Author's Notes: Bad timing. There seem to be about 6035 Kotor III stories all buzzing about as of now. It's enough to get lost in the scuffle-I certainly can't keep track of them. But whatever, here's another update. Warning: excessive technobabbling.
Chapter Eight
The Hawk floated slowly in orbit around Korriban. The engines were shut down in order to conserve fuel as the crew tried to discern the next step in their quest. All of this hinged on Allie's ability to coax the navicomputer into cooperating with them.
The crew had assembled in the control room and watched as the female technician began her mission to trick the thing into bypassing the voicelock. She took the small rusted case and set it next to the obstinate computer. She wasn't sure how to open it, and frustrated herself by feeling the sides for a switch or lock of some sort.
"I don't know what to do with this," she admitted. "If it's a map, shouldn't it be more…map-like?"
Xristos was the first to suggest a method to open it, he said, "If this thing is an ancient Sith artifact, it is probably fused with the Force. It'd take a Sith—or, hopefully, a Jedi—to open it."
"Well, then I'm going to need one of you to help," she said.
They looked amongst themselves, unwilling to help. It wasn't that they didn't want to aid Allie; it was just that they did not want to be so close to an object of the Dark Side like it if they could avoid it. After a few moments, however, Caius volunteered. He had already carried the thing, and he was more immune to the Dark side than the others. He was so profoundly neutral in his alignment that he could almost be unaffected by it—a very unique ability. Of course, it came with the horrid price of having his soul ripped from his body and then reinserted piece by piece over the last year. The only benefit was that the Dark side had no hold on him. Strangely, however, the Light still did—probably because that was his ally before losing the Force.
He stepped forward and said, "I'll do it."
Allie simply sat on the ground, kneeling next to the artifact. Caius strode over to her and she looked up at him like the way a small child looks up to a parent when they need help. Dirt and grease was smeared all over her face. He found her expression somewhat amusing, especially considering she knew infinitely more about the technological aspect of things than he ever could hope to. In fact, she was probably smarter than him in the general sense. He shuddered, hating admitting inferiority as much as anyone else, but shoving the thoughts aside for the time being.
"All right, let's see," he said.
"What are you going to do?" Elliott asked, "say the magic word?"
"Or perhaps break it over your head," said the Exile.
Elliott rolled his eyes, "Good one."
Caius knelt next to Allie and put his hands on both sides of the rusted case. He stuck his index fingers out to make contact with it and closed his eyes. He funneled the Force through himself, searching for a way to activate the ancient icon. He traced the sides of the box and inadvertently caught Allie's hand and, unknowingly, moved it underneath his. She pulled it backwards quickly and suppressed a blush, but no one noticed as they watched Caius intently.
He poured the Force into the thing like water through a sieve, but could not discern any result. "Is anything happening?" he asked, his eyes still closed.
"Not that I can see," said Bastila.
Caius sighed and opened his eyes. Nothing had happened. "Well, that's just great. What do we do with this now?" He set his palm on the top of the enclosed case, allowing it rest there as he thought. Suddenly, the top half of the rectangle shifted. With a click it twisted and rotated ninety degrees so that it was perpendicular to the bottom half. Caius pulled his hand back in surprise.
"What did you do?" Allie asked.
"I don't know."
"Well, it's opened," said Dustil, "look inside it."
Inside shimmered a very bright blue coating. There seemed to be a kind of seeping fog that dripped out as Caius pulled the top half of the box off. There was a very strange object inside of the box. It seemed to be a perfectly pure, black disk, just a few centimeters thick. Caius picked it up gently and looked on both sides of it. "Can we generate a map from this?"
As if it obeyed him, the disk leveled itself out and projected a mini-map of the galaxy through the hole in its center.
"Look there," Bastila said, "All of the unknown regions are charted! This is incredible. There's hyperspace routes in there that we never knew existed." She stared at it in awe and then her face shifted into a concerned frown. "It disturbs me that all that is out there and we didn't know about it. I am curious, though, how accurate do you think it is? How long has this map been on Korriban?"
"Probably not long," said Xristos. "The Sith were there to take an interest in it, and that planet could very well have been in their hands as early as a century ago."
"How are we going to activate the navicomputer with this?" Caius asked, shifting gears.
Allie held her hand out, awaiting the disk, she said, "Leave that to me."
There was some difficulty in rigging the disk to connect to the navicomputer. Considering that the technology was only loosely similar did not help. It was a testament to Allie's incredible technical skill that she was able to rig any sort of connection at all. Now everything hinged on her hope that an external stimulus would indeed bypass the navicomputer voice lock and allow them access to the ship's logs from Revan's tenure.
