Knights of the Old Republic: Convict's Dawn/14-16

Chapter 14

One Year Later

Gaiel Remus slowly began to regain consciousness. He did not know how long he had been insensately lingering about in the kolto tank he found himself in, but he was surprised – and grateful – that he was still alive. The memories were rough and splintered in his mind; it took several minutes for him to remember why he was swimming in this vat of healing liquid. He had been on the Renegade  with his strike team, fighting a Dark Jedi, who Gaiel thought he had known from somewhere, when Betror died. The shock of the young Quermian’s death stung again. But what had happened after that? He had engaged the Dark Jedi – the one who had been dueling Syme – when he found himself bested and injured. Everything thereafter was still hazy in his mind.

Nautolan bodies achieved a heightened sense of alacrity and vigor when submerged – particularly in water – and Gaiel was no exception. The bitter-tasting liquid he had been swimming in – known as kolto – pricked at Gaiel’s sensitive skin as it finished healing the last of the Jedi Knight’s heavier wounds. Due to his heightened sense of sight, he could see the Kel Dor Jedi medic, a Jedi Master named Kalthar, talking with a medical droid outside of the tank he was in. The Kel Dor were a peculiar species, they could not breath oxygen – in fact, it was deadly to them – so they wore special goggles in conjunction with gas masks that covered their gnarled and peculiarly shaped hazel-colored faces. Gaiel knew this one quite well because of his frequent trips to the medical bays at the Dantooine Jedi Enclave.

Using one of his fingers to tap on the clari-crystalline surface of the tank and inform the Jedi Master that he had regained consciousness, Gaiel waited patiently as the Kel Dor drained the kolto from the tank by opening the duct at the bottom. The droid assisted Gaiel by removing the IV tubes in his arm before he was allowed to exit the tank altogether.

“How are you feeling, Knight Gaiel?” Kalthar asked, his voice raspy and monotonous.

“Fine,” Gaiel responded, his voice still getting used to atmosphere outside the liquid he had been resting in. “How long was I out?”

“You have been fading in and out of consciousness for nearly one hundred and forty-four hours,” Kalthar explained. “Ever since you were recovered from the Renegade .”

“Where’s everyone else?” Gaiel asked, stretching out his limbs.

The Kel Dor went to a nearby computer panel, scanning its contents. “According to our logs, Knight Syme recovered in exactly thirty-six hours. He was diverted to Coruscant by the Dantooine Council for further instruction. Lieutenant Nyalla Danters is in dangerously critical condition. She’s currently being treated for major injuries in the lower levels of the medical section of the Enclave. The majority of the Republic operatives are either reported as MIA or KIA.”

“What?” Gaiel asked. “That’s impossible! What about Danters? And Jacque? They were safe when I contacted them.”

“Captain Danters was escorted to the Dantooine Enclave in critical condition,” Kalthar continued. “Initial reports speculated that Nyalla Danters had perished on the Renegade. These reports were given to Captain Danters during post-recovery debriefing – against the will of the Council – and he experienced a relapse. He perished shortly thereafter from cardiac arrest.”

“And Jacque?”

“Gunnery Sergeant Jacque was found dead on the scene by Councilor Northeus and Councilor Lonna,” Kalthar explained solemnly.

Gaiel did not believe what he was hearing. How could their mission have devolved so quickly? Jacque had been charged with protecting Nyalla – who had a minor ankle injury – from harm while Gaiel and the rest of the Jedi dealt with the Sith forces on the Renegade’s bridge. Now Kalthar was telling him that Nyalla was undergoing treatment for critical injuries and Jacque was dead. The Force nagged in the back of Gaiel’s mind, telling the Nautolan Jedi that something was not right.

“Can I speak with Master Ulsan or Master Vash?” Gaiel finally asked.

“I’m afraid that would not be possible,” Kalthar retorted. “Councilor Northeus has traveled with Councilor Kavar to deal with Sith forces in the Mid Rim. Councilor Vash has returned to Coruscant.”

Gaiel grimaced. “Can I speak with the Dantooine Council, then?”

“Of course, Knight Gaiel. In fact, they asked that you speak with them as soon as you were able,” Kalthar directed the medical droid to head to the next kolto tank and monitor the status of the patient inside. “Your equipment is on cot forty-three. May the Force be with you, Knight Gaiel.”

