Chapter 5: All Hail the Mysterious Stranger
"But… but sir! We… we don't have the manpower for that kind of operation!"
Mesal's eyes widened in exasperation. There was no way they'd be able to pull off this kind of stunt without drawing on more resources and men than it was worth. Honestly, all this to capture some stupid Jedi?
The governor turned to his subordinate as static monitor screens, the room's only source of illumination, bathed his face in an eerie, malevolent glow.
"Then pull men from the Upper City patrols. Call reinforcements down from the fleet. Recruit Mercenaries if you have too."
The governor leaned in, his glare steel cold against Mesal.
"If you value your life at all, Captain, I would advise you not to dispute my orders in the future. You are dismissed."
Mesal backed slowly away from his commanding officer, who had turned his back to studying the glowing monitors.
The elevator slid upward towards the main level of the Sith base, smooth and silent. Mesal stood quietly in the center, his hands folded behind his back. The governor was completely mad. He should mention it to someone higher on the official ranking. Maybe then they could install someone who wasn't a conceited ego maniac. After a few seconds thought, Mesal dismissed the idea. The higher-ups were all completely mad, too.
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Bastila paced back and forth across the sewer grating, rubbing her still aching temples. Revan was free. The pod had crashed, she had been knocked unconscious, and Revan was free. The Twi'Lek had grabbed her body, hid her down here, safe from Sith search parties, and Revan was free.
Revan was free.
She reached down instinctively to her belt. She had always found a small bit of comfort came with holding her lightsaber. It helped remind her that, no mater what was happening, no mater what went wrong, she would always have the strength to deal with it.
But her fingers, reaching clumsily, gripped only empty air. She stopped pacing, and stared down at the belt loop that normally held the lightsaber's silver hilt.
Empty.
Revan was free and he had her lightsaber.
Bastila looked up, heaving a great sigh of exasperation. She slumped against the wall, still massaging her temples.
"Come on, you two. We'd better get moving."
The Twi'Lek looked up at Bastila from her position on the sewer floor.
"Get moving where? You know, you still haven't told us what's going on."
"I know, and I apologize, but there really isn't time to explain. You'll just have to trust that I know what I'm doing. I am a Jedi, after all, if you'll remember."
The headache had begun to recede a bit, giving back some of Bastila's natural charisma, along with much of her natural arrogance. The Twi'lek stood, brushing sewer grime from her pants.
"Yeah, whatever. C'mon Zaalbar. We might as well go with her. Not like there's anything else to do down here."
Zaalbar let out a low moan that echoed softly down the sewer passageways.
Mission hunched forward, hands clasp firmly over her mouth to contain the outburst of laughter. Bastila turned sharply around, her eyes glaring daggers into the Twi'Lek's friend.
"I can speak Shriiwook."
Zaalbar howled out an apology.
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"AND IN THIS CORNER, THE NEWEST ADDITION TO THE TARIS DUELING SCENE, I GIVE YOU… THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!"
Duncan felt the blaster handle holstered at his hip. Finally. Now that the Duel Ring had some rookie meat in it he could climb up past his last place ranking. He'd finally be better than somebody for once. He could probably just charge the new guy with his vibroblade drawn… maybe scream a war cry or something… heh… make the rookie wet his pants, probably. Duncan slid the sword from it's sheathe, pulling it slowly out to the front of him. He glanced at the Stranger across the ring. What he saw struck him as disturbingly odd.
The Stranger wasn't moving. The guy was just standing there… arms crossed. He wasn't even drawing a weapon. What the hell was he doing? Duncan worried about it for a while before the answer came to him, and when it did, Duncan shook his head. Poor guy… frozen with fear. Well, some people had the balls for the sport and some didn't.
Man… Duncan thought. It's going to feel so good to finally beat somebody.
