Author's Notes: All right, here we go again. Thanks for all of your feedback, it's really helpful. I tried to follow your suggestions while editing this chapter. Anyway, it is kind of funny that several of you were complaining about the existence of Elliott after the last update. It's ironic because he is annoying, so I don't know whether to be glad you hate him (since he is hate-able) or sad (since he is an OC) but either way it's good to get a response. But in all seriousness I'll try to make him less annoying in the future. However, since he's an addict, be prepared-it's going to get worse before it gets better :P. As for the qualms about him and Atton, I'll address my decision at the end of the chapter.
One final note: I apologize for the lack of action...but I tend to get carried away with the characters. This chapter has very little action...but I promise that the next one will have some fights. So thanks for your patience and thanks again for reading!
Chapter Five
Caius stared ambivalently out of the Hawk's cockpit window. A great, rotting monstrosity was spiraling into view. It was a massive gray orb, hanging sickly against the backdrop of the vacuum of space. Nar Shaddaa—"the gaping maw of Nal Hutta" as Atton so eloquently defined it—was approaching rapidly.
"Why exactly are we coming here?" Dustil asked no one in particular.
"We're dropping off Atton," Caius answered.
Atton felt the need to justify the stop and added on, "Bastila wants some time to mull—and this is the best place there is to get supplies and information without drawing attention to yourself."
"It's also the best place to get the plague," Caius interjected.
"Don't forget cheap alcohol," Elliott input delightedly.
Dustil watched the planet approaching, then said, "I guess Nar Shaddaa is a lot of things."
The Ebon Hawk weaved smoothly through the sprawling structures. The huge metallic towers reached out to the Nar Shaddaa sky, they looked like serrated knives cutting the life out of the planet. Caius could feel the rotten core of the planet through his wound. On Coruscant it was just as intense, but less…sickly. This place was rife with crime, it was as if it literally blackened his soul. There was the illegal narcotics trade, slavery, murder, various gang activities, and that was only what was in the morning paper. The planet was a symbol of all that was wrong with society. The only redeeming factor of the planet seemed to be that Mira came from there, but Caius had successfully removed her from that place. Now it meant nothing to him except illness.
Elliott maneuvered the ship deftly into a docking area far away from the Refugee Sector—no one had a desire to go near that place again. They may be unreasonably close to one of the city's many red light districts, but at least they wouldn't have to deal with the Exchange squashing the innocent civilians in the area. Or at least they hoped.
The landing was relatively uneventful, and the Hawk connected smoothly with the port and settled down without making a fuss—a huge achievement considering the ship's recent history was beset with docking problems.
Atton stood up wearily and moved away from his seat. He looked at Caius awkwardly and then shuffled past him towards the heart of the freighter. Caius grudgingly followed him. After Atton grabbed his duffel bag, he meandered slowly towards the loading ramp. He moved slowly, looking around the ship, as if he were taking in all of the sights and memories one last time. Caius followed behind him and eventually they both strolled out the ship's exit and onto the crowded streets of Nar Shaddaa. Dusk was approaching, and the planet was cast in a hazy brownish hue of light. They walked a few hundred yards in relative silence before Atton eventually turned around, a sullen look on his face.
"Well," he said, "I guess this is it."
"Guess so."
He exhaled deeply, then said, "Thank you, Caius. For everything you've done for me. It was a lot, and I probably didn't deserve it-"
"Don't say things like that, it makes this seem so…final," Caius interrupted.
"Right," Atton responded. However, both men new the finality of the situation; it was unlikely they'd see each other again, and that was assuming Caius survived the Unknown Regions. "I'm sure we'll meet up again after you come back." He smiled, "We'll get ourselves a new ship, tear around the galaxy on a whim, pick up chicks. Man, we'll be the Jedi from hell!"
Caius laughed, but his eyes were starting to sting now. Both men determined to keep their senses of humor right down to the end. After all, their friendship had gotten started the same way. One crack about miners' regulation uniforms, and then the two exchanged sarcastic banter for almost a year straight. Now it was finally coming to an end. "That'll be great," Caius said. He gulped, "What…what do you plan to do now?"
Atton shrugged, "I don't know. I've got my bag, I'll probably go get a room at a hotel, see what happens from there. I've got enough money to last me a while, even on Nar Shaddaa."
"Well," Caius smirked as he put his hand on Atton's shoulder. He determined not to let any sort of emotion show on his face, though it was getting incredibly difficult, "take care of yourself, Atton. Don't go getting thrown into any Force cages, I won't be around to bail you out," he added with a choked laugh.
"Don't worry about me, it's you that needs to be careful. Don't try to save the galaxy by yourself, all right?"
In a surprising gesture, Caius pulled Atton close and hugged him. Atton didn't expect it, to say the least, as his body immediately stiffened in response. Slowly, he awkwardly patted Caius on the back and then said, "Uh, easy man, they're going to think we're gay."
Caius let go of him and stepped back, said, "Sorry, Atton. It's just…well, thank you for everything." He paused, took a deep breath, said, "Just…take care of Mira, will you?" Now his eyes were fogging up, and much to his surprise, Atton's were too.
