Chapter Thirteen

Malastare's sun faded through the narrow spaces between Pixelito cities' downtown high rises, peeking out from beneath a thin layer of cloud cover. Aramis piloted Uraala's green and silver speeder towards the eastern side of the city where Malastare Medical Corps' clinic was located. The orange sunlight glinted of the exterior of the speeder. Aramis couldn't help but notice that the light seem brighter and more vibrant than on Coruscant. There was much less smog for the light to fight through.

Uraala sat in the passenger seat next to him, sleeping peacefully. Her complexion was palid, her blue skin pale, with dark circles beneath her eyes. The increased concentration of the clinic's treatment program, which at first seemed to be more effective, was no less so. But all hope was not lost. According to Hilgal, the Mon Calamari doctor in charge of Uraala's treatment, they were ready to try a new regime of treatment. Aramis, as he lowered the speeder's altitute, cast quick, nervous glances at the sleeping Twi'lek beside him. He couldn't help but feel that, since the source of her illness had come from a Force-based incident, the ultimate cure would also be based in the Force. He very much wished that he could take her to the Jedi Order, whose healers had been amongst the best in the galaxy. But like the Republic they had served, the Jedi were no more.

Aramis spotted the three-story clinic from above and descended, landing in a parking lot next to it. The factories just a few blocks down the street were silent...the labor unions were protesting the Imperial nationalization of some of Malastare's major manufacturing concerns. The iron grip of the Empire, which had seemed so quiet in this part of the galaxy as Imperial forces consolidated power elsewhere, had arrived. Aramis reached over, overcoming his shyness, and gently prodded Uraala. She awoke slowly, but that mischievous grin she adopted around him arrived immediately.

"We're here," Aramis announced.

"Good," she said, releasing a long yawn. She stretched her arms over her head. She wore a heavy leather jacket, with a thick fur inlay. Apparently winter was beginning to arrive on Malastare, although Aramis still felt that is was warmer than what he was used to. He also suspected that Uraala felt the chill more than most did. "I'm not quite ready to go in yet," she said.

"Hilgal said they are going to try a new treatment this time. Direct injection instead of the bath. It should be a lot quicker," Aramis said.

"You don't know how many times I've heard that 'new treatment' mantra," Uraala said wearily. She lowered her arms and placed on hand on Aramis' forearm. He couldn't help but tense up a bit at her touch. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," he answered.

"Your life at the Jedi Temple...did you live like a monk?"

"Pretty much," Aramis answered. "The Temple allowed very few personal items in your dorm room."

"What about the rules on...attachments? Did you have to take a vow of chastity or something?"

"What?" Aramis said, feeling a little vulnerable from this line of questioning. "Like a vow of chastity?" Uraala nodded. "No," he said. "The stricter rules of the Jedi only apply to Jedi. But there are rules against fraternization amongst the security staff and other service departments. Which are who you are surrounded by on a daily basis…"

"So...you've never been with a member of the opposite gender. Intimately," Uraala said, grinning at the visible discomfort she was causing Aramis.

"Well, no," Aramis answered after a moment of hesitation. He had slept next to Uraala multiple times in the last couple of weeks. Whatever temptation he had felt to get closer, whatever temptation he knew Uraala felt, her poor health had stood in the way.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I hope we can fix that, someday."
"I never thought of that as something that needed 'fixing'," Aramis said stubbornly.

"Trust me," she said, squeezing his forearm. "You'll change your tune."

"Can we go in now," Aramis said, trying desperately to change the subject. His blue skin had gone a slightly redder hue.

"Sure," Uraala said. "I will allow you to escape, for now." She squeezed his forearm once more and then got out of the speeder, wobbling slightly. Aramis got out and hurried to her side, taking her arm in his.

They entered the clinic, as usual, after normal business hours. There was only one other occupant of the waiting room, a hammer-headed Ithorian who was waiting for another patient to finish their appointment. Hilgal was already in the room, waiting for them. She held a datapad in the crook of her arm, her prosthetic hand and its many fingers rapidly typing away at it.

"Ah, you're here at last," she said. Her prominent, bulbous eyes narrowed on Uraala. "Your fatigue seems to have become worse."

"It's always the same," Uraala said. "I feel better after treatment for a few hours, and then the relief fades."

"I hope we will have better luck with this new treatment," Hilgal said. Uraala glanced at Aramis. He did not possess Jedi telepathy but he could almost feel her thinking 'I told you so.'