Duncan broke out running, his feet slamming hard on the arena's metal floor. The repeated slap of his boots bringing him ever closer to his prey. As Duncan neared the target, he raised the vibroblade high above his head. The Stranger remained motionless, his white eyes burning into Duncan. Duncan's brain snapped away from the battle.
White eyes? That was impossible… there was no way…
Just as quickly, Deadeyes mind was yanked back into the ring as he was hurled forward, the Stranger had moved to the side, his foot just clipping Duncan's ankle.
Deadeye's shoulder slammed into the cold ground. He skidded to a stop next to the arena wall, his vibroblade clattering to the ground a few feet away from him. Dumb rookie. As Duncan began to push himself up, he felt something come up and hit his chest… hard, tossing him onto his back As Deadeye Duncan stared at the ceiling, the realization slowly crept into the corners of his mind.
The rookie had kicked him. That had never happened to anyone before… not even Deadeye. It was an insult… that rookie was going to…
The thoughts stopped as a black shoe pressed down on Duncan's throat, the Stranger's face staring coldly down on him. Duncan began to gasp in vain for breath.
"Yield."
Duncan did his best to choke the words out of his mouth.
"I… yi… yield."
The Stranger crouched down, his face almost touching Duncan's.
"I'm sorry, Deadeye, but I can't here you. I don't think the crowd can, either."
The shoe pressed down harder on his throat.
"I YIELD… yield… please…" Duncan could no longer force the words out of his mouth. His lungs were screaming, crying for air. Then, like a gift from heaven, the pressure was gone. He turned over on his stomach, coughing, gasping… the muffled cries of the announcer barely registering in his ears.
"…EVENT IN THE HISTORY OF THE DUEL! DEADEYE DUNCAN BEATEN BY A WEAPONLESS ROOKIE! THIS IS ONE FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS, FOLKS! BUT IS THIS MORE THAN A SIMPLE DEADEYE FAILURE? COULD THIS MYSTERIOUS STRANGER BE FOR REAL?"
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"You! What are you two still doing here? Didn't you get the deployment order?"
Mesal glared at the troopers standing next to the Rodian bouncer. Typical incompetence. Order a troop deployment and where do they go? The Damn Cantina!
"Well… we… ah…"
"Just shut up before I kill the both of you. The only reason I haven't yet is because we need everybody we can get, even the pathetic slackers like you, sad as it makes me. Now get your sorry asses to the mission launch point before I make this incident official."
"Uh… yes… yes sir."
Mesal watched the two jog down the decaying corridor. He sighed inwardly. This job was hard enough without having to worry about pathetic wastes of soldiers like that. How did they ever make it into the Sith, anyway? Mesal took off after them. Best to make sure they didn't slink off again.
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Bastila's footsteps echoed down the empty sewer ways, creating an eerie kind of ambience. Her… rescuers, for lack of a better word, followed behind her, silent. The Twi'Lek child had said she knew another way through to the lower city… past a Rancor and a swoop gang nest, of course. Nothing was ever easy. She looked back to make sure her new companions were keeping up. As she did, the child… Mission Vao… spoke up.
"So… who was that guy? The one in the pod with you?"
Bastila turned her head forward again, and kept walking.
"That is none of your concern, child."
"Child!? Listen, you ain't much older than me, missy! Just because your some Jedi doesn't mean you get to go and act all high and mighty! We saved your life, remember? You owe us something."
Bastila stopped, turning to face her companions.
"Saved my life? Saved my life? Is that what you call it? Hiding behind some rock and watching as my charge simply got up and left? Dragging me down into this decrepit hole as far away from him as I can possible get, and then telling me the only way back up is through a Rancor infested cavern and a nest of violent, dim-witted swoop racers, both of which will consume so much time and energy that my charge will be long off world before I even reach the surface. That is your idea of a rescue?"
Bastila whirled around and stormed ahead through the sewers. Mission stood dumbfounded. Behind her, Zaalbar let out a low moan.
"You can say that again, Big Z."