"I will," he said. He shook Caius's hand with both of his and said, "I promise you, I will." He let go and then took a step back.
"Goodbye, Atton," Caius said.
"Goodbye, and good luck, my friend," came the response.
Atton then waved casually and turned away. Caius watched him go for several yards and then he faded into the crowd, another lost face in the throng of people. The Exile breathed out slowly and then looked up towards the darkening sky. He had not felt this sad in quite a long time. Only when he thought Mira had died had he been so profoundly moved by something. He hoped deep down that he would see his friend again, but he knew in his mind that the odds were against it.
He lost himself in thought as he strolled back to the Ebon Hawk. It didn't take him long to get there, and when he boarded the ship, Allie greeted him.
"Hey, Caius," she said pleasantly, her voice filled with a sort of natural happiness.
"Hello," he said rather curtly and then walked past her.
She knew that he didn't really want to be disturbed, so she just relayed her message, "I only wanted to tell you that Elliott managed to disappear a while ago—he hasn't been back. Bastila and Xristos went looking for him."
"Ah, damn," Caius said, "well, I suppose that gives me time to rest."
"Um," she continued, "do you think I could go looking around the area? I've never been here, but I know that it's a slicer's paradise. I'd like to go look around."
Caius turned and looked back at her for a second. She seemed somewhat innocent of the true nature of Nar Shaddaa—there was a kind of inner childishness in her. That's not to say she was immature at all, but she just seemed inherently young. You don't know how old she is, Caius's inner voice told himself. I'd guess 25…maybe 26. He regained his focus and said, "Take Dustil with you."
"Why, exactly?" she asked.
"For protection."
"I know how to shoot a gun, if that's what you mean," she said indignantly.
"Nar Shaddaa is different," Caius answered. "Just take him with you, I'll feel safer knowing he's there."
She shrugged, "All right. I'll see you later."
Dustil emerged from the communications room and walked briskly past Caius on the way out. The Exile stopped him and said, "Dustil, if it looks like there's going to be any kind of trouble, just lead her on back to the ship. We don't want to make an incident."
He nodded in agreement and followed after Allie. She beamed a smile at him in greeting and they walked away quickly.
Caius waited until they broke his line of sight and then he left the open area of the Hawk. He made his way towards his quarters in the port side of the ship, but stopped to talk to HK first. He said, "HK, I'm going to go rest for a while. Guard the ship. If anyone you don't know as part of this crew even tries to get within five feet of the bird, kill them."
HK's photoreceptors gleamed. He gripped his massive carbine and bellowed without a descriptor, "With pleasure, master."
The dream started out differently, but the setting was always the same. The war was going badly. The Republic was reeling; an enemy consumed only with lust for battle was mauling the beacon of civilization that had stood solidly for thousands of years. And there he was—alone. He was an idealist, fighting for what was right. But nothing had prepared him for this. So desperate were the times that a brash, young Knight such as he was pressured into a role as a Brigadier General. It was too much authority. He was afraid. He could not lead these men, he could not even lead himself. But here he was. Alone with two thousand other men. They gazed at him with sullen, bleary looks as he walked past. What lives that remained after repeated enemy attacks were taken by disease and sickness. This place was worse than imaginable. It was bloody, humid, violent. It was raining, always, a torrential downpour that would drive the soldiers insane as they could not evade the incessant tap, tap, tapping. It was their last stand.
It was Dxun.
This time General Caius Lucullus meandered aimlessly through the shattered ranks of his men. No amount of briefing had prepared them for this battle; the textbook had gone out the window. There was no order or sense of cohesion within the army. Guerilla tactics prevailed. They had to learn and adapt on the fly as they tried to navigate the jungle. Revan supposedly had a grand, master plan for this moon. He would achieve victory with his strategic brilliance. But here on the moon's surface, Revan may as well have been in a different universe. All the soldiers knew was that which was in front of them—and all that was in front of them was mud, blood, and the rain.
Caius tried desperately to motivate them, but it was of no avail. They could see the lack of certainty in his eyes too. It was days before their massive offensive was to begin, and the Republic was still trying to infiltrate the planet, land enough forces on the surface in order to take the world from their brutal aggressors. In the meantime, Caius and his 9th Brigade fought vicious skirmishes with Mandalorian scout troops. It often turned to melee combat, and Caius would be forced to join the fray—igniting his blue beam and cutting a swath through their disorganized soldiers. He had several other Jedi under his command, and it was by their influence alone that they were able to hold the 9th together this long. They were seasoned soldiers, to be sure, but nothing could prepare them for this.
In the air, the Republic was still grappling for superiority with the Mandalorian air defenses. Small, snub-nosed fighters dueled in the stratosphere, shrieking through the dreary sky and blasting the hell out each other. At first the Republic soldiers cheered the victories their airborne brethren achieved, but after days of relentless battling they no longer could muster the energy to care.