Hilgal led them from the waiting room, through the main corridor, and into the higher security examination rooms. They did not enter the large room containing the immersion pool. Instead they entered an adjoining room.

The room was not large. It consisted of a bed for the patient, a work desk for the doctor, and a large holoscreen on the wall. Aramis planted himself in the corner and stood attentive as Uraala took the bed. She quickly shed her heavy jacket. Hilgal adjusted the settings on the rooms computer terminal and then left the room. A moment later she returned, carrying a reinforced security case. Aramis was struck with a sudden feeling of unease.

"As you know we have been planning a direct injection treatment program," Hilgal began. "This has been our ultimate goal from the beginning. The baths have been a temporary treatment, allowing us to perfect concentration methods and test on non-sentient lifeforms. While it has been difficult to recreate the symptoms of your disease, the side-effects were generally within expected parameters."
Aramis' brows raised at that. What were 'expected parameters'?

Hilgal placed a thumb on matte black section on the case's exterior. An inner light shone from beneath the black and the case promptly unlocked itself. Aramis's sense of unease grew.

"The security scanner is tuned to your thumbprint," the Mon Calamari doctor said, nodding towards Uraala, "and mine." She opened the case. Inside were six vials, attached to long syringes. The vials shone with an inner light which seemed to shift between blue and white. Sometimes little hints of red flickered within, so quickly that Aramis couldn't tell if it wasn't a trick of his eye. She pushed the case towards Uraala, allowing her to examine the instruments.

Aramis's feeling of unease grew until he began to feel physically ill. The sensation he was feeling reminded him of the baths that Uraala had been taking. He had thought that he had been feeling the Force from that strange mixture, something he had not felt since being in the presence of that mysterious tree deep within the Jedi Temple. He felt it once again, but this time the sensation felt twisted. Unnatural.

"This is the same mixture as the bath?" Uraala asked, taking one of the vials from the case and examining it.

"Similar," Hilgal said. "We obtained...access...to the highly secretive Bacta production methods of the Vratix. We were able to produce small doses of an altered end-product by spiking the Xoorzi fungus with glitterstim."

Once again Aramis felt alarmed. Glitterstim was a highly illegal narcotic. It was most commonly used in the manufacture of the hallucogenic Death Stick drug.

"We've eliminated the nanites used in the immersion bath. The unique version of bacta we've created is absorbed much more quickly throughout the body, rendering them unnecessary."

Uraala seemed satisfied with Hilgal's answer. Aramis, however, was not. Death Sticks were known to have the effect of deadening the Force Sensitivity of the user. In most people such a side effect would be unnoticed. In a Jedi, or even someone with borderline sensitivity such as himself, the effect would be the user temporarily being cut off from the Force. He could not explain why such a product that used glitterstim in its manufacture could put off a Force Aura so strong even he could sense it.

"There's something you're not telling us," Aramis said at last. Uraala, who had been staring at the vial she held during Hilgal's explanation, seemed to jump at his voice. He couldn't help but notice her head tails twitching with excitement. If the direct injection method worked she would be free from the baths. She would be free to roam more than a few hours travel from the clinic. As long as she had enough vials she could even leave Malastare for the first time since becoming sick. This new treatment, if it worked, represented a freedom she hadn't possessed in over a year.

"You're aren't the patient," Hilgal said, her demeanor becoming slightly angry. She had never been pleased at Aramis's presence, but had suffered no choice but to allow it. The Mon Calamari doctor, and her superiors at Malastare Medical Corp, would not risk the Aven families' displeasure. "You are not entitled to questions."

Uraala glanced at Aramis. She seemed surprised at the level of concern playing out across his face and body. His arms were crossed over his chest. "Any question from him comes from me," Uraala said. She smiled over at him.

Hilgal shifted uncomfortably. "The other main ingredient, which serves as an amplifier for the bacta's healing properties, is powdered kyber crystal."

"It's what?!" Aramis practically shouted. Kyber crystal was the gemstone that powered every Jedi's lightsaber. The kyber crystal served as a personal connection to the Force between the blade and its owner. To the Jedi, the Kyber crystal was sacred.

"Powdered kyber crystal," Hilgal repeated. "Kyber is a rare mineral, said to have various extraordinary properties."

"You're right it is," Aramis said angrily. "The Jedi use them in their lightsabers. Every known Kyber mine is a restricted location. Protected. How did you get access to it?"

"How did you know that?" Hilgal asked, her eyes now narrowing on Aramis.

"Aramis…" Uraala said, momentarily forgetting to use his cover name. She warned him with her eyes.

"I...went to a good school," Aramis said at last. "Read a lot of holobooks." Hilgal seemed entirely unconvinced by his answer.

"Will it work?" Uraala asked carefully. She still held one of the syringes, although much more warily than before.

"Like I said before, it was difficult to replicate the symptoms of your illness among test subjects. But the healing factor of the animals and their receptiveness to bacta increased, which bodes well. Side effects were also within acceptable parameters."
"What do you mean by that?" Aramis asked brusquely.

"There were slight behavioral changes. Mostly consistent with addiction. We believe the addiction was of the euphoria the treatment produced, the increased biological function, and not towards the drug itself. But...this is a highly experimental treatment. I really can make no promises of any kind."

"If it helps with my symptoms, if it frees me from having to be close to the clinic...I have to try it," Uraala said, looking towards Aramis. "You remember our deal?"

Aramis though back to the other night. Uraala had reached her breaking point, but he had urged her to continue fighting. With his support. He looked back at her, not be able to help but notice the worn down state of her body. If powdered kyber crystal could help save a life was it not a good use for the substance. But why did it feel so wrong in the Force?

"I remember," he said at last. "I'll always support you, no matter what. That won't stop me from worrying though. I just know that whatever that stuff in the syringe is, it was cleared by any health board."

"No. But if I had stuck to only what medical options were legal I would be dead already," Uraala said. "But if I had someone like you back then, warning me of danger that I was willing to ignore, maybe I wouldn't have become like this at all." She looked towards Hilgal. "So, how does this work?"

"You may inject anywhere in the body," the doctor answered. "You need not find a blood vein. The bacta inside means no sterilization is necessary." Hilgal turned towards the computer terminal in the room, making sure the hidden sensors were recording all of Uraala's vital signs.

Uraala used a finger to flick the soft plastoid protector from the tip of the needle. She glanced at Aramis, who was trying his best to hide his worried expression. Finally she closed her eyes and plunged the needle into her arm. With a button press on the base of the syringe the glowing liquid solution entered her body.

She kept her eyes closed, but her body seemed to sit more upright. The pallid complexion of her skin seemed wane immediately. When her eyes opened she seemed infused with a new energy. "Wow," she said.

"How do you feel?" Hilgal asked, her artificial fingers hovering over her datapad, ready to take notes.

"Like I just shot a double espresso of caf directly into my arm," Uraala answered, smiling. She placed the emptied syringe on the table next to the bed. She rotated the arm she had injected and held it over her head. Whatever brief pain the needle had caused had already vanished. She stood and stretched. "I feel like I want to run, like I want to jump into the arena and take over your fight," she added, glancing at Aramis.

"Good," Hilgal said. "The reagent is already affecting your bodies' energy levels, which have been depressed for so long that normal feels extraordinary. Cellular repair will likely take longer, so, despite your energy levels, I would refrain from physical exertion for the time being."
Uraala eyed Aramis, making him feel briefly nervous. He had a good idea what kinds of physical exertions she was thinking about.

"How long should I go between doses?" Uraala asked.

"That remains to be seen," Hilgal anwered. "We don't know how long the healing effects will last. Repeated dosage over a period of time may cure you completely. I would not take another injection until you been showing advanced signs of fatigue. I don't know what the effects of over dosage would be."

"An over dosage of healing doesn't sound so bad," Uraala said with a shrug.

"An over dose of the Force certainly can be…" Aramis said quietly to himself.

Uraala took the case of syringes and closed it. "Well, this one has a fight tomorrow morning. We should probably be going."

"That is fine," Hilgal said, nodding. "I have a lot of new data to analyze. Since initial results seem to be positive we will begin production of an additional run. Depending on how long the effects last, we can likely produce a month's supply within the week.

Uraala smiled. Aramis knew she liked the idea of a month of complete freedom from the clinic. "Good. I'll let my father know his investment has been worthwhile."

