Chapter 12. I'm feeling like I'm going pretty fast.

Oh, and Zara's background. According to Wookieepedia, the Zeison Sha and Matukai don't come into being until way after KOTOR. But in KOTOR2, they've got Zeison Sha and Matukai armor. So I'm capitalizing on that discrepancy.

And yes, there's a lot of innuendo. This is rated T.

Disclaimer: I didn't get KOTOR for Christmas. I put it on my list, and I sure didn't get it. Not even from Santa.

"This is not cool!" Zara snarled, blocking out the cry of thousands—millions—billions dying as she shot down Sith starfighters. She could sense Mission, terror and despair and sadness welling up. Carth was all jagged jadedness and crystal focus. Bastila was barely coping, barely managing to help Carth with the hyperspace calculations. Zaalbar was roaring his overwhelming rage.

Zara focused on Canderous. He was used to this kind of ugly destruction. She was too, naturally, but she didn't have his insensitivity to the force. Manning the other turret, he was only focus. Focus without rage or pain, focus that wouldn't send her spiraling later.

They jerked into hyperspace and away from the proximity of the silent screaming. Zara steeled herself, climbing out of the cockpit. She had to comfort Mission. The kid was the only one who wouldn't be able to deal with the slaughter—as tough as the girl was, she hadn't seen such cruelty.

She pulled the girl into her arms, guiding her to one of the crew cabins, sitting both of them on a bunk. She let Mission cry on her shoulder, gently stroking the lekku and softly singing a lullaby.

Eventually the girl was soothed to sleep and Zara slipped away after pulling up a blanket. She steeled herself.

Crying wouldn't help.

"Is Mission alright?" Carth asked softly.

"She will be." Zara replied, sighing. "I'll make sure of it." Her fist clenched, nails digging into her palm. "I should have been able to do something."

Carth snorted, bitterly. "What? What could you have done against the Leviathan?"

She studied her hands. "Nothing." It was a bitter admittance. "I could have tried to rip it apart, but I would have failed. Malak has imbued this ship—had it saturated—with the Force. That's not a ship that will be easily destroyed."

"You can do that to a ship?"

She pulled her discblade out. "You can't sense it or see it, but this is my discblade. I've saturated it with my unique Force energy. A Sith will get an unpleasant surprise, picking it up. A Jedi will get a warning. It's mine, so deeply." She eyed him, handing him the weapon for a moment.

"Heavy. But lighter than I was expecting."

She called it back to her hand. "That's because of the Force. Without the Force, it would be a strong weapon, but not as strong as it is. The thickest part is hollow so I can throw it farther. The Force makes up for the lost heft."

"Huh."

"I'm going to get something to eat." She settled the discblade back in its sling. "You hungry?"

"Sure. Uh… aren't you going to change?"

Zara looked down, half-surprised to see herself in the dinner dress. The sleeves were torn, the skirt and top stained with soot, and the skirt itself torn at the knee. "Nah. I'm fine."

"You look like a prostitute." Bastila said pleasantly, walking up to us.

Zara grinned at her. "And unlike you, princess, I know how to wear it. I've done my round of dancing." She sauntered forward, chuckling at the frozen Bastila, who'd blushed scarlet. Zara had no doubt Carth was a similar shade.

Canderous, who appeared out of the garage, snorted. "You certainly know how to put them in their places."

She laughed. "I try. They gotta know who's on top."

His brows rose. "Ah."

"Not like that and you know it, Candy."

"I told you not to call me that."

Zara sniffed, stepping into the tiny galley. "And I'm ignoring you. I can do that." Her violet eyes glittered with mischief as she looked over her shoulder. "After all, you could almost call us friends. And I'd be willing to spar any day."

"Friends? That's stretching it. This is the third time we've met."

"We've made progress. I beat you up, we had a wild night, and now we've stolen a ship together. Friends."

"I owe you a beat down."

"You did beat me." She smirked. "Remember? And then you were so kind as to hold onto my discblade—did I congratulate you for being ingenious?"

"We were involved in other activities." He grinned. "I don't remember."

"Well, congrats, Ordo. It was very clever to jam my discblade in your basilisk's armor. You were just lucky my wan-shen had been broken to bits."

"Are you the Spinner?"

"Spinner?" Zara wrinkled her nose. "What kind of name is that?"

"I heard about a warrior who spun through the battlefield as fast as a Jedi and her axe stopped being an axe—it was a blur."

"Possibly." She ran her hands through her hair, pulling the last strands free of the elaborate updo it'd been pinned in. "Considering that Matukai-trained warriors are really, really rare—there's probably only twenty or thirty in the galaxy right now—it's most likely it was me." She smiled a little, regretfully. "My master contacted me shortly after I joined the war, counseling me to leave. He said there was darkness coming."

"And you didn't turn back."

"Sometimes," her eyes were a little dark, "you've gotta take things head-on. Sometimes, you gotta charge the darkness and batter it back." She took her bowl from the synthesizer, allowing Canderous to move in.

"You sound like a Mandalorian."

"My father was Mandalorian. Mom stuck around long enough to pick up a few things."

"Mandalorian? What clan?"

"That," she smirked, "is absolutely none of your business. But I'm not Ordo."

"Nixie?"

"My mother's name." Zara hesitated a moment before throwing him a bone. "My father's name was famous enough that most would have reacted… badly to me using it."

"How badly?"

"I wouldn't have been surprised if the Republic attempted to use me as a bargaining chip, ineffective as that strategy would be."

"You might have Mandalorian blood, but that doesn't make you Mandalorian."

She smiled. "Exactly. People just don't get that. I'm Zeison Sha by choice, not blood, and same with the Matukai." Her smile faded. "Though my master cut contact. I haven't been back to Yanibar since my mother died."

Canderous shrugged. "It's a little late now. After the war, I suppose."

"I'll get there." Zara sighed. "Someday, I'll get there." She laughed a little, a little bitterly, absently tracing her scars. "I wonder if they'll recognize me. It'll be sixteen years soon."

"That's a long time." Canderous eyed his bowl of glop. "How old were you?"

"I was fourteen when I left. I'm not quite thirty." She sighed an continued at the glop. "For two years, I traveled around, learning from my Matukai master. Then I made my wan-shen and struck out—really struck out."

"Wandering the galaxy alone at sixteen?" Canderous grinned. "Mandokarla."

"You think so highly of me."

He shrugged. "You're excellent in many ways."

"Flattery won't get you everywhere."

"Mandalorians don't believe in flattery."

Her eyes lit with amusement. "Praise doesn't get you everywhere either, even if it's honest."

"You're the one who escaped." He said.

"I used my resources to secure my exit." She retorted haughtily. "It was fun."

"I have a feeling the Jedi won't like you very much."

She snorted. "The ones I met in the war didn't like me, either. They're apparently used to a proper amount of awe."

"Which you don't give anyone."

"Exactly." Zara swallowed the last of the synth goop and dropped the bowl in the autowasher.
"I don't do awe." She stood up and stepped forward. "Now I've got to get this soot off me. It's making my legs itch like crazy."

She almost smacked into Bastila.

"Were you eavesdropping or something?"

The Jedi girl colored brightly. Zara could sense Carth, in the cockpit, no doubt watching over things. "I suppose you could say I was paying attention."

"Hope I didn't scandalize you too bad." Zara muttered sarcastically.

"I was simply curious. I have a feeling we will be traveling together."

Zara pondered a moment. "Okay. I'm a Zeison Sha and have trained under the Matukai. I sleep with the enemy if he looks good enough. I am a former smuggler—a damn good one—and a former soldier. Also a good one." Her eyes met Bastila's light blue. "And I'm not afraid to fight dirty."

She moved past Bastila, stepping into the refresher and locking the door behind her.

Is it so terribly difficult to get a few reviews?