This was the scene of Caius's dream: another air battle. There was a terrific dogfight taking place right above the land his brigade had staked out. While dusk turned to night, there was seemingly nothing to do but stare down the rain and watch the fearsome duel. One Republic scout ship was holding its own against two superior Mandalorian interceptors. Caius sat on top of a large boulder, a makeshift tarp behind him trying pathetically to hold back the rain. He observed the battle lackadaisically, subconsciously rooting for the woefully overmatched Republic fighter. The lone pilot tailed a wild Mandalorian fighter, trying valiantly to lock onto it. The second enemy fighter, in turn, steadied itself behind the Republic pilot. They moved together in this tandem for several minutes before the allied pilot made an error. The ship wagered on a rushed shot at the enemy fighter. A missile fired, streaking through the night sky, but it veered wide and missed its target. Almost instantly, the second Mandalorian craft opened fire, having caught the Republic ship in its sights. A torrent of blaster fire erupted from the snout of the ship, and its shots rang true. The lasers wracked the hull of the Republic scout ship, and fire exploded off of its side, metal blowing off of its side.
Caius looked down at the mud, frowning. Somehow that air battle seemed a microcosm of the whole war effort. Before he could muse further about the philosophical ramifications of the dogfight he was distracted by the raised voices. He looked up, and his stomach leapt. The Republic ship, now a flaming comet, was hurtling right towards their position. The area seemed to illuminate in a brilliant orange glow as the comet drew closer. Caius instinctively threw himself to the ground and the ship screamed overhead, spewing ash and flame onto the ground below it. There was a huge thud and the sound of twisting metal and snapping trees as the craft pounded into the ground behind him. The sound of that plane hitting the ground was unmistakable, and something he had never forgotten.
He raised himself out of the mud and wiped his face off. There was another loud thud, but this was different. Caius didn't remember this from the battle. He tried to reason where it came from, and slowly the real world and the dream world began to intertwine. There was another loud noise, and he was jolted from his sleep.
Caius shot upright out of his bunk in the port side of the Ebon Hawk. The third noise he now heard more clearly. Instinctively, he made sure his lightsaber was on his belt and left the sleeping quarters. He treaded lightly, hoping to avoid making sound. He wasn't sure what was happening, but his intuition, perhaps influenced by his Force sensitivity, told him to be careful. The ship was dark, and he found it odd that there were no traces of any of his crewmembers on board. He crept quietly through the back hall of the ship towards the cargo hold. In his grayed vision, obscured by darkness, he could make out a large silhouette moving through the hall. It took a right and stopped in front of the med room. Caius couldn't see what was happening, but then the figure let out a devilish snicker and spoke.
"Well," said a gruff, masculine voice in a very suggestive manner, "what do we have here?" He laughed snidely again. There was a little movement, and then Caius saw the figure pull back out of the medical room, tugging a smaller shadow with it. After a small scuffle, Caius saw that the large man had Allie with him. He spun her through the hall and stopped her with her back to the cargo hold. He was holding both of her wrists firmly, and letting out a quiet, guttural laugh. Allie struggled to free herself, but could not. Then man then yanked her closer to him and said something Caius couldn't hear as he quietly drew closer. Allie used the close proximity to attempt a swift kick to the man's groin. A painful expulsion of air said that her kick was successful. She tried to then jump away, but the man managed to keep one firm hand on her left wrist. In a fit of rage, the thug then used his strength to throw her into the cargo hold. She stumbled backwards and slammed into a crate. Caius crept closer still. Allie shuffled backwards as far as she could, and the man began to walk slowly towards her.
His voice was higher and more labored now, but he still mustered the will to speak, said, "You whore. You're going to wish you were dead after I'm through with you."
Caius was now close enough. Before the man could take another step towards her, the Exile jumped him from behind. The thug hadn't any time to scream before Caius's hand was over his mouth, muffling any noise he made. There was a brief struggle in which Allie looked on, horrified and immobile. The short grapple ended with a grotesque snap as the thug's head spun in an unnatural way. His body went limp and Caius lowered him gently to the ground. He looked up and saw Allie's normally bright brown eyes were transformed by fear. She got up off of the ground and stumbled towards him.
"Are you all right?" he asked in a hushed whisper.
"I…I think so," she said, her voice broken slightly.
"Where is everyone else?" Caius asked.
"They…" she took a deep breath and tried again, "they haven't come back yet."
Then it is just us and the droids, Caius reasoned to himself. There were other noises coming from the ship, no doubt more thugs who would quickly realize that their comrade was missing. "Allie," there wasn't any time for more words, "hide." She quickly ducked behind a huge metal box and Caius pulled out his lightsaber. He didn't activate it, but he hurried toward the cockpit, hoping to stop anyone from commandeering the vessel. Where the hell is HK? he thought to himself.
His thoughts were interrupted with an abbreviated curse. "Holy shi-" someone exclaimed from near the communications room of the Hawk. The scream that followed his shout was one of the most horrific things Caius had ever heard. The man's voice mutated into a shrieking wail of anguish the likes of which he did not think possible. Caius followed the noise into the main briefing area of the ship. On the ground he saw why. The image was even more horrific than the sound. He nearly retched as he saw a charred body sprawled on the ground. The skin had been burnt off and what remained of the man's head was contorted into a painful, screaming expression. The rest of it was just a mangled heap of burnt flesh.
