Star Wars: The Dark Empire
Episode 2 - Jenesis
Part 9 - Suppression War
One month later
Coruscant, Jedi Temple, Council Chambers
"With the death of Calus the Hutt, we met little resistance in the Unicru sector of Lannik," said Marka, who was giving the report on how the war was going. "With five sectors controlled, our invasion is ahead of schedule. Our losses though are also substantially higher than anticipated, the Conglomerate sent in higher quality troops than we have seen previously."
The battle had nearly been an absolute disaster; Marka had been attacked by two phantoms at once, even though he seen through their ambush he had still very nearly been killed. His forces had been outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, and without his leadership had been pulling back. Only the timely arrival of an armoured corps had forced the enemy to abandon their pincer movement, after that it had degenerated into a battle of attrition. Marka had ultimately defeated his attackers and led the Republic in a charge that had broken the enemy's back, sending them fleeing in their thousands.
"Thank you, Master Cabanic," said Bastila, and Marka took his seat.
"We lost two Jedi in the fighting," he said quietly, but everybody heard him. "The other two are in a critical condition."
There was moment of silence; all in the council knew how keenly each loss cut the order. Especially since only experienced Jedi fought on the front lines. All four of them had been ex-Sith.
"Well, it can't be helped," said Bastila awkwardly, "In war, people die."
"Has there been any recent movements from Jezebel?" said Marka, changing the subject.
"Nothing recently," said Brianna, "As you know, the Exile destroyed that city on Reecee three weeks ago, but since then she has vanished. I can only think that she is training her new followers, by the last reports she has about fifty now, travelling in three different ships."
Brianna and Venoak, an ex-Sith who had followed Marka, had been elected to council to replace Kaya and Yarin; both killed in the Polar battle of Telos. Kaah Ohtok had recently returned to the council, recovered enough to sit in on a meeting, if not enough to train himself or others. It would be a long time until he would be able to fight again. Ramon Naj's seat was typically empty, he hadn't attended any meetings since he had taken off with his fifty students four months ago, they weren't expecting his return any time soon. Marka found that he actually missed him, they had been through a lot together.
"She has a lot to answer for," said Mical angrily, "Sixteen million civilians, dead by her hand."
"Any word of who killed those Hutt clan leaders on Klatooine?" said Vandar.
"Still nothing," said Tathleen, the chronicler of the archives, "A lightsaber was used, but I am certain it wasn't Revan. He was spotted a day before on Nar Shaddaa. He might have fled immediately after that, but the journey would have taken too long for him to have been there at that time. It must have been someone else."
"Never, his name is Never," said Marka softly. Bastila nodded in agreement.
Marka had not admitted to meeting with Never on Telos, but since the rest of the council took the rumour as a certainty the effect was the same. Since directly after the battle they had been tracking his movements, trying to get in contact with him. The problem was that Marka was sure that there was a Sith in the council, who would be sure to pass all Never's movements onto Korgul. But he couldn't possibly reveal that to the council, it would divide them in a time where there had to be unity, causing infinite suspicion between members. Hopefully Mical would discover the identity of the traitor soon.
"This is the third time its happened," said Vandar, "First the crime lords, then their academy for training elite soldiers, now the clan leaders. Not to mention half a dozen other attacks that we have difficulty linking to Revan."
"Never," Bastila corrected.
"There is a rumour going around," said Brianna, "Someone calling himself 'Morningstar' saved a few thousand refugees on Lannik shortly before our invasion. He's done a lot more than that, this is just his greatest achievement so far. Apparently he has Jedi skills, and an accomplice with similar abilities. And he is definitely not Rev… sorry, Never."
"How do we know that?" said Marka sharply.
"Never was confirmed on a different planet by nearly a hundred eyewitnesses at the same time as this rescue was going down. He was trying to destroy a droid factory with his apprentice, he wasn't entirely successful."
"How did this 'Morningstar' save those people?" asked Astin Lamar.
"There was a merchant fleet about to fly off with tons of medium-value cargo," Brianna explained, "he destroyed a large portion of that cargo and forced the crews to take the refugees to safety. They didn't exactly comply willingly, but did the job. Most of the refugees were resettled on Onderon."
"What does he look like?"
"Eyewitnesses all agree that Morningstar dresses in pure white Jedi robes, the hood is always up. His voice is rough and grating, some put it down to a voice-changer. His face isn't masked, but by all reports it is impossible to make out with the naked eye."
"That's an incredibly advanced Force-technique!" Marka exclaimed, "It required tremendous skill to achieve, and great power to maintain. Only a few Sith masters and the Dark Lord are capable of it, Never Oneiro is probably the only Jedi in the history of the order to learn it." Marka himself had been unable to reach that level of control.
"After that the reports vary greatly," Brianna continued, ignoring Marka's outburst, "Size ranges from tall to short-ish. Rumours about him go from strange to downright crazy. There's a couple that he is a twi-lek, a rodian, a woman, a former Jedi turned Sith that's just come out of hiding after deciding to be a Jedi again, or that he is actually Marka's alter ego."
"Ridiculous," he muttered.
"Agreed, it is impossible," said Astin.
Marka bit back an angry retort. The older Jedi had a way of turning a simple statement into a deadly insult. The fact that he suspected him of being an undercover Sith only made it harder to refrain from a verbal or physical assault.
"Many seem to agree that he is the Chosen one, here to save us from the Sith. But I think that is just hopefulness. Most say that he has Force abilities, but without a Jedi witness we have no way of knowing how powerful he is."
"To sum it all up, we have no idea who this 'Morningstar' is," said Astin.
Marka sat up sharply at Astin's comment, the situation suddenly reminding him of a year before, when he had been wondering who exactly the shadow-man 'Never' was. Never had been aiding the rebellion of Sith planets at the time. Morningstar seemed somewhat similar in style. Too bad it wasn't Never this time.
"We could find out," said Bastila, "He's probably a Jedi who left the order within the last ten years and hasn't rejoined it yet. Master Tathleen, can I trust you to pull up the relevant files. And pay special attention to the most powerful Jedi, there's a higher probability of him being one of them."
"I can do that, Master," said Tathleen.
"Another uncontrollable variable," Astin grumbled, "Too much chance in this war."
"War always has uncontrolled variables and chance," said Marka, "At least this one is on our side. I think we can assume that 'Morningstar' killed the clan leaders, unless we get evidence to disprove that theory."
"A weak theory," said Vandar, "But in the absence of a better one, I think that is the one we will have to work with."
"We should get in contact with Morningstar," said Bastila, "Perhaps then we would be able to work together cohesively, as a unit."
"That will only happen if he contacts us," said Marka. They had no way of knowing who or where Morningstar was.
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Coruscant, Jedi Temple, Mical's chambers
The meeting was over, and like most other meetings nothing had come from it. True, they had discussed recent events to the nth degree, but they had made no definite decisions. Mical hadn't spoken the entire time, he had simply observed the other council members, trying to discern any trace of ulterior motives in them.
Mical sat down heavily on his bed, running his fingers through his blond locks. Sighing deeply, he went over the recent events and clues in his head. Korgul's first attack had been on Alderaan, over a month ago. But instead of attacking the Jedi academy there, which would have been the juiciest target; especially since Marka had been there at the time; Korgul had only killed a bunch of shady businessmen. It seemed almost petty, even if it had shattered the sectors economy overnight. But it proved that at the time, he had no knowledge of where the Jedi academies were.
As a direct result of the attack, it had been decided by the council to immediately move every one of the Jedi academies to safer locations, which only Marka; Bastila and Laman had known the locations of. The only academies that hadn't been moved were the ones on Telos (because it was so remote) and Coruscant (because the Jedi Temple was immobile). Not moving the Telos academy would soon prove to be a mistake. Korgul hadn't met up with the hidden Sith during that time, otherwise he would have attacked before the academies had a chance to move. If he had met with them, he had done so too late to catch the nearest academy before they departed.
Then, a few days after the move, he had attacked. He had taken the Telos academy in a massive, lightning-fast raid; the majority of his army made up of conscripts from Hutt planets. They had been lucky that he hadn't done more damage to the Jedi order then, in fact they had come off better in that battle. When taking travelling distances into account, there was only a period of about three days when he could have met up with the hidden Sith -assuming that he'd met them on Coruscant- and found out the location of the Telos academy. Korgul wasn't using the communication channels, Mical was sure of that, he didn't want to be found; and using them would be a dead giveaway with so many people watching them in these troubled times. He must have been kicking himself then, to know that he'd missed his golden opportunity to get Marka on Alderaan. Since then, his movements had been far easier to track, with every sighing of his being recorded diligently.
Mical had kept tabs on his three suspects who had been in the chancellors box when he had felt the uncontrolled surge of emotion coming from a dark-sided Force user. They were: Astin Lamar, 56, male human; Jedi Master on the high council. Kaur Agrippal, 63, male human; Galactic Chancellor. Treken Rae, 89, male epicanthix; Chancellors personal aide. All three of them had been on Coruscant at the time Korgul would have had to meet with them. Mical was sure that at least one of them was a Sith Lord, or thought of himself as one. They would have got into contact with Korgul at that time.
The knowledge of the Telos academy's location had been confined to few outside the Jedi council, most even inside the order had thought the polar regions as little more than desolate waste, excepting of course those who trained there. Mical had spent the last month checked out all those outside the council with knowledge of the academy, they were all clear. The only one he hadn't been able to investigate properly was Jezebel the Exile. She had known about the academy, even if she hadn't known that it had been re-established and expanded. But if she had given the information, Mical was sure she would have stayed with them for the chance to catch Revan. So it was probably someone on the council.
Astin Lamar seemed the obvious choice, given that he was already on Mical's list of suspects. Not wanting to leave any stone unturned, Mical had compiled a list of all the council members that had been on Coruscant at that time. Besides himself and Bastila, it had only been Tathleen, Vandar and Astin. Now Mical had five suspects on two separate lists, which overlapped only on Astin Lamar's name. Everything seemed to be pointing to him. But Mical was reluctant to act without solid evidence.
The door opened, and Brianna Kae came in. She sat down next to him, and put her hand on his shoulder. "Find out anything today?" she asked.
Brianna was the newest addition to the investigation team, bringing their number up to four. It hadn't been entirely necessary for her to get involved, and Bastila had been against it. But with both her and Marka heavily involved with the war, Mical had felt that he needed some support. With Brianna's recent promotion to the high council, she was the perfect candidate, there were no grounds for suspicion against her. Besides, she was the Jedi that he trusted the most out of the entire order. The only other possible candidate in the council had been Kaah, but he was still recovering from his nearly deadly wound.
He shook his head, "No, nothing new. I think its time to collect the camera-feed from the chancellors office."
He hadn't been there since he had installed the bugs a month ago, they had all been set to record rather than transmit. Mical had been terrified that their transmissions would have been picked up, and they would have been discovered.
Security had been stepped around the chancellor recently, what with the current war. Besides the obvious threat of phantoms, Hutts were well known for making use of bounty hunters. And there would undoubtedly be a bounty on the chancellors head. It had also made retrieving the camera and audio feed had been all but impossible.
"The chancellor is going to the 'Serenity' concert tonight, most of his security will be taking a break," said Brianna, "We might not get a better opportunity than this."
"How did you find that out?"
Brianna gave a hint of a smile, which for her was the equivalent of a massive grin, "Most of the chancellors guards are Echani. I made friends with them."
Mical was impressed, she was already proving her worth. "Tonight then," he agreed, "And afterward, maybe we could go and sample that new Corellian restaurant."
He tried to appear nonchalant about it, but his heart was hammering so fast that he was sure it would betray him. He had been longing to ask Brianna out for months now, his duties had kept him from doing so. He waited for her to respond, the seconds ticking by slowly. Remain calm, don't panic.
"Dinner would be nice," she said finally, "But we'll have to wear something other than our burglar outfits, they're not very attractive and we'd attract too much attention."
Mical gave a laugh at her slight joke of 'burglar outfits', but inside his heart was doing a victory-jig.
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Lannik System, Spaceport
"I'm worried about him, Cora," Bastila admitted to the tall blonde woman, "Ever since his wife died, Marka has barely said anything about it. He's going on like nothing happened, focusing everything on this war. His success is undeniable, he hasn't lost a single battle yet, and his strategies have been ruthlessly efficient. But I worry about him, he seems… different."
They were sitting in the Female officers lounge, having just finished their mid-day meal. Not that mid-day meant anything in space. But body patterns had to be observed, if they were to remain in good health. As Jedi, both Cora and Bastila had been allowed to use the officers facilities, even though Cora was only a padawan. But then she had served as a captain in the army before joining the order.
"He has changed," Cora agreed, "Before, he would smile on occasion and compliment me when I did well. Now he never smiles, no encouragement, he only berates me for mistakes. Once, when two officers disobeyed his orders and ended up getting men killed in the process, I thought he was going to murder them. There was a fury in his eyes like I'd never seen in anyone before."
"He didn't, did he?" said Bastila anxiously.
"No," said Cora, "He ordered one of his senior officers to deal with them, and left."
"Obviously he felt that he couldn't deal with them calmly," said Bastila.
The story chilled her to the bone. In another person it wouldn't have been an abnormal sequence of events, but Marka normally had stronger than iron self-control. It was what made him such a deadly fighter and effective leader. If he was starting to lose that control, he could well become a liability to their cause, making rash decisions and poor judgement calls. He might even start seeking death in battle. And if he died, there would be nothing holding the ex-Sith to the Jedi order. The cream core of the Jedi could just as easily turn around and start fighting for the enemy. Marka was vital to their efforts. If he fell, so too would the Republic.
"He must be trying to forget his wife's death by immersing himself in the war," said Bastila, "That's not healthy. He's bottling up his pain, allowing it to fester and grow."
"His wife was his link to the Jedi order," said Cora, "I'm worried, now that she's dead, that link is severed. What's to stop him from returning to the Sith?"
That would be the one thing worse than his death, his betrayal. If he left, most of the ex-Sith would undoubtedly follow him, and many more other Jedi would follow just out of the force of his personality. It would be like Revan leading the Jedi to the Mandalorian wars all over again. The Jedi order would crumple, never to recover. But Bastila had considered before as one of her worst-case scenarios, and already had an answer.
"He wouldn't, he is still linked to us through his daughter. That is all that remains of his wife to him, and I'm certain he wouldn't want her growing up to be a Sith."
"But could he be concerned about what it would be like for her growing up without a father, and saving his own life?"
"I don't think he's the type of man who fears death, perhaps he even wishes for it now. And he has other motives for joining with us. Kaya told me once that he was forced to kill his own father, and decided because of that to go against the Sith."
"He never told me that," said Cora softly, and the two women sat for a while in silence.
"We have to help him," Cora burst out suddenly, startling Bastila into spilling her caffa, "We owe it to him. He's given up everything for us. And we need him, we can't just let him wallow in misery until he takes a blaster to the head."
"And how do we do that?" said Bastila, wiping the liquid off her pants with her free hand.
"He needs a lover!" Cora exclaimed with such intensity that several lady officers nearby gave them sideways glances. "He needs someone to love, he's lonely and sexually frustrated."
Bastila could hardly believe what she had just heard, she blinked a couple of times, unsure how to react. "And who exactly do you have in mind for that job?" she managed finally.
"Why, me of course!" said Cora happily, "He deserves someone worthy of him, someone who has a strong; beautiful body and is talented in the Force."
But not apparently strong in the head, thought Bastila, Or humble. Cora was undeniably beautiful though, her hair was like spun gold, her eyes a crystal clear pool. Her body was firm and muscled, but well curved and rounded where it mattered. Looking at her, Bastila couldn't help but be jealous. While she wasn't unattractive herself, she felt plain compared to the other woman's level of physical beauty. About the only thing that might be a deterrent to men about Cora was her height; at 1,87m she was taller even than Marka.
"I thought you didn't like men," said Bastila, "There've been rumours…"
"They're wrong," Cora growled, "I just won't lower myself to be with a man unworthy of me. I met very few worthy men, and all were already married."
"I guess the best ones get snapped up quickly," said Bastila philosophically.
Cora nodded vigorously, "But Marka's a widower, its perfect! I saw how he was with his wife, if he's that way with me, it would be … … um … … give me a word; please Bastila."
"Try 'immaculate'," said Bastila, after a moment of thought. She had chosen it simply because she was sure the other woman had no idea what the word meant, and some snide part of her wanted to flaunt how much more intelligent she was.
"That's it! I'd have an immaculate life with Marka."
Bastila wasn't sure if the word worked in that context, it did mean faultless and perfect, but was associated more with washing. An image flashed in her mind of Marka and Cora naked in the refresher together, she dashed it out of her mind before she could see what they were doing.
"He's handsome, don't you think," Cora gushed, starry-eyed, "His eyes, they are soooo intense. His body is just to die for! His cold control, everywhere he goes, he radiates danger. He just oozes sexiness, and he's totally unaware of it. He is definitely worthy of me.
"Sooner or later, he will have to move on. Half the women in the order are in love with him, and he does nothing about it. With all of them making themselves available for him, he won't have a problem finding another partner. Knowing him, the first one he kisses he will stay with 'till death do them part'. I just have to make sure that woman is me."
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Bastila.
"Isn't it obvious? You're married, and you're his friend. You want what's best for him, and surely you can see that I'm what's best for him now. I want you to talk to him, find out when he's ready for me to move in on him. I need you as my wing … woman." Cora flashed a dazzling smile at her.
Bastila found herself agreeing, but even as she said the words she felt a strange feeling worm its way into her heart. She wasn't sure what it was, but it made her nauseous. Was it because she wasn't sure if Marka was ready for another relationship so soon after his loss? Or that she thought Cora wouldn't be right for him? She dared not consider the other possibilities, even to herself.
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Lannik, Republic forward base
Marka marched smartly down the lines of soldiers, stopping at points to examine their armour and weapons. The soldiers had obviously made an extra effort to clean up before his inspection, despite the fact that they were on the front line. Marka though was taking no notice of the states of their uniforms. He only cared what state the soldiers and their combat equipment were in.
Satisfied, he gave the order, and the soldiers dispersed quickly; eager get away from the stony Jedi Master.
Marka meanwhile walked off to his lightweight; portable hut, and closed the door behind him. He was the only one in the army who had a ten-man hut all to himself. He had shared it with the other Jedi who were helping with the war effort. Only two days ago there had been five of them, all ex-Sith. Now two were dead and two more badly wounded, shipped off-world for treatment.
As always, he alone had survived unscathed.
Marka pulled his purple over-cloak off and threw it onto one of the beds. The striking colour was what differentiated him from the rest of the Jedi, it served as a good rallying point for troops he led. Conversely it meant that he was far more likely to be targeted by the enemy, and killed. But he no longer cared. Some days he wished he were dead.
He sat down heavily on his bed, chastising himself silently. He couldn't die, if he did his daughter would be an orphan. If it came to that, he had made arrangements that would secure her future, but he couldn't seek death. It was extremely selfish. Especially since he knew that if he died, the Republic's chances of victory would be considerably reduced. He had made a commitment to them, he couldn't just lie down and perish because he didn't want to live any more.
Ever since Kaya's death, Marka had felt like a shadow of his former self. A part of him had died with her, the best part. He missed her, Force how he missed her. He missed those times they had spent together, how when she was in his arms it felt like nothing else in the universe mattered. Life was hollow, all the joy and pleasure of living turned into ash in his mouth.
All that remained to him was the constant struggle of putting one foot in front of the other, and moving forward.
His communication unit started beeping. Irritated, Marka got up to receive the call. His annoyance faded as soon as he saw who it was from. It was a doctor from the Coruscant research lab that Marka had sent his and Never's blood sample to. As he listened to the report, his eyes grew wider and wider. He grabbed a pen and paper and quickly jotted down the most important parts of what he was being told. He left the room immediately after the call, and ran towards the nearest shuttle. He couldn't possibly talk to Never, he hadn't been able to contact him since Telos, but there was someone else who would be very interested in those results.
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Coruscant, Jedi Temple, Mical's chambers
The break-in had gone smoothly, and they had retrieved the data without a hitch. Mical had become fairly good recently at picking locks. Before they had left, he had found the crystal that he had seen before, and shown it to Brianna. They went without leaving a trace of their intrusion.
Before they had gone over the data though, they had gone to dinner at the Corellian restaurant Mical had suggested. It had been simply sublime. Brianna had worn a virgin white dress, simple yet elegant. Mical had felt his mouth go dry when he had seen her in it, it fit snugly to her curves and accented her hair. She had even complimented him on how good he looked in a white suit.
Dinner had been perfect, they had been served by a human (which was a novelty, mostly droids attended to service) and he had been perfectly professional, and yet warm and friendly. Much better than being attended by AI. The food had been exotic and exquisite, laid out on the plate like a work of art. They had been hesitant to eat it, but when they had; they found that it tasted just as good as it looked. There had been a live band playing, one that mercifully wasn't dominated by Bith's, creating a pleasant atmosphere.
All in all it couldn't have been a better evening, or a more perfect first-date. Simulated by the environment, Brianna had come more out of her shell than Mical had ever seen her before. They had chatted for nearly two hours, before and after dinner, about everything. Of course, they had carefully avoided talking about the war or the investigation. Mical had been in such a good mood by the end that when he had been presented with the bill, he had tipped the waiter nearly fifty percent of it, and it hadn't been cheap.
Afterwards, they had come back to his apartment to study the evidence they had gathered. It was long and dreary work, sifting through weeks worth of audio-visual footage. But still the feeling of the date had remained, and they had talked long into the night as they listened and watched to different clips. When they had run out of things to say, they snuggled up close together and continued monitoring the surveillance.
It was shortly after midnight when Mical felt Brianna stiffen against him. "What is it?" he asked.
She took her headphones off, and handed them and the data-displayer to him. "Look at this," she said.
Chancellor Agrippal was in his office in the recording, and talking to a holo-image. Mical could not make out anything about the image, its back was turned to him, and the camera's movement did not help. The image was dated to nineteen days after he had tampered with the camera.
"I told you not to contact me in the office," Agrippal was saying.
"The line is secure," argued the other.
"Yes, but if something urgent happens and someone runs in? I've been having that happen a lot recently."
"Then I am a friend you just happened to be talking to."
"Covered in a cloak? It will look suspicious, Darth Lignance," said the chancellor.
Mical gasped, taking in the name. Darth Lignance, that was a name given to a Sith Lord. And since the chancellor was talking to him as an equal, it meant that he was most likely a Sith Lord as well and they were in cahoots together.
Mical noticed that while the two were speaking, Treken Rae; the chancellors aide; was standing quietly in the corner, his eyes glazed and unfocused. So this was how the chancellor had been keeping his aide in the dark. Mical knew that those strong in the Force could dominate a weaker mind, to the point of incapacitation. At least this meant that the epicanthix was free of suspicion. Not that it had seemed likely to Mical that a non-human would be a Sith Lord.
The conversation did not last much longer, the chancellor was unwilling to discuss anything in his office. But they did agree to meet at their 'usual place'. The only other point of interest was when the hologram image, Darth Lignance, referred to the chancellor as 'Darth Feasance'. Soon after the image winked out, and after waiting a short bit for follow up activity, Mical switched off the data-displayer.
The implications of the scene were potentially devastating for the Republic. Firstly, it served as conclusive evidence that there were two Sith Lords. Chancellor Kaur Agrippal was a Sith Lord named Darth Feasance, he had been playing everybody for fools, manipulating events to his whim. The other Sith Lord, Darth Lignance, was in close contact with him. Based on their other information, that Sith was on the Jedi council. They likely had a good few apprentices and retainers, but Mical doubted that there was another that they allowed to be on the same level as them.
The question was, who was Darth Lignance? Mical still had three suspects who could fit the role. Astin Lamar though was the only one who was human, which made him seem by far the most likely. Mical knew how the Sith tended to sideline what they thought of as lesser species'. Tathleen, being a Kiffar, was a near-human; but the Sith seemed to prefer them only marginally over the more alien races. Vandar, Mical didn't even know what species he was.
It was true that the suspicion against Lamar had lessened, for if there had only been a single Sith Lord then it could only have been him. But he was still the most likely candidate for the other Sith Lord.
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Lannik System, Spaceport
Today was the day. Today they would complete their mission. Today they would capture Bastila Oneiro.
Jaq Rand tugged irritably at his Republic Sergeant's uniform. He was going to murder whoever designed these things, they seemed to be made to be unpleasant. Even after weeks of wearing it in, it still chafed him. They were itchy, stubbornly denied comfort, and orange. They couldn't have made a worse uniform if they had tried. For the third time in a minute, he tried to adjust his sleeves.
Visas walked ahead of him, dressed as a lance-corporal. She carried an air of serenity that Jaq wished he could emulate. She had forgone her normal headgear for a black band around her eyes, which was the required standard for Miraluka in the military. It meant that her surprisingly dark hair was exposed, and her forehead; which was whiter than the rest of her face.
Having been tasked by their lady Jezebel to capture Bastila Oneiro, Jaq and Visas had infiltrated the Republic Military to get close to her. It hadn't been too difficult, there had been a call for more soldiers since the beginning of what was becoming known as the 'Suppression war', and they had been able to slip in without drawing any undue attention to themselves.
Jaq was glad Visas was with him, she had made the weeks of monotony seem like an extended date, or even a honeymoon. He had to admit, she had grown on him. What had begun primarily as a lust-fuelled relationship was transforming into something more enduring. This time together as soldiers had become the happiest in Jaq's miserable existence. He didn't want this time to end, even if it meant spending the rest of his days as a Republic trooper, and wearing the atrocious uniform.
But Jezebel held absolute control over his soul, he dared not defy her will. Ever since Bao-Dur and Mical's defection she had reinforced her bonds with her remaining followers tenfold. Jaq had come to hate her for it. His life was no longer his own, it was at her sufferance. If, somehow, she was killed; he would die. So too would Visas, and the other fifty-odd followers she had collected recently. But if they died, she wouldn't. She was the master puppeteer, they were her little marionettes.
Today they would capture Bastila, using her Jezebel would draw Revan to her. Then she would snuff out the life of one of the Republic's greatest heroes.
Jaq was not a particularly patriotic, or even loyal man. But even he could sense that what they were doing was deeply immoral. He had seen how Jezebel had decimated city's with her raging power, killing hundreds of thousands of innocent sentients for no reason whatsoever, except to leech their miniscule power. He had watched as she had bound dozens of Force-sensitive men and women to her will, leaving them little more than mindless drones. He had heard Revan's pleas to Jezebel about the threat of the Sith Empire, and seen how she blatantly ignored him. Nothing would dissuade her from her path of vengeance. Deep in his heart, Jaq wished that he had left with that Blondie Mical, and joined the Jedi. Then maybe, just maybe, he would have a cause worth fighting for.
He hated Jezebel. He hated himself for following her.
Jaq checked his wrist, there were three powerful stun-needles hidden there, each powerful enough to take down a baby Rancor; attached to a spring projectile and hidden under his sleeve. With his Jedi-hunter skills, there would be no way Bastila would even sense them coming before it was too late. Visas had a tiny blaster hidden in her bodice as backup.
In order to meet Bastila in her quarters, preferably alone, they had needed security clearance to go there. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the opportunity had presented itself to them today. Thankful Klatooiners had sent many gifts to the Republic and the Jedi for the liberation of their planet, many had been addressed to prominent Jedi. While none of the Jedi would ever accept any of the gifts for themselves, except perhaps the odd lightsaber crystal or tarisian chocolate pack, they were all expected to at least look at them before distributing them to the needy or selling them and using the money to help the less fortunate. Jaq and Visas had recently manoeuvred themselves into a position where they were the ones to be assigned to the task of taking those gifts to Bastila.
They walked quickly thought the station, taking turns to push the trolley with gifts in. The elevator that went to the restricted upper levels was located in the central point of the space station, but due to the spiralling passages it was the hardest place to reach. They reached it in the end, and Jaq inserted the access key he had been given. The door opened, and they entered, pushing the trolley with them.
Before the door closed though, a muscular arm caught it, and it opened again. Jaq's vision swam from the man's Jedi robes and purple cloak to his face. Revan! What in the galaxy's name is he doing here? He's supposed to be systems away. Wait… that shutta never had scars running down his face. And what's with his ear? Jaq then took in his purple over-cloak. Pure pazaak, he fits the description of Marka Cabanic. But does that mean that Marka is actually Revan in disguise? It would be a tactic to evade attacks, he still has plenty of enemies in the Republic. Or are they really different people, perhaps they're related. I have to play this carefully, if it is Revan he might remember me, and I am known as an accomplice of Jezebel.
"What floor?" said the Jedi as he entered.
"Third please, Master Jedi," replied Visas. She was probably unaware of what a perilous situation this man had just put them in.
"That's the female officers and Jedi living quarters," said the Jedi, more to himself than them as he pressed the button.
"And where are you going, sir," said Visas politely.
"Same," he grunted, cutting off further conversation.
When they started accelerating upwards, Jaq could not contain himself any longer. "Are you …Marka" he burst out, nearly giving himself away by saying 'Revan'.
The other mans brows furrowed slightly, and he replied, "Yes," before turning to face the door; again cutting off any further discussion. He seemed cold and quite unsociable.
Jaq made sure as they went up that his Force-presence was concealed, he hoped that Visas was doing the same. Even though his Force-senses were muted through concealing his presence, he could still feel the aura of power that this man radiated. He wondered briefly if this man could possibly be strong enough to put an end to his lady Jezebel, then he dismissed the wild fantasy. Jezebel was many times more powerful than the most powerful Jedi ever, hers was the equivalent to hundreds of Jedi combined; and it grew greater as she killed. She would never be defeated, it was impossible. And he would be her slave for the rest of his life.
The door opened, and the three of them stepped out. The Jedi headed off immediately, clearly knowing where he was going. Jaq and Visas though had never been in this area of the space-station before, and milled around for a bit before heading in the same direction; pushing the trolley ahead of them. They just had to find Bastila's room now.
Jaq was glad to be free of the Jedi's oppressive presence, whoever he truly was. During his years as an assassin Jaq had come into contact with many dangerous men, and women. He had developed during that time a sense that allowed him to predict potentially dangerous situations; and gauge how dangerous people he met were. That man had definitely made into his top ten, no, top five.
60...62...64! That was the room number they'd been told to go to. Jaq gave his needle-launching wristband a quick check, before buzzing the room.
"Who is it?" a female voice said through the speaker after a moment.
"Sergeant Aron Rad and lance corporal Issa here to drop off gifts for Grandmaster Bastila Oneiro from Klatooine," Jaq replied. Those were the fake names that they were using. They had purposefully chosen ones close to their real names so that if their real ones were said in their presence and they reacted to them they would have an excuse.
"Come in." The door slid open.
As Jaq pushed the trolley into the room, he caught sight of the woman he supposed was Bastila. Certainly she matched the description of her. A slender, palely beautiful woman with shockingly dark hair and massive blue eyes. She was sitting on her bed, regarding them calmly. She wasn't alone, the Jedi they had met in the lift was there as well, his hard blue gaze piercing Jaq's soul and making him feel instantly guilty. For the first time in months, Jaq felt a thrill of fear run up his spine. How were they going to complete their mission without one of these two chopping them into bite-sized pieces?
"Really, they shouldn't have," said Bastila, and started getting up.
The other Jedi was fast, he put his hand on Bastila's shoulder, forcing her down again. Turning to Jaq, he said, "Leave, now."
"Marka?!" Bastila gasped. She seemed about to say more, but a look from him silenced her.
"Actually, we were tasked with helping the Grandmaster sort through all of them," said Visas. Jaq clenched his jaw, hoping that her shallow ruse would work.
"You are a Miraluka right, Issa?" said the Jedi.
"Y…yes, Master."
"I can sense the Force in you, you have the potential to become a Jedi."
Jaq cursed under his breath as Visas stammered her refusal, she hadn't concealed her Force-presence properly. The last thing they wanted was to be brought into the Jedi order, and be caught in a massive war between the Jedi and the Sith. Fortunately the Jedi seemed to accept her hastily made-up excuses.
"Very well," he said, "Your order to help Bastila is countermanded, by me. I will help her with organising these things, you can go."
Jaq thought fast for an reason to stay, but there was no way as a Republic soldier he could reasonably ignore the Jedi Master's instruction. To attack now would be foolish, the Revan-like man was being extremely cautious; and to voice further objection would only serve to make him even more so. With luck, there would be other opportunities. So he nodded to Visas, they saluted and turned to leave.
"I will be placing an armed Jedi guard on you from now on," the Jedi said to Bastila audibly as Jaq left the room. Jaq had to control his expressions carefully, he was sure that the Jedi was saying that purely to elicit a reaction from him or Visas. Just how deeply did he suspect them?
Jaq controlled himself carefully until they were back in the elevator, when he finally allowed his facial muscles to relax and his rage to show. Damn that man, he had ruined everything. At the same time though, Jaq was almost glad that their plan had gone wrong. While Jezebels plan would now be stalled, he and Visas would now be spending more time together. And he had to admire the man who had put a stop to their plan; Revan, Marka, whoever he was. Jaq wished he was his subordinate, not Jezebels.
Unfortunately, if that man intended to fulfill his promise of placing guards on Bastila, then Jaq and Visas would have to give up on trying to capture Bastila and move onto plan B. That was what they had been wanting to avoid at all costs.
They would kidnap the son of Revan.
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"That was uncalled for," Bastila growled as soon as the door closed, "You all but accused them of being traitors."
"It was a necessary precaution," Marka said tonelessly.
"You can be a real bastard at times," said Bastila angrily, "Pray tell, how exactly was that even slightly necessary."
"I didn't trust the man. He has undoubtedly received training in the Force."
"I didn't sense anything."
Marka nodded, "That's exactly it, everybody except the Force-dead has a small Force aura. This man's one was far too small, even for a normal sentient. The only ones with such a small Force aura are those with an inbuilt resilience to the Force, like the Hutts. He was controlling his Force aura, but too rigidly." It was a common enough mistake by those who sought to hide, one that only the most cautious could pick up on.
Bastila's angry expression faded, replaced by a thoughtful one. "There could be many explanations for that. He could be a Jedi who just didn't want to rejoin the order when it reformed."
"And join the Military instead? I don't think so, Bastila. More likely he was a Sith under Malak, in which he case he could be out for vengeance against you! There is a chance that he was here to kill you, not a large one, but enough to concern me.
"There's a couple of other things that concerned me about our meeting. Firstly, he was too rigid, too tense the whole way through. Secondly, he was unhappy to find me in your room, his eyes gave it away. Thirdly, he didn't want it to be known that his companion was Force sensitive, possibility she is also trained in Jedi/Sith arts. Lastly, I got the impression that my appearance caused him some distress, which means that he's met Revan; or at least knows what he looks like."
"You think… he has?" Bastila gasped.
"There is a good chance," Marka replied.
They continued discussing the two soldiers case for a while, and Marka was able to convince Bastila to agree to extra security measures. She wasn't too thrilled, but she did see the necessity of them. They spent a while arguing how much security she would need.
"So what was your original intention of coming here?" said Bastila, obvious bored with the argument.
"Can't just seeing you be reason enough?" said Marka.
"Ha ha, you're not like that," she stated dryly, "You mentioned before that you'd just received something, or something like that."
"It was the results for the blood test comparing Never's and my genes."
Bastila turned white, "You took some of his blood! When?"
"He gave me some on Telos."
"So what were the results?"
Marka pulled a folded sheet from his pocket, "The results were interesting, to say the least," he said, "I'll start with our female line. Both of our mothers were undoubtedly related, although it is unclear how close they were."
"So you two are related," Bastila breathed, "You certainly look similar enough. Any other information about them?"
Marka looked down at the sheet. "Never's mother was about 1,75m tall; had a tendency towards slimness; dark to medium hair; light blue eyes, but carried the brown-eye gene; very strong Force potential." He stalled for a bit, flipping through the pages, "That's about all that's relevant." He didn't really think that Bastila would be interested in the fact that she likely had wonky teeth, they would have been corrected by surgery in any case.
"And yours?"
"1,7m; also tended towards slimness but less so than the other; medium to light hair; blue eyes but also carried the dark eye gene; very strong Force potential." He flipped through the pages again. "And she probably had a large nose."
Bastila immediately had her hand in his face, measuring his nose. "I think you take after her," she said seriously.
"My nose is not big!" Marka growled, then saw that she was grinning impishly. "Childish," he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Bastila was suppressing a laugh.
To prevent her from teasing him further, he read further down the report. "This is where it gets really interesting. The man I thought was my father, Harn Cabanic, would have been described as about 1,75m; solid build; medium brown hair; light brown eyes; notable to strong Force potential. But my actual father is, or was, 1,85m tall; solid to slim build; dark hair; dark blue eyes; exceptionally strong Force potential."
"So Harn wasn't your father. Any chance of there being a mistake somewhere?"
Marka's eyes were hard. "No. He was my father, just not the man who sired me."
"I'm sorry," said Bastila softly, "This can't have been easy to you to hear, especially so soon after…" she trailed off, realising that she'd probably said too much.
Marka's jaw clenched, but he continued on as though had happened. "When I said 'exceptionally strong Force potential', the people at the lab had no records of anything that came close, even among Jedi Masters," he explained, "Except for Never's and my potential."
"So your father is, or was, a Sith Master?"
"We don't have enough data on how genes affect Force-ability to say for sure, they've only drawn a link between Force-potential and Genes in recent years. And it could be that the testing methods are faulty. But I would guess so, yes."
"Any idea's which one?"
"Not really, but I when I was in the Empire I heard on occasion that I resembled Hrayn Babbadon."
"Remind me who that is again."
"The highest ranked and strongest of all the Sith Masters. He is the third most powerful Sith, under only the Dark Lord and his apprentice."
Bastila sat thinking for a short while, absently shuffling through the gifts she had been sent. Marka meanwhile got and made himself a cup of caffa at Bastila's dispenser. Extra strong with no sweetener, just the way he liked it. He took a sip, and had to juggle it between his cheeks before he could swallow. Too hot.
"So did the report say anything about my husbands father, my father-in-law?" said Bastila, examining a multicoloured glass bowl.
"Same," said Marka shortly, his eyes hardening and boring into her skull.
Bastila's brows furrowed momentarily, then her eyes widened. Her breath came short and she felt a cold numbness grip her body. Her muscles failed her, and grip slipped, the bowl in her hand fell and smashed. The sharp sound roused her enough to speak. "What! You mean…"
"We share a common father. Never is my half-brother."