To Rulan Prolik (Shyriiwook): "I am capable of wielding a weapon, Faceless One."
Voice Stress Analysis: Wary

Input – Master To Rulan Prolik: "You make a lot of assumptions regarding my survival, Rulan Prolik. Both from this place, and from a Republic victory. I can't even say I'll be around long enough to meet up for a play date."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Rulan Prolik Shrugging
Body Language Analysis: Rulan Prolik: Indifferent

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "My organization watches the possibilities of many futures, Revan Freeflight. However, a victory for you on the Star Forge does not necessarily denote your fate in the hands of the Republic."

Input – Master To Rulan Prolik: "What do you mean?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Wary

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "I sent your Mandalorian back to help defend your freighter. But there are more... anonymous ways to leave this place than the ship you came in on. You may be aware there are three officer docking bays in the Star Forge. All have a handful of strikefighters still docked within them; modified ships that belong to Sith officers or Dark Jedi. And by modified, I am referring to a stealth technology that the Republic Fleet cannot decrypt."

Input – Master To Rulan Prolik: "You think I should leave in one of them."

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "It is merely an option I offer, in the name of our future association. I have encoded all remaining docked strikefighters to activate upon the vocal passphrase 'nexus'."

Input – Yudan Rosh: "That is in particularly poor taste."

Input – Rulan Prolik To Yudan Rosh: "Is it? I thought it fitting."

Accessing: Internal Dictionary
...Analysing

Output: "Analysis: Reference: 'nexus'... a connected series; the core or centre of a matter or situation. From the literal definition, such a comparison to meatbag's strikefighter may appear disproportionate. However, as this is a proposed escape vehicle for my master, and may even be the vessel that assures her survival, it can certainly be considered a core or central factor."

Input – Yudan Rosh To Rulan Prolik: "And what is the deactivation passphrase? 'Invictus'?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Sarcastic

Output: "Mockery: Apathetic Fleshbag, do be quiet."

Input – Master: "Obviously I'm missing some historical reference."
Voice Stress Analysis: Wry

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "At this juncture in time, it is truly nothing of import."

Input – Master To Rulan Prolik: "Alright, you've passed along your friendly request. Unless you're planning to stick around and help me, I don't think there's anything further to say. I'll think about meeting your... organization, once I've finished with slightly more pressing matters. You know, Malak. The Forge. The space battle raging outside around us."

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "I shall leave the current battles to your capable talents, Revan Freeflight. Just do not forget my organization in the midst of victory. Your ally owes me his life, and a conversation is a small price to even the scales. My overseers are not fond of waiting."

Output: "Reiteration: Definitely a threat, master. Hypothesis: Mutating Somatic will be unable to transform shape after his neck is crushed. Shall we test this theory, master?"

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "Let me reassure you, once more, that my organization is no threat to your person, Revan Freeflight. Consider this, instead, a promise. If you do not seek us out within three months, one of our agents will find you instead."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Rulan Prolik Moving To Outer Hatch

Input – Rulan Prolik To Master: "One last matter for you to take into account. My organization can offer you amnesty, Revan. Something the Republic will not. Your memory may be incomplete, but you know enough about us to have some understanding of our resources. We would prefer to think of you as a friend, and friends help each other out. So - until we meet again, Revan Freeflight."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Rulan Prolik Exiting Targeting Area

Input – Yudan Rosh: "His organization does not sound like one you wish to be indebted to. Although I suppose one could argue it is preferable to public execution."

Input – Master (muttered): "We should go. Bastila is near. Then... then Malak. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just... just..."

Input – Yudan Rosh To Master: "Rushing in recklessly without a plan? In that respect, Revan, you behave a lot like how you were before the Mandalorian Wars."

Input – Master To Yudan Rosh: "Just with a few more battle scars and wrinkles, I guess."

Input – Yudan Rosh To Master: "Well, your species is not renowned for aging gracefully."
Voice Stress Analysis: Droll

Auditory Input: Laugh
Source: Master

Input – Master To Yudan Rosh: "Fighting words, Yudan. Next time we spar I'll show you just how well I've aged."
Voice Stress Analysis: Amused

Output: "Repetition: Again, master, my programming compels me to remind you that cybernetic implants do not suffer from decay due to any organic aging-"

Input – Zaalbar (Shyriiwook) (interrupting): "Do not despair, Jen. Bastila will listen to you. You are her bond sister. All you need to do is communicate."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Master Moving To Inner Hatch

Output: "Commentary: Communication can come in a variety of forms. With Force-users, some of my favourites include grenades, sonic screamers, cluster rockets, and plasma charges. Mines are also effective, since many Force-users will run to meet you in hand-to-hand combat. Silly Force-users."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Zaalbar Readying Disruptor Rifle
Visual/Thermal Tracking: Zaalbar And Yudan Rosh Moving To Inner Hatch

Input – Yudan Rosh: "Interesting this droid was programmed by you, Revan, considering his opinions on how to eliminate Force-users."

Output: "Statement: I speak from experience as much as programming, Apathetic Fleshbag. Recitation: When it comes to Force-users, weapon selection is critical. If I see one more idiot attacking a Jedi face-on with a blaster pistol, then I'll kill them myself."

Input – Master: "Enough, HK. Ready your disruptor, and let's go finish off these battle-droids."

Visual/Thermal Tracking: Master Opening Inner Hatch

Output: "Statement: With pleasure, master."

xXx

Author's Note:
Coming up next: Things get real down by the Ebon Hawk, and Revan faces Bastila.

A Sith Lord's flagship worth of thanks to kosiah for the beta.

Beya Organa belongs to kosiah's 'verse in her sagas 'Memory' and 'Oblivion'. Thank you for letting me borrow her, kos – even if Beya didn't survive here, at least she's responsible for the birth of Atton Rand. I think that's a good thing, lol!

Props to anyone who spotted the line Beya blatantly stole from the Star Wars spoof 'Spaceballs'. Obviously it's not mine, disclaimer disclaimer etc etc.