Chapter Eleven

A silver and green speeder came to a stop near the industrial district in Pixelito City's urban core. It was an aerodynamic, muscular looking vehicle. The outlines on the retractable blaster cannons were barely visible on the sides of the speeder, slight outlines that traced their way backward towards the swept-back wings.

Inside Exa Karr sat in the pilot's chair. "This is the place," he announced. Uraala leaned forward, gaining a view of the diner that sat squished between two foodstuff factories. It was a dirty, dingy location for a restaurant, but it didn't lack for customers. Workers would stream into the single story building every four hours as their shifts ended, day or night. It never closed.

"It doesn't look like much," she said.

"In areas like this, looks don't matter a whole lot," Exa said. "If their food is good, they'll be busy."

"It must be good then," Aramis said from the back of the speeder. He leaned forward, placing either hand on the plush leather of the front seats. "He jogs five kilometers here every morning."

"You'd think an athlete like him would want to avoid all the bad air," Uraala said, her nose wrinkling at the sulphuric smell of the factories.

"However it affects his lungs, he makes up for it in other ways," Aramis said with a shrug. "I'm going to head in."

"Call us if you need backup," Uraala said.

"I won't need any," Aramis said, shaking his head and popping open the rear door of the speeder. He stepped out onto the street, which was easy to cross as most of the traffic passed by overhead. The walls of the diner had once been painted white. Now, however, the soot that covered them rendered the building a dirty grey. The entrance consisted of a pair of double doors, painted bright red. Aramis pushed his way through and entered the diner.

The inside was a sharp contrast to the exterior. While the outside was dirty and dingy, the inside was clean and bright. Red and black leather booths lined the outer wall, workers eating their lunch sitting at most of them. A long bar ran down the forward wall, circular seats running the length of it. The bar was less crowded than the tables, enabling Aramis to quickly spot his target. Lehal Jak sat near the end of the bar, wearing a tight fitting jogging outfit, sweat glistening on his dark skin.

There was an empty seat next to the human fighter. Aramis approached carefully, keeping his emotional state as neutral as possible. He took the seat and motioned towards the waitress, a Gran woman who was busy taking the order of a pair of Dugs at the other side of the bar. The Dugs, a species who stood upright with their hands rather than their feet, appeared to be construction workers.

"Have you been following me?" Jak asked, his voice deep. He turned slightly towards Aramis, but did not face him.

"I've been having you followed," Aramis revealed. His instinct was that honesty would be the best policy. He did not know how advanced Jak's force sensitivity was, or if he had any skill at telepathy as most Jedi did. "But I haven't been doing the following myself."

"Studying your opponent?" Jak asked, finally turning to gaze at the blue skinned alien who addressed him. "I would think the fights streaming on the Holonet would be enough to form a strategy. I've been watching yours, Arayen. Four victories, one loss in the round-robin stage. An impressive record for a first time entrant. Seeing your resiliency in your previous matches, I was surprised when you forfeited against the Gamorrean."

"My true name is Aramis," he answered. "I'm just using Arayen as a stage name. The bout with the Gamorrean was the last match of the round-robin stage. I felt like saving myself from an unnecessary beating. Figured my record was already good enough to make the elimination round," Aramis said.

"Sure, but you ruined your perfect fight record. You'll never get it back," Jak said, frowning slightly.

"Your record isn't perfect, and you're a far superior fighter than I. I'm not much interested in records anyway."

"If you're not interested in your record, then why fight?"

"Why do you fight?"

"To pay the bills," Jak answered simply, turning away from him and taking a bite from his sandwich.

"That's one of the reasons I joined the tournament."

"And the other reason?"

Aramis paused before answering. The waitress arrived in front of him and he ordered nerf bacon with a side of eggs. When the waitress moved on he returned to the conversation. "To get closer to you. I haven't had you put under surveillance for the purposes of gaining an advantage against you. I put you under surveillance because I know why you are such an effective fighter."

"Oh? Why is that?" Jak asked casually. Aramis felt a slight tightening in the man's shoulders. He might not be able to read minds with the Force, but he could read body language with his eyes.

"You have extensive training in fighting techniques, as well as experience in dealing with your opponents, no matter what shape or size they are. Your reflexes are inhumanly fast. But you aren't actually breaking the limits of the human body. No, you're reacting before your opponents, because you know what they are going to do before they know themselves. You have the Force."

Jak stood up, loudly knocking his ceramic plate aside. "Who are you? Are you with the Empire?"

"No. Absolutely not," Aramis said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I'm guessing you can tell if I'm lying or not, whether I'm trying to deceive you?"

Jak nodded slightly after a very long hesitation.

"From what I can tell you've adapted the Jedi saber techniques for hand-to-hand combat. Something I've never seen before. Are you a Jedi?"

"No, I'm not," Jak shook his head. "Can you tell if I'm lying?"

"I don't have the Force like you do," Aramis said.

"But the way you move? Your reflexes are quicker than normal as well."

"That's hard to say," Aramis said, shrugging. "I'm not a human like you, my reflexes could naturally be faster. I don't know what is normal for my species."

"Which is...what? They never say where you're from on the tournament broadcasts."

"All that was required to enter the tournament is a five hundred credit entry fee and a physical exam. No background check," Aramis explained. "I don't know what the natural reflexes of my people are because I don't know what species I am."

"How is that possible? You're not a Pantoran?"

"No," Aramis said.

"You don't have the Force, which means you're not a Jedi. But you recognized where my fighting style came from," Jak said.

"Because, while I grew up and trained within the Jedi Order, I am not a Jedi. I was a security officer at the Temple before...well, before the Republic fell."

"I see," Jak said. "I understand why you spotted me, then. But what do you intend to do now?"

"You have the Force, but you aren't a Jedi. Yet your fighting style is based on Jedi teachings. I want to know how this is."
"Okay, kid," Jak said, pausing to finish off the glass of water that sat beside his plate. "I can tell you're not lying, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to spill my secrets to you." Jak motioned to the waitress that he was ready to pay for his meal.

Aramis leaned forward. "There is a bounty on Jedi. This tournament is being broadcast all over the sector on the Holonet. All over the galaxy, even. There is a chance that someone else could make the same connection that I did. Mistake you for something that you aren't."

"I can handle myself."

"Not if the Empire comes calling," Aramis said grimly, his tone of voice giving Jak pause.

"Did you really grow up with the Jedi? Were you at the Temple when the Clones attacked it? That news was broadcast on all the unregulated Holonet feeds."

"I wasn't there when the initial attack happened, but I was there after. With some help I was able to liberate some Jedi belongings and escape Coruscant."
"Why are you telling me this?" Jak asked. "If what you say is true then you're a wanted man. Entering the tournament is more of a risk for yourself than it is for me."

"That's true," Aramis agreed. "I'm telling you this because I want to gain your trust."

"Why? How do you know you can trust me?"

"I don't. But I decided to take a risk."

"I'll say," Jak said. "Look kid. The bracket for the tournament is going to be revealed tomorrow. You make it through until you face me. If you can beat me, then we can have another talk."

"Deal," Aramis nodded. Jak slapped him on the shoulder and departed. A moment later the waitress carried his food out from the kitchen. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his comlink.

"Do either of you want lunch?" he asked Exa and Uraala on the other end. "This place is surprisingly decent." The waitress must have overheard his comment, for her three eyes narrowed at him angrily.

"I'm not hungry," Uraala answered. Aramis frowned. She hadn't been eating much lately. "We've spotted Lehal Jak leaving the diner. Did you speak with him?"

"Yeah," Aramis answered simply.

"And?"

"I'll give you details later. First I'm going to eat my lunch. This looks really delicious," he said loudly, making sure the waitress could hear his complement.

oOoOo

Aramis stood in a fighting stance inside of the gym owned by Uraala's family. He landed a jab against the punching bag, causing it to swing backwards on its chain, creaking loudly across the empty room. He held his hand up and caught the bag as it fell back to him. Beads of sweat dripped across his back and his head as he caught his breath. He wished that he had access to the records inside of the Jedi Temple. There he would've be able to run a search on Lehal Jak, and therefore discover what connection he might have to the Jedi Order for himself. He heard a door open from across the room and turned to find Exa Karr approaching, the Mandalorian wearing the same type of high class business suit he had worn the other day. Aramis wondered briefly if this was his idea of casual.

"Uraala didn't join you?" he asked.

"No, she didn't feel up to the trip," Exa said, his voice grim. The man held a lunchbox in one hand and a datapad in the other. "I've got the results of my research on your friend. And some food if you're hungry."

"I'm fasting," Aramis said. He gave the punching bag one last jab and then joined Exa Karr on the bench.

"Fasting the day before a fight? Is that a good idea?"

"I'm trying to strengthen my connection to the Force," Aramis said with a sigh. He reached beneath the bench and retrieved a water bottle hidden there, shooting a stream of cold water into his mouth.

"I didn't know you had the Force," Exa said, frowning. "Does that work? Fasting?"

"It used to," Aramis answered. "Sometimes. When I was a kid I used to be able to connect with the Force. But not anymore."

"I don't know a lot about Jedi," Exa said. He absentmindedly retrieved the vibroknife he kept in his pocket and began twirling the blade between his fingers. "But I didn't know that their connection to the Force can come and go."

"Until I came along I don't think they knew that either. A Jedi can lose their focus and find it more difficult to connect with the Force. But the Force doesn't actually leave them. It left me, slowly, over many years."

"So that's why you could never become a real Jedi," Exa said.

"Right," Aramis nodded. "But I still worked for the Order and lived in the Jedi Temple. I'm sure I would have been placedon the Empire's blacklist, regardless of my actions after the Republic fell."

"I'm surprised you're willing to talk about this with me. How do you know I won't betray you?"
"Uraala vouched for you, that's why."

"I'm surprised you trust her that much, being the heir...former heir...of the Aven smuggling empire."

"I don't know why I trusted her so quickly. But I do. If I could still feel the Force I would say it was telling me to trust her."

"Well, your trust isn't misplaced. I've known her since before the Clone Wars. I would die for her."

"I'm surprised you feel that strongly about her and yet you seem to be okay with her being with someone that isn't you," Aramis said, frowning at the Mandalorian.

Exa ran the blade of his knife through his hair before responding. "We were together for awhile. I thought it was love, and it was, of a sort. I was a dumb kid, she took me in and gave me a future. But then I realized that, some day, I wanted to have little Exa Karrs running around. I also wanted to start my own company, outside of the Aven family. So our lives diverged. But we've stayed friends."

"She told me you served on her crew. Were you there when the accident happened? The accident that left her in her current condition."

"No, I'm afraid not," Exa said, his voice falling. "By then she'd branched out and was running several ships. I was captaining one of them for her."

"Kriff. I was hoping you could tell me more about it," Aramis said. "I want to know what it looked like, the energy that she got hit with."

"I don't know. But I do know that it never showed up on any scanner." Exa slapped the back of the datapad against Aramis' chest. "This isn't a social call. I know Uraala's got deep pockets, but I am billing by the hour. Why don't you take a look at your friend. If you've got questions, now is the time to ask."

Aramis took the datapad and began to read.

"By the way, they've released the bracket for the elemination round of the tournament. Your first match is against a Mandalorian."

Aramis glanced up from the datapad. "Do you know him?"

"No. He doesn't work for my company either. I know he's from clan Lok. His stage name, The Vindicator, is a reference to a Mand'alor from ancient times. Other than that I don't know anything about the guy."

"Where is Jak on the bracket?"

"On the same side as you. If you both win your first matches you will meet in the next round."

"Good," Aramis nodded. The quicker he could get out of this highly publicized tournament, the better.

oOoOo

The arena had received a makeover between the end of the preliminary rounds and the opening of the finals. Colorful holographic banners flew through the air, displaying cartoonish warriors dueling with hand and weapon. A huge band played out of one of the seating sections, filling the room with dramatic music.

Uraala descended the stairs towards the private balcony owned by her father on the upper level of the arena. She wore a silver dress, which reflected all of the colorful light glinting throughout the arena, making it seem like she wore an undulating rainbow. Her father descended with her, her arm in the crook of his, wearing an expensive robe in the style of their home planet, Ryloth. The red cloth was richly embroidered with black and gold thread, with his blue head tails draped over his shoulders, swirling black tattoos inked upon them.

Following them were the rest of the senior members of the family; Charro and his son Tyrapa, and lastly Uraala's aunt Virina and her husband. At the rear were several bodyguards. They filed into their suite, which was filled with plush leather divans rather than stiff plastoid seats like the lower levels of the arena. Uraala and her father took the two seats in the first row, leaving the other three to matching seats in the second.

"It looks like your boyfriend is going to be the fourth match," Palor said, staring at his daughter with an amused expression on his face.

She rolled her eyes in response. She had not made any sort of announcement regarding Aramis, but she decided it was futile to deny her interests in him. But still…"He's not my boyfriend," she responded.

"First a Mandalorian, now a...what is he exactly? What is it you don't like about your own kind?" her father asked.

"I don't have anything against my own kind," Uraala answered, having to raise her voice so she could be heard over the music filling the arena.

Her father smirked. "Perhaps not. Maybe, as in all other things, you are attracted to the unusual and rare. You were like that even as a child."

"It's what made me such a good smuggler."

"Yes," he agreed. "It's also what caused your current...condition." An uncomfortable silence fell between them. The ceremonies ended and a Gran announcer took the stage. The opening match would be between the Gamorrean, the one that Aramis had conceded against, and a Zabrak. The combatants took the stage.

"As you all know, the rules in the finals are a little different," the announcer spoke. "The previous ban on aiming to kill is lifted. In addition, the winner of a coin toss may choose between unarmed combat or combat with a melee weapon of their choice."

Uraala watched on one of the holographic displays, which floated on repulsors near the ceiling of the arena, as the referee presented the coin to both combatants. She couldn't help but notice that the coin was an old Confederacy credit, a subtle dig at the Imperial government that been recently installed to control the sector. The top seeded fighter, the Gamorrean, chose the side of the coin and won the toss. The large, boar-like humanoid chose armed combat.

"A mistake," Palor said, shaking his head. He glanced at his daughter. "Do you know why?"

"The Gamorrean wants to increase his perceived advantage by using his species' signature vibro-axe. But he has actually nullified his natural size advantage by allowing his opponent to use a weapon as well," Uraala answered.

"Correct," Palor said, nodding. The Zabrak chose a spear and the two combatants bowed, signalling the beginning of the match. "Sometimes, when you seek to press your advantage, you can unknowingly empower your opponent." The match didn't last long. The Gamorrean began with a flurry of power swings with his axe, which the tan skinned Zabrak had no choice but to dodge. As soon as the Gamorrean began to tire the Zabrak ducked under a wild swing, plunged his spear into his opponents rib cage, and then backed away. The Gamorrean conceded the match as he slumped to the floor, allowing medical staff to hurry to him in an attempt to save his life.

oOoOo

Inside one of the tunnels the led to the locker-rooms Aramis looked on. He could see his opponent, The Vindicator, leaning against the wall of an identical tunnel on the other side of the arena. He wondered what his options would be if the Mandalorian chose to use weapons.

Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching from behind and he turned to find Lehal Jak moving towards the tunnel's entryway.

"I'm up next," Jak said, keeping his eyes on the stage as two medical droids lifted the Gamorrean off of the floor.

"If you lose before I can beat you, I win our bet," Aramis said, finally gaining Jak's gaze.

"Whatever you say kid," Jak said with a shrug. He moved aside, allowing the medical droids carrying the wounded Gamorrean and a pair of medics to pass by. "I think this bet is a little one sided. What do I get if I win, or if the Mandalorian beats you?"

"I can tell you about the Jedi. Fill in the gaps in your knowledge."

Jak looked at him in surprise. "What makes you think I would want that?"

"We're both rejects in regards to the Jedi. I got the training but not the talent. You got the opposite. I don't think it's a coincidence, our meeting here."

"Did the Force tell you that?"

"I'm sure it would, if I could feel it," Aramis said, his voice carrying a note of sadness.

Jak was unable to respond as the announcer began to call him and his opponent to the stage.

"Good luck," Aramis said as the human took off and entered the arena, earning a sarcastic smirk in response. "May the Force be with you," he added after Lehal Jak was out of earshot.