More noises rang out from the cockpit this time. There were muted screams and three blaster shots. Caius ran past the dead body towards the front of the ship. He turned on his lightsaber and sprinted. Once he got there, however, he saw that the fight was over. There were three more bodies strewn across the ground. Right behind them stood the towering figure of the assassin droid. His right arm was outstretched, clamped about the neck of the last remaining attacker. The man was still alive, his feet kicking wildly as HK was choking the life out of him. He stood no chance. The droid was the image of killing efficiency. Caius often wondered what made him so good at killing. He had thought it might have been craftsmanship or the design of the droid, but right then he understood why: the droid had no capacity for remorse. HK's hand closed around the man's neck with the emotionless serenity only a machine could exhibit. Within moments the man was dead and the droid dropped him to the ground.
Caius turned off his weapon and approached HK, asked, "Is that all of them?"
"Answer: Yes, master," the droid responded. "Statement: They were Exchange hit men. I am not sure if they intended to commandeer the Ebon Hawk or to wait here and ambush everyone, but I am pleased to report that they have not succeeded."
"I can see that…" Caius said, "How did they get on the ship?"
"Answer: When I observed how many were approaching, I reasoned that, tactically, it was more sound to let them come inside unopposed and pick them off one by one. The percentages would then be in my favor."
Caius didn't like the way the droid saw everything in numbers, he said, "But one of them was going to rape Allie. He would've if I hadn't stopped him in time."
"Statement: But he did not," answered the droid, "he failed. I do not see the problem."
"But he almost did!" exclaimed Caius, "you shouldn't have just let them come inside like that. It was too dangerous!"
"Irritation: Master, you are dealing in a hypothetical situation. The fact of the matter is my strategy worked flawlessly. You and the female mechanic are alive and well, and the assailants are dead. There is no almost."
Caius hated arguing, especially with this droid. There was no winning against a machine. "All right," he conceded, "but next time, make sure that it's not a possibility. I don't want anything happening to any of the crew."
"Concession: Yes, master. I shall endeavor to confront them head on next time."
Caius frowned. Sarcasm…from a droid. "Thank you, HK," he said bitterly, "and take these bodies outside and throw them over the side of the landing pad."
The droid replied in the affirmative and marched off to begin his work. Caius hurried back to the cargo hold. Allie had emerged from her hiding spot and was moving through the hall when he found her. "Are you all right?" he asked again.
She walked closer to him, said, "Yeah…I'm fine."
He turned on the lights of the med room and looked at her, not listening. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes red. Her normally joyous face was marred with a large bruise and her bottom lip was split. She would likely get a black eye. "Come on," he said, "you're hurt. Here, take a medpac—we have enough for an army in here."
He pulled her into the medical room and gave her the pack. "I'm not the best healer. When Xristos comes back we'll have him take a look at you." He paused for a moment, "Speaking of him, where is he? And Dustil and Bastila?"
"Like I said earlier, Xristos and Bastila went looking for Elliott. When we came back, Dustil left too. He figured I'd be fine on the ship with you and the droids." Caius was pained to see that she no longer thought that true.
"I'm sorry I didn't get there earlier," he said sheepishly, "I was…asleep."
"No, it's all right," she consoled him, "you did come—that's all that matters." She smiled at him. Whether or not it was forced, it didn't matter. In spite of her beaten countenance, her smile immediately brightened the room. Glistening would be an understatement.
"Well," Caius said, "I guess there's nothing to do but wait for them. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, "don't worry about me." She got up off of the cot in the medical room to leave. She then continued, "I'm tired. I need to sleep, but I don't think I can. Do you think…" she seemed hesitant to ask, "could you keep watch in the front of the ship? I don't trust that droid…I'd sleep better if I knew."
Caius stood up, said, "Sure, I don't trust the droid either…and I got my sleep already."
"Thank you," Allie said sincerely.
Caius then followed Allie towards the Hawk's loading ramp. She and Bastila slept in the starboard dormitories, so she would be dangerously close to any more attackers should they come. All of the men in the crew slept on the other side of the ship. It wasn't that anyone doubted their chivalry, it was mostly just to keep Elliott away from the two women. Perhaps they would have to flip the arrangements.
As they neared the loading ramp, they saw HK dragging off the last of the Exchange thugs off of the ship. He then heaved the carcass into the void of the Nar Shaddaa inner city depths. The macabre nature of the image seemed to affect Allie and she said somewhat quietly, "I feel kinda out of my league with all this going on. I mean, there's four Jedi, the best pilot on Coruscant, and an assassin droid. And then there's…me."
"What do you mean?" Caius asked. They stopped right at the mouth of the loading ramp.
"I mean that…" she didn't know how to phrase it. She said, "I don't want to be a liability."
Caius didn't want to have to console her about it, he didn't like having to inform people of their own necessity, but he figured he owed it to Allie since she was almost violated in the worst way and it was partially his fault. "No, you're not a liability. You're a very important young woman." It was a lame statement, to be sure, but it was the best he could muster.
She laughed, "I wouldn't say young."
"Really? How old are you then?" Caius asked. He was certain that she didn't have the proper understanding of age. She probably thought Bastila was old. He was rapidly approaching forty, having "celebrated" his thirty-eighth birthday by being thrown into a force cage on Telos. And on top of that, as Mira said, he "looked like a hundred inside." It was true, he had seen more in his four decades than most would ever dream.
So her answer surprised him, "Thirty-three," she said, the smirk running off of her face. "I'll be thirty-four next month." She titled her head, said, "You look surprised. Hmm, you're not that much older than me."
"No…I guess not." He was truly shocked. She looked like she had just graduated from college. There was no way she could be that close to his age. Of course, it was not as though thirty-three was old, it wasn't, but he had guessed almost a decade younger and this truly surprised him. But he didn't think she had reason to lie…unless it was a joke of some kind. He just said, "Well, I just didn't expect it."
"And how old did you expect?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered, "younger than Bastila. Somewhere in your mid-twenties. I hope you'll take that as a compliment…"
"Sure," she said. He couldn't tell if she did or didn't, though. "But that's not what I meant by a liability," she continued, returning to the point of the conversation. "I mean…like, fighting. I can't fight. Everyone else around here can defend themselves but me. I just…I just don't want to get hurt…I almost just did."
Caius understood her now, said, "You won't. I promise."
Her face lightened, she said, "Thanks, Caius." She then took two steps backwards towards the dormitories and said, "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Caius dutifully watched over the ship for the next hour. It was well into the night, darkness cast upon the planet and draping itself all over the ship as it waited on the landing pad. He sat idly in the garage of the Hawk where the swoop bike would sit—if they had one. HK was perched next to him. The darkness was complete, but it was somehow comforting to him as he sat. He felt as though the lack of visibility afforded him safety. He looked out the open loading ramp of the ship, awaiting any more attackers—however, considering how poorly their first invasion went, it was likely they'd either come back with an army or never. Caius figured that they were simply more bounty hunting thugs who figured they could cash in on the ridiculous price on his head, at this point he was no longer concerned with the likes of them.
What did concern him, though, was how long everyone had been missing. At first it just seemed trivial, but as the hours passed and he didn't hear from Xristos, Bastila, or Dustil, he grew more worried. If they had just gone off to find Elliott, then they should be back soon. What was more confusing was that Dustil had taken off an hour or more after they had left and hadn't returned either. He was wondering whether he should take action when he finally got a sign, or heard one.
Instead of the thumping that heralded the arrival of the thugs, he instead heard muted voices approaching. There were muffled footsteps, and the voices drew closer very slowly. At length, he was able to pick out Bastila's distinct accent. Following that, he heard Xristos's unmistakably deep voice. Caius stood up and walked towards the loading ramp to see what they were doing. The image confused him. Both Jedi had one arm around the back of a limp third figure, who they were dragging slowly towards the ship, trying to get him to walk. Caius, after a moment's hesitation, leapt down the ramp and towards them.
"What happened?" he asked, completely befuddled. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the limp body was that of Elliott.
"He's bordering on acute alcohol poisoning," Xristos answered.
"You mean…he did this to himself?" Caius asked.
Bastila nodded, Xristos supplemented, "He's an alcoholic, we shouldn't be this surprised by it."
"But we're dependent on this man," Bastila hissed, "what does this say of our mission? We're one day into it, and our pilot's gotten himself this drunk? He could die."
"I doubt that," Xristos said as they began to lift a delirious Elliott inside the ship. "He may be ill, but I did enough to save his life. It's not as if we can take him to a doctor anyway, we're on Nar Shaddaa, you're not going to find a doctor around here that isn't crooked or high on his own prescriptions."
"Where's Dustil?" Caius asked.
"He is not here? Then I don't know," Xristos responded.
"Well, that's reassuring. Allie said he went looking for you."
Bastila sighed, "It's just an idiotic circle we're running in. This is pathetic, we're entrusted with saving the galaxy, but instead we're chasing our tails on Nar Shaddaa."
They dragged Elliott into the Hawk and moved him into the medical room. Xristos sat him down on a cot and ripped Elliott's vomit-covered jacket off and threw it into a trash compactor. "Not going to need that anymore," he said. Elliott's head hung limply. His eyes were closed and he was sweating profusely. He was muttering words Caius couldn't understand.
"We're going to have to sober him up," Xristos said. "Caffeine may help." He then started asking Elliott all sorts of trivial questions to get his brain functioning as Bastila brought in a cup of coffee. "What's your name?" he asked. Or "Do you know where we are?"
The weirdest response came when Xristos asked him what the capital of the Republic was. Elliott answered in a slur, "I'm going to…slit your throat…on Coruscant."
"Well," Xristos responded, "that's comforting. At least he got the answer right."
After a few minutes, Xristos had successfully cleaned Elliott up and then used the Force to put the man in a healing trance. Or perhaps he had just passed out. Regardless, Xristos stood up and looked at Caius and Bastila. He said, "He'll be fine now. We'll just have to wait until the morning. Now, I'm going to find Dustil." He moved past the two and then went back towards the Hawk's exit. "Bastila, you're going to have to keep watch over Elliott and make sure his condition doesn't worsen. He should be fine, but we can't take any chances."
Bastila slumped, she responded hesitantly, "All right."
"Look," Xristos said in a very paternal, grandfatherly way, "I would do it, but I need to find Dustil. And you're just as good a healer as I am—we need to make sure he doesn't regress."
Caius input, "I'll stay up and help." He shrugged, "Even if I can't heal—I'm sure you could use the company. Or else you might fall asleep on the job."
Bastila and Caius dragged Elliott into the port dormitories and laid him out on one of the bunks. They put a bowl next to him in case his body tried to reject more of the alcohol in his system.
"This is absurd," Bastila complained, "why do we have to put up with this?"
Caius didn't have an answer.
Bastila continued, "I'd never thought I'd say it, but I miss Atton. He may have been insolent, but at least he wasn't trying to kill himself with alcohol."
Caius was about to agree, but he realized that Bastila was only half-serious whereas he really did miss Atton. He would gladly trade Elliott to have his friend back. He determined to change the conversation, and so said in a strangely distant and indifferent manner, "We were attacked when you were gone."
"What?" Bastila gasped, "why didn't you mention that earlier?" Caius didn't answer because he really didn't know. "Was anyone hurt?"
Caius sat down on the bunk to the left of Elliott's suffering body, said, "Allie was roughed up by one of the thugs, but I got him before he did anything too traumatic."
"I should go take a look at her," Bastila suggested.
"No," Caius answered, "she's asleep now—you should just let it wait until the morning. She'll be less…frightened, then."
Bastila sat down on the opposite end of the same bed. "Okay," she conceded, "well, what do we do now?"
"We keep Elliott alive."
As if awakened by this, Elliott began murmuring in a dazed state. His words slurred, but he said rather audibly, "I'll never…drink again."
"That's a lie," Caius said, not expecting Elliott to hear or much less understand him.
"You're right," Elliott said, shocking Bastila and Caius, "but I'll never drink again…tonight—and that's…what's important."
"You idiot," Caius answered. Bastila slumped backwards into the corner of the bunk, her arms crossed over her chest. It was very dark, and Caius could only vaguely distinguish her figure in the blackness. Elliott didn't make any more noise for the next few minutes, so both of them assumed that he had gone asleep.
Bastila broke the silence first, "We should've known he'd be like this when you had to go to a strip club to find him."
"We did know that he would be like this. Nantaris told us. But he's the best pilot we could get, and as much as I hate to say it, we need him."
She blew out of her mouth, said, "At this rate, we're not going anywhere."
"I wouldn't say there's a rush," Caius responded, "I mean, do we even know where we are going?"
Bastila didn't respond for a moment. Eventually, she said simply, "No."
"Then I guess waiting around for Elliott to come out of his self-inflicted stupor isn't really conflicting with our plans."
"No," Bastila said irritably, "but it's not helping us find Revan any faster."
"I suppose," he answered. As soon as Bastila finished, however, the utterance of Revan's name re-routed his line of thought. It occurred to him how strange it was that everywhere he went, or whoever was with him, somehow Revan was connected. It was if he was the center of the universe—everyone around him was orbiting. Even as Caius had journeyed across the galaxy, he had done so in Revan's ship, and answered for things he had done in Revan's name. And then Kreia revealed to him that he was to go fight with Revan. Their fates seemed to be intertwined. He was curious, though, how the others fit into the mold. Why was Bastila here, exactly?
She stewed in silence, and Caius raised the question, though he did so by following the same line of thought that had arisen within his own mental dialogue. He said, "Do you get the feeling that there's something bigger going on around us?"
Her silence ended and was met with confusion. "What do you mean?" she said.
"I guess…I mean Revan. We all seem to be connected to him somehow. Everything I've done in the past ten years of my life can be linked to that man. His name inspires people, it seems. We wouldn't have been able to get the support to go after anyone else in the Unknown Regions. Only him…" he took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. "I guess what I'm saying is: I'm curious how we're all connected to him."
"I don't follow," Bastila said coldly, "I'm not any more connected to him than anyone else." Her voice was rather blunt and Bastila worried, Oh dear, was I too defensive? She really did not want to talk about Revan in this way, she was afraid of divulging any sort of incriminating information about her relationship with him. But Caius isn't a Jedi, her inner voice told her, he won't care.
"Wow…I didn't try to be offensive," Caius said, ignorant of her contemplating. "I didn't mean to imply that you were irrelevant…"
Bastila interrupted him, said, "No, that's not it." She heaved a sigh, "Don't worry about it. It's complicated."
Caius shifted and leaned back against the side of the bunk. "What's complicated? You mean your reason for searching for Revan?"
She cursed herself inwardly. A stupid slip of the tongue and she had just implicated herself. She shouldn't have said "complicated". What was she thinking? You fret too much, her conscience said; Caius cares nothing for your feelings for Revan. It's not as if you're speaking to Vrook. She unconsciously tilted her head as she rebutted her own argument. No, there's no reason to tell anyone about this, she responded. Her voice battled her, It's too late for that.
"I see you don't want to answer," Caius said drearily. He then yawned.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't really know what to say. My motives for searching for him…I haven't thought about it much."
Caius's eyebrows rose. It was dark, so Bastila didn't see, but he found her answer…questionable. "You haven't thought about it?" he accused, "but you're about to go off to the Unknown Regions for him? That's rather…rash." His tone was disbelieving.
Bastila cursed herself again, What are you doing? she shrieked at herself, you're going to blow it! Her voice of reason then came roaring back at her, Look at how you're fighting with yourself. You need help, and you need to talk to someone—may as well make it someone who'll listen. She shook her head. She would not. It was too risky. Too difficult. Too embarrassing.
Though her mind was wanting to tell Caius, the words that came out of her mouth were harsh and pointed. "No," she said, "I wouldn't think you'd be able to understand—there are complexities."
Caius didn't back down, said, "Oh, right. Complexities. Everyone always thinks that they're situation is the most complicated, or that it's unique. I have a unique situation. The rest of you, I'm just curious." It was an interesting choice of words—he sounded much more hostile than he really felt. Bastila was like that, though. She could incite anger where there was none as a result of her obtuse personality.
"Don't pretend to understand why I'm doing this," she retorted rather bitterly.
He was surprised at her anger, but he realized that it was no doubt a sign of some sort of insecurity on her part. He had just spent months with a ship full of nervous people with personality problems the likes of which he had thought only existed in dime novels. Hers was probably not much different, so he'd handle her the same way he handled all the others—with a challenge. "Enlighten me, then," he suggested.
She blew out of her nose. Caius had manipulated her language very easily—though she was to blame for all of the slips. She had revealed too much. "I don't feel I have to explain it to you."
"Well," he said dryly, "we're in this together. And considering I got this whole entourage together and started this journey—not to mention found where Revan is—I figure you owed me something. I didn't think just telling me why you wanted to come would be so hard, though. Why is that?"
Now he was cornering her. There was no conceivable excuse for why she didn't want to tell him her intent. She tried to sidetrack him instead, said, "You didn't find where Revan is—that's why we're sitting here on Nar Shaddaa."
"Fair enough, but that doesn't answer my question. Why are you being so hostile?"
"I'm not being hostile," she asserted. Their voices had risen and her last comment caused Elliott to stir. He did nothing but roll over and moan, however.
Caius continued, but his voice was lower. He said, "I'd consider it hostile when someone questions my intelligence." It had been a while since he'd actually gotten in an argument like this. Normally he was so passive, but Bastila was baiting him. It was hard not to argue with her. He wasn't exactly used to it, but his last comeback heightened the sense of pride within him. Surely she wouldn't know what to say back.
Her response was, shockingly, rather timid. It was as if she had backed down, defeated. She just whispered, barely audibly, "You don't know what's it's like."
"What what's like?" he responded. Months of pseudo-counseling in the previous months had hardened him for situations like this. He thought jokingly that he should pursue a career in psychology after dealing with all the people he had.
Bastila sighed and then stiffened. "You wouldn't…know what I mean. No one does."
Caius sighed, resigning now to never getting a straight answer from the woman. The tense atmosphere subsided and he relaxed. Bastila, however, kept going. "What I mean is…" she trailed off again. She took a deep breath and tried to gather her wits, said, "I feel like…I'm just a shell. I'm just floating through life."
"What are you talking about?" Caius asked.
"Revan!" she snapped. "You asked about him. I'm giving you an answer."
Caius quieted down and let her continue.
She said, "I feel like my soul is detached from my body. It's just been ripped from completely. I can't relate to people normally. I just float through life in some sort of hazy, detached state, unable to function properly. It's like I'm just empty inside—a void."
"How do you know that…" Caius mutteredly vaguely.
Now it was Bastila's turn, "What are you talking about?"
"That's exactly how I felt after Malachor V. I didn't think anyone else knew what it was like. How can you possibly know what sort of pain that entails?"
"That's not what I meant," Bastila said nervously, unsure how she had inspired such anger within Caius. "I was talking about Revan."
"Yes, and the situation you described is…disturbingly familiar."
"I don't know what you mean by your wound…but Revan is the reason I am this way. I thought you wanted to know why I am going after him…"
Caius was confused. "I did, but now I'm curious. You described my own wound to me better than anyone has ever been able to do. But no one's ever had to deal with this except from me. How is it that you know—or pretend to know—anything about it?"
"I don't know anything about your wound," Bastila answered. "I had no idea that you'd respond this way. Perhaps our situations are not as different as we had thought?"
"I guess," Caius conceded, "so then how does Revan figure into this?"
"Perhaps I should ask you the same question."
Caius was tiring of the cyclical nature of their conversation, but he couldn't go anywhere, so he figured he may as well just capitulate and follow Bastila's outline. He answered, "Because I think Revan can heal me—or at least holds the keys to healing this…thing."
"That's the same reason I'm looking for him," Bastila answered ambiguously.
"What? How?"
"Because," she began. This was the moment—almost six years of silence was about to get shot. Don't say it, she thought initially. But her second voice reprimanded her, said, You are a mess—you need to get this off of your chest before you are driven insane. It will help you. She swallowed hard. Caius was waiting. She mustered her strength and continued, "Because… I was in love with him."
Caius suddenly felt a faucet of cold water pour all over his spine. Was that true? She loved Revan? She was after him because of that? Ah hell, if that's true…then I've been acting like a huge ass. "You…were…" he stumbled.
She merely nodded, Caius could see her head move in the dim light. "I was. And he loved me too. At least he said he did. And then he left without telling me anything. I just…I have to know why."
"Do you…do you still love him?" he asked. Elliott groaned again, interrupting the intimate nature of the conversation, but he was still asleep.
"I don't know. I don't think so," she said sadly. She took a deep breath. "I just need some closure. Anything."
"I'm…sorry," he said ashamedly, "I didn't know…"
"No, of course not, how could you? It's hard, but I've gotten over it." There was a period of silence. "No," she said at length, "to answer your question—I don't love him anymore. But I still have to know why. Then maybe I can move on."
"But how you feel…" Caius said, "that is exactly—I mean, exactly—how I felt when the Force was ripped from me. I felt as though I had no soul any longer. My body was just moving along though life of its own accord, and I was helpless to watch it. I was like…a shell."
Bastila felt her eyes water. She had not been this emotional since the day Revan left. She had buried all of these feelings within her, and now she was finally confronting them. "I didn't think anyone else would know how I felt," she said. "It was pure torture being around all those Jedi who thought I was so…perfect. But it was eating away at my soul. I broke the code…if they only knew…" She swallowed again, said, "I didn't think talking about this would help so much. If I had known…I would've talked about it sooner."
"But you might not have found someone who understood. I am glad you mentioned it, now I know I am not alone either. I don't know to what extent your own feelings relate to my wound, but that there is any similarity at all…it's comforting." He paused, "I don't mean that I'm glad you're suffering…"
"I understand," she said. "I don't think my pain is as bad as yours…and that, strangely, gives me hope. You've endured worse than I—it shows me I should just knuckle down and keep going."
Elliott then hurled parts of his dinner into a bucket nearby his bed, thereby ending their deep conversation.
Caius tried to reroute the dialogue, asked, "What was Revan like? I mean, after the Council reprogrammed him?"
"He was nothing like I imaged he would be. He was certainly different from the Revan I fought on the bridge of that ship. But he was so powerful…after they gave him a new identity…he was bumbling. He was completely unaware of the potency that lurked beneath him, the strength. It was somewhat pitiful. But…" she hesitated, "he began to regain his power. I watched it happen. He grew more serious over our mission. But he was always there for me…I don't know why he pursued me as hard as he did, but I couldn't resist after long. I know, though, that I didn't love him until after I was captured. Once I met him on the summit of the Rakatan Temple…that's when I knew. He had found out that he was Revan by then…and when he showed up, by himself, and tried to save me from Malak—that's when I knew that he loved me."
"Then what happened?" Caius inquired as he shifted backwards and into the corner of the bunk.
"We didn't know what to do. It was only through the influence of the Council that Revan was able to avoid prosecution from the Republic, so we rejoined the Order. It was the only option we had. I didn't see him much at the Temple on Coruscant, where we stayed. Every time we tried to meet each other, someone or something would interfere. But each time I saw him, I was scared for him. More and more of Revan was surfacing. Each time I saw him there was less of Naithan Garaie—that was the name the Council gave him. It terrified me. I got physically sick because I knew that the man I loved wasn't real. He was just a programmed identity…and he was fading away. Eventually, enough of Revan took over and then he left."
Caius didn't really know what to say—the story was heartbreaking. "Maybe he still loves you?" he said helpfully, "it sounds like we can't know for sure what he thinks."
"No," Bastila said, "I am sure that he doesn't. I loved Naithan, but now there's only Revan. Naithan is dead."
"Nothing is certain," Caius said, "surely he still remembers when he was Naithan."
"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't want you to raise my hopes only for them to be crushed. The man I loved never really existed and I accept that, that I experienced it once…maybe it's not the worst thing in the world."
"I don't know," Caius answered, "then what are you hoping to get from him?"
"Closure," she said, "like I told you. I just want it to be put to rest."
"And for him to heal your wound?" Caius asked.
Bastila paused, said at length, "Yes…and yours too."
After that, there was only silence. Neither of them had anything to say to the other anymore. They had emptied their souls enough for one night. But inside each of them were consumed in their thoughts, trying to piece together the meaning and implications of the conversation they had just had. In the end, their mission was not only about finding Revan, but also one of inner healing. Truly Revan had impacted the lives of the people he knew like no other Jedi before him.
As they both sat still, eventually sleep overtook them, and they both fell into the unconscious state where they were sitting—unmoving. They didn't wake again until morning.
Author's Notes: Okay, yes, Atton has left. It was a hard to decide what to do with him, but I did not think that going with them fit with his character after most of the things he had already said in the story. And the wheels were in motion already before I found out how much everyone hated Elliott, and it would have been way too hard to change at that point. So...sorry about that, but rest assured, just because Atton is not going with them does not mean he will be forgotton. He still has a role to play (an important one), but he won't be in every chapter...