Ariv couldn't believe what he had gotten himself into.
The smell of the sewer here was unbearable, worse than before, something he hadn't believed could be possible. Despite the flimsy cloth barrier covering the lower half of his face, the stench invaded his senses and he resisted the urge to vomit.
"How far along are we, Mission?" He asked, he really would prefer to be in a gang's base surrounded by enemies rather than in this awful tunnel.
"Just a couple of metres!" She answered, cheerful as ever.
Nodding, he continued walking east. He walked a few feet ahead of the group, making sure that Mission trudged along between Zaalbar and Carth so that she was protected from any stragglers. There were too many rakghouls in this damn place – not to mention any Vulkars or Gamorrean slavers who might look for revenge. He blinked, trying to get his vision to adjust to the abrupt darkness. The glowrod in his hand was already dimming, its pale yellow light cast long shadows on the walls of the tunnel, and it would not be long before its light went out entirely.
Ariv swallowed, he could tell that there was something – or rather someone nearby.
He raised his hand, gesturing for the group behind him to stop. They all paused a few feet away, except for Carth, who whisper-yelled, "What are you doing?"
"Quiet! I think we're close." He hissed in response, turning to face the group.
"At least tell us what –" Carth objected, moving closer and he accidentally stepped on a stone, depressing it slightly. He jumped back quickly, realising what had happened, but it was too late. A massive gate made of thick bars of durasteel dropped down and a loud clang echoed in the sewer making everyone wince and separating Ariv from the rest of them.
"Ariv!" Mission called, worried.
"It's okay," he reassured her with confidence he did not particularly feel. "I'll be fine. Don't worry, just try to get this open."
She nodded in response, pulled out a datapad, and got to work, while Carth stared at him and began, "I'm sorry, shit! I didn't mean to–"
"I know!" Ariv interrupted, "Just – just be careful next time, alright!" Honestly, the Captain should be grateful that he'd jumped away fast enough and not been crushed by the spiked ends of the gate.
Ariv focused his gaze on said gate, seeing if there were any weak spots that his blaster or sword could help him break through. There were deep gashes along the rods, though they were caused more likely by claws rather than any weapon. His eyes traced the path of the dark green lubellian fungus that clung to the rusted surface, and Ariv swore he could see splatters of dried blood of various colours.
Wonderful.
Ariv heard the sound of large metal creaking open and deep growling as Carth and the group's eyes widened in horror, their gaze focused on something behind him. Ariv turned and saw a massive rancor roar – it had probably been woken up when the gate slammed shut. It had been a few metres away from him, but it quickly covered the distance between them, long arms swiping at him.
Ariv ducked, moving away from the creature's sharp claws, knowing that they could probably reduce his flesh to shreds within minutes. He ran, putting as much distance between himself and the beast. The leathery folds of its skin glinted with slime, mucus, and blood in the low light. Ariv stepped on something – it crunched – and he closed his eyes for a split second, knowing what he would find beneath his feet. There was a pile of bones, yellow and rotting with age, with cracks that ran along their surface.
Ariv took in deep breaths through his mouth, he looked at the rancor again as blaster fire passed through the gaps in the cage – Carth and Zaalbar were doing their best to help him out after recovering from their shock. While the bolts could not damage the beast's hide, they would annoy the rancor.
Grateful for the distraction, Ariv observed the mighty creature. He knew they relied on smell, and given that he was probably the freshest meat it had come across – judging by the state of the corpses nearby – in a few months, it made sense that it would attack him with as much ferocity as it could muster.
Ariv took stock of what he had: a blaster, which was absolutely useless, and a sword, he did not think it would do much damage and he did not want to get close enough to find out. He also had a few medkits, something he would most certainly need if the rancor got his claws on him – if there was anything left of him anyway. He had the oddest desire for a lightsaber – at least it could have cut through the creature with ease. Shaking off his thoughts, he wondered how he'd get rid of the rancor.
He then pulled out the vial he stole from the Sith troopers, wondering if it was of any use. The label marked it as a synthetic scent. He quickly put two and two together: the vial he possessed contained a synthetic odour, one that either the racor found repulsive (Ariv pondered about that would be, given the horrid state of the beast's home, it did not seem to care about abhorrent smells) or it could lure the rancor to its prey.
The latter probably made more sense.
A plan formed in his mind and he shut off his glowrod and let the rancor's attention focus where not one or two, but three fresh meals were just beyond the gate. He wasn't too worried about them, that barrier had clearly done very well to keep the beast contained. The light of blasterfire lit up the cage in an eerie shade of crimson as he placed frag mines on the remnants of the many unfortunate people that had come across the beast before he had. He activated the mines, setting a short timer.
He paused for a moment, knowing he would have to open up the vial and get out of there before the rancor got to him. Ariv made sure his eyes were on the beast the entire time, lest it realise there was no point in going after the meal past the gate – not when it had an alternative in close vicinity. He quickly ripped off the seal and twisted the cap open.
Ariv could not smell whatever was in it, but he could see the effect it had on the hungry beast. Almost immediately, the entirety of the rancor's attention was on the vial in his hands and it charged at him. He froze for a moment as sheer terror coursed through his veins but it was a moment too long, despite the fact that Ariv had almost immediately dropped the vial onto the pile of corpses in front of him, it was too late.
The rancor had gotten so close that Ariv could see the decaying flesh and blood sticking to its teeth, which were as long as his forearm and sharper than his sword.
Instinctively, he raised his hands to stop the rancor, and he realised it was a useless gesture, but for some reason, the beast froze in its place a foot away from him and that was enough time that he needed to put distance between them. The rancor turned away from him then, the scent coming from the vial overpowering its desire to chase after Ariv. It began feasting in the corpses and within a scant few seconds, it swallowed the frag mine which exploded not even a minute later.
Ariv turned away as the bomb blasted through the rancor but heard the sick splatter of tissue and blood. He looked at the group outside which was gawking at him in awe, Carth and Zaalbar stood frozen with their weapons still raised, while Mission clutched a datapad.
"Mission," Ariv began, addressing the teen Twi'lek who was still staring at him, "The gate?"
"Right," she responded quickly, "Of course, I just – yeah sure." She shook her head and continued prodding at the datapad.
Carth had recovered from his shock and looked at him sceptically before saying, "You killed a rancor."
"So I did," Ariv acknowledged. They stood staring at each other for a long few seconds before the gate separating them opened with a groan. Mission beamed because of her success before scampering to the door that blocked their entry to the Black Vulkar's base, past the steel trapdoor that had led to the rancor's home. After a few minutes of Mission tinkering with her datapad, the main door to the Vulkar's base opened with a whoosh, and Ariv took a deep breath in, preparing himself for what was inside.
𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪
"Looks like we have visitors – lackeys conned by Gadon Thek into trying to steal Brejik's swoop engine accelerator, I bet!" Kandon hissed in fluent Twi'leki, addressing Ariv, Carth, Mission, and Zaalbar. They had finally made it to the garage where Brejik kept the accelerator he had stolen from Gadon Thek.
Finding this place hadn't been easy, they had to get past numerous guards, unfaithful gangsters, countless droids, a poor waitress who had been forced to join, massive turrets that could've killed them, and not to mention the fucking rancor.
But finally, they were here. Ariv had even tried to see if Bastila had somehow been kept around on the base but everyone who answered his query had told him that someone as invaluable as Bastila (who they still thought to be a Republic officer) would not be locked up in a place as accessible…as this base.
Brejik did not want any trigger–happy members of his gang to get their hands on the prize – especially two days before the swoop race. But there was no harm in trying.
Mission brought Ariv's attention back to the scene around him with an indignant, "Brejik stole that engine from Gadon! It was never yours to begin with!"
Carth joined in, "You're talking like that engine isn't Gadon's."
"Well," Kandon answered, "I didn't go through all that trouble of acquiring this prototype just so you could steal it back for that old fool!"
One of his bodyguards piped in, "Would you like me to dispose of these Bek spies, Kandon?"
"No – hold on a second." He interjected, his gaze focused on Ariv, "I see you aren't wearing the Hidden Bek colours, so I'm guessing you aren't part of that feeble old man's gang. You must be a freelance mercenary."
Ariv rolled his eyes, did Kandon truly think that he would turn on Gadon that easily? He was getting annoyed at the delay too, they had to get out of the base with the prototype intact and in time to fix it into a swoop bike.
"Enough yapping! Hand over that accelerator." He threatened, raising his sword and taking a step closer to Kandon. A single drop of crimson ran across the bloodied edge of the blade, dripping onto the floor.
Kandon visibly shrunk, swallowed, and took a step back. But he didn't stop his persuasion, "Instead of stealing the prototype for the Beks, why don't you come work for us? The Black Vulkars could use someone like you."
"Forget it," he spat, "I know all about you Black Vulkars!" He added, thinking about how common buying and selling slaves was for this gang, at least the Hidden Beks were not as awful. Maybe the gang had some honour in the earlier days, as the former Vulkar had suggested, but since Brejik had assumed leadership, it seemed that the gang had changed extensively.
"Be smart: Gadon Thek is old news! He's a blind fool in more ways than one! Brejik is a visionary – soon he'll control the entire Lower City! Don't shackle yourself to a losing team." Kandon countered, refusing to drop the point.
He eyed Ariv's blade again and continued, "Our leader has grown tired of this petty war with Gadon and his pathetic followers. He needs someone to get rid of Gadon… permanently. If you do this task, Brejik is willing to offer a very substantial reward. How does 500 credits sound?Oh, we'll throw in any slave you want as well! Think! It could all be yours!"
"No," Ariv snarled, getting angrier by the minute, "I don't care what Brejik has to offer me — unless it's the Republic officer."
"Well…" He began nervously, "We can't just hand over the girl to you. Not after Brejik has publicly offered her up as a prize in the big swoop race."
Ariv opened up his mouth to tell him that he did not care for his offer but Kandon spoke quickly, "But we can do the next best thing. Whoever wins the swoop race gets the girl. Kill Gadon and we'll give you credits, sponsor you as a Vulkar rider, and equip your swoop with the accelerator. You can't lose!"
Ariv cocked his head, considering. It wasn't better than what the Beks had offered him, but if he could convince the man to just, "Give me the girl now or we have no deal."
"Brejik can't withdraw his prize without losing the respect of every gang in the Lower City. Besides, she isn't even here! Brejik's keeping her somewhere safe until after the race." Kandon protested. "Just get rid of Gadon and you'll have your prize."
"How about I just kill you instead?" Ariv asked, "Look, I want you to let go of Bastila right now or you can forget your deal!"
"Wait!" Mission interjected, "You're not actually considering his offer?"
It seemed that everyone waited for his answer.
"Not if he refuses to leave Bastila," Ariv said.
Kandon sighed and said mournfully, "I can see there's not much chance of convincing you to come work for us after all. Most unfortunate."
The bodyguard jumped in, asking her boss gleefully, "Now can I kill them, Kandon?"
"Yes, darling. Kill them. Kill them all." Kandon replied before the fight broke out again.
Ariv ducked as blaster shots rang out, he deflected as many as he could and fired back whenever he had the chance. He could see the others doing the same, but suddenly someone cried out in pain – it was Carth!
A stray blaster bolt had hit his leg and he was unable to stand. Zaalbar rushed to his side, propping up the Captain who was grateful for his help. Meanwhile, Ariv and Mission made quick work of the remaining Vulkars, went into the engine room, and finally got their hands on the accelerator.
𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪
Ariv surveyed the crowd gathered on the towering stands of the swoop platform. The sheer number of people residing in the Lower City was more than he had thought. It was clear that this race meant a lot to the people of Taris.
"Well," the Ithorian began in accented basic, courtesy of the translator he wore, "We're just about done here. Be careful kid, push the engine too much and it will overload. Remember, you can't save her if you're dead."
"Of course," Ariv responded, he turned his attention back to the track in front of him. It was littered with obstacles that would be revealed later – as if handling the extremely fast swoop bike wasn't challenging enough. Other riders were already ready, their pit crews making final checks on the bikes. Ariv sighed, all he had was a bike that would likely explode in his face before he made it to the finish line.
At least he had some experience riding a swoop bike – he had never participated in a race though, especially one where the stakes were so high. He and Carth had decided that the former was more suited for this, after all, he had been a pilot before being Captain, and fighting in two wars could make up for the lack of experience, but the man was injured, nursing his wounds back in the apartment above that they were squatting in.
So, the responsibility of winning the Swoop race and getting Bastila Shan back to the Upper City without the detection of the Sith fell to Ariv.
"Watch yourself out on the track, rookie," An Aqualish that Ariv recognised to be Phirk warned, "Every year we lose a couple of you first–timers. The Beks' numbers as it is are dwindling without having them die on the track. Just be careful… and good luck."
Ariv heard the sincereness in the other Beks voice and smiled behind his helmet, "Thank you," he said, "Good luck to you too."
There was still a few minutes before the race began, a Rodian pointed out Ariv to fellow Vulkars and announced, "Hey, look at this: fresh meat on the track. Gadon must be getting desperate if he's grabbing first timers off the street. When we Vulkars win this year, it'll be over for you Hidden Beks!"
The group burst into raucous laughter, Doba continued, "Well don't get your hopes up, rookie…no first year–rider has ever won the swoop racing season opener."
Ariv ignored their mockery and paid attention to his bike. He had to win, this wasn't just personal: he had to win for the sake of the Republic – their war effort would be doomed without Bastila. He placed his hands on the swoop bike that could kill him and took a shuddering breath, trying to settle the sudden bout of nerves.
The Kadas'sa'Nikto that Ariv recognised as Redros – the racer that he needed to beat – joined with Vulkars and glared at him. Ariv ignored him too, and took much–needed calming breaths. The race would begin any minute now.
𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪
Ariv glanced at the massive holoscreen once again in disbelief, so far, he was at the top and Redros was close behind. This was the last stretch of the lap he needed to make. Beneath his hands, he could feel that the bike was already past its limits, but he had to try.
He willed the swoop to go faster, ignoring the alarms that blared in warning and the bike's speed increased beyond its capacity. Come on, he thinks, just a few hundred metres more, if he lost here and now, everything he had done to find Bastila would be for nothing. The bike jerked violently to the left and somehow Ariv managed to right it. The momentary lapse had given enough time for Redros to catch up, and Ariv pushed the bike harder.
He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that the bike had essentially begun to fall apart but somehow managed to stay intact – something was keeping the bike in shape. Ariv thanked all that was holy in the galaxy and pushed the bike further paying no heed to the screeching in his helmet. Thick, grey plumes of smoke suddenly emerged from under the hood – his engine was finally caving into the stress it had been subjected to.
If Ariv was the luckiest bastard in the universe he had a few seconds at most before his bike (and consequently he) was reduced to hundreds of pieces of twisted metal and flesh. The smart thing to do would be to slow down and jump off – but clearly, he had been lacking basic common sense these past few weeks since literally everything he'd done had directly put him on the path to certain destruction.
But there was a chance that he might just win, so he pushed on, and the bike managed to pick up even more speed. A scant few metres were all that remained between him and victory and suddenly, before he knew it, Ariv was past the finish line. Slowing down the bike as quickly as he could, he immediately he jumped off once it was steady enough for him to do so. Around him, more racers swept in. He did not know whether he had actually won – Redros had passed the finish line almost at the same time as he had. He pressed his lips together – knowing he'd have to intercept the Nikto somewhere in the Lower City and help get Bastila away from him – if it came to that.
Ariv turned his attention to the large screen displaying everyone's time, his swoop bike safely away from the rest of the participants, but suddenly a loud bang echoed through the arena – his swoop finally fulminating in a flash of bright light. A massive fire consumed it – reducing the bike to a scrap heap within seconds. Ariv could only gawk at it in surprise before the holoscreen above the track announced the winner – his mouth only dropped lower in shock when he saw that he had indeed won.
His gaze swung between the flaming bike that was being doused and the screens displaying his victory. He couldn't believe he had been seconds away from dying a fiery death along with his bike, nor could he believe he'd actually done it. Ariv took a deep breath as the Beks surrounded him, congratulating him for his victory – ushering him to the private room where he would be awarded with the 'prize'.
As difficult as it was, Ariv had to let go of the momentary high and euphoria of victory, he still had to make sure to get Bastila back to their hideout in the Upper City without the Sith finding her and then make sure they all got off this damn planet.
Calming the adrenaline rush he walked into the enclosed room – to where the famous Jedi waited for him.
𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the winner of this year's annual swoop race! Everyone put your hands together and show your appreciation for one of the most daring and best swoop riders that this track has had the privilege to see!"
The audience burst into a deafening roar and Ariv winced from the sudden increase in noise, people were screaming 'Mysterious Stranger!' over and over again, and he was extremely grateful that Gadon Thek had not submitted his real name, and that the helmet he wore on the swoop bike obscured his face.
And he really appreciated the fact that this award ceremony was secluded and away from the crowd, and anyone who wasn't on this part of the platform did not know what he looked like.
Ariv needed any anonymity he could get, he still had to get Bastila away from the Lowe City before anyone realised that she wasn't a mere Republic officer, and then he had to also make sure she got off this planet without the Sith knowing. So yeah, he did not appreciate the publicity and was gripped by a sudden and odd longing for a mask he could wear to keep his identity a secret.
Subterfuge was a lot easier when one's face was not plastered on holo screens.
It took Ariv a moment to realise that the Duros was still speaking, and he heard him finally finish his long spiel and say, "Through your skill and courage you have proven yourself the premier swoop rider on Taris, and brought great glory to the Hidden Beks! Now, here to present the champion's prize: Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars himself!"
Took them long enough, Ariv fumed silently, he needed to get Bastila far from the likes of the Black Vulkars, she had been under their abuse for too long already.
Brejik stepped forward, opening the straps of the holsters that housed his blaster and vibroblade, he then walked towards Ariv and announced to the people there, "People of Taris – hear me! Before I present the so-called champion of the Beks with their prize, you must know that this off-worlder is a cheater!" His grating voice rose with every word with barely suppressed anger. Brejik continued to yell, pointing an accusing finger at Ariv.
"He made use of a prototype accelerator in his bike! A clear and unfair advantage! Because of such treachery, I have been forced to withdraw the Vulkar's share of the victory prize!"
He conveniently left out the part where his men had stolen that very part and tried to fit it in their own bike, or that it had been stolen back by Ariv himself. More of Brejik's men gathered behind their leader and unholstered their weapons as well.
These fucking two–bit gangsters, he thought, hand reaching for his own sword, hopefully, these idiots have not figured out who Bastila really is.
All the more reason for him to hurry, he then cast a worried glance at the woman in question.
He could not quite make out her form clearly from this distance but he could tell that she was still in her cage, sitting demurely, but something told Ariv that she wasn't simply just doing nothing – that despite her state, she was up to something.
Blinking back the odd feeling he turned his attention back to the argument in front of him and hissed, "Don't you dare try to cheat me!"
Brejik continued to yell obscenities and accuse the Beks of deception and before Ariv could get another word in, the announcer interrupted Brejik's bullshit by saying, "You cannot do this! This goes against all our most sacred traditions – you know the rules: no one is allowed to withdraw a victory prize after the race."
"You old fool!" Brejik spat, "Your archaic traditions mean nothing to me – I am the wave of the future! If I want to withdraw the prize then I will!"
"You must understand," he continued, turning to Ariv, "Today, scavengers who work for me have found something most…interesting at the site where this woman's pod crashed." With that, he pointed to a cylindrical lump kept on a nearby table. It was covered by a Republic officer's uniform and one of the Vulkars ripped the offending garment away to reveal a long grey object, the silver metal gleamed in the light and Ariv – and everyone on the platform recognised what it was – after all, a Jedi's weapon was legendary.
"See?" Brejik continued, "That woman is a force witch – a Jedi!"
"I don't care." Ariv grit out in response, "I won this damn race and ergo I win the prize." A part of Ariv felt disgusted that Bastila was continuously being referred to as a prize, as though she was an object and not a person, but he couldn't let Brejik know that he was a soldier for the Republic, so he continued, "It's not very difficult to understand, no? So let her leave with me and I'll be out of your hair."
"He's not wrong Brejik!" Several Beks piped up in his defence, "You cannot cheat our champion simply because your racers lost!"
"Well," Brejik began, "I shall give you and the Beks one last chance." He turned to address Ariv then, "Leave quietly, Mysterious Stranger," He warned, his tone mocking, "Or you will regret it. I will not repeat this."
"Fuck this nonsense, Brejik." Ariv responded, "You're a damn liar and a cheat. I'm not going anywhere until the Jedi is free."
"Don't say I do not give second chances. Vulkars, to me!" He called, "Kill the swoop rider! Kill them all!" And then chaos broke out on the platform. Apparently, Ariv wasn't the only one sick of all this chatter, Vulkars and Beks began firing at each other and blaster shots rang out.
The two gangs had begun another chapter in their long conflict. Ariv did not pay too much attention to the brawl around him and made a mad dash towards Bastila's cage, deflecting the bolts shot his way and returning fire when he could.
It seemed that he wasn't the only one who wanted to make certain no one else got their hands on the Jedi.
Brejik stood a metre or so away from Bastila's cage and almost conversationally told Ariv, "Now you see why I can't hand the Jedi over to you, after all, it would be a most foolish decision. Her description also matches with someone the Sith are looking for, so, if I want, I can sell this woman on the slave market or to the Empire," a lecherous smirk crossed his face, whoever offered him a better deal was something that went unspoken, "Thankfully, I had the Jedi fitted with a neural collar to keep her mind unfocused. Now, nobody can stop me, not even you!"
"I might have something to say about that." A clear voice rang out through the chaos, and Ariv's eyes turned to the source. The guard in front of Bastila's cage, along with Ariv and Brejik were violently pushed back with an invisible force.
Ariv caught himself before he could go careening headfirst into the hard durasteel wall. The bars of the cage Bastila was in were ripped open and the neural collar she was forced to wear fell to the floor with a resounding clank.
"What?!" Brejik asked flabbergasted, "How – you! You were restrained by a neural disruptor! How could you have possibly summoned the will to free yourself?"
The woman picked up the guard's fallen vibroblade and coldly told Brejik, "You underestimate the power of a Jedi's mind. A foolish mistake — one you won't live to regret."
And then, she charged at the leader of the Black Vulkars. Ariv got to his feet, intending to help her, and attacked the Vulkars who had attempted to defend their boss. He made it to her side fast and fired his blaster at anyone who came too close while Bastila deflected the bolts that Brejik fired at her using the force. Brejik then fled further away to the western end of the platform and left his guards to handle the situation.
The members of the Hidden Beks then quickly left once they realised that they were not exactly needed in this fight, and Ariv could not begrudge them for it, after all, Gadon Thek had kept his word and Bastila was free. Better they heal their wounded and recuperate their strength – the battle for Taris' freedom was far from over.
Besides, Ariv and Bastila were more than capable of handling the Vulkars.
But as the battle progressed Ariv was sure the Jedi either did not even notice his presence or perhaps she did not give it much thought with how focused she was on fighting, yet he kept an eye on her to make certain she was not overwhelmed, and a part of him was in awe of Bastila Shan.
She fought with a practised grace, her russet hair flying wildly from the braids she had coaxed it in, her storm–grey eyes flashing with anger and it was as though the force bent to her very will with how she was able to deflect the bolts, knives and other weapons hurled her way with ease.
It was not long before Brejik – along with all the Vulkars on the platform – were dead, thanks to their combined effort.
Bastila was only a few feet away from Ariv, back turned to him, and he overheard her mutter something along the lines of those bloody Vulkars and think twice next time before trying to keep a Jedi prisoner.
She shook her head with disgust and he called out to her, hesitant, "Bastila?" She then turned to him, her eyes wild, a slight limp in her step and he saw she had several wounds on her arms and legs. She was also swaying slightly and blinking as if she were in a daze, working off the effects of the neural disruptor.
"As for you!" she hissed, "If you think you can collect me as a prize – wait. You!" She snarled, anger quickly morphing into shock and horror and before he knew it she was attacking him, her vibroblade narrowly missing his face as he ducked instinctively.
"Wait!" He called out to her, but she continued to swing at him and he was forced to raise his own sword in defence.
"Bastila, listen to me!" He pleaded, trying to reason with her.
It was not entirely shocking that she would be hostile towards him, after all, she had probably never really noticed him before and presumed he had come here to take her away and make her a slave. But she refused to listen, and he somehow managed to knock the vibroblade from her hand.
In hindsight, it must not have been the smartest thing to do since she remembered that her lightsaber was somewhere on the platform. Her hand reached out and Ariv stood confused for a second, not understanding what she intended to do before a sleek metal cylinder came flying through the air and into Bastila's open hand.
She ignited it and golden light suffused the air, twin blades the colour of the first rays of the rising sun, burst forth from the silver hilt.
Within seconds she had him flat on his back, yellow blade humming inches away his throat and his sword a few feet away from him.
She was panting heavily and she said, "What are you doing here?!" Ariv blinked trying to understand what she meant, but first, he had to make sure she did not kill him. He raised his arms, palms open – a gesture of surrender.
"I'm a Republic soldier," He said slowly, trying not to spook her. "My name is Lieutenant Ariv Drayen, I was transferred aboard the Endar Spire – under your command – a few weeks ago, before her mission to Admiral Doddona's fleet."
Bastila blinked in response and held her blade closer to his throat. She looked like was going to accuse him of lying and stared at him for a tense moment before realisation drew on her.
"Right," She began, as though she was remembering something. "You're one of the soldiers with the Republic fleet now."
Now? He thought, well, he had been a scout, but he'd left his old job in favour of joining the Republic's war against the Mandalorians. Carth had mentioned that the Jedi had placed him aboard their doomed starship, so it wasn't entirely surprising that Bastila would know of his past.
She shut off her lightsaber and the blades disappeared with a hiss. Ariv got to his feet and picked up his sword.
She eyed him warily and said, "I am sorry, I should not have attacked you without reason. It is most unbecoming of a Jedi."
"It's all right," He replied, meaning every word, "If I had been kept restrained by a collar for weeks and pumped full of drugs, I would be wary of others too."
She sighed and shivered, and then he noticed then her state of…undress. The Vulkars had placed her into a tight brown garment, the neckline of which disappeared halfway above her breasts, thin straps barely holding the flimsy thing upright. The rest of the outfit wasn't much different, her pants clung to every inch of her skin. Ariv respectfully averted his gaze, cheeks flushing. Don't be a creep, he admonished himself, as she raised her hands to cover her exposed arms and rub at them in an attempt to keep warm. He took off his jacket and placed it on her, she looked up at him, confused, and he pulled up the hood, covering her face. "What are you doing?!" She asked, indignant.
"Making sure no one recognises you." He explained. He'd given it to her because she seemed cold and clearly uncomfortable with what she had been made to wear, "I don't know how many more Vulkars are out there. There's an apartment in the Upper City – it's a safe hideout – but I need to be able to get you there without you getting injured even more. Come, I have stashed a speeder nearby, it has kolto too."
"Ok," Bastila responded, voice barely louder than a whisper. He could tell she still did not trust him, but she clutched the jacket closer to herself, "Thank you," she said then, and he could tell she was genuinely grateful.
Once they were in the Korrealis speeder, he handed her the few medpacs he'd kept there, "It's not much," He admitted, "But it should hold you for now?" She nodded, pulled up the sleeves of his jacket and began treating her wounds.
Luckily the apartment they were holed up in had more kolto and Bastila could spend the night resting to make sure that she was going to recover fully from her myriad of injuries.
They sat quietly for a bit before Bastila broke the awkward silence in the speeder by asking him, "How did you end up racing for these swoop gangs anyway?"
"It's a long story," He began, "But winning the swoop race was the only way I could rescue you."
"Rescue me?" She scoffed, "Is that what you were trying to accomplish by riding in that swoop race? Well as far as rescues go, this is a pretty poor example, you nearly crashed multiple times and raced like an inexperienced idiot with a massive ego. Also, your bike exploded not even a minute after you got off."
Ariv's mouth dropped open in indignation, "Excuse me?!" He choked out, "I managed to win and I rescued the damsel in distress too, didn't I? Besides, how do you even know what happened in the swoop race?"
"My cage was close to the screen, so yes, I could see exactly what was going on. And in case you hadn't noticed, I managed to free myself from that neural restraint collar and cage without your help. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that I saved you. Brejik and his Vulkars would have left you for dead if I had not stepped into that fight. You're lucky I was here to get you out of this mess!" She answered, oddly defensive.
"Oh no, no, love, you have it all wrong," Ariv said, and Bastila's face twisted, and he could see splotches of red on her cheeks – either caused by anger or his teasing. Perhaps a combination of the two.
"I didn't need your help with those Vulkars," he added, "I can handle myself! You seemed like a lonely helpless prisoner until I came along."
"I may have been a prisoner, but I was far from helpless. A Jedi never walks alone – the Force was with me. But," she admitted begrudgingly, "I suppose I am being unfairly harsh on you, after all, you did try to save me – even if it didn't go quite as planned. So, let us speak of more important things – we're not entirely out of danger yet."
"You don't have to worry about that now," Ariv interrupted, "You need to recover your strength first."
"You do not have to stop on my account," Bastila argued, "I shall be fine, but it is my priority to get the rest of the crew off this force-forsaken planet."
"Of course," he agreed. "But who put you in charge?" He added, giving her a sidelong glance.
She fumed further and replied indignant, "The Republic, remember? I was the fleet commander. But, there's no reason for you to get all worked up over nothing. So tell me – do you know how we are to get off this planet?"
Ariv glanced at Bastila and found that she was already looking at him expectantly, he bit his lip, suddenly nervous, and before he could think twice he replied, "Carth and I are already working on a plan to get off Taris."
They most certainly were not.
To make matters worse, Carth and Ariv had no damn idea about how to get off this planet without getting killed or captured by the Sith.
But, he found solace in the fact that his statement was not entirely false, one part of the plan had been to find Bastila and he successfully had done just that.
"Carth Onasi is alive?" Bastila exclaimed, voice filled with relief, "Finally, some good news! The Captain is one of the Republic's best soldiers – he has proved himself a hero a dozen times over. And he sent you here to save me?" Her voice quietened a little with the last line and Ariv merely nodded in response.
"Well," Bastila admitted then, "Perhaps I misjudged you."
Ariv shrugged in lieu of answering, Carth's demeanour and almost desperate desire to find Bastila had suggested that there was some familiarity between the two.
She continued, "Carth wouldn't have sent you if he wasn't confident in your… abilities."
Sighing, she added, "Forgive me," she added – despite my Jedi training, I still tend to act a bit rashly sometimes."
"Don't mention it, I was doing my duty. Besides, I shudder to think about what would happen to the Republic without you." Ariv conceded and saw Bastila stiffen in response.
He wondered what he said wrong this time, but before he could ask her about it, she cut in and said, "Please take me to Captain Onasi, right away. The sooner we get off this planet – the better. We can't let the Sith know that we're here."
Ariv sighed but agreed, it was going to be a long journey off this force–forsaken world.