Gaiel nodded, still a bit tired from his time in the kolto tank, and bowed as Kalthar left him alone. Walking over to the only cot in his room, – cot forty-three – Gaiel replaced his medical smock for the blue Knight robes that were waiting for him – his peach-colored robes must have been discarded due to the damage – and picked up his comlink and lightsaber that rested nearby. Clipping the devices to his utility belt, Gaiel left the medical chambers of the Jedi Enclave’s sublevels and headed for the courtyard located in the center of the academy.

Gaiel always enjoyed spending time in the enclave’s central courtyard. The plaza split into four directions, leading to the council chambers, dormitories, the business sector, – this sector housed several Aratech merchants and could be used as a landing bay – and the eastern courtyard. In the center of this courtyard stood an aged tree that was affectionately named Vodo, after the Jedi Master who had founded the Enclave nearly forty years before, Vodo-Siosk Baas. This tree was gnarled and appeared to be dying, which was not a surprise to Gaiel; the vast walls of the enclave enclosed the tree, and very little sunlight managed to make its way over the academy’s orange-tinted walls. In this courtyard, Gaiel saw a young Human female with short, cropped brown hair that was tied into a tight bun behind her with auburn eyes. She was wearing Jedi robes that were surprisingly similar to the color of her eyes.

“Hello, Belaya,” Gaiel greeted her.

“Gaiel, what a surprise,” the female Jedi responded. “I heard you got beat up pretty bad over Polus.”

“Is that what you heard?” Gaiel asked, chuckling. “I assure you, it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds.”

“Obviously,” Belaya said.

Gaiel’s face suddenly became solemn and his tone serious. “How’s Juhani?”

Belaya’s face became downcast. “She’s still out there. In the grove,” her voice betrayed a sense of guilt and sadness.

Juhani was a young Cathar Padawan who had known Gaiel and Belaya. Gaiel recalled that she had been apprenticed by the Jedi Master Quatra, a teacher of some renown, but the Padawan – who was admittedly quite fiery in her mannerisms – struck down her master in training. Juhani had feared she had killed Quatra, – despite encouragement from Gaiel, Syme, and Belaya – fled the enclave, and supposedly embraced the dark side of the Force. It was discovered several days later that Quatra had only sustained minor injuries and she had faked her death in order to test her Padawan. She had failed Quatra’s test, and now the kath hounds under Juhani’s control were threatening to harm settlers and other travelers.

“They aren’t sending anyone to bring her back?” Gaiel finally asked.

“A young Jedi learner,” Belaya managed to say, “is headed out there now. But he’s inexperienced and I don’t trust him.”

“It’s out of our hands now, Belaya. We simply have to trust the Force and hope that he knows what he’s doing,” Gaiel mused.

“Yes,” the forlorn Jedi murmured. “But I shouldn’t be talking about this. The Council will get angry at me if I start a scene.”

“Indeed. Excuse me, but I must speak with them. It’s good to see you again, Belaya,” Gaiel said, walking away from the Jedi Knight.

“And you, Gaiel. I’ll see you again soon?”

“Yeah,” the Nautolan replied before heading into the council chambers.

Gaiel’s pace was quicker than he would have liked, but he needed answers. Passing by several Jedi carrying supplies that would end up in the storage levels of the enclave, Gaiel hastily made his way toward the council chambers. The room itself was circular and largely empty, although some potted plants and benches rested alongside the walls of the chambers. The room was well lit but was not painted vibrantly, forgoing vivacious colors for a more natural feel. Unlike usual, the entire Dantooine Council was not present; instead, only the diminutive Jedi Master Vandar Tokare was present, meditating in the center of the room.

Master Vandar was a stout, diminutive species, with long ears and brown-green skin. He was quite old, and he was balding; the hair on his head had long since whitened and he had developed several wrinkles across his face. Despite his elderly status, Master Vandar was a respected lightsaber combatant, Force-user, and strategist, and he looked serene during his meditation. Gaiel did not want to disturb the Jedi Master, and he was about to turn around and leave, but alien sent a vibration through the Force. The pangs in the Force alerted Gaiel and he knew that the councilor had sensed his presence and wanted him to stay.

“Speak with me, Gaiel,” Vandar said, slipping out of his meditation and sitting in a small hover chair nearby. “Something troubles you.”

“Yes, Master,” Gaiel responded, his voice laced with confusion. “I am troubled about my last mission. Something is amiss.”

Vandar allowed his hover chair to float by Gaiel, heading toward the exit of the council chambers. “Walk with me, Gaiel. We should discuss this outside; this chamber permeates with the Force, but it does not do so with the same vigor as the natural world.”

“Yes, Master,” Gaiel repeated, although he felt that the aged, long-eared species was stalling.

Gaiel followed the smaller alien’s repulsor chair, walking into the courtyard where Belaya was still standing, now talking with a Jedi Padawan of some renown. Gaiel ignored the pair and quickened his steps so that he was walking side-by-side with Master Vandar. The pair of Jedi walked from the courtyard and headed east, making their way into the expansive courtyard that was located outside the Enclave’s walls. Gaiel carefully avoided the occasional settler or busy Jedi that was scurrying about in the eastern courtyard while never slowing his pace, keeping up with the Jedi Master.

“Gaiel. What specifically is bothering you about your mission?” Vandar finally asked.

“I feel like there are more devious forces at work, Master Vandar,” Gaiel replied slowly. “Some things do not seem reasonable. People died that should not have. People disappeared that should not have.”

“The Dark Jedi you fought?” Vandar asked.

“How did you-?”

“Syme told me,” Vandar admitted with a grin. “Don’t worry, Gaiel. Both Northeus and Lonna confirmed that the Dark Jedi was dead on the scene.”

Gaiel frowned. “Who killed her, master? Betror had died, I was unconscious, and she was practically toying with Syme when they fought.”

“Syme told me that he could not beat her, either.” Vandar closed his eyes, apparently deep in thought. “She managed to cut of his right leg and leave him for dead.”

“Then how, master? If she was dead before the Councilors arrived, but after we were bested, then who killed her?” Gaiel questioned, intent on pressing the issue.

“I’m not sure, Gaiel,” Vandar sighed. “I’ll meditate on this and consult with the rest of the Dantooine Council. For now, head toward the Lesinna River. Your old master, Bolook, was solving a murder case around there. I imagine he could use some help.”

Gaiel’s crestfallen mood was remedied by hearing his old master’s name again. Bolook, a Twi’lek Jedi Master who had served under fellow Twi’lek Jedi Zhar Lestin, had taken Gaiel as a Padawan learner when the Nautolan was first introduced to the Jedi Order. Although Gaiel had achieved knighthood less than a year earlier, he and Bolook went on several missions in the meantime, and Gaiel knew that the Twi’lek was a skilled investigator and detective in addition to his abilities as a Jedi. If he was attending to a case by the Lesinna River, that meant that settlers were involved.

“Of course, Master, I’d be happy to,” Gaiel beamed.

Vandar bid Gaiel farewell as the Jedi Knight left the petite Councilor behind. The Nautolan returned to the interior of the academy, entering a garage in the sublevels that was designated for use by the Jedi of the Enclave. Lined along the walls of the darkened garage were dozens of personal speeder bikes, meant to hold no more than two individuals at a time. Parallel to them were half a dozen multi-person hovercars, meant to ferry four or five Jedi during emergencies. Picking a random speeder painted with bright shades of emerald green and indigo-colored patterns of the Jedi Order, Gaiel stepped into the vehicle and hit the ignition, allowing the repulsorcraft to come to life. The Jedi Knight left the spacious storage area and headed into the Dantooinian countryside, away from the Enclave and its protective walls.

It was autumn on the agrarian world of Dantooine, and the beauty of the planet’s vast plains enthralled Gaiel. The majority of the flora had traded its green coloration for rich shades of deep crimson, vibrant yellow, and soft brown. Even the grass, which was often a lively green, was tinted with a darker hue, creating auburn blades of knee-high grass. The brisk fall time wind blew across Gaiel’s moist, amphibious lime-green skin and caused his head-tresses to flutter about behind him, mimicking the hair of other species. It was still morning, so the bright star that served as Dantooine’s star – and shared its name – illuminated the majority of the shadows around the planet’s surface and allowed Gaiel to travel safely.

Upon reaching the Lesinna River, – Gaiel considered it a large brook – the Nautolan parked the vehicle near one of the many duracrete bridges that allowed settlers to carry goods and animals across the creek with ease, and then he followed his master’s presence in the Force. His master was quite skilled at hiding his presence in the Force – a skill Gaiel never acquired – and the Jedi Knight had to deeply immerse himself into the surging power of the Force to even attempt to locate Bolook. His trying search paid off, and Gaiel found Bolook enjoying a quick meal by the riverbed.