"We would appreciate that," Hilgal said, nodding respectfully.

oOoOo

The bustle of Pixelito city subsided only slightly during the nighttime hours. There was too much traffic at the spaceport as freighters of all sizes dropped off or picked up their cargo for the city to go completely quiet. There was always starship traffic as Malastare was one of the most important worlds in the Mid Rim and one of the busiest stops along the Hydian Way trade route.

But away from the main spaceport complex, at the outskirts of the city, lay another spaceport. This one was smaller, although it shared the concentric circle design. It was officially designated as Auxiliary Complex 11, and, on official government documents, it was listed as an overflow facility in case the hangars at the main complex became too full. But in reality Auxiliary Complex 11 was a shadowport, a safe haven for smugglers, pirates, and all other ships that sought to avoid legal scrutiny. A shadowport that was owned by the Aven family smuggling empire.

Auxiliary Complex 11 sat atop a cliff, at the bottom of which lay a series of industrial facilities. Circular landing platforms hung off the side the cliff like leaves of a clinging plant. The sky above the complex was partially overcast. Thin clouds traversed in the wind, the twinkling stars high above fading in and out of view like fireflies in the night.

A series of bright lights appeared in the sky and ripped through the thin cloud cover. A series of five box-shaped airspeeders descended towards one of the central landing platforms, their engines roaring loudly. Stubby landing legs extended from beneath the craft as they settled onto the platform. Loading ramps fell and from each speeder a group of Gran mercenaries emerged, each of them carrying heavy blasters. There were more than thirty of them in all. Some of them wore helmets that obscured their faces. Most did not.

The group quickly strode across the platform and arrived at the huge durasteel doors that marked the entrance into this platform's hangar complex. As they neared the door a protocol droid waddled towards them, his hands raised in order to get their attention.

"Hello, sirs and madams," the droid said in polite Basic. "The dockmaster has not been informed of your arrival. As I'm sure you are aware, due to the...sensitivity...of this complex's storage facilities, after hours business must be approved beforehand." The mercenaries smiled at the droid in amusement, but did not raise their blasters. Not yet.

One of the mercenaries, the leader, stepped forward, bringing a plastoid datacard out of one of the pockets of his combat suit. He handed the card to the droid and waited.

"Ah, I see," the droid said, his visual scanners quickly confirming the card's authenticity. "Associates of the Aven family are always welcome. You may enter." The enormous durasteel doors split in two and opened, revealing the cavernous hangar that lay beyond.

"Much obliged," the Gran said, a mischievous smile playing across his goat-like snout. He took the datacard back from the droid and nodded towards one of his comrades. She raised her heavy blaster and fired an ion blast into the unsuspecting droid at point blank range, permanently frying its circuitry. The mercenaries stepped over the droid's disabled body and rushed inside the hangar.

"Split up," the leader said. "Trash all of the ships in open dock." All but one of the mercenaries, who wore a helmet, broke off into groups and began targeting the various ships parked within the hangar with their blasters. Explosions began to erupt at random across the bay.

"Where's the security office?" the leader asked his helmeted comrade.

"This way, Harek" the other mercenary said, using the leader's first name. His voice was filtered through the speaker in his helmet. The pair turned down a side corridor and soon arrived at a reinforced security door. The leader once again pulled the datacard from his pocket, placing it up against the scanner on the access panel. The access panel beeped cheerfully and the door promptly opened.

The helmeted mercenary quickly went to work activating the office's computer terminals. A transparisteel window in the office looked out into the hangar, the fires from the burning ships illuminating the dark.

"Security cameras are disabled," the helmeted mercenary said. "Wiping the droid's security logs...and...done." Gloved hands wept up and the mercenary removed his helmet, revealing his face. He was not a Gran, like the others. He was a Twi'lek with blue skin.

"All too easy," Tyrapa said, smiling.

"I would expect so, since you own the place," Harek said, rolling all three of his eyes in annoyance.

"My uncle owns it, technically," Tyrapa said absently as he accessed the terminal's information logs. "My cousin stashed her boy toy's ship in her private hangar." He glanced through the transparisteel window. On the other side of the hangar was another heavy security door. "I don't have the security codes to her hangar."
"Then how do we get in?" Harek asked. "I didn't bring any codebreakers with us, and our blasters aren't going to get through that even if we spent all night firing at it."

"Not to worry," Tyrapa said impatiently. "If a smuggler shirks their docking fees my uncle has his staff take beam drills to their ship, and seizes their cargo. The drills are located here," he said, pointing to a map of the complex that he brought up to the main screen.

"That should work," Harek agreed, one hand stroking a wispy beard beneath his snout.

A few minutes later Tyrapa and Harek watched a pair of Gran melt through the reinforced door that protected Uraala's hangar. The door glowed bright orange under the high energy assault, bubbles forming in the metal as it buckled. The Gran's brought their beams together, finished the hole. The section fell backwards, making a hole large enough for all of them to get through.

"Have your people melt through the other security doors," Tyrapa ordered. "I don't want to make it look like we only targeted this one." Harek nodded to his people, prompting most of them to break off and head across the main hangar floor.

Tyrapa stepped through the hole, careful to avoid letting any of the melted durasteel drip on him. Inside of Uraala's hangar was a single ship, a tiny and pathetic Incom freighter hardly bigger than the airspeeders that the mercenaries had arrived at the spaceport in.

"Is that it?" Harek asked incredulously.

"That's it," Tyrapa answered. "She keeps most of her ships stowed at the public spaceport. She doesn't fear the port authorities, and doesn't feel the need to hide her ships. This bay is used as temporary storage. It's good for us because it would be impossible to attack the main spaceport like this. Have your people open her up," he ordered, referring to the mini-freighter.

Tyrapa watched as mercenaries took another pair of beam drills to the ship's loading ramp. The drills melted through much quicker than they had against the security door. The ramp fell to the floor with a crash and Tyrapa climbed aboard.

The ship seemed even smaller on the inside that it did from the exterior. He began to search the tiny compartment, looking through every overhead stowage rack, beneath the simple fold-out bed, and even ripping open access panels that led to the ships mechanical systems.

Tyrapa had found nothing out of the ordinary so far, only a set of emergency rations and a standard set of survival gear. He grimaced and then entered the ship's bridge section. He very much hoped that he hadn't assaulted his own families' hangar complex to come up empty handed.

First he searched underneath the control console. He pulled only a small holdout blaster from beneath it. Nothing extraordinary about that. Next he moved to the flight chair. There was nothing hidden beneath its cushions so he felt underneath it. He felt the edges of a panel with his fingertips and promptly ripped it open. He bent down, his head tails resting upon the floor, and peered into the compartment. His eyes widened. On top of a stack of Republic credits was a lightsaber. Tyrapa knew little about the Jedi, but even he could recognize their signature weapon.

"Jackpot," Tyrapa said, smiling. He removed the lightsaber and held it up. The fires burning in the outer hangar reflected through the ship's viewport and reflected off of the shiny hilt of the blade.

"Find anything?" Harek called from outside of the ship. "I know you said nobody would be monitoring the security frequencies, but I don't want to take my chances. I need to get my people out of here as soon as possible."

"I'm done," Tyrapa answered. He quickly tucked the lightsaber inside of his combat suit and got to his feet. As he walked out of the ship he pulled a small datapad from his suit and held it up for the Gran. "I got what I needed," he said, hiding his true find from the merc.

"Alright, let's go," Harek said.

"Yeah," Tyrapa agreed. "Blow up the ship and we can get out of here." A trio of Gran opened fire, pouring heavy bolts of energy into the small ship's engines. It exploded in a glorious fireball. Toxic fumes from all the smoke filled the hangar complex as Tyrapa and the mercenaries quickly fled.

oOoOo

Morning arrived in Pixelito City. Bright light burst through the window in Uraala's high rise apartment. She lay sleeping with her hand absently place around Aramis's chest, covered only by a blanket. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his back. Her breathing seemed so much smoother, so much easier after her injection last night. Despite his misgivings it seemed like the new treatment really had worked.

Uraala's comlink began to ring loudly, emitting a high pitched beep. She shot awake and instinctively grabbed it from her night stand. Aramis turned over and sat upright, surprised at Uraala's suddenly quick reflexes. He was so used to her being sluggish and slow.

"This is Uraala," she said, activating her comlink and causing the incessant ring to stop.

"Hey sweetie, it's your dad," came the answer. Aramis could hear Palor's voice as Uraala kept her comlink on loudspeaker. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel great," she answered. "The new treatment seems to be working even better than the doctor expected." Aramis watched her carefully. Despite her newfound happiness he couldn't help but notice she spoke at a much faster pace than normal. Perhaps it was due to her newfound energy levels. "But you don't ever check up on me this early in the morning. What's going on?"
"Somebody hit one of our shadowports," Palor answered, the cheeriness in his voice, which he seemed to have adopted at the new strength conveyed in Uraala's voice, tempered with anger. "They trashed our private hangar. Destroyed all of the ships."

"Which one?" she asked.

"Auxiliary Complex 11."

Uraala glanced at Aramis worriedly. "Did they get through my security door."

"Yeah," Palor answered. "They got through all of them."

"Who did it?" Uraala asked, her voice a mix of anger and worry.

"We don't know yet," Palor answered. "They wiped the security feeds. Just walked through the main door too…"
"Then they had inside help," Uraala said hurriedly.

"It seems like that," Palor agreed.

"Okay, I'm going to make some calls and then I will head over there."
"That's not necessary," Palor said. "Your uncle and I are already on scene. Besides, won't you be at your friend's fight today?" Uraala stared at Aramis.

"It's okay if you miss it, if you need to be somewhere," Aramis said quietly.

"No, I'll be there," Uraala replied.

"Well, okay then. I never could talk you out of anything," Palor said with a slight chuckle despite the serious of the situation."

"I'll call you when I'm on site," she said, killing the comlink.

"Are you sure you feel up to this?" Aramis said as Uraala jumped out of bed and frantically began dressing.

"I feel fine," she said, not a small amount of anger in her voice.

"When is the last time somebody hit one of your families' operations like this?"
"Not in a long time," Uraala answered as she threw a shirt on. "Someone has betrayed us."

"This facility...is it the one where you stashed my ship?" he asked carefully.

Finally she seemed to pause. "Yeah, it was. I...I'm so sorry. Honestly I couldn't have imagined something like this happening."

"It's okay, I don't blame you," Aramis said. "It's just that…" he dropped his voice to a loud whisper, despite the apparent security of her apartment. "I had a lightsaber hidden on that ship."

"I don't know why you would risk keeping something like that," she said. "But, if whoever it was that attacked us just blew things up, maybe it got destroyed as well."

"Yeah, maybe," Aramis said, finally getting out of bed and beginning to get dressed himself.

"I'll take care of this," Uraala said, watching as Aramis put on his pants. "You focus on your fight."

"The fight...it's not important."

"You can't back out," Uraala said, shaking her head. "I'll find out who did this, and I'll make them pay. And find out if they discovered your secret or not. You focus on what you need to do."

"If you need me…"
"Then I'll let you know," Uraala interrupted. She quickly exited the room, leaving Aramis behind.

oOoOo

Aramis could hear the roar of the crowd echo through the halls and into the locker room of the arena. He sat on one of the benches, his hands on his knees. He wore his white combat uniform, his eyes were closed tightly in concentration as he attempted to meditate.

Aramis felt a strong wind push against his body. The seven year old sat atop the roof of a balcony on the wall of the Jedi Temple, his Service Corp tunic billowing in the breeze. Far below speeders zoomed past on their way towards the Senate district, creating a sort of dull roar in his ears.

"What are you doing up here child?" came an alarmed voice from behind. Aramis pretended to not have heard the Dormitory Master as he climbed out of an open window and onto the balcony roof.

"You will answer or you will be place into detention," the Dormitory Master said, not with anger but with a cold affirmation of reality.

"I'm trying to meditate," Aramis answered at last, his voice small and fragile.

"Out here?" the Dormitory Master asked.

"I read that danger can bring someone closer to the Force," Aramis said.

"Ah," the Master said in realization. "So you thought that if you risked your life out on a balcony you might find a way to sense the Force again." The middle-aged human sat next to the child. "You know, it's not quite as simple as that."

"I wanted to try," Aramis said sadly.

"I understand," the human responded. He placed a hand on Aramis's shoulder. "But you must learn to adapt and grow strong in your own way. Trying to hold on to the hopes of the past...it's a futile endeavor."

Aramis sighed. "Alright, I'll come back inside." The Dormitory Master helped him to his feet and together they re-entered the Temple.

Aramis opened his eyes. Once again he was inside of the locker room, in the arena on Malastare. He sighed once again, just as he had a little over twelve years ago. It seemed he had learned very little. He was still trying to cling to the past. He thought of the battle at the Jedi Temple, how Commander Yen had sacrificed himself so that rest of them could escape. He thought of the stash of artifacts he and Kylta had hidden on Dantooine. He wanted to preserve the past in order to prepare for the future. But he couldn't cling to it.

He stood and stretched, loudly cracking the joints in his neck and hands. He punched his hands together, stretched his legs, and exited the locker room. The roar of the crowd grew until he reached the entrance to the stage. The previous fight had just wrapped up. The Noghri had defeated a human with the use of kamas, small sickle-like knives. A series of floating sanitation droids were mopping up the blood.

Aramis noticed Lehal Jak standing opposite of him on the other side of the stage, in the entrance that led to the other locker room. The dark skinned human was wearing a white combat uniform similar to his own. Jak noticed Aramis's gaze and nodded his head, smiling slightly.

"Are you ready?" a Gran official waiting nearby asked Aramis. He nodded. "You may take the stage."

Aramis walked slowly into the open. The crowd grew quieter as they awaited the officials to introduce them. Jak approached from the other side, his demeanor slowly becoming more serious as the two combatants approached each other.

The announcer stood between them. "Are you ready for the second bout of the day?" he asked the crowd. The roar returned as they shouted in reply.

"Introducing first, last year's winner of the tournament, Lehal Jak!" the announcer called. Jak raised his hand to the crowd and smiled, earning a rush of cheers.

"And second, from parts unknown, the man known as Arayen!" the announcer called. Aramis simply nodded towards the crowd, earning a polite but less enthusiastic round of applause. Despite his impressive performances on the stage he had done little to earn the crowd's adoration outside of the fights.

"You both know the rules," the announcer said, his three eyes flicking between the two of them. They nodded. "Lehal Jak has the superior record in the round robin stage and may pick heads or tails."

"Tails," Jak said, glancing at Count Dooku's bust on the coin that the announcer held. The announcer flipped the coin into the air and caught it on the back of his hand.

"Tails!" the announcer shouted, revealing the other side of the coin. It depicted a trio of Separatist Vulture space fighter droids flying in formation. "Lehal Jak may choose armed or unarmed combat."

"Unarmed," came Jak's answer. The announcer backed off of the stage, leaving the two combatants behind. "Good luck, kid," Jak said, bowing slightly towards Aramis.

"Good luck," Aramis answered, bowing slightly in return. The two retreated to their starting positions and the buzzer came to life, signalling the beginning of the bout.

Aramis lowered into a slight crouch with his knees bent. He kept one hand high, and the other low. Across from him Jak adopted a forward leaning stance, with both hands in a relaxed mid guard. Seconds passed by without either one of them moving. The crowd grew quiet in anticipation.

Jak made the first move. He stepped forward and struck out with quick kick intended to test Aramis's reflexes. Aramis reacted instinctively, getting his hand up just in time to deflect the strike.

Aramis counter attacked with a back-handed punch, which Jak easily avoided. He followed up with a knee kick aimed at Jak's ribs, which the human deflected with the side of his thigh. For his trouble Aramis received a quick jab to the ribs that he could not deflect.

Aramis responded with a quick flurry of jabs. Jak avoided each one, either shifting out of the way or batting them away with the palm of his hand. Aramis stepped back just in time to avoid a quick retaliatory kick.

Jak smiled and settled into a reset position. Aramis rubbed his ribs and then did the same. The crowd applauded the quick flurry of action.

This time Aramis struck first. He stepped forward and struck out with a high kick. Jak began to raise his guard but Aramis dropped into a leg sweep, spinning around and strikingn from below. Jak lightly hopped over Aramis's kick and aimed a kick of his own at Aramis's face while his blue skinned opponent was still on the ground. Aramis's eye widened in surprise but he managed to roll backwards. Jak's foot passed by millimeters from his nose.

Aramis didn't have time to recover to his feet. Jak rushed forward, grabbing one of Aramis's forearms, preventing him from using it in defense, and struck down in a jab. The strike caught him in the chest. Aramis ignored the pain, instead reaching out and grabbing Jak's had before he could retract it. He spun his legs while his back was on the ground, catching Jak behind the knees and tripping him up.

There was a quick flurry as each combatant attempted to get the other into a submission move. Jak's superior reflexes were negated in such close proximity. Aramis resisted as Jak tried to twist his arms backwards, reacting with a kick to Jak's ribs, the first strike he had managed to land with any force thus far in the match.

Jak answered with a series of punches to Aramis's face, striking him in the side of the cheek. Aramis grabbed Jak's forearm as it came down for another punch and wrapped his thighs around the human's bicep, nearly putting Jak into an armbar.

Jak pulled Aramis from the ground, dead lifting him with enormous strength. With a grunt he tossed him like a bag of rice. As soon as Aramis hit the mat he rolled backwards and got onto his feet.

Jak smiled and flexed his arm, proving he had escaped Aramis's submission attempt unharmed. Aramis flicked at his nose and went into a rest stance, one hand high and the other low. He could already feel the side of his face beginning to swell up. The crowd cheered both combatants on loudly.

There was a pause as each combatant sized up the other. Aramis knew he had to outsmart his opponent if he wanted to win. He wouldn't be matching Jak's speed or strength anytime soon.

Jak jumped forward faster than Aramis could respond to, hitting a quick jab that caught him in the nose and then following up with a left hook to the ribs. Aramis backed away. Again Jak came at him, feinting with a right hook to the face but then hitting a knee to the ribs. Aramis caught the knee with his thigh but was but the hook got through, striking him in the already bruised cheek.

He counter punched, which Jak dodged, and received two punches to the midsection. It was beginning to hurt just to breath. Jak slapped out with a series of hooks and jabs. Each time Aramis would deflect one blow only to be hit somewhere else. Jak kept his attacks random, preventing his opponent from predicting where the next one would come from. In response Aramis cleared his mind, keeping all conscious thought.

Suddenly, as Jak came in with another flurry, Aramis caught one of Jak's arms and pulled his legs up, dropping to the floor and dragging the human with him. Before Aramis could wrap his legs around Jak's neck and lock in the armbar submission Jak punched him in the face with his free hand, momentarily stunning Aramis. Jak managed to free himself and stumble backwards before Aramis could regain his senses.

Jak allowed Aramis to get back to his feet. There was perspiration on the human's bald head, but no other signs of damage. Aramis, on the other hand, was a mess.

"Do you yield?" Jak asked.

Aramis straightened upright and stretched his neck. "I'll keep fighting until I can't," Aramis answered.

Jak frowned, hesitated a mere second, and then rushed forward once more. Instead of clearing his mind Aramis filled his head with counterattacks and submissions. Everytime Jak struck out with a punch Aramis considered three ways to respond simultaneously and then abandoned each of them in order to fall back. Jak suddenly looked confused.

They repeated this sequence twice more, with Jak going through a flurry of attacks and Aramis seemingly absorbing all of it, doing nothing more than protecting his face and other vital areas. He adapted Form III, Soresu, the defensive lightsaber combat style, to hand to hand combat. Just as Jak had done when Aramis had first seen him fight back in that pub.

When Jak paused to consider a new strategy Aramis switched to Form IV, Ataru. He went on the offensive, striking out with quick and jabs and even quicker kicks. All of them were feints with hardly any force behind them. When Jak moved to dodge or block Aramis abandoned his assault and attacked from a new angle, often flipping, rolling, or spinning in order to do so. He kept his mind a flurry of options, considering every possible strike at once. Bewildered, Jak could only a manage a few soft kicks here and there.

Just when Aramis was about to tire out, just when his sudden explosion of energy threatened to wane, he switched strategies once again. He switched to Echani strong style, aiming a powerful kick to Jak's thigh. Jak blocked it but winced in pain as the strike nearly turned his muscles to jelly. Jak foresaw Aramis' forearm strike to his temple, ducking underneath it, but could do nothing to get out of the way the knee that met him on the way down. Jak recoiled backwards, vulnerable for the first time in the fight.

Aramis went for a leg sweep, which Jak stepped around, and caught the human's counter strike with his arms, literally hugging Jak's leg. He used all of his remaining strength to push the human to the ground, toppling Jak onto his back. Jak reacted with a knee to Aramis's ribs, but the counter failed to deter him. He punched downwards repeatedly, catching Jak across the face with powerful strikes.

Jak took a couple of them and caught a third with his arms, attempting to put Aramis into the same armbar that the blue alien had tried earlier. Aramis escaped with a knee to the human's ribs, causing Jak to cry out in pain and abandon the submission.

Aramis stepped back, ready to go back on the offensive, but Jak beat him to it. The human reacted with unnatural speed, jumping to his feet and then kicking Aramis in the side of the head. Aramis teetered in place for a moment, and then fell backwards, unconscious. The fight was over. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause.