Questions, comments, concerns?

Carth

The villagers built a pyre, and Danika held the dead man until they had completed it. She laid him gently on it, then lit the bonfire. Everyone stood silent as the flames leaped up, then went back to their tasks. Danika merely stood and watched until it was embers.

She turned, and Igear came running up. "My stock weighs too much, but there's a lot of things in it we need. This however, is too much extra, and no one can use it anyway." He thrust the bundle into her hands, and ran back to his duty.

It was a set of Echani battle armor. She held it lovingly, then drew Mission aside. They took over an unoccupied tent, then stepped back out. Danika wore the battle armor, looking very comfortable. Mission wore the light fiber armor, and while she would get used to it, she looked uncomfortable.

Danika led us across the encampment to where Gendar sat. Men and women taking notes surrounded him. The Outcasts were balancing what they needed against what they had.

"I'm still worried about Rakghouls." One said. "According to these records Orol made, there are supposed to be a number of areas where they congregate."

"If you can give me a few hours, I can correct that." Danika said. They looked at her skeptically.

"She is the one that cured our own sick." Kudra said. "Went into the cage to administer it as well."

"There is not enough left to inoculate you all. But I know a man in the Uppercity that wants this serum not for himself, but for everyone who has the disease." Danika said. "I will make it my price for giving it to him. What I need is an accurate count of how many doses he must give."

The count came to 73. Danika led us to the elevator, and we rode back up to the Lowercity. Mission was sent to check on Zaalbar, and I went on with Danika.

We walked across the Uppercity, and reached the clinic. Zelka Forn looked up as if he had never left. Danika walked up to him. "I have a sample of the rakghoul serum for you. But I want something in return."

He looked wary. "Go on."

"The people of the Undercity need it more desperately than any, but they can't pay even the little you would ask. I want you to make up enough for the entire village, 73 souls. I want it given to them. Not paid for."

Forn almost cried. "And I thought you wanted money!' He leaped up, hugging Danika. She looked surprised and uncomfortable. "I promise on my own soul that I will deliver it personally." He took the sample. "It will take half an hour to set up the system, but then I will have enough for just them in less than four hours! I'll send it with Gurney-"

"Maybe you should chose someone else." I said.

"Gurney wanted us to give it to him. Davik wants the serum first." Danika added.

"Davik!" Forn almost spat. "I'll fire that worthless-"

Danika reached up, touching her finger to his lips. "If it weren't for those you tend," she nodded toward the lab, "I would have told you earlier. He might not get the money from Davik, but he would probably be satisfied with what the Sith would pay."

He sighed. "You're right. Well, I have contacts with the Hidden Beks, they can get the serum down there. They owe me."

I smiled. "Doesn't everyone have the Beks on their side?" Forn returned the smile.

"I have little I can pay you-"

I named my price, Zelka." Danika said. "You met it. I am satisfied with my reward." She paused, then took out the sprig of the plant she had collected. "While you're at it, check this out. The rakghouls we saw down below were attracted to this plant for some reason. She turned, walking out.

Gurney came after. "You could have had it all, woman!"

Danika turned, and I could feel the fury emanating from her. Then suddenly it was gone. She looked at him calmly. How did she do it? How did a mere girl in her twenties learn or master such control? Take her emotions and lock them away like this? "I was rewarded. In ways you wouldn't begin to understand. Oh, and the injured back there." She stepped closer, and suddenly had Gurney by the throat. "If the Sith come here to get them, I will assume you told them. If that happens, you will beg to die before I'm done. Is that clear"

Gurney gurgled, nodding frantically. She threw him aside, and walked out.

We walked toward the North city again. "Carth, I want to continue our discussion."

"What, you can't stop arguing with me?"

She caught my arm, spinning me to face her. "Why can't you trust me?"

"Why does it matter? Why not just let it be? I don't trust easily. Leave it at that."

"I can't leave it at that Carth." She snapped. "I'm fighting this entire planet and I have mister 'I can't trust so leave it at that' at my back? Why don't I feel comfortable with that?"

"Damn it, I see I'm not going to get any rest until I spill it, right? You want to know why I don't trust anyone? All right. Two years ago, the Mandalorian war was over, Revan and Malak were heroes! I was proud to have served under them.

"Then they changed. They attacked the Republic with the very fleets they had led. Nobody knew what to think especially not me!" I was caught in those memories, reliving all of that. "Our heroes had become our mortal foe, Jedi had become Sith. If you can't even trust the Jedi to live up to their ideals, who can you trust?"

"What do I have to do with Revan and Malak?" She asked.

"That's not what I mean. It's..." I sighed. "Not all of those that went over to the Sith were Jedi. The Jedi that betrayed that trust, that became Sith deserve to die for what they have done. But the officers and men that joined them the ones who turned their backs on the Republic are worse. They can't blame the 'Dark side' of the Force." I used my fingers to make quotes. "They did it for the glory, or the bloodlust or whatever reason their minds created to rationalize it. They deserve no mercy."

"You say that with such... hatred."

I shrugged. My outburst had surprised even me. "I know. I should apologize to you. I've become accustomed to expecting the worst from people and you got caught in the blast radius. Just leave it for a while, okay?"

She nodded sharply and we continued walking

Beks

Danika

We threaded our way back to the Hidden Bek base. Everyone was there to greet us, and Gadon held up the swoop engine accelerator to a roaring cheer. He handed it to an Ithorian who immediately hurried off to install it.

"I was beginning to worry. My mechanics need time to install the accelerator, and the race is tomorrow morning."

I had lost track of time, and was deathly tired. "I've fulfilled my end of the bargain, Gadon. All you have to do is your own part."

"I'm a man of my word. I've already registered you as a Bek rider. And I've just decided that I'm going one better. Since you have to ride, I'm going to assign the bike with the prototype accelerator to you!"

"Gadon are you serious? We need our best ride on that bike in order to win!" Zaedra cried. But her words rang false.

"Why are you doing this, Gadon? The truth, please."

"Put that way, how can I refuse? The accelerator has never been tested, and we won't have time now. The designer," he waved after the Ithorian "tells me there is a chance it will explode if it overheats. I can't ask one of my people to risk his life on a chance like that.

"If you can complete the course without getting killed, you win, and Bastila is free. If you fail?" He shrugged. "Bastila still goes free if one of our other riders wins."

I shook my head, smiling slightly. "Sounds like you win either way."

"You don't rise to command a swoop gang without knowing all the angles." He agreed.

"Danika-" Carth started to speak, but I held up my hand. I had already risked my life to save her once. "I agree."

"You and your friend can stay here tonight. They're going to work through the night to install the accelerator, so unfortunately, you won't have time to practice. But I have good instincts. You have the lean look of a Swoop racer to me. Just relax, and we'll take you to the track in the morning."

I nodded, and wandered off. There was a cantina, and after getting something to eat and drink, I left. The noise and music was grating. I heard a voice in another room, and wandered toward it. Zaalbar was leaning against a box, and Mission was hovering like a persistent fly. "Big Z we have got to do something about your breath. I didn't want to say anything before but it's worse than usual, which is hard to believe. In fact it has been pretty rancid since we rescued you from those Gamorreans. What did they feed you buddy?"

He sighed. "They didn't Mission. I wasn't a guest, I was a prisoner. As long as I lived to be sold, they didn't seem to care."

"That must have been horrible! I know how frustrated you get when you don't have your eight square meals a day. I'm surprised you didn't faint from hunger."

He knew she was joking, but wasn't in the mood to return the favor. "I did take a chunk out of one of them, but it tasted bad so I spat it out."

"Ewww! No wonder your breath smells so bad! Considering the way Gamorreans smell, I don't want to even imagine what they taste like! I'll just have to get a toothbrush to clean those choppers of yours."

He caught her arm when she started to stand. "Wookiees don't brush their teeth, Mission. It just is not done. What other humiliations do you have in store for me? A comb?"

"Okay! Relax! Sheesh, try to make a helpful suggestion. I'd just suggest the next time you stay away from something smart enough to lock you in a cage." She looked at her friend and I saw a devilish glint in her eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're starting to look a little scruffy."

"Scruffy!" He was indignant. "What are you suggesting! A bath?"

"No." She waved her hands in negation. "I remember how well that went over the last time. But your fur is getting tangles, and the gray is starting to show through."

"You're making this up! I groom every day! My fur is NOT tangled, and I am not going gray!"

"Hey it's not like it's something I can't fix! You know, a little trim, a splash of coloring, and you'll be the best looking Wookiee on the planet! Maybe a nice suit of-"

"You do not trim a Wookiee! You do not color a Wookiee's fur. And you most certainly do not dress a Wookiee!"

"I know but you'll start a trend! Designers will want to make just the right stuff to show off your fur-"

"Enough!"

"I think he looks fine." They looked to me. "Zaalbar, how are you?"

"Tired, and there is still pain." He said. "But a doctor in the Uppercity doesn't care that I am a Wookiee."

"Zelka Forn."

"Yes. He put me in a Bacta tank for several hours and I'm fine now."

"Good. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"Yes. Maybe I should go down to the garage. Roomba is a good mechanic, and I know he designed that accelerator, but I think I know a way to tweak it a little more."

"Don't tweak it too much. I'm riding it."

"Then my debt assures that I make sure it will work well."

I waved to him, and found a place to lie down. The hum of the place gently put me to sleep.

She struck down the dark Jedi, and behind her I could see four or five others. All carried lightsabers, blue green violet and her own yellow made a rainbow of death. My vision turned to another figure. This one was robed, hooded, and wore a garish mask.

"You cannot win, Revan." The woman said. Her opponent, undaunted by the odds, drew a lightsaber, the deep ruby red lighting the figure.

From here I could see beyond Revan. Leviathan was there, and suddenly all of her starboard batteries opened fire. The ship rocked, and a blast of energy speared through Revan.

Then suddenly I was laying down. The woman staggered forward on her hands and knees, staring at me for some reason.

I didn't get much sleep that night. Every time I went back to sleep, the dream continued. The Jedi carrying Revan's limp form, running frantically to an escape pod. Through the transparisteel I watched Behemoth erupt into fire, then explode. Shrapnel struck the pod, and one of the Jedi screamed that it would not punch out. No beacon, no way to discover where they were. The woman of my dreams calmed the others, then settled into a meditation seat. She closed her eyes.

Time passed. Then she heard something. She looked upward, and my view followed. A figure was outside the transparisteel in an EVA suit. The faceplate was silvered. The woman moved over, laying her hand against the plastic as if she could reach through and touch the figure outside-

I jerked awake as a hand touched my arm. Carth looked at me with worry on his face. Silently he handed me a cup of tea, and I drank it eagerly.

"What time is it?"

"Right before dawn. The Beks are moving the bikes out right now."

I yawned and walked out into the riot of movement. Bikes, each marked in bright colors with the Bek's insignia were being lifted with antigravity units and pushed through a door in the wall. Gadon was standing back. Obviously he had been through this often enough.

"He looked at me as I came up. "Here comes the philanthropist!"

"What?"

"We shipped a load of rakghoul antidote down to the Undercity thanks to you. It interrupted our schedule."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." He huffed. "If the Uppercity nobles had their way, all of my people would have been down there with them ages ago." He smiled. "We help them when we can, but there usually isn't much extra in our margin."

"Hey Gadon, she coming?" A Bek shouted.

"You had better go. You can be disqualified if you show up late."

Swoop Race Track

Swoop racing began long ago among the outlaw gangs. It was first started to keep the gangs from internecine war. The first bikes had been mere frameworks with rudimentary controls, engines and of all things, wheels. The courses were sections of sewer with ceramacrete walls which meant that if you missed a turn you slammed in. Without deflectors, that was lethal

But times changed. Small antigravs were developed. Grav plates to boost acceleration. Deflectors as well. Finally it reached where it was today. A course with grav plates and obstacles spread in a random fashion.

Surprisingly enough as a spectator sport it caught on. Entertainment networks vied to televise the races, and soon everyone who could watched enthralled. It was still a dangerous sport. Death wasn't common but bad accidents were.

On the shuttle to the concourse, I watched the brief history a local entertainment network was running. I knew Gadon Thek had been blinded. What I hadn't known was he had been injured afterward when the antigravs and deflectors had both failed catastrophically just as he reached the finish line. He had won his race, but it had been his last. His time of 34.91 seconds was still a local record.

The Concourse was above the track, and only racers officials and mechanics were allowed onto it. Even then maybe fifty people were there. Most were racers, an average of two from each of the major gangs, one each from the smaller. Twelve mechanics worked on their bikes in areas separated not only by tapes but also by glaring mechanics that watched to make sure there was no sabotage. It was rumored that Gadon's accident had been sabotage, and these days we all knew who was blamed.

The Vulkars had four bikes with riders and mechanics. Brejik was pointed out to me. A tall slim young man, he glared toward the Bek's enclosure

Roomba was working on a bike when I walked into the Bek's enclosure. He looked up, nodded, then made one last check before closing the hood over the engine compartment. "So you're the one that is going to try out my baby. " He said. "Don't worry. Your friend Zaalbar and I were working on the accelerator for hours. Stability shouldn't be a problem, I hope."

He walked over, and touched hands with me. "I'm told you've never done this before. You want me to run over the basics for you?" I nodded. He walked me over beside the bike, pulling up the windscreen so I got a good look. I would have to crouch, leaned forward, and hold two handles that controlled the maneuvering vanes. "All right, first thing to remember is try not to crash into any debris. The course is littered with obstacles. All swoops have dynamic deflector systems, so crashing and getting killed is not a problem with such minor impacts. But anything you run into is going to slow down your run.

"There are grav plates, and before your first run you won't know where they are. If you hit one it will give you a jolt of speed, so hit them when you see them. But don't go whipping across the track if you can avoid it. You lose speed making radical turns and you might put yourself out of position for the next series, understand?

"The accelerator makes the engine run a little hot so you have to watch your engine temperature gauge." He pointed at a gauge on the panel. If it starts running hot you'll hear a warning buzzer. Just change gears when you hear it, or when the needle reaches here," He touched a section of the bar graph, "and you'll do fine."

I took a deep shuddering breath. I had never done anything like this before, and was suddenly terrified. "All right, let's start."

"Hold your jets." He said. "There is more you need to know. Racers go out on the track alone. They've started paired races in some places, even full races with everyone out at the same time in some places, but we're traditionalists here. The times are tallied as they come up, and when the day is over, the best time wins.

"Normally a rider can do as many heats as he wants, but this engine might burn out. If it does, the bike is going to imitate a meteor and blow up. I think we can get four, maybe five runs out of it. So make your runs count. Gadon is depending on you. We're all depending on you. If the Vulkars win, Brejik expects to get a lot of recruits out of this. If they win, the Beks are history."

"I won't let you down."

He grunted. "It sounds like you're are ready as you're going to be. Go talk to the coordinator and get checked in. He'll give you the time to beat and your number in the queue. I'll check the bike after every run, and make any tweaks or adjustments it needs in between." He touched my hand again. The innate honesty of his race made him add. "Don't worry. The accelerator probably won't explode."

The coordinator was a hassled Duros. He nodded to me, and signaled one of the Vulkars to go to the track. Then he turned to me. "You're here to race, right? Now let me see. You're riding for the Beks. I hope they do better than the last few races. I kinda like Gadon." He nodded. "All right, you're in. Ready for a heat?"

"Yes, I am."

"All right, seven minutes. He looked up. "New time to beat is 38.43 seconds. A good time, but not the best I have seen. Have fun and try not to get yourself killed."

"Killed?"

"Yes. We lost one racer today already. You know how you can adjust altitude?" He pulled back as if using reins to stop an animal. "Well one of the Twi-leks did that and hit the upper structure right between two pylons. Dynamic deflector systems can't make your bike a meter shorter you know."

I didn't know and the conversation was bothering me. I walked back to the Bek enclosure, and slipped into a jumpsuit. Roomba nodded that he would watch my gear. I don't know why, considering the friction recently, but everyone was as well armed as their muscles could handle. As I passed the Vulkars I had seen a cage with a woman standing there limply. There was a neural restraint collar around her neck, yet another legacy of slavers the Galaxy over. I walked toward her, and the Vulkar guarding the cage stepped between us. "No one talks to the prize." He growled.

"I wasn't going to talk, just inspecting her."

He growled again, but motioned me forward. I walked over, then stopped stunned. In my dreams since before I had arrived on the Endar Spire, I had seen who my mind took to be Kalendra. Then since I had been here on Taris, I had seen a Jedi fighting to defeat Revan.

This was that woman in the flesh. Bastila had been in my dreams!

"Danika Wordweaver. Report to the track." I shook myself, and walked to the coordinator. He signaled me through a door, and I went down to the track. The bike was already there, and I climbed aboard. I flipped a switch, and the bike lifted into the air, floating a meter off the ground. Ahead of me was a series of lights, and I slowed my breathing, watching them The red light lit, then a few seconds later, the amber. My grip tightened, and my finger hooked over the trigger of the accelerator.

Green. I pulled the trigger, and the swoop bike smoothly accelerated. As it did, I saw the temperature gauge climb almost immediately into the red. A grav plate was coming up, and I shifted course as I loosened the trigger, setting it for the next gear. Then I passed the plate. There was a thump, and suddenly I grinned. It was like riding a Tirlat!

I looked along the course, and hit every grave plate I could. Each time, it slammed me forward faster. I saw immediately what the problem was with the accelerator. It needed the governor adjusted to set the gear ratio a bit lower.

I finished the race, and a time flashed on my helmet. I stared at it in shock. 38.01

Beks mobbed me as I climbed out of the racer. The bike was hoisted up, and loaded on a tram to take it to the start line.

Roomba bounced in glee. "Your first time and you beat the set time! They are going to tell stories about this race forever!" He froze. "Damn."

"What? I looked up. The new time was 37.94.

"One of the Vulkars, Redros, beat your time." He bent to the bike, opening the hood. I told him what I had thought, and he nodded, tinkering with it. After a time, he closed the hood. "Done." I nodded, and headed back to the coordinator.

He looked at me. "For someone who has never done this, that was a respectable time."

"My swoop is ready. What is the time to beat?" I asked.

He looked down, then up at the score board which I had ignored. "The Vulkars have set a time few could beat. Thirty-four even."

I gulped. Gadon had set the previous course record at 34.91 at his accident. I couldn't beat that time let alone the new one!

"You can forfeit, if you want."

"No!" I almost shouted. "I have to race."

"Then do you want to put yourself in the queue?"

"Yes."

"All right. Eight minutes."

I nodded and walked back to the Bek enclosure. Roomba merely huffed when he saw the time.

I sat there stunned until they called my name. There had been eight heats since I had noticed the new score, and no one had come even close. In fact the fatalities were now two, with three badly injured.

I went down to the track. The swoop was a Tirlat. How to use that? I

remembered when Kalendra, the real Kalendra had ridden that first time. Perhaps if I used the accelerator only once, to start?

I fit myself onto the bike, leaning forward. In my mind, I could see the grav plate arrangement now, right, then hard left, and then middle, then right- wait a minute. There was a distinct pattern of plates on the right and middle!

I watched the lights, my brain running at hyper speed. No, that was the first part of the course. The middle went center, then far left, then center in a pattern almost impossible to match with the controls. The last part was easier, with staggered plates at either side with a few in the middle.

The light counted down, and as the green flashed, I kissed, then released the accelerator. It punched me forward, but I took off in a deceptively slow glide. I angled to hit the first plate, then to the left sharply to catch the second.

I wasn't swoop riding, I was tirlat riding.

The far right plate kicked me, and I moved the controls delicately, catching middle, then right, then right, then middle, and was honking over sharply to hit the series on the left and center.

The race was over too fast for me to even understand it. Beks grabbed me and held me aloft, shrieking in delight. I was confused until I saw the scoreboard.

32 even.

I went back to the concourse, but it was a foregone conclusion that I was the winner. That didn't stop the Vulkars and others from trying. Most of the scores after mine didn't even threaten the time set by Redros.

Finally they decided to call it a day. The next score after mine was 33.70, also by Redros. The coordinator called the racers together. "With a new track record of 32 seconds even, I give you the winner, Danika Wordweaver!"

I waved at them as I stood there. I had never done this before, and hoped to never have to do it again. But I had won.

"Through your skill, you have made yourself the premier swoop racer of the last two decades. Now to present the victory prizes, I give you Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars."

Brejik stepped forward. His face was working, and there was a tic under his left eye. He had seen all of his plans collapse because of me, and I was glad I was back in armor with my ritual brand. "Hear me!" He shouted. "Before I present this so-called champion with her prize, there is something that must be said. This rider cheated!"

There was a cry of dismay from the crowd. The coordinator merely looked on. "And how did she cheat?"

"The Beks brought a newly designed accelerator to the field without reporting it, and allowing others to examine it! I hereby withdraw the prize put forward by the Vulkars in protest!"

The coordinator looked at him. It's usually hard to tell what a Duros is thinking, but this one was obviously disgusted. "The accelerator design was brought to the race committee three weeks before you stole it, Brejik. If your racer had used it to win, you would have argued against disqualification, as would any team that raced. As for the prize, you cannot withdraw it merely because you lost. It goes against our sacred traditions!"

"Your traditions mean nothing to me!" Brejik roared back. "I am the wave of the future, not some fool locked on the past! If I want to withdraw this woman, to kill her, or sell her on the slave market, I will do what I please!"

"I think I have a say in that, Brejik." A voice I had heard before said. Bastila looked up, and her smile was cold.

"You can't- It's impossible! You wear a neural disruptor! How could you have worked past that?"

Her smile grew feral. "You underestimate the will of a Jedi, Brejik. A mistake you will not live to repeat!" She reached out, and the Vulkar that had been guarding her was slammed back hard enough to crack his skull. The collar fell from her neck and she moved her hand, and the door opened. Then she bent to pick up the sword from the fallen Vulkar.

"Vulkars, to me!" Brejik shrieked. "Kill the woman, kill the racer. Kill them all!"

I drew, and killed the Vulkar that ran at me, then the melee became general.

Bastila Shan

I had freed myself after much work, but I was not yet safe. The problem I had to face was manifold. The gang had surprised me, and captured me after only a brief struggle. Someone had put the neural disruptor collar on me, and dragged me away.

Picture sitting in a chair, looking out a window in front of you, but your will is paralyzed. You cannot move only watch as life passes by. Thought of action is shunted aside before it reaches your muscles. You still breath eat and excrete because you don't need to think about that, but you can't even complain about the quality of the food.

It had taken me a day to discover exactly how the damnable collar worked, then another to work my way around it. Only a Jedi could have done so. We work on so many levels in comparison to regular people that no one but the Sith had ever bothered to develop such a collar for us.

But once I was physically free, I would have yet another problem. I was being held in a pit, and only let out for feeding and cleaning. Someone had assumed I was important because there were never fewer than five when I was removed, and usually more. I could have dispatched them, true, but I would still have been trapped in a building somewhere on Taris, with many more people between freedom and me.

I was a prize in a swoop race, that much I had learned. Then this morning they had been agitated. Someone had broken into their main base, and razed it. They mounted a guard worthy of a senator to assure this same enemy did not take me.

Ah, the swoop race then was my best chance. While I might still be wearing the collar, once the race was done, they would have to transport me again. That was when I would free myself, when the number of guards was scant, and the space enclosed. I didn't know where I would be going, but I was sure I would find a way off the planet before Darth Malak found me.

But something had gone wrong. Brejik, that stupid little man had screamed that he would withdraw me. I was not going back to that hell!

"I think I have a say in that, Brejik." I said. The look of shock and dismay on his face was priceless.

"You can't- It's impossible! You wear a neural disruptor! How could you have worked past that?"

"You underestimate the will of a Jedi, Brejik. A mistake you will not live to repeat!" I reached out using the force, caught the guard nearest to me, and savagely used that unseen grip to pull him toward me. I overdid it a bit. I used what I might have to shove a landspeeder away from me. The Vulkar slammed back into the cage, and collapsed dead. The door was child's play, and I took the weapon from my first victim.

I immediately saw a problem. As a Jedi I had not handled a sword with a material blade in over a decade. It pulled forward in a disconcerting manner, and when I swung it, the swing went on for quite a distance. Until I was used to it I would be little help.

Instead, I blocked frantically, and watched the woman that had won the race. She was a redhead from Echana if her arms and armor were any indication. She waded into them, and I could see the edge of her mouth in a grin as she did. The spectators were running frantically, the Beks had charged in, and chaos was total. In the midst of that, she danced the dance of death, and was its master. No one I had ever seen moved with such fluid and lethal grace. I despaired for the order for I felt the power of the Force in her every move. What would she have been if we had found her first?

Brejik shoved his way through the press, his eyes lit by insanity. Any grasp he had on reality had been sundered, and now all he wanted was revenge.

"You're mine!" He screamed, raising his sword.

Suddenly he stiffened, and looked at the blade that had transfixed him like a museum specimen. "Mine." He whispered, then he jerked forward. The woman rider was behind him, kicking the body forward as she pulled the blade free. She looked up, then walked toward me.

I was stunned. It wasn't possible! She couldn't be here, fighting with such efficiency! Yet there she was.

I reacted poorly, I will admit. I lied through my teeth. I pointed at Brejik, and his henchmen now dead in windrows around us. Along with the Vulkar and five or six members of other gangs that had joined the fray on his side. But they had paid for that foolishness with their lives. "Maybe the Vulkars will think twice about trying to keep a Jedi prisoner! And as for you, if you think I am willingly going to be a prize in this farce-" I stopped, artfully pretending that I had just recognized her. "Wait, you were on the Endar Spire! Yes, I'm sure of it! How did a Republic soldier find herself racing for a common swoop gang?"

She shrugged, and smiled that damnable smile I remembered so well. "It is a long story." Only the voice was different. Softer, more hesitant. As if she was embarrassed.

"Well we don't have time for it right now. We have to get out of here before the Sith arrive to sort out this mess. Is there somewhere safe where we can go?"

Before she could answer, a Bek came running down the concourse. "The Sith were monitoring the swoop race! We have to get out of here now!"

"We have a safe place to go. I was going to take you there after I saved you from Brejik." She said calmly.

"Saved me? Is that what you think happened? Is that why you entered this ridiculous race? Well as a rescue operation, this is one of the worse managed I have ever seen! In case you hadn't noticed I had already freed myself. In fact all things considered, I think it would be fair to say that I saved you! Brejik and his gang would have left you for dead if I hadn't been here!"

She colored, and bit back a retort. "I think we can discuss this later. Carth is waiting for us."

"Carth Onasi! Well I withdraw part of my complaint then. If Carth sent you, he must have had a better plan than something you created!" She merely shook her head. The Beks were ready to leave, and since she had ridden for them, they brought us with them.

Carth

It was panic time by the time Danika and Bastila returned. We had been watching the race until the fight broke out, then the Bek in charge of the video feed told us that the Sith were coming down into the Lowercity in force.

Gadon had decided to take his people into the Undercity for a while to hide out. Danika had told him of the promised land, and Gadon had been intrigued, but I didn't know what to expect out of it. Mission and Zaalbar stayed with us, and Mission led us through a warren of trash chutes and sewer lines until we were back in the Uppercity near our apartment. We went there.

"Bastila! It's good to see you safe! Now we just need to find a way off this rock."

"You mean you don't even have an escape route planned? What have you been doing in all this time?"

"Trying to find and rescue you." Danika said. I could tell she was furious, and I was just glad it wasn't aimed at me this time.

"I see." Bastila commented with all the prim disapproval you would have expected from a teacher in grade school. "Well now that I have been 'freed', I can start assuring that this operation is run properly."

"Now wait a minute, Bastila!" I snarled. "I know you're new at combat, but a good leader doesn't berate her troops just because things aren't as far along as you might like. Don't let your ego get in the way of what we're trying to accomplish, or let it drive you to take charge when you don't know what the hell you're doing!"

She looked as if her wallet had bitten her. "That hardly strikes me as an appropriate way to address your commanding officer, Carth. I am a member of the Jedi order, and this has been my mission, just remember that! My battle meditation has helped the Republic in several battles, and it will serve us here as well!"

"Your abilities might win battles, but it doesn't make you a competent leader! A good leader listens to those below them that have seen more combat than you ever will! Or those that specialize in this form of mayhem!" I waved at Danika.

"Will you both just settle down?" Danika had crossed her arms, and was glaring at us in turn. "This is not helping matters."

"Yes. You are right, of course." Bastila looked to me. "I apologize Carth. You are quite correct that this is her area of expertise, not mine. What do you suggest we do?"

I sighed. I wanted to hit her, but it wouldn't have helped. "First thing, we can't get hung up on who is in charge. I'm a pilot, you have skills only the Jedi have, and Danika can cut her way through any problem. Not to mention that Mission is hell on wheels with a computer, and Zaalbar can fix anything we need fixed. This is a team, Bastila, not some group of raw recruits."

"Well said, Carth. I stand corrected." She cast a glance at Danika, then back at me. "I know there are people itching to escape this planet. Perhaps we can check the Cantinas and see what we might find."

"Sure. That's as good an idea as any." Danika murmured I looked at her worried. She had always been the most gung ho of the crew, and this sudden change bothered me. She looked at Bastila, and flushed.

Bastila sensed it. "Is something wrong? You seem troubled by my appearance."

"Something weird happened before I went to the swoop track. A vision of some kind."

"A vision? A vision of what, pray?" Something about her tone didn't ring true.

"Of you. You were with five others." She closed her eyes. "All Jedi. You faced a Dark Jedi. Revan I think."

"This is strange. Usually such visions are signs of Force sensitivity."

"What does that mean?"

"I really can't explain it. Unless you can feel the Force, and understand the terms, it is like telling a blind man about a rainbow. After all, one vision-"

"It isn't just one vision." Danika bit out. "I had them since the battle of Zanebra. Before I boarded the Endar Spire. Here as well."

"It seems you might have some small connection with the Force. It isn't uncommon really. When we first met your own small skills must have fed off mine. It is possible that in the excitement of the aftermath of battles, your own skills allowed you to glimpse parts of my own life."

"As someone I remembered from childhood?" Danika pressed. "Weeks of memories as clear as that window that never happened in truth?"

"I do not fully understand the Force. No one but the Jedi masters do. Once we have escaped, I will take you to them, and you can discover what is happening. However we have more on our plates than I would like to consider. Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Right," Danika pushed herself up. "Mission, Zaalbar, stay here. We don't want any incidents we can avoid." She looked at Bastila, then at me. "Are you two coming? Or am I going to do all the work, and you two are going to kibitz from safety?" She flipped something toward Bastila, who caught it instinctively. It was a twin bladed lightsaber. "Yours I believe."

She stormed out before I could answer. Bastila followed, and so did I.

A Twi-lek had stopped Danika outside the door, and was in a conversation with her. Danika signaled for privacy, then when the Twi-lek departed motioned us forward. "Someone named Canderous Ordo. He wants to see me. It seems my swoop bike racing fame intrigues him."

"We really-" Bastila began.

"The Upper level Cantina here in South City is where he wants to meet." She looked at Bastila coolly. "You did say we should check out the cantinas."

Cantina

Danika

I was furious. Someone had messed with my mind after Bastila's rescue, and I didn't know how or why. Her reaction, brushing it off as if it were unimportant bothered me even more. If someone was using the Force, and it wasn't her, who could it be?

Carth wasn't helping. I could see that his mistrust extended far beyond me, and while I felt slightly better about that, the arguments could soon destroy us. I was used to working with a smoothly running team as a soldier. Impediments are dealt with or transferred out at my level or lower, before they could become a danger to others. But here I was technically the low man on the pole.

I could feel their eyes on me as we walked on. The way they had been circling like a pair of female Thorm in a nesting dispute I expected a fight, and as we walked I could overhear it.

"I was wondering Bastila, how were the Vulkars able to capture you after the crash? Were you unconscious?"

"No, I was conscious. But my force powers had been exhausted in the battle for the Endar Spire. If I hadn't been using them up until the moment I crashed you may never have gotten off the ship alive." Her voice was low and angry.

"Fair enough." Carth's tone was light, but I could sense him closing for the kill. "But I've seen you Jedi in action before. How did those thugs get past you're lightsaber?" Her answer was too low for me to hear, but Carth repeated it as if it were the punch line of a bad joke. "You lost it? How do you lose a lightsaber?"

"I couldn't find it after the crash. I was looking when the Vulkars surprised me."

"Wait a minute, let me get this straight. You lost your lightsaber and were looking for it, and they surprised you?" He laughed. "I mean, isn't that a violation of the Jedi rules or something?" He laughed, and I was actually glad to hear it. He had been too grim before.

However this wasn't helping. "Leave it be Carth." I said over my shoulder.

Bastila however was defensive. "This is no laughing matter, Carth! My lightsaber must have come free of my belt, fallen under a seat or something. The Vulkars must have found it among the wreckage."

"Hey, don't get mad! I just think it's funny that the hope of the Republic, the great and legendary Bastila would lose her lightsaber and be caught by a group of thugs! When you write this up for the history books, I would suggest you leave that part out."

"I do not consider myself worthy of a legend, Carth. However you are right, there is no need for the Jedi council to know every nuance."

A figure was moving toward me and I recognized Zelka. He was exuberant, and ran up, catching me by the shoulders. "You found it!"

"Found what?" I asked.

"The cause of the rakghoul plague!" He said. "The plant you brought to my lab. It's a specimen of the Koodro bush! The initial victims of the plague were people who had allergic reactions to the pollen!"

"What?" Bastila came forward. He looked at her, but beyond answering her question to me, he ignored her.

"When Taris was settled there was a small primate that was called a Bookri. They tended to get into everything and were noxious in their habits, and finally the government mounted an extermination operation. They've been extinct for about two hundred years. But the Bookri pollinated the Koodro! The plant evolved sufficiently for its pollen to cause the rakghoul disease at first, and being bitten passed it to those not allergic to it! It was nature trying to circumvent an obstacle we created!" He hugged me. "Now all we need to do is find a small animal that isn't noxious to act as a pollinator instead!"

"Then I leave it to you." I said.

"But you deserve credit! I want to report it to the City governor, get you a medal!"

"No." I shook my head. "I did what had to be done, Zelka, that's all. You live here, you've dealt with the plague all your life. You take the credit."

He just stared after me as we walked on.

I could feel Bastila's eyes on me, and I glanced back. I signaled her forward, and motioned for Carth to hang back and give us room.

"What's on your mind, Bastila."

"That incident made me curious. I wanted to know more about what you and Carth have been up to before we joined forces."

"We were looking for you."

"Yes, I realize that. But it was more than a simple search. From what that man said, you also found the cause of a massive plague. Besides, I doubt someone had put up flashing signs with the words 'This way to the Jedi' on them." I chuckled visualizing it. "On top of which you avoided detection by the Sith, discovered my predicament, convinced a swoop gang to sponsor you in the race, won it, and then killed the Vulkar leader in a manner and circumstance that ended the war below. That is quite a resume for just a couple of days."

"I had a lot of help. Carth, Mission, Zaalbar."

"Your modesty does you credit, but your answer does not. While everyone you have mentioned did their part, from what I have seen you were the catalyst that caused the changes needed. When you were chosen to join this mission I don't think any of us expected this much from you. A Jedi could have succeeded of course. " She said it deprecatingly. "But she would have had to draw heavily on the force to succeed as you have."

"I think the Jedi underestimate we poor folk that don't have your abilities." I commented dryly.

"Perhaps." She admitted. "But not all those able to use the force are within the order."

"The Sith."

"Well of course the Sith! But there are those that were never found when they were younger. The ones that show exceptional gifts. Gamblers who are always lucky, racers and pilots who don't fly as much as become part of their vehicle. Entertainers who can sway an audience with just their voice. These are what we call Force-sensitive.

"It is obvious to me that you were working through the Force, or the Force chose you because of your own innate abilities. There is no other answer possible. However I do not know what to make of it. Perhaps if you weren't... I should say, if you were still a child, the Jedi might have offered to train you. But as it is..."

"Can you speak plainly? Of is that against some Jedi rule?"

She flushed. "I have overstepped my authority and upset you as well. Such matters are best left to the Council. For now, let us say that you are gifted. Hopefully between your gifts, my Jedi powers, and the skills of your compatriots, we can win the day."