“Ah, hello,” Bolook greeted his former pupil in fluent Huttese. Standing up, he brushed the crumbs of his meal off of his blue Jedi robes and orange-tinted skin. “You caught me at a bad time, Gaiel. I was just grabbing a bite to eat after I completed my latest mission.”

Gaiel moved closer to his master, taking a seat by the riverbed. He replied in Huttese: “Your latest mission? The murder investigation?”

“Yes, the very one,” Bolook said. Gaiel felt a wave of disappointment wash over him, and his old master must have felt it, because his lekku twitched ever so slightly. “Sorry, Gaiel. I know you wanted to help, but Revan got here just before you did; he helped me figure out the case.”

Gaiel’s already bulbous eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he heard Revan’s name. The Dark Lord Revan, who was once one of the a charismatic and well-known Jedi of the Order, had died in combat when his flagship was attacked during a Jedi ambush. However, the Jedi had not killed him. His own apprentice and old friend, Darth Malak, betrayed his master and killed him, usurping his title and empire.

“That’s impossible,” Gaiel began. His voice was racked with nervousness and he was trying as hard as he could to keep his breathing steady. “Revan is dead. Isn’t he, Master Bolook?” His last few words were stressed for emphasis.

“Ah, maybe I shouldn’t have said that,” Bolook pondered. “Listen, Gaiel, the Jedi Council and some of the other masters have not been completely honest to the remainder of the Jedi – to you. Revan is alive.”

“What? Why? How?” Gaiel nearly shouted each word.

“Revan’s mind was shattered when he was attacked by his apprentice. He was near death, but the Padawan Bastila Shan managed to preserve him through a Force bond constructed between the two,” Bolook explained. “He was taken to the Jedi Council, where they repaired his mind. But at the same time, we reprogrammed him. He was not and will never be the same person.”

Gaiel scowled at the revelation. How could the Jedi Council have hidden such a secret from their Order? “Master, with all due respect, why did the Jedi Council not inform the remainder of the Jedi about this? He – Revan – could be dangerous. He could unlock his repressed memories at anytime. He should be tried for his crimes.”

“Gaiel, you must understand. The Council acts upon the will of the Force. Whether they choose to inform the rest of the Jedi to their plans is their prerogative alone,” Bolook explained with a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “As for Revan: he will never obtain the memories that were lost to him. The Council made sure his old thoughts will never return to him. Of this, you have our assurance.”

“What else has the Council hidden from us, Bolook?” Gaiel was nearly furious and refused to use honorifics until he received answers. The fact that the Council was taking part in such actions – mind-manipulation was an act that the Nautolan felt pervaded of the dark side – meant that they could be hiding more information from the rest of the Order. Information pertaining to the death of Betror and the rest of his comrades over Polus.

“Gaiel, keep your anger in check. Such feelings – and demands – lead to the dark side. Do not stay on this course, lest you stray from the light,” Bolook reprimanded him. “I cannot speak for the Council, I can only say what I know. I have said too much already.”

The Nautolan sighed when Bolook refused to answer his question. Gaiel stormed away from the Twi’lek, not bothering to return Bolook’s halfhearted farewell. The Jedi Knight followed the river north several meters until he returned to the speeder bike he had parked. Gaiel was determined to find out what all this was about – Revan, Betror, the Dark Jedi, and the Council. Perhaps it was related. Boarding the speeder bike, Gaiel let the engine roar loudly before he hit the ignition and allowed the vehicle to careen away from the Lesinna River, leaving his old master behind.

During his drive across the plains of Dantooine, Gaiel’s mind continued to return to a single thought: Revan. He simply could not accept the fact that the Jedi Knight who had betrayed the Order – when so many held him in respect and with regard – had not only survived his fateful betrayal, but that the Jedi Council had been involved with his return. This very same Jedi Council that he had served for the majority of his life was keeping secrets from him, keeping knowledge from him. He could not believe it. Bolook had never lied to him, yet at the same time, he had never told him about Revan’s apparent rebirth.

Gaiel would not have minded so much if he had not come to admire the once-famous Jedi known as the Revanchist. He did not leave for the Mandalorian Wars like many other Jedi not because he felt the prospect of warring Jedi violated their tenants or that they were fighting for the wrong reasons. No, he did not join Revan’s crusade because none of his friends had gone, and he would have felt alone amidst the sea of Republic soldiers and higher-ranking Jedi. A Padawan at the time, Gaiel found himself revering the man who was Revan, even more so that Syme and his own master. Ever since Revan and his armies had fallen to the dark side, Gaiel had not been the same. He hated the fact that he was terse and could not abide Betror’s oblivious or Nyalla’s optimistic attitude, he just did not know how to help himself. Revan was his hero, and when he died, perhaps something died inside of Gaiel as well.

As he approached the Jedi Enclave’s eastern courtyard, the Nautolan Jedi felt the subtle pangs of the dark side to the north. Suddenly alert, Gaiel diverted his bike’s path, skidding to the right and heading toward the disturbance. As he traveled toward the unusual occurrence, he took note of the fact that there was nothing to the northeast of the Enclave besides uninhabitable hills and an archaic burial mound used to house the natives of Dantooine long before the arrival of the Jedi. Whatever was causing the dark side energy was obviously taking up residence in or around the burial mounds. Pulling his vehicle to a halt as he bypassed several erect pillars strewn in seemingly random patterns around the mausoleum, Gaiel reached out into the interconnecting, far-reaching web of the Force, trying to pinpoint where the dark side taint was coming from. However, the dark aura from the inside of the mounds prevented him from tracking the taint’s location.

As the Jedi Knight was about to give up and return to the Enclave, he noticed a young Human male – probably eighteen years of age – descend from the top of the burial mound, falling in the grass near the entryway of the mound itself. Once the individual regained his footing, Gaiel got a better glimpse at the individual. He had long, tousled, dark brown – almost black – hair atop his head, and he had a scraggly beard across his chin; he looked like a wild man. He even wore tattered, mud-stained clothing to compliment his already savage appearance.

However, it was obvious to Gaiel that he was not a feral individual; once the individual had picked himself from the ground, he ignited two lightsabers – red and blue – to protect himself from other some unseen force. It took several seconds for Gaiel’s sable eyes to notice several individuals standing at the peak of the burial mound, hunting the lightsaber duelist who had been thrown to the ground.

Three robed and hooded individuals – each donning the appearance of a standard Jedi – jumped from the sepulcher’s summit, intent on subduing their cornered prey. Gaiel took notice of the lightsabers on their belt and presumed that they were, in fact, Jedi, but their hoods prevented the Nautolan from recognizing them from where he stood. Of the three, only one of them had the notoriously long hilt of a double-bladed lightsaber, while the other two possessed a single, normal lightsaber.

There was an eerie but reverent silence for several, drawn-out minutes. None of the combatants moved, scanning each other and their surroundings for inherent advantages or disadvantages that could be used in combat. Suddenly, a single Jedi, the one on the farthest right of their unkempt enemy, ignited his olive-green blade. Rushing at his foe, the Jedi performed a wide, vertical strike, aiming to slice off his opponent’s right arm. The dual-wielding individual – the one the Jedi seemed to be hunting – blocked the attack with his blue blade and used his momentum to perform a fluid counterattack; ensuring that his weapon was locked with the Jedi’s only lightsaber, the dual-wielder swung his other lightsaber in a vicious arc. The resulting strike bypassed the Jedi and then came back around to lop off his neck.

The headless Jedi’s limp body collapsed before its opponent. The winner of the duel gave the body a swift kick to send the corpse backwards, crashing into the brown blades of grass. Throwing his weapons into what Gaiel recognized as a very poor imitation of a basic Jedi opening stance, the dual-wielder appeared to be silently challenging his opponents to try again. The two Jedi seemed to prepare for their attack when one of them noticed Gaiel standing in the distance. The Jedi with the double-bladed lightsaber whispered something to the other – who was apparently the leader of this force. The leader pulled back his hood, revealing the scarred and pale face of a bald Human male with green eyes and a crooked nose.

“Gaiel? Is that you?” the Human called out to the Nautolan, waving a single arm.

Gaiel hesitated for a moment, but then he recognized the face. “Knosar? Is that you?”

“I’m afraid it is,” Knosar said jokingly. He carefully pulled off the rest of his cloak, revealing his tan-colored robes underneath and the lightsaber he had attached to his belt. “How are you, Gaiel? I heard you were confined to a kolto tank. Sorry I couldn’t send you a card or something.”

Gaiel rolled his eyes. “Yah, of course. Anyway, I got better. What are you doing out here?”

“This punk is the same kid who killed Master Tor’chal a while back. Remember his funeral?” Knosar asked.

“Yeah. Master Sunrider gave quite a stirring eulogy, if I recall,” Gaiel mused. Pulling himself away from the memories, Gaiel glanced at Tor’chal’s murderer, examining him intently. “There’s no way this kid killed Tor’chal. He’s a mess.”

The dual-wielder turned to Gaiel, but the corner of his eye remained on the other two Jedi. “My name is Raen Benax. These men are not Jedi!”

“You hear him, Gaiel? He’s a bit delirious. You know, with the savage living and such,” Knosar noted. “So, Gaiel, how long have we known each other?”

“Nearly eight years. Why?” the Nautolan Jedi asked, somewhat confused.

“Am I a Jedi or not? Did I become a Knight with you, Belaya, Syme, and them, or what?”

“Of course you did.”

“Then help us take out this Dark Jedi,” Knosar answered kindly. “He’s a madman, a murder, and a liar, as you’ve witnessed. We’ll rush him. He’s pretty good for an untrained Force-user, but he can’t go against three trained Jedi Knights at once!”

Gaiel nodded and grasped at his lightsaber, snatching it off his belt and activating it via the Force in a single, streamlined motion. Raen, realizing he was outnumbered, became desperate and moved first. As the two other Jedi activated their lightsabers, Raen outstretched his hand – forcing a pulsating wave of Force energy through his veins – and sent a telekinetic blast of energy at Gaiel. The Nautolan was surprised by his foe’s strength in the Force. The resulting shockwave hit Gaiel, despite his attempts to shield himself, and the force of Raen’s attack threw the Jedi Knight into his speeder, nearly knocking him unconscious. Once Gaiel was out of the way, Raen returned his focus to the two Jedi who remained. The Alderaanian deflected the first few blows from of the saberstaff-wielding Jedi’s green blades, parrying the two edges of the weapon with his own lightsabers. The Jedi fighting Raen moved in close, enabling him to perform swift, dazzling twirls with his double-bladed weapon and forcing Raen into a desperate defensive.

The Force alerted Raen of his second opponent’s approach. Knosar leapt through the air behind Raen – silent enough that the exiled Sith did not hear him – and slashed at Raen’s upper body during his descent. Shifting his weight onto one foot, Raen managed to narrowly dodge Knosar’s overhead attacks while deflecting two more strikes from the double-bladed lightsaber. Admittedly, Raen had never fought a saberstaff before, so he was having some difficulty adjusting his eyes to focus on two blades at once. The fact that he had three opponents combating him did not help matters. Raen blocked the first Jedi’s double-blades before backflipping to avoid a swift strike at his knees from Knosar. Landing behind Gaiel’s old friend, Raen attempted to strike at his undefended back, but a quick Force push from Gaiel – who had already recovered from his incapacitation – sent Raen flying away, saving Knosar.

Knosar charged toward Raen head-on while Gaiel swiftly made his way toward Raen’s right side. The Alderaanian was forced to parry Knosar’s strikes first, and then use his other blade to repel Gaiel’s eager viridian saber. Spinning in quick circles, Raen alternated the lightsaber he was using to defend himself from a particular person. The exiled Sith used a powerful Force push to send both Jedi Knights away before the double-bladed enemy returned, swinging his weapon overhead in a gaping motion. Raen was becoming increasingly worried due to the amount of enemies he was fighting alone. He barely managed to continue his shaky defense; he would block Gaiel’s attacks, then Knosar’s, and then jump out of the way or duck to avoid a follow-up saberstaff swing. Using the Force, Raen managed to repel Knosar again, sending him away from the battle for a moment to give Raen a brief respite.

Gaiel moved in quick to secure an advantage. While Raen was reigniting his offhand weapon – he had used that hand to push Knosar away – Gaiel attacked his exposed left side, utilizing a precise, vertical strike in an attempt to cut at his hips. Raen managed to block the attack with both of his lightsabers – defending himself with an x-shaped shield – and then butted the unprotected Jedi’s head with his own, sending Gaiel sprawling over and into the grass below.

Once the Nautolan was rendered defenseless, Raen ran by him with ease and attacked the saberstaff-wielding Jedi, who was now fighting alone. Using his red and blue sabers to match the two green blades of his foe’s double-blade, Raen struck at his foe’s defenses on both sides until the Jedi was forced him to spin the weapon in a large circle, protecting both of his limbs at once. Once the Jedi had done so, Raen severed the weapon at the handle, splitting it in two and deactivating the weapon immediately. Startled, the Jedi had no time to react before Raen thrust both of his weapons into the Jedi’s chest, skewering his body and killing him. The Jedi vomited up blood on Raen’s already-ruined tunic as he died, but the Alderaanian ignored it; he had to remove his lightsabers in time to block a counterattack from Knosar’s cobalt-colored blade.

Deflecting the Jedi’s persistent and flowing stream of attacks, Raen felt his defenses and reflexes begin to tire. Turning toward Gaiel – who was recovering his footing again – Raen called out to him during his duel with Knosar. “You! I meant it when I said it earlier. This man and his friends are not Jedi. Does a Jedi kill innocent settlers?” Raen asked, barely able to draw his focus away from the duel.

“Silence! You’re mad,” Knosar demanded. The Jedi Knight – who was still attacking with consistent strength and speed – managed to slice Raen’s blue lightsaber in half, disabling it and force Raen to fight with a single weapon.

Raen ducked underneath Knosar’s next attack and used a quick scissor-kick to the Jedi’s legs to cause him to topple over. Once Knosar was disabled, Raen tried to snatch at the first Jedi’s – now deactivated – olive-green lightsaber that was waiting in the grass for its master. However, his attempt was hindered by Gaiel, who performed a quick unarmed strike at Raen’s combat arm, crippling him and forcing him to drop his red lightsaber. Once Raen had lost both of his weapons, Knosar stood back up and made sure that Raen could not reach any more lightsabers by procuring them from the battlefield and taking them for himself while Gaiel kept Raen at the edge of his lightsaber.

“Good work, Knosar. Let’s bring him to the Council; he needs to answer for his crimes,” Gaiel lauded the other Jedi Knight.

“The Council? I don’t think so, Gaiel. The Council is a bunch of decrepit, ignorant liars. I’ve learned this, and I’m sure you know it as well. What are they going to do with this Dark Jedi? They’ll blindly offer him their forgiveness and put him right back to work – killing our own behind their backs!” Knosar snapped.

Gaiel bit his lip. Knosar’s words, however dark, possessed a ring of truth. The Council had taken the Dark Lord of the Sith, Revan, and had transformed him into little more than a puppet, albeit a very dangerous one. Although Gaiel could not dare accuse the Council for being responsible for Betror’s death or the Republic’s failure over Polus, he could suspect their involvement. The Nautolan was divided. Knosar was an old friend of his, and he was saying what Gaiel wanted to hear. And he knew that the Council worked exactly how Knosar described. Their mercy was too much, even for the Jedi. Even so, Gaiel was a Jedi Knight. He still had a devotion to the Jedi Order, and until the Jedi Council officially announced their dissolution, he knew he had to serve them.

“They may lie,” Gaiel agreed, trying to stay as calm as possible, “but the Council is only looking out for our own well-being. They choose to tell us only what is necessary.”

“You really are a drone of the Council, aren’t you, Gaiel?” Knosar said, bemused. “I’m sorry; I really am. I thought you could see the light, like us. But I guess I have to kill you too.”

Igniting his lightsaber, Knosar charged toward Gaiel, who had diverted his viridian lightsaber from Raen toward his own body, intent on defending himself. Gaiel deflected Knosar’s first blow, but the Human Knight had more upper body strength than the Nautolan, and he utilized it to his advantage. Knosar continued his attack, raining vicious combinations of vertical swings and unrelenting strikes at Gaiel’s ankles. Reflecting blow after blow, Gaiel kept up his defensive perimeter just long enough for him to notice a flaw in his enemy’s offensive; during the time that Knosar swung at the Nautolan’s ankles, his back was exposed and vulnerable. When the Human Knight tried to attack Gaiel’s lower legs again, Gaiel jumped over the attack and pushed Knosar to the ground with the Force, sending him face-first into the grass below.

Although Knosar had been knocked into the turf, he still managed to block several of Gaiel’s attacks from his position until the Nautolan severed the Jedi Knight’s weapon hand, sending his enemy’s right hand and cobalt lightsaber flying into the air. Gaiel held his own weapon at Knosar’s head, preventing him from moving, lest he receive severe wounds to his face from Gaiel’s viridian lightsaber.

“Now, then,” Gaiel said. “I’m taking you to the Council with him. You’ll both answer for your actions.”

Knosar cackled with delight. “I shall never succumb to the will of the Council! I shall not become their hounds, their agents, or their pawns. I have failed in my mission. The Force wills that I receive my reward.” The defeated Jedi Knight quickly extracted a small bag out of his coat – Gaiel was not able to cut off that hand as well – and swallowed two pills that were waiting inside. Almost immediately, he began to retch violently, panting for breath and sweating as he faded from this life.

The Nautolan knelt over and checked the now immobile Jedi’s pulse, but there was none. All the color had disappeared from Knosar’s skin and his eyes – hauntingly staring into the sun – eventually rolled back inside his head. Punching the walls of the mound nearby, Gaiel swore softly. Three Jedi. Three more Jedi just died, and Gaiel had not even been assigned a new mission. He could not bear the guilt of surviving while his allies died.

Raen Benax had since scooped up Knosar’s cobalt lightsaber and recovered his own red lightsaber, placing both of the deactivated weapons on his belt. He attempted to approach Gaiel, but thought it would be better if he had some time alone. Therefore, Raen stood silently for nearly ten minutes while Gaiel buried the bodies. The Nautolan Knight would have cremated them, but he did not have tinder, flint, or a lighter of any sort.

“Would you like me to leave?” Raen asked. “I can head out, and you’ll never see me again.”

“I don’t think so. You better have a damn good explanation for this, Raen Benax,” Gaiel insisted.

“What? The fact that three agents were masquerading as Jedi to serve as sleeper cells in your organization, and you were forced to kill them before they killed you?” Raen questioned, not fully comprehending the situation. “Sorry? If you mean an explanation for Tor’chal and why I am here, yes, I have one. However, I will not speak here. I will only talk to your Jedi Council.”

Gaiel sighed heavily before placing his lightsaber back on his belt. “Very well. As promised, I shall take you before them. Follow me.” Gaiel walked toward his speeder bike and waited for Raen to hop in the passenger’s seat before heading toward the Enclave in dutiful silence.

Chapter 15

The bridge of the Hound’s Sapphire  was eerily silent. The captain’s chair was vacated, and none of the crew was in their assigned locations. The lights were malfunctioning, shining off and on in long intervals, causing the deck to be swept away by harrowing shadows every few moments. Only the viewport, with its mosaic of darkness, littered with the flickering lights of distant stars, provided a constant light source for the deserted Lethisk -class freighter’s bridge.

The silence was broken by a single, automated door’s unlocking sequence, producing a shrill whine and permitting the Shistavanen, Fetcher, to set foot on the otherwise-empty deck. The remainder of the crew – the same crew that had served on the Cerulean Wolf  – had retired to their respective quarters for the night, leaving Fetcher alone on the bridge. The Shistavanen pilot was carrying a cumbersome box of tools in his left hand, while a dirty, mechanic’s rag covered his other hand. Walking by the empty computer stations and viewscreens, Fetcher reached Manda’s station, where Fetcher stood in front of a single computer terminal.

This terminal controlled the ship’s cooling systems from the bridge. It was a convenient tool; this terminal allowed the crew to adjust the temperature from the bridge instead of heading down to the ship’s radiator in the back of the ship. Fetcher had been asked by Manda, being the whiny Devaronian that she was, to repair the console, since it had not been responding to her demands. Ever since Halendot had died a year ago, Fetcher had been appointed temporary technician until a replacement was found. For this reason, the Shistavanen reluctantly agreed to take a look at it. He had hesitated to do so, until Ralina complained to him about the temperature of the deck earlier that day. Fetcher knew they were not appointing a replacement.

Fetcher opened the console’s base and began to make sure that all the wiring and memory devices were properly inserted. It was not a problem with the computer’s commands – Fetcher had already checked – but a problem with the computer’s internal systems. Using his power wrench and a pinpoint laser tool, Fetcher scanned the electronic organs of the console, hoping to figure out where the problem was. While he was tediously perusing each wire, memory cartridge, and conduit, a soