Chapter 2: Bayla

The place where dreams go to die.

That is what the locals said about Kafrene, a former mining colony turned trading post. The people that had come here seeking fortune quickly learned there was none to be had. The mineral wealth that had first drawn the mining companies had NOT existed in the first place, or perhaps, had been taken far too quickly.

The businesses were mostly gone now, as was the promise of a prosperous future for this place.

Now…all that remained was its people, and the dark and dirty crowded streets.

Bayla Istillo moved among that crowd. She did her best to hide in plain sight. Her hair cut short, and dyed black. The dirty jumpsuit she wore was almost standard issue here, the logo embroidered billed cap she wore was from one of several mining companies that still had offices here. A set of dark, grease stained, goggles completed the look. That, and the dirt, dirt was ever where, even on her.

It was just another way to blend in.

To anyone looking, she was just another down on her luck spacer. Which if she was being honest , she was, another victim of the promises of Kafrene.

Not many would guess that she was really a princess. The spare heir to the system of Bantoon, and a daughter of heroes.

Though, to be honest, it had been a very long time since she had felt royal. For almost three years now she had wandered the space lanes, hoping to build up support, and find allies in the fight to free her enslaved home.

That hope, like all the other dreams of those that had come to Kafrene, had died a slow death.

She pushed her way past a pair of gotals, as a nearby Duro hocked some kind of meat skewers. Despite her worry of being discovered, her stomach growled from the smell, she had barely eaten in the last four days. She tried to ignore it. She kept her eyes down, and hurried through the throng of beings from dozens of different worlds.

Keep moving, she thought to herself, her contact was to meet her somewhere on the next street.

If the gods and the Force were with her, that might mean she had a chance, a way to continue the mission she had started when she had first fled her home.

If not…well…then…

She was not sure what she would do next.

She tried not to think about it, and not ask the one question that had haunted her these last few troubling months…

…How had it come to this?

IOI

Three years ago she had been the commander of a light escort vessel, with a crew of fifty-four under her direct command. She had been a member of her people's space force. A life far different from her noble mother and sister.

She had been proud to serve. One last bit of adventure before she settled into her life as a member of the royal family and did her duty.

A term of service was two years, after that, she would return, having earned a place for herself, something more than that of a girl who had been named for one of her people's most famous heroes.

She would be expected to marry then, do her part for the Istillo name, and further the bloodline. Several suitors had already tried to court her.

Upon her return, she would need to choose one.

Oh joy, she had thought.

Of course, that had still been two years off. For now, she still owed her people her term of service. She had passed basic training at twenty-one, and entered officer's school which she had also passed. After that, she had been given her first command. She had been selected to serve as part of General Donos' escort group, a great honor, considering the man had served as her mother's high general for six years.

The morning she had taken command of the Tireless had been a proud one. It might not have seemed like much, but it was something she had done for herself, by her own skill and knowledge.

She had been proud of her first command; her mother had been proud…

…she liked to think her father would have been too, gods keep him.

It had all seemed so normal, that morning. The general had led his small flotilla out. They had been forming up in the exit corridor for her world, about to take out a convoy of freighters meant for the mining guild worlds closer to the core.

The Sith arrival in their system changed that. The enemy fleet had emerged from behind the Affon gas giant, multiple capital ships, a full invasion force. The enemy had offered no communication, they fired on sight, launching their fighters before the group had even had a chance to come to full battle stations. Four of their sister ships had been destroyed, and the General had ordered an emergency jump, just saving the lives of Bayla, and the remaining sailors under his command.

When they had stopped running, seeking refuge a few light years away, she had met with the General, she had known the man for years, and had come to consider him a mentor of sorts.

At the time, she had been angry, the loss of their people enraged her, despite the teachings of the Paladina and her father.

She had wanted to go back, try to fight off the invaders. Surely, they could gather allies quick enough, the Republic, their supporters in the mining guild.

The General…had had other plans, and concerns.

He gave Bayla a single order one that he refused to even discuss.

Run.

She had not wanted to hear it. She was no coward. She was Bayla Istillo, daughter of Vessaria IX and Jas Dar Bynn, heroes of Bantoon.

She would NOT run!

Mol Donos would not hear it, he had a duty to Bantoon and the royal family.

His first duty was to ensure the survival of both.

Which meant that she…could not throw her life away.

"The Sith have taken our home world, Commander," he informed her, "It is possible that they will execute your mother and siblings."

Her eyes widened.

She…she hadn't thought about that.

NO!

My…my family! No! No, they couldn't do that!

Her mentor gave her a compassionate look, but still made her face facts.

"If your family is lost, then the crown falls to you. The future of the Istillo line is in your hands. As your mother did during her time in exile, you must survive, survive, and lead our people to freedom."

She shook her head, but again, he refused to listen.

"You are named for Bayla the Bold, Commander. She who defeated the Reevan invaders centuries ago. Her blood is in your veins, the power of the gods is in your veins through your lord father. You cannot die needlessly. Our people need you. Our world needs you."

She wanted to deny it, but could not.

She had grown up on tales of Bayla the Bold, and the stories of her mother and father. The Force, as her father called the gods' gifts, were within her, as they were in him.

As much as she hated to admit it, the general was right.

Her life was not her own, if her family was…gone. Then the future fell to her.

She…needed to survive.

The plan had been simple, he would take their remaining ships, and prevent the Sith from solidifying their rule on Bantoon. He would launch hit and run raids, weakening the enemies' strength. It would fall to her to gather more allies to their cause. As a royal, she would speak with their allies, convince them to help drive the invaders off Bantoon, and back into their accursed empire.

Those first few months had been a heady time. She travelled in her ship, an armed shuttle from the general's own command ship. She had travelled to many worlds those first few months, speaking with senators and representatives of the mining guild, trying to rally support. Sadly, that support was not easily found, the whole of the galaxy had its own problems. The Zakuul invasion of the Republic had left its military scattered, Coruscant itself was under threat from orbital battle stations under the direct command of the Eternal Throne, any attempt at resistance would be met with heavy reprisals.

For a time, she had tried to gain an audience with Arcann, the emperor of Zakuul, but those attempts had been ignored. The Sith on her home world were not stupid, and knew how to keep others from interfering in their plans.

Her mother had been spared, she had learned, spared and, likely under duress, had named one of the invaders as both prime minister, and Lady Castellan of Bantoon. This new prime minister honored all the deals approved of by the matriarchy in their business with the rest of the galaxy. The tribute to the Zakuul continued to be paid. Sith forces held up the contracts with their many business clients, their military force now protected the convoys that fed the mining guild's needs.

Despite the change in leadership, nothing seemed amiss to those outside her world. The galaxy just kept spinning, and none of the powerful wished to upset that spin.

Most sent her away, calling her a troublemaker, and a war monger. They advised her to return home, and speak with the new prime minister, surely such a reasonable being would be merciful.

Bayla was not so foolish to listen to them.

The only thing keeping her family alive, she realized, was her freedom. The invaders would not risk killing her mother, and siblings, they would not risk Bayla claiming the crown as queen. As a ruler, she would have both the title and the motivation to convince the rest of the galaxy to aid her.

The enemy denied her that.

As long as her mother still ruled in name only, she was nothing, simply another refugee in a war-torn galaxy.

So, Bayla continued on and on, with doors on dozens of worlds being slammed in her face. The credits she had had access to began to dry up. Both the off world accounts the military kept to aid their agents, and the private ones established by her father in case of emergencies.

Each closed door depleted her more and more.

Her mission seemed more and more pointless as the months on the run turned to years.

No one seemed to care about the people of Bantoon, not as long as their profits continued to flow.

Meanwhile, General Donos continued his part of the plan. He attacked the Sith convoys, destroying their fighters and damaging their warships. Minor victories perhaps, but enough to keep his soldiers eager for the fight. He had even managed to gain some allies, recruiting fighters who opposed the Sith, or hiring mercenaries who had no problem sticking a knife in the side of the empire.

They even started capturing nobles working with the Sith, ransoming them back to their families to fund further operations. The General had not liked that, he felt it dishonorable, but need dictated that they couldn't stop.

The fight continued.

For those first few months, Bayla had maintained contact with Donos, she told him of her meetings with this leader or that, and he informed her of the raids, and how they were disrupting Sith control of Bantoon's economy. The fight was one he felt they needed to undertake, no matter how badly they were outgunned. He was proud of their work, referring to his forces as the Knights of Bantoon.

One day, he promised her, they would be known as liberators!

The first year showed so much promise, the Sith seemed unable to do anything about the General and his raider knights.

Sadly, that didn't last, as in any fight, a smaller force will take loses, loses that they could not replenish easily.

The tide slowly turned against the Knights of Bantoon.

Eventually, the transmissions Bayla had with the general stopped, the two ships under his command had been destroyed during one of their raids, destroyed in a trap set by the mining guild, their ships coming to the aid of the invaders, protecting the cargo the general had wished to destroy.

Despite the silence Bayla continued her mission. It was during her trip to one of those worlds that she learned something shocking, she came across a most disturbing report. She learned that the Knights of Bantoon had been classified as a pirate band by galactic authorities. They claimed the group to be nothing more than thieves and murderers, murderers using their supposed loyalty to their home world as a cover to rob and pillage.

She had not wanted to believe that, but as her attempts to contact the general went unanswered, and the raids continued sporadically. Shortly after that, bounties began to be posted for the Knights, the mining guild and their allies had had enough. The invaders were no longer the only ones hunting the general's forces.

The more she heard in her travels, the more she feared that the General's plan had gone awry.

She heard that Donos had been killed, only to have him turn up later, or rather someone saying that he had turned up, with no transmissions from him, she could not say for sure.

Soon after, her own part of the plan fell apart.

When she had left the general's side, she had taken a force of twenty sailors to act as her guard and aids. A year and a half earlier, on one of her trips into the core, their group had been attacked by a team of bounty hunters, creatures eager to claim the price on her head, a price set by Bantoon's new prime minister. Eight of her people had died that day.

After that, every fell away so quickly.

There shuttle had been damaged in an ion storm, forcing them to take refuge on an outer rim planet. The damage, too extensive for any of the local repair bays, had forced Bayla and her people to scuttle the ship, take what credits they could, and keep moving.

That loss had been the final straw for some of her people.

A few months after that, four of them turned on her, tried to kidnap her, for the bounty. She and her eight remaining protectors fought the mutineers. During that fight, for the first time she revealed her Force powers to those that served under her.

To say that they were surprised was an understatement.

Her people knew she carried a lightsaber, she wore it proudly on her belt, along with the dueling blaster that had become a symbol of those that walked the path of the Jedi Paladina.

That was her religion, yet, it had not defined her during her martial service.

As an officer and a soldier she had been discouraged from using the Force, most common Bann, including the general, feared the Paladina, despite their desire to aid and protect the home world.

Darth Revan's conquest centuries ago had scarred her people, and those scars remained, so much so that she had been asked to hide what she was.

That had given her an advantage when the fighting broke out.

The mutineers had underestimated her, and the Force. They had likely thought the weapons she carried were only symbols to honor her father, only for show. They quickly learned otherwise.

All four traitors had been killed, sadly they took the lives of five loyal soldiers before they fell. That left her with only three people sworn to see her safe.

Of those three…the last one had died shortly after arriving on Kafrene, his name had been Kapp, a young ensign from the Tireless, a brave young man who had vowed never to leave her. Kapp had been the son of a shop keeper from Hai' Annara, he had told her often how he intended to return home a hero from this adventure, return and take over his parents shop one day. Instead he had died wheezing in a dirty flop house, so far from his home. He had been bitten by some strange creature on Gyst, the planet they had stayed on before coming to Kafrene. Kapp had shrugged off the injury, insisted that he was fine, despite the fact that he had been running a fever, and did so for days after, but then…two days ago, he had been too weak to stand. She had contacted a medical team, but they were unsure of what was wrong, the droid here had no records for planet Gyst, and certainly no listing of remedies in its database.

Bayla could do nothing but stay at the boy's side, hold his hand until the end. Her last loyal soldier. The other two, Roan and Liv, a man and a woman, who had been involved together these last few months had taken most of the credits the group had saved and vanished.

Now…Bayla was alone.

Now…she was running out of options.

In her desperation, she had reached out for the general again, not expecting any answer. She was running out of credits and time.

If something didn't happen soon, all would be lost.

She all but given up hope. So, she had been surprised when the transmission had been answered, a lieutenant named Parc, someone she had known, one of the General's aids.

He had promised to meet her, the General was in hiding, he said, but had not given up.

The Knights were coming to Kafrene to retrieve her.

The General was most eager to meet with her, Parc had said. Seeing their princess again might be just what their people needed to give them a bit of hope, to show them that the fight was not yet over.

The Knight of Bantoon needed her.

She agreed to meet, not that she had much choice. She wished that she had better news to offer than what she had.

Alas, that wasn't to be.

So here she was, trudging through the grimy streets, hoping to link up with what was left of her people.

She didn't want to give up.

She was still willing to fight.

Hopefully, the general was as well.

IOI

"This way, commander. The shuttle is waiting."

Bayla followed Parc. She had barely recognized the man when he had emerged from the shadows before her.

The last three years had not been kind.

He was far slimmer than she remembered, his eyes red rimmed with a pink glow to them.

Spicing, she realized, she had seen the effect on more than a few beings these last two years.

That worried her, that and the sense of nervous desperation that seemed to radiate off the man. That and the twitch in his left eye didn't inspire much confidence.

It set off more than one warning bell in her head.

"How is the general," she had asked, "We have not spoken in a long time."

"Fine…fine…just fine," the man said too quickly with a sly smile, "He has been asking after you, yes, his injuries plague him, but he is still committed.

The man chuckled nervously.

"Seeing you again will rejuvenate him for sure."

Bayla smiled, but the sense of unease within her continued to grow.

The Force continued to whisper warnings in her ear.

Do not trust, it seemed to say.

Beware.

She removed her gloves, her grim frown on her face.

She…she didn't want to do what she knew was necessary. Still…

She looked down at her hands.

This…would not be pleasant.

Most beings don't understand the Force, her father had told her once. They didn't understand that the gifts it offered were as varied as the beings that wielded it.

Some were skilled in the powers of the mind. Others could control energy, or move with speeds that made them almost invisible to the naked eye.

Bayla's gift, was a rare one apparently.

The gods had seen it fit to bless her with what the Jedi called Psychometrics. She could feel the history of an object by touching it. See glimpses of where it had been, and what had been going on when it had been held.

When she was nine years old, the Jedi had learned that she had this ability, they had tried to convince her parents to surrender her to the order. Her Uncle Sy had come to Bantoon, offering to make her his padawan, as if that would convince her mother to give up her spare-heir.

Mother had refused, of course, but Bayla had still needed to be trained, her skills were powerful, almost overwhelming to her young mind.

So, her father had summoned Master Shalaya, the grand master of the Paladina order. She had stayed at Bayla's side for the next four years, her, and several other masters with psychometric talent.

They taught Bayla to control her gift and not be overwhelmed by it. Gloves helped when she was out in a crowd, they offered her a barrier against the most intense of sensations from her power.

She had learned much during that time, becoming a skilled user of her psychometric skill.

It was to this skill that she turned now.

She needed to be sure.

She could not simply go blindly with Lieutenant Parc!

She pretended to stumble, she managed to catch herself grabbing Parc's jacket.

In that moment, she gasped.

She could not scan living beings, but the man had worn his coat a very long time, did much while wearing it.

From it, the Force told her what she needed to know.

Hardship clung to the man like a mynock. She saw the death of General Donos! She also saw what came after. Spice and alcohol to kill the pain, the shame. She also saw the deaths. Wealthy beings taken from their ships, mining guild members, matriarchs. Traitors all in the eyes of the Knights of Bantoon. They ransomed them, one and all, but when the ransom was paid, they didn't return those they took, no. They executed them, one and all, even the beings that brought the ransom, none were above the crime of serving the invaders.

Bayla gasped.

Oh, Parc, she thought.

What have you become?

She sensed terror, bounties had been placed on the remaining knights. High enough to attract skilled and lethal hunters. Their main base had been raided, the bulk of their allies killed, their prisoners vanished, possibly killed, or sold off by the hunters.

That loss had led to desperation.

She also sensed greed. Parc knew he could not return home, NOT ever. Even if the Sith were driven from his homeland. The deaths of the nobles he and the others had slain would ensure his execution. For that reason, he knew he needed to disappear.

He knew the cause was lost.

Then they had received her transmission, in that moment, they knew what to do.

Bayla was his way out, the way out for all that remained of the knights. She was a prize like no other. They would ransom her to mining guild, and the Sith, and more, all at the same time. They would tell everyone that she now led the knights, it would shift the blame nicely for all the deaths, and it would keep those few loyal Bann willing to give them what they needed. They would…

Bayla had seen enough, heard enough.

She shoved Parc down with the Force.

She shoved him down and ran!

He fell into a pile of trash, and looked up both panicked and enraged.

"STOP HER!" the man shouted.

"GRAB HER!"

The alley filled with enemies, knights she supposed, but she saw few of her fellow Bann among them. Two Weequay, a Nikto, and a pair of Duro.

A far cry from the freedom fighters she would have expected, but then again…the knights weren't freedom fighters…

…not anymore.

Bayla had no choice.

She drew her lightsaber!

The darkened alley filled with white-silver light!

One of the Duro tried to attack her from behind, he wielded an injection gun, thought to get her in the neck. She reversed her grip and drove the blade up to the hilt into his abdomen.

He fell with a hissing cry.

The Nikto came at her with a stun-stick only to be Force pushed back, he tripped over one of the Weequay and both went down in a tangle of limbs.

Seeing an opening, she tried to run. She leapt over the struggling aliens, but could not manage a burst of Force speed, which would have saved her. Though she had used only two minor Force pushes, she already felt winded. It had been such a long time since she used her abilities, and she was out of practice.

Parc screamed for her to stop. The Force whispered another warning.

She whirled as his blaster fired. She managed to block the bolt, and send it flying up into the wall behind her.

Though it saved her life, that move left her vulnerable.

A huge meaty Weequay fist slammed into her jaw.

She spun around, seeing stars, and fell to the ground, her lightsaber fell from her hand, its blade winking out like a candle. She came down hard, cracking her head on a metal pipe.

Pain filled her, pain and confusion. Everything turned unreal, she…she…

What?

Everything was spinning she could barely move!

"Get her up," she heard Parc growl, "Stupid little girl! We have to get her out of here. If he finds us…he…"

Bayla looked up, her eyes not able to focus, the pain in her head so intense. Two Lieutenant Parcs stood over her, both of them looked past her, their eyes widening with terror, their mouths falling open.

"No," they both said.

"NO!"

Parc raised his blaster. Yet, he never got a chance to fire.

He was thrown back as if picked up by an invisible hand. He flew out of her field of vision.

That…is when she felt it.

That…is when the killing started.

The dark alley filled with bright orange light, light the color of sunset.

Parc's allies tried to fight.

The Weequay lost an arm, it fell near Bayla's head, the stump cauterized by a single swipe of a blade…

…a lightsaber blade.

A blade of orange fire!

The Nikto flew back as well, its body shuddering as blue violet lightning lit the bones under its skin like a set of festival lights.

A hooded figure stepped over Bayla, blocking blaster bolts and swinging viciously at what remained of the Knights of Bantoon.

She heard Lieutenant Parc plead for his life. His blubbering pleas seemed distant to her ears, but she heard him. He begged the killer to spare him, promising to split the reward. He would just take his cut and vanish, the man's Sith master didn't need to know. Parc would keep his secret.

The man with the orange blade, the Sith, didn't seem to care. He swung the weapon in a wicked arc, severing the former soldier's head. The body stumbled back and fell among the trash.

All sound seemed to cease. Even the sound of the lightsaber faded, its light vanishing back into its hilt.

Again, she was left in darkness.

Bayla tried to crawl away, she…she reached out trying to find her own lightsaber, tried to get up and defend herself.

She could not, the world spun crazily every time she tried to stand. She…

…her head hurt so much; she could not tell up from down.

She was helpless!

The man who killed Parc and the others stood over her. She could make out some kind of black leather armored vest, and black pants. Polished military style boots crushed over the pavement.

She couldn't see his face, he wore a long black cloak, its hood pulled up. She could only make out a pale chin, a chin covered by a five-o'clock shadow of a beard…that and his eyes.

The man's eyes, they glowed like two amber pools.

The eyes of someone lost in the power of the dark side!

"No," Bayla muttered still trying to crawl away.

"No!"

Not like this?

She had to survive! For her family's sake!

If the Sith caught her, they were dead.

They were all dead!

"Bayla?"

She almost moaned when the man spoke her name.

No.

He recognized her!

She had to get up.

She had to get away!

He stepped past her, past her, and blocked her escape.

He knelt down. She tried to strike him, to slap or scratch him, but she missed.

Everything was spinning.

Everything was going dark.

She almost sobbed.

After three years of running it was over.

The enemy had won!

They were going to kill her, and then…her family.

He reached down as she finally lapsed into unconsciousness.

Her last thoughts were of her family.

I'm so sorry, she whimpered.

I'm sorry, Mom…Dad!

She felt him touch her face, shadows of rage and pain filled her mind.

In her injured state, it was too much…far too much.

I'm sorry, she thought as everything fell away.

I failed.