Chapter eight, now.

Disclaimer: I can only dream of owning KOTOR.

"So, you know how to get rid of this thing?" Zara stared at the glimmering violet forcefield. She was powerful in the Force, but she wasn't interested in ripping out the forcefield. That would take too much effort.

Mission nodded, grinning. "I'm the only non-Vulkar who has the codes to take this thing down. I got them from a Vulkar doing a bit too much bragging at the bar."

Zara nodded approvingly. "Alright, kid, you've got some brass. I like that. And you've got ambition and initiative."

She smirked. "Yeah. Though I don't know why they put the forcefield in with the rancor."

"A rancor?" Well, her premonition was right.

The teen looked sheepish. "It's been in there awhile. Real big right now."

"A rancor?"

"Oh, Carth," Zara laughed, "a rancor is no trouble to me."

"A rancor, no trouble?" Mission's brown eyes narrowed. "What are you?"

Zara shrugged. "Remember the rahkghouls?" Mission shuddered. It'd taken the better part of an hour to convince the teen she was fine. "Hardly anything is powerful enough to be my equal in a one-on-one fight."

"Anything?" Zaalbar roared.

"Do not worry—I am honorable. And I do not plan to kill the rancor unless I must. I suspect the Vulkars will push my buttons, however." Zara shrugged. "They may not be so lucky."

"Lucky?"

"I will explain later. This is not a good place. Too many echoes. Anyone could accidently hear information I do not want to become public." She tipped her head and started walking. "Which reminds me—I'll have to teach you all about shielding your minds. It's very useful training."

Her fast pace stopped any more questions.

"The rancor is behind here." Mission's bright blue skin was a few shades paler under the layer of dirt.

"I know." She could sense the creature—its will was weak, having had nothing to oppose in its long years underground, being fed rahkghouls, unfortunates who wandered by, and Vulkar prisoners. Probably 'useless' slaves and incompetent members as well.

Zara opened the door and walked into a massive, high-ceilinged chamber. The rancor noticed her immediately and started lumbering her way as she knelt. She drew upon the Force, fighting for dominance of the creature's mind. Even a weak-willed rancor was still strong. Once she had a grasp, she stood and walked forward.

"Go." She ordered, loud enough for them to hear. Warily, her trio of companions entered the room. She had one hand on the rancor's lowered muzzle, one with two fingers on her temple. "Faster. I cannot keep control forever." She could handle the rancor for a few more minutes, maybe fifteen if she had to. But the sooner she was able to let go of the rancor's mind, the more power she would have in reserve and the faster she would recuperate.

Then they were safe—well, sort of—fighting the Vulkar doorguards. Mission, when Zara risked a look, had the door open in a trice. "Come on!" Mission yelled.

Zara let go of the rancor's mind, leaping off the ground with the Force as her aid. She covered the ground to the protected area in a single bound, dropping to her knees for a moment.

"What did you do?" Mission whispered.

She held up her hand. "That… that took effort. More than I thought." Her head had a low-level throb, something that had nothing to do with the rancor, she sensed. "And there's something wrong in my head. I don't know wha—" she trailed off into a pained half-scream.

Zara, Zara, Zara… a rough voice, something suppressed.

"Zara, my sister," I didn't know the voice that interrupted my fever dreams, "Zara, you're safe now. Her hands were gentle as she put a cloth on my forehead.

"Is she awake, Rach?"

"Fever awake, Mereel."

He wasn't bad, I knew he wasn't, just like that other Mandalorian. It was those, the savage dar'manda, that were bad.

"I'm gone, Zara."

"MOTHER!"

"Help me, Zara. Avenge me."

"Half-siblings?"

A wry smile and purple eyes identical to my own. "Surely you don't think our father had children with only one woman, had only one lover?"

"AHHHHH!" Zara ripped herself out of the shattered vision-memory, stopping herself from falling unconscious.

"Zara?" Mission asked. "What's wrong?"

Zara shook her head ferociously and got to her feet. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out." She would keep her siblings out of it. Her father was her secret, her half-brother and half-sister's secret. She would only tell if they all agreed and they weren't here to agree. "Just… just something off."

"Alright." Mission grumbled. "You can explain everything later."

"I will when the time and place are right." Zara stepped through the door. "But hold onto these, will you?" Zara handed her the journals she'd recovered. "If something happens to me, see that those get to Rukil of the Undercity."

"Do you think something is going to happen?" Mission asked.

Zara shrugged. "If something does, it does."