Kenna dug through the footlocker at the base of her bed for her spare set of robes. "I know they're in here somewhere." She shuddered as a draft kissed her bare shoulders.
"Master Revan?" The soldier paused in the doorway of Revan's chamber, standing at attention as he waited for her to reply.
"What is it?" Revan pulled on her black robe, hooking the fasteners with barely a glance in his direction.
"One of the assassins, he, uhm, seems to think he could lead the squad better than his commander."
"Does he mean me, or just his immediate commander?" One black eyebrow arched skyward.
"His immediate superior. You're the only one who will be able to resolve it. They won't listen to anyone else." He tried not to watch as she pulled on the shaped leather chestplate. Malak regularly threatened to kill anyone caught ogling the Dark Lord. Of course, Malak was away right now, but Revan was more than capable of killing him if she wanted to.
Revan sighed. "Very well. Whoever this assassin is, he had better have a damn good reason for an interruption like this right before a mission." She swept off in the direction of the barracks. "Which room?"
"38-C." The soldier followed close behind her.
When they reached the barracks room in question, Revan ignored the two men in the middle of the room and instead questioned a low-level soldier standing by the door. "What's going on?"
The soldier came to attention. "Rand thinks he can lead the squad better than Delan. They're about to come to blows. Ma'am." He swallowed hard, obviously hoping his near-breach of protocol wouldn't get him killed. Fortunately for him, Revan was more concerned with the two men in the center of the room now. Rand and Delan stood toe to toe, glaring at each other.
"Separate!" she ordered. They flew apart as if propelled by the Force, still glaring daggers at each other. "What is the trouble here? What's your name?" Revan demanded of the younger man, whose hate-filled brown eyes left the older, ice-eyed target of his disgust when the Dark Lord addressed him.
"Rand. Lieutenant Jaq Rand, ma'am."
"What's your trouble with Commander Delan, Lieutenant?" Revan probed, crossing her arms.
"Aside from the fact he leads like a blind bantha? And is about as stealthy as one too?" Rand snorted. "He doesn't know what in hell he's doing. I could do a better job leading than he did last mission. It was a disaster."
"You core-slime!" the commander spat, looking ready to rip the younger man's head off. "That was your fault!"
"I'll handle this, Delan," Revan barked, holding out one hand toward the man. She turned back to Rand. "You think you could lead better than Delan? Prove it. Take his command from him, if you can. The one who deserves it, gets it."
"Now?" There was only eager anticipation in the bloodthirsty gaze fixed on the current commander. No apprehension. No fear. He had been waiting for this.
He has promise, Revan told herself with a smirk as she stepped aside. "Now."
The two men flew at each other, both more than ready to kill the other given the slightest opportunity. Delan was older, a hardened war veteran. His ice blue eyes were even colder with fury at the moment, his hard muscles tensing as he twisted the younger man around to land on his back. Rand was in his twenties, a soldier who had become disgusted with the Republic at the end of the Mandalorian Wars and gladly joined the Sith. He was half a head shorter than Delan, but more than held his own, using both his own considerable strength, earned through experience and not just repetitive exercises, Revan noticed, and his opponent's momentum to throw Delan against the wall. Delan let out a quiet hiss of rage and pain before flying back at Rand. The two slammed into the far wall together. Delan's fist connected--hard--with Rand's jaw. His only reaction was to yank a vibrodagger out of one boot. Delan dodged two wild swipes from his opponent's weapon and blocked a third with one arm, the dagger shearing through his skin and leaving a blood trail trickling down his arm. He ignored it and threw another punch at Rand, who dodged easily.
Revan noticed it before anyone besides Rand. Delan was slowing down, becoming uncoordinated. She smirked. He does have promise, she thought as she watch the now former commander of her top assassin squad succumb to the potent kinrath poison that had coated the dagger's blade.
"Six seconds. He's tough," Rand commented, watching Delan die with arms crossed and an smirk of grim amusement on his face. "Most people it takes all of three to start working." Delan glared at him and choked out one last garbled burst of vitriol.
Revan's yellow eyes gleamed with approval. "Well, I'll leave you to your squad. Commander. Remember you have a mission tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am." Rand saluted. Revan chuckled as she left the room. He had promise indeed.
Kenna blinked as the scene faded away. Where the hell did that come from? She frowned. She didn't want to remember being Revan. That part of her was dead. She didn't need to be remembering it. She finally found the robes crumpled on the bottom of the footlocker. They were so wrinkled she decided to forgo all but the lightweight, short sleeved black tunic and tan pants. If the floors of the Hawk weren't so cold, she would have gone barefoot as well. After pulling on her extra boots, which weren't nearly as comfortable as the ones that had gotten soaked, she headed for the cockpit. She debated whether or not to tell Carth about her... flashback, for lack of a better term. She didn't want to hide anything from him; that was no way to build trust, but it wasn't really all that important. They didn't know anyone who looked even remotely like Rand. She didn't even know why she'd seen what she did.
Kenna sighed. Why does everything have to be so complicated? We defeated Malak, can't things get simple? That was apparently too much to ask of the galaxy. She walked up behind Carth and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. "How did I know you would put that thing back on?" He was wearing his flight jacket. The orange flight jacket.
"What's wrong with this flight jacket?" he protested, turning to look at her.
"Oh, nothing. I think it looks good on you. You're just so damn cute when you get defensive." She chuckled.
"You-- never mind. I think you owe me a kiss for that."
"Nope. You tossed me in the ocean."
"You pulled me in with you! We're already even on that score."
"Mm, true. Well, alright, I guess you can have a kiss." She leaned down slightly and kissed him. "You still taste like salt."
"So do you. Now let me fly." Carth turned his attention back to the controls. Kenna stayed right where she was. A few seconds of comfortable quiet later, she chuckled quietly. "What?" Carth demanded suspiciously.
"Oh, nothing," Kenna replied sweetly. "I just see gray hair. You're showing your age, Captain."
"No, those are from being around you," he teased. "Thirty-eight is not old. You just have this nasty habit of going into dangerous situations, alone, and I like to worry about you."
"Sure." Her tone said she didn't totally believe him.
"And stop it with the 'Captain' thing, would you? Please?"
"It really bugs you that much?"
"Yeah. I get enough of that formal stuff around other soldiers. I don't need it with you."
"Well, then, I'll stop. Sorry. Shall we kiss and make up?" She grinned mischievously.
"I wasn't aware we needed to make up, but if you insist."
"I do. I can make it an order, if you want."
"No, that's not necessary." He reached back with one hand to cup her face as he kissed her.
"So, where are we heading? Did everyone actually manage to agree on a destination?"
"No, they didn't. I think Mission would disagree with Canderous right now just to spite him. I'm just going to head for Coruscant. Anyone who doesn't want to--or have to--stay there can go wherever they like from there." Carth turned his attention back to the controls again.
Kenna nodded. "Good idea."
"'Course it is," Carth teased. Kenna rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his head playfully. "Ow."
"That really sounded like you meant it." Sarcasm all but dripped off her words.
"That's 'cause I didn't. I know you could hurt me if you wanted to, " he amended, as if he sensed her preparing to do just that. "Just that one didn't."
"Nice save, flyboy." Kenna chuckled, flashback forgotten.
Mission's vengeance didn't manifest itself until they were half a galaxy away from Rakata Prime. Being in the cockpit, the first Kenna and Carth knew of it was when Canderous turned the air dark blue with hollered Mandalorian curses. The two of them looked at each other knowingly.
"Mission," they said at the same time. Carth punched on the autopilot and they went to investigate. When they reached the garage, Kenna couldn't help but smirk at Mission's pleased expression, even as she attempted to act serious and demanded to know what had happened.
"Oh, nothing," Mission replied casually, smiling innocently at the raging Mandalorian, who Bastila was keeping back with the Force.
"Nothing?!?!?" Canderous roared, scowling at her. "Cut that out, Princess," he growled at Bastila.
"No."
"Well, if it wasn't nothing, then what was it?" Kenna crossed her arms and looked expectantly at the mercenary.
"I'm not telling you until she cuts that out," he snarled, jerking his thumb at Bastila.
"Bastila, you can stop now." The last thing she wanted on her ship was an angry Mandalorian. Bastila nodded and lowered her hand. "Now, is someone going to explain this to me?"
Mission grinned cheekily. "I got him back."
"I can tell. What, exactly, did you do?" One eyebrow arched.
"I appealed to the ego all Mandalorians have, and then got him with this." The teenager held out her hand. Kenna examined the small, box-like object. It looked almost like a pazaak deck, only solid.
"I give up. What is it?" Carth asked, beating her to her next question almost word for word.
"Shock deck," Mission explained. "It looks like a pazaak deck--if you don't look at it too closely. I challenged him to another game of pazaak, and offered to let him draw first. You touch the edge of the cards, it gives you a pretty good shock. Wanna see?" She extended it toward Kenna, smiling impishly.
"No, thanks. I'll take your word for it." She had to admit, that was a good idea for revenge. Especially for Mission to use on Canderous, because the mercenary was still sore about her beating him on the Star Forge.
Mission shrugged. " 'Kay. Suit yourself. Now we're even. I'll behave myself."
"Canderous?" Kenna turned to the Mandalorian.
"I'll count us even," he conceded grudgingly. "Just get us somewhere I can go my own way."
"Happy to," Carth muttered under his breath as he and Kenna headed back to the cockpit. ""Y'know, beautiful, having him around is like traveling with a time bomb. Mission or Bastila's going to set him off sooner or later. Probably Mission, because that's been building longer."
"I know, flyboy. The faster you and the Hawk can get us to Coruscant, the better. Before someone kills someone."