She craned her neck to look behind the waterfall of wires that she had pulled out of the back of the computer. She held her hand out and asked no one in particular, "Someone give me a male-to-male video input cable."
Dustil rummaged through the pile and then handed her one. Elliott felt it necessary to add a sarcastic comment and said, "Eh, it's a gay computer."
Everyone in the room immediately stopped and looked at him.
"Elliott," Caius began, "why are you such an idiot?"
Elliott looked straight back at Caius, said unflinchingly, "Why is your head so bald?"
Caius immediately felt the top of his head. It was a reflex, of course he knew his head was bald. But it wasn't natural, he had shaved it. However…he hadn't had a haircut in a while… "Whatever, you have the humor of a child," he responded.
"At least I've got humor, fearless leader!" Elliott fired back. Caius could say nothing and turned back to help Allie. Satisfied in his victory, Elliott left the room and headed back to the cockpit.
Allie broke the awkward silence with an exclamation of delight from behind the computer. "I think I got it!" she said. She rolled backwards and stood on her knees in front of the machine. "Come on," she said, willing it to work.
The high resolution screen of the navicomputer brightened up promisingly, a pleasant blue screen. They were not out of the words yet. It took the thing several moments to initialize before there was a familiar whoosh of tingling noises that said it was starting all right. It was, sadly, always in danger of crashing.
"Damn Vista Edition," stated Caius.
Allie shook her head, but the next voice was not hers, it belonged to the machine. "Greetings," it spoke in a monotone female voice. "Account verified: Revan. Please authenticate."
Allie flipped reached around the back of the console and flipped a switch. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, awaiting the result. "Access…" the voice began… "granted." Before the crew could shout in celebration Allie spun around and held her finger up to her mouth, signaling them to be quiet.
"Initiate voice recognition," said the computer.
Allie motioned quickly for T3 to attach to the machine. The droid complied and whistled to itself nonchalantly as it manipulated the computer. Everyone else held their breath, hoping that the droid could convince the machine that it was Revan. Or sufficiently Revan for it to open up its docking logs.
T3 then chose one of the random bits of Revan's voice that he had stored up over the years and played it. The excerpt that the droid randomly selected shocked everyone.
"Thursday, log from…wherever" said what everyone knew instantly to be the infamous Prodigal Knight. Bastila closed her eyes as his familiar voice echoed throughout the ship. It was gravelly and low, instantly recognizable. In this recording he seemed to be out of breath, not from physical activity, but just exhaustion. The rest of the crew just listened as the voice spoke out of the speakers in the comm. room. "The rest of them are dead. The jig is up. I'm not sure what this place is, T3, but I'm going to have to leave you." His voice was hushed, "Stick with the Hawk, take her back into known space. Severus knows we're here now, and I'm going to have to adopt a different approach if we're going to prevent him from invading. As of now, I don't know if he's the Sith Lord or merely an apprentice, and I don't care to know. Either way, T3, this is goodbye. You've been a loyal droid and I—" the transmission cut out abruptly.
Everyone stood still in complete shock. No one had been expecting to be confronted with Revan's voice, especially such a dark and enigmatic transmission. Everyone was so preoccupied with it that they didn't notice that the computer bought it hook, line, and sinker. It then started pulling up all the confidential files that Revan had locked away within its memory core.
The crew continued wallowing in stunned silence. Only Allie eventually spoke, saying, "It's all right to talk now…it worked."
"I…didn't expect that," Bastila said forlornly. "I wish I could've prepared myself."
"It was weird," Caius agreed, "I haven't heard that voice in…such a long time."
Xristos remained the most levelheaded and sought to restore order. He looked at it from a logical perspective, said, "I, for one, am glad we heard that. It casts considerable light on Revan's motives. At least we now know what we're getting into."
Caius turned accusingly to T3, asked, "Why didn't you tell us you had that recording? What else do you have in there?"
T3 beeped obstinately.
"What'd he say?" asked Dustil.
Caius sighed and translated: "He said that we never asked. He also says that it's irrelevant, as this is the only bit of recording he has from the Unknown Regions. Apparently something went awry when Revan wiped his memory and it left this bit intact."
Bastila exhaled deeply and closed her eyes, "Well, I suppose this means we can figure out the next step in our quest."
"Right," said Allie. "T3, can you identify where it was that the Ebon Hawk was last within Sith space?"
"Dwoo," assented the droid. After a moment of calculation, the navicomputer began operating. The much larger screen on the main wall then brightened and lit up with the map of the Sith Empire. The map rotated and shifted within the screen, eventually zooming in on a small planet near the border of Republic space.
Allie looked at the readings on the little screen, said, "It can't read any of the language, but the numbers are universal. We can upload the coordinates and the Hawk can make a safe journey there."
Caius looked at Bastila, "What do you say?" he asked her. "Should we jump straight there? We might want to make one last stop on Coruscant and gather any last supplies we might need." He then looked at their tech, said, "And I suppose Allie will want to take off and collect her payment."
Allie looked rather surprised, stuttered, "Oh, well, I don't know…" and then trailed off.
Elliott then entered the comm. room again, said, "Count me in for getting supplies. If we're going to be cavorting around the unknown worlds as long as I think, we're going to need to get some stiff alcohol."
"No," said everyone in unison.
Seeing he was outnumbered, Elliott surrendered but said, "Then I'm going to need a lot of cigarettes."
"That we can do," Caius said amicably, hoping to prevent war.
"Coruscant it is, then," said Bastila. "Caius, come with me so we can let Carth know what we've found and that we're coming back."
"Sure thing."
And with that, they all filed out of the room, leaving Allie alone with all her tools and messy wires. She looked around helplessly, said to T3, "Well, I don't suppose you'll help me clean up, will you?"
Bastila and Caius stood in front of glowing figure of Carth Onasi once again. He towered over them on the pedestal as they spoke. Bastila did most of the talking, and informed the Admiral of the map and what had happened on Korriban. She told him of the attacks and the deaths of the Republic team, but she glossed over the details of the Dream Tomb. The details were of a very clandestine nature, but Bastila ensured that they were communicating in an encrypted network and had T3 further codify the broadcast so that no one could accidentally find it.
"Well, Bastila," he said, "I'm disturbed about what you have to say about these Sith. They seem to know a lot about us, and they seem to be very formidable—at least in personal combat."
Caius then informed him of his duel with the one in the cave, he said, "It is difficult to fight even one of them. As far as I can tell the ones we encountered weren't Force sensitive, but they are still as much as a Jedi can handle. They fight wildly, not unlike a cornered animal. But they're far superior considering they have weapons and tactical knowledge. I was hoping that the ones we encountered would be some sort of specialized infiltration group or something. If they're all as strong as those…it's going to be hard."
"I understand, Caius," said Carth, "but there isn't any information I can provide you. For now, we'll operate under the assumption that these creatures are very physically adept, but not as much technologically."
"Is there any intel at all on the planet we informed you about?" Bastila asked, referring to the one that revealed itself as one of Revan's last known appearances.
"None whatsoever," the Admiral said, "we know just as much as you. However, the general geography of the planet can be determined at least. I'll have our scientists look at it and tell you what you can expect."
Caius twisted his mouth, "Thanks, I'm sure it'll help to know if rain's in the forecast."
"I'm going to take that as a joke," Carth said solemnly. His face then twitched slightly and revealed a small smile as he said, "For the record it wasn't very funny."
"Hmm, thanks for the evaluation," the Exile responded.
"Well, if that's it," Bastila tried to steer the conversation, "then we'll be returning shortly, Carth. We'll need to stock up on fuel and perhaps add on some auxiliary fuel tanks considering how long this journey might take. We'll also need more range weapons and stores of food."
"Don't worry," Carth said, "I'll take care of it. I'll also let Nantaris know you're coming."
"Thank you," she said.
"All right, Onasi out." The connection then ceased and Carth's image sucked down into the console and disappeared.
Bastila turned one of the knobs and deactivated the hologram. She turned around to find Caius was still standing right behind her—almost too close.
Her voice squeaked somewhat embarrassingly as she asked, "Can I help you?"
"You seem to be…in a much lighter mood," he said bluntly.
"Oh, I see," she said, "you think I'm less uptight than before."
"Honestly, yes. That's exactly what I think."
Bastila frowned. She didn't want him to confirm that, but of course it was true.
"Got everything figured out?" he asked.
She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, and said, "It's none of your business. And even if it was I wouldn't tell you. Just be glad to know that I'm making progress."
"All right," he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "forget I asked."
"I certainly will," she said flatly and then turned to walk away.
Caius shook his head. What was he doing with people like this?
The Exile wandered through the ship's halls on the way towards the starboard side when he met Allie, coming from the opposite direction. She seemed to be flustered and somewhat out of breath.
"Uh, are you all right?" Caius asked.
She tilted her head a little bit and said, "I'm fine. It sure would have been nice for someone to help me clean up that mess, though."
Caius immediately felt somewhat guilty. "Oh," he said, "sorry about that." In an attempt to lighten the mood, he said, "Well, you won't have to worry about dealing with us anymore. You can leave whenever you want."
Allie was a little hurt by this comment, and Caius wished he could retract it right as he had said it, as it had sounded unnecessarily dismissive.
Quickly the Exile put an addendum on the comment, said, "I mean…you don't have to stay on anymore. It is rather dangerous…it would be…safer, I mean."
"I understand," she answered rather coolly.
Caius tried to change the subject a bit, asked, "You're okay though, right? Nothing happened to you on Korriban?"
"No," she said honestly, "like I said, I'm fine. You don't have to worry."
Caius backed up a bit, said, "That's good, then. I told you—nothing bad will happen to you as long as you're here."
Allie's countenance lightened and she smiled slightly, said, "Thanks, Caius." With that she slipped past him and continued the opposite way.
As she left, Caius thought to himself, That was an awkward conversation. He felt a little uneasy talking to her, but he didn't really know why. But for some reason the thoughts in his mind could never translate, and he would say odd things. Articularity was not necessarily his strong point. Normally he didn't care, but with her…he had this peculiar nagging feeling that he did not want to make a bad impression—and for all his efforts he could not figure out what it was or how to get rid of it. He could only ignore it.
Dustil was not comfortable. His mind had been racing a thousand miles an hour after his confrontation in the cave with Selene, and he was on the edge of a traumatic identity crisis. Her words, even if they weren't actually real, had scared the living hell out of him. He wasn't exactly sure what to think of himself anymore. He had spent several hours trying to work things out for himself, within the confines of his own mind, but to no avail. As anyone who has experienced such a thing can attest, it is not possible to work it out alone. He decided he needed help.
"Hey, old man," he said as he accosted Xristos near the medical room. "I need to talk to you."
Xristos cocked his head a bit, but his weathered face then morphed into a warm, grandfatherly smile. He said, "Certainly, I'll do my best to listen. What's on your mind?"
"Not here," Dustil said, "let's go into the dorms—there's no one there."
"Hmm, private conversation? All right."
Xristos waited until Dustil was satisfied that no one would overhear him and then sat down on his bunk, awaiting a speech.
Dustil sighed and then said, "I don't even really know how to describe this. I just feel…nervous. Intimidated. And I have this morbid fear of the unknown now. I just, I want to be sure, you know? I can't just go on in blissful ignorance thinking that I'm something I'm not. I just—"
"Whoa," Xristos held his hand up, "slow down, kid. I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I told you, I don't know how to describe it."
"You do, you just haven't thought of it that way. Just say exactly what you mean and don't worry about manipulating words."
Dustil exhaled. "All right," he said, "do you know what was in that cave?"
Xristos shook his head.
"No. All right, there were ghosts. Phantoms. People from my past. Caius and Bastila saw them too. I'm afraid because of what one of them said to me."
"Which was?"
The young man closed his eyes and breathed deeply before saying it, as though it were a great burden. "She told me I wasn't really a Jedi."
"That's interesting, because you clearly are. You're in the Order and you carry a lightsaber. Surely that's not what's bothering you?"
"Those are just physical symbols," Dustil said. "She meant what I really am. Really. Like, deep down. That kind of crap."
Of course Xristos knew that's what Dustil meant. But the fact that he knew the problem himself was good progress. He was having an identity crisis. "Okay," he said, "so you're not sure you're really measuring up the Jedi ideal—or standard?"
"I guess. I mean, I don't know if you can understand this—but I was a Sith once. I was one. And now I'm a Jedi. How do I know what I really am?"
"And what are you afraid of?"
"I don't know—the uncertainty, I guess. I don't want to die and get a nasty surprise. Revan told me once of a ghost he met on Korriban. It was Ajunta Pall or something. But the thing was a fallen Sith that was lamenting its horrible eternity. I don't want to end up like that."
"Well, why would you end up like that?"
Dustil opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. He put his hand on his chin and thought about it. He said, "I don't know."
"I understand what you're talking about now, I think," Xristos said. "This is fear of the unknown, which is perfectly rational and understandable. Everyone has it. It's death, and it's unknown. No matter what it's always going to be scary."
"But what about that? I don't fear death as much as mistake. I don't want to end up like Pall."
Xristos leaned backwards against the wall on his bunk. Dustil was sitting on the ground, as though he were a student or something. The old man didn't like the position because it made him feel like a wise old teacher pontificating, but he had to assume the role. He said, "But Pall was a Sith, surely you won't end up like him."
"But that's exactly what I'm talking about!" Dustil exclaimed. "I don't know what I am now. I've been both! I've been a Jedi and a Sith. Is that even possible? It's warping my mind, I just don't know where I fit in. I'm afraid I may have damned myself."
"Now stop and listen to what you're saying, my boy. Do you understand the words coming out of your mouth? You're condemning yourself for turning from the dark side. That seems silly to me, does it to you?"
"I don't know," he said. "I just wish I were more certain."
"Look," Xristos said paternally. He leaned in closer and said, "You'll never find certainty the way you're looking for it. Nothing you can do will ever satisfy your concern or justify any certainty." He could see Dustil was frowning, not liking the old man's philosophy. However, the aged Jedi then thought of a new way to phrase what he thought. He asked, "Dustil, which one do you think you are?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm a Jedi, but how can I prove that to myself? I was just as certain that I was a Sith then as a Jedi now. This is what is so confusing!"
"Very well," Xristos said, "which one do you want to be?"
Dustil cocked his head as if he misunderstood the question. "Why, a Jedi, of course."
"Exactly!" Xristos pointed straight at Dustil as he said it, "that is what I've been trying to tell you. You want to be a Jedi. This is the goal you've set for yourself, and in your heart it's what you're seeking more earnestly than anything."
"I don't understand," Dustil said. "What I want and what I am are two different things."
"You are right," the old man said, "but I believe they're directly related. You see, the quintessence that is Jediness—the Light Side—that is not something that you—nor anyone—will ever be able to achieve. Even the masters are imperfect and flawed. If you were basing it off of their actions, then they are terrible, terrible Jedi. I mean, look at Caius. Twice, the Council has failed him in the most extreme way imaginable. He came to them with an issue so monumental and so improbable that they just dismissed him. They didn't do anything. That's twice the Council—the High Council—failed him utterly and completely. In fact, I'd say they behaved Sith-like in what they did to him. But does that mean that they weren't Jedi? Of course not."
"I still don't understand what you mean. Of course they were Jedi. I mean me."
"I'm getting there, don't worry. My point is that you can't judge what someone is only by their actions, because they make mistakes. The Council made a mistake. You made one. I've made thousands, but that doesn't I'm any less of a Jedi than they are. Because it's still what I'm striving to be. Even though I may have fallen on my face in representing what a Jedi is, that does not mean that I'm going to give up. It's simply about desire, Dustil. Someone could be the most perfect example of a Jedi on the outside but be hollow inside. And someone may be a bumbling idiot on the outside, but if inwardly he is really trying to be a Jedi and trusting that, then which of them is truly a Jedi? The second one."
"I think…" Dustil just trailed off and mumbled to himself
Xristos did not let up, continued, "Take your Ajunta Pall example. You are afraid that you are going to end up like him. Now, I don't believe that anyone will end up like he did accidentally. There's no way someone could earnestly and sincerely pursue the ideal of the Jedi and somehow wind up like Pall because of some sort of inscrutable set of guidelines that he didn't follow correctly. Pall knew exactly what he was doing. He may have misjudged the consequences, but he ended up right where he always knew he would."
"So…you're saying it's a decision?"
"That's precisely my point—it's all a choice, Dustil. Only you can determine it—it simply depends on what you deeply, truly desire to be. If you want to be a Jedi and try as hard as you can to be that—then that is all anyone can ask of you."
"This is still so…unusual. I don't know if I readily believe this."
"I blame the Order for that," Xristos said dismissively, flicking his wrist in some kind of hand-waving motion. "They're so legalistic. I mean, they'd have you put your hand over your heart and swear that you're a follower of the Light Side. But what does that get you? Eternal complacency? If it worked that way, there'd be no reason to try to do anything afterwards. The whole point of the Jedi is to try to stabilize this broken universe. The only way we can is by trying to measure up to this ideal. The desire to be something more than we are begets the actions that they would tell you are important in the first place. But what's true is what's in your heart."
"I guess so," Dustil said. There was a small, still silence for a few moments before he spoke again. "So I want to be a Jedi. I wanted to be a Sith once, so that made me a Sith then?"
"Yes, it did. But you were younger then and you didn't know what you were getting into. When Revan came and changed your mind, it showed that you were ready and willing to be corrected. Your desire was more for truth than it was for the Dark Side. If you wanted the Dark Side in and of itself, it wouldn't have mattered if Revan showed you it was evil. You would've wanted it anyway. But you were after goodness the whole time, it just took someone to show you the way. But, again, I say—you made the decision. Not Revan. Dustil, you are as much a Jedi as me, Bastila, or even Nantaris. Provided you always want to be."
"Hmm, I think you're right," he said. The young man leaned back and a weary smile crept across his face. He said, "Thanks old man, I needed to hear that. I still don't know if I agree with everything you said. But this is comforting to me. When Selene was yelling at me I tried to tell her that I didn't want to be a Sith, that I was a Jedi, but she wouldn't listen to me."
"That's because the Selene you saw was a phantom of the Dark Side. She sought to place doubt within you. But remember this, Dustil; doubt itself is never the enemy. Only when you allow it to corrupt you and make you jaded will it be your enemy. Such cynicism will eventually lead you down the path of apathy—and that will get you nowhere. It's better to be hot or cold than simply nothing. As I have stated—conviction is all important."
Dustil allowed a very deep breath to escape his lungs. He stood up and smoothed out his robes that had wrinkled from sitting on the ground. "I will think about this, old man," he said. "But thank you, this conversation has helped. It's torture trying to work it out yourself. Talking helps, if only because you can bounce your feelings and ideas off of someone else."
"Indeed it does," Xristos said. "And I know all too well what you mean by saying figuring it out alone is hard."
Dustil was about to leave, but figured he'd ask the question, "What were you trying to figure out, Xristos?"
The old Jedi rolled let his coat fall off and rolled onto his side on his bunk. "Perhaps I'll tell you in the future, kid. But for now, all this long-winded talking has made me tired. Wake me when we get to Coruscant."
"All right then, and thanks."
"Any time."
Meanwhile, as Xristos and Dustil engaged in such philosophical musings, Bastila and Allie were speaking to each other in the other dormitory on the ship. They were both exhausted and ready to go to sleep, but before they could, Allie had to inform Bastila of her plans.
"Bastila," she said, "I don't know about leaving when we get back to Coruscant."
"What, why not?" the Jedi asked. "You've done what we asked of you. Our financial backers only signed off on a check for you for this duration of the trip."
"I know," she said, "I don't mean money. I think…I think I should stay."
Bastila was surprised, she said, "What, why would you want to stay? This is going to be dangerous, Allie. We might get killed."
"I know I can't fight," she said, looking down at her feet that were hanging over the side of her bunk, "but I want to be a part of this. I can't leave you all now. And there's no telling when you might need another mechanic."
"This is true," Bastila said, "but since I'm not in control of the finances, I don't know how everything will work out. But if you want to go—that's your decision."
"I know," Allie said, "but I can't leave you all now."
"I don't see why not," Bastila admitted, "danger is a pretty good reason."
Allie sighed, said dejectedly, "Yes, but I can't leave you all. I've never been very good with people, but here I actually feel like a part of something. I don't want to just leave it."
"What do you mean you aren't that good with people? You seem fine to me."
"I don't talk to anyone but you and Caius. I've never had that many friends in my life—I've only ever been rather solitary. This is something I'm not used to, but I like it."
Bastila walked to her bunk and fell face down on it. "Well, that's interesting," she said, "you can certainly stay. I just don't want you to regret it."
"I won't," she said with conviction.
Bastila realized that her words were somewhat cold mid-way through her last comment, and felt it necessary to soften them. She made sure Allie could see her face and said as warmly as she could, "Well, I'm glad to have you stay with us, then, Allie. I probably need another woman around to balance out the…rest of our crew."
Allie laughed slightly at the comment.
"All right," said Bastila, "now I'm going to sleep. The last twenty-four hours have been…hectic."
"Goodnight, Bastila."
Elliott had long since jumped into hyperspace, and the Hawk was quickly making her journey back to the capital world of the Republic. As the rest of the crew discussed philosophy and then resigned to weary sleep, Elliott was still piloting the ship. It was a thankless job, and one that few could do. Caius had kept him company for a while, but eventually he also left to sleep. Elliott would have to catch his sleep later, for now the ship needed to be landed. It was a thankless job, but he didn't care so long as he got paid. That was thanks enough for him—and he was being paid plenty.
The assorted blue cone of hyperspace eventually slowed to a brilliant display of sluggish white lines. The stars made huge streaks in space as they slowed, like a thousand shooting stars at once. The sight was always beautiful. He had been piloting all his life, but he always found a sort of peaceful tranquility in observing that sight.
Coruscant quickly roared into view. The hugely populated planet shone brightly as its trillions of lights emanated from the surface. Elliott guided his bird smoothly through the atmosphere and broadcasted their ID signature to the docking authorities near the Jedi Temple. There were no hitches and he brought the ship down gently. It was evening there, the sun beginning to fade its way over the horizon, grayness falling over the sky.
He received a transmission from the port authority saying that Nantaris was on his way to meet them for some reason or other. Elliott didn't want to be around when the Jedi showed, so he figured he'd head outside quickly as possible, smoke a cigarette, and then get back in before the man arrived.
He stood outside, feeling relaxed from the drug, and silently pondering his current predicament. It was a lot like the days of his past. He had spent most of his recent years in smuggling and illegal trade, now he was back in a war-like environment and he wasn't sure he enjoyed it. His musings were interrupted by footsteps coming down the loading ramp.
He met the gaze of a very graceful figure descending the ramp. "Hey Bastila," he said nonchalantly.
"Yes?"
"Nothing," he said, tapping the side of his cigarette and dropping ashes to the ground.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked.
He expelled smoke, said, "Just taking a break before Nantaris shows up."
"Yes, I heard he's coming. Why do you say it that way?" It was dark out a little cool, so Bastila pulled her overcoat over her shoulders as she spoke.
Elliott dropped the butt of his now diminished cigarette and squashed it with his boot, said, "Because I don't like Jedi." He looked up to Bastila and continued, "Except you, of course."
"Uh…thanks."
"In all seriousness," he continued, "they are nice and everything, but so many wars are fought over them and their Sith counterparts. It doesn't matter what they're intentions are—they're the harbingers of death."
"That's rather eloquent, although totally incorrect. Where did you hear that line?"
"Oh, what? I can't use a word like 'harbinger'?"
"You can," she granted, "but I didn't take you for someone with a large vocabulary."
"Do I seem that transparent to you? I suppose all of you think I'm just the shallow pilot, not good for anything but shooting and being sarcastic. In a way that's true, but you've all got your dark and confusing pasts. Let me tell you, I have one too. The Jedi aren't alone in that, I just feel I don't have to talk about it." He lit another cigarette, said, "Oh, and I hold you all personally responsible, too."
Bastila wasn't really sure what to make of this. Of course she had thought that the man was good for nothing. He was a skilled pilot who otherwise single-mindedly pursued alcohol and sex, but apparently there was more than meets the eye. Not much more, but still something there. It was rather unfair of her to assume he was so base.
"But that doesn't mean we can't be friends. Or perhaps something more," he said with sly smile.
She was then disgusted with him again. Apparently he was more than a womanizing fool, but he sure didn't let on. It was as if he thought he had to maintain this persona in front of everyone. She wondered why. She thought about asking, but her mind left that train of thought when she saw a figure approaching. It was a Jedi, dark robes, certainly Nantaris.
Elliott was about to throw down his cigarette and leave, but Bastila said, "Why don't you stay? He's not going to do anything to you."
"Oh?" he snickered, "I see you were thinking the same as me."
Bastila was unsure what he meant until she realized that the last thing he had said was about them being more than friends. She inwardly cursed herself, but buried the animosity as Nantaris approached.
"Nantaris!" she called to him. "How are you?"
His face lit up as he approached, "Not bad, lass! Still in one piece after Korriban, I see!" He looked to the pilot, said, "And you must be Elliott. How's the ship holding up?"
"Fine," he said curtly.
"Well," Nantaris said, "the last couple days have been very…stressful, but I was able to make time to come meet you here. Carth was going to come, but he got tied up, so I had to scramble and come to brief you on what he learned."
"I'm glad you came," she said, though she really had wished that she could've seen Carth instead. "What has been so stressful?"
Nantaris looked rather uneasy all of a sudden, and sucked in his breath as though he was about to bear bad news. "Well," he said, "Vrook suffered a stroke two days ago. He's been hospitalized and there's no word on his condition. The doctors are fearing brain damage, but hoping that he'll make at least some recovery. Either way, he's not able to lead the Order any longer."
"Does that mean?" Bastila began.
"Yes," he said, though somewhat reserved, "I am now the Grandmaster of the Order."
Bastila was shocked to hear this, and she was equally concerned for Vrook. Despite his cold personality and somewhat arrogant attitude, he had still been a friend through thick and thin.
Nantaris, on the other hand, was not exactly thrilled with his new position. He had really been the product of necessity. He had never wanted this position, but there really was no one else, so he simply had to do his duty. "It's funny, lass," he said on the subject, "but now that I'm Grandmaster, I must be the first who didn't want the role at all. But look what has happened in the last several months—I've gone from grunt to Grandmaster!" He chuckled, though Bastila wasn't sure if he really found the situation amusing or he was just trying to lighten his own heavy burden.
"Well, I'm glad the Order is in capable hands," she said.
"Is it?" he asked, confusing Bastila. "Thanks for the vote of confidence!"
As he finished this sentence, Caius emerged from the Hawk and walked down the ramp. He was a little disoriented, but managed to suppress a yell and say, "Nantaris! What are you doing here?"
"I'm the Grandmessenger of the Order," he said wryly. "I'm here in the place of Admiral Onasi." There was a pause before he spoke again, saying, "Lad, how are you? You look like something the dog dragged in."
"Yeah, I just woke up. All the others are still sleeping, too."
"I see," Nantaris said, "I would be tired too after the debacle on Korriban." He put his hand to his mouth, "I suppose that leads into business then. Carth told me about what happened, and I cannot lie, I find these descriptions of the Sith terribly disconcerting. I hope we can get the jump on them and prevent any trouble."
Everyone agreed silently.
Nantaris continued, "However, I'm here mostly to inform you that your fuel tanks will be filled, we have a group of techs on the way with more weapons, and you'll get some food as well. Hard tack, my favorite."
"Was that a joke?" Caius asked.
"If you have to ask, you'll never know, lad."
"I see…"
"Now," Nantaris said, returning to seriousness, "I must relay to you what Carth told me. This planet you're going to, we don't know what it's called, but I can at least try describe what you're getting into—from the best we can tell, that is. The atmosphere there is very thick. At least, it looks like other planets we know that have a thick atmosphere. We can't say for certain because of the lack of information, but there's a good chance that it'd be really hot there. You know, Greenhouse Effect and such. You all need to be prepared for fatigue due to extreme heat—just in case. Don't exert yourselves too much, and drink lots of water. I'll have extra bottles brought for you. You never know. Don't get too worried—for all we know the planet's all ocean."
"Do you have any more suggestions?" Bastila asked, "is there anything we can wear that will help with heat?"
"Well," Nantaris said, "Jedi robes are going to be an issue. You will probably have to just wear the undercoat, but still…"
"I suppose we could do that easy enough."
"Listen lass," Nantaris said, "I wouldn't think too much about it. If it really is a greenhouse planet, you could walk around naked and it really wouldn't make that much of a difference."
"Ah, that sounds like a good idea," said Elliott, speaking for the first time since Nantaris's arrival.
Bastila clenched her fist and bit her lower lip, but did not say anything. She'd been through the cycle too many times with the irritating pilot; she knew there was no winning with him.
Nantaris continued, said, "That's really all we know. We can't say much about the surface because the atmosphere is so thick that we can't even guess as to what the ground is like—it could be barren or lush, no idea. The only other advice I can offer is to really, really think about where you land. There may be people on this planet, and it would be wise to avoid being detected. By that I mean: do everything within your power to avoid even being seen. You cannot allow yourselves to be compromised."
"This sounds…difficult," Caius said.
Nantaris nodded once, said, "It will be lad, there's no denying that." He then subconsciously looked both ways before leaning in and addressing the group in a whisper. He said, "Somehow, a rumor's been circulating about Sith. I don't know where it's coming from, but right now no one is really worried about it aside from Chancellor Sertorius. This puts your mission in jeopardy as well, there really isn't any room for error at all. Any false moves might lead to a Sith invasion, so please, please be careful. I don't mean to talk history at you, but remember the Hyperspace War. A Republic ship accidentally triggered the whole thing, so we must be careful to prevent that from happening again."
"We'll do our best," Bastila promised.
"I believe you will, lass." He looked up to the setting sun, said, "Well, I need to get going. It was nice seeing you all again, everything I told you would be here should show up soon enough, you'll just have to wait. He shook all three of their hands quickly, then said, "Good luck, my friends."
He then faded away. All three of them went back inside the ship and awaited the reinforcements of supplies. And soon they would embark for the unknown worlds.
Author's Notes: Hooray, this is the end of Part I. As I said earlier, there will be three parts. So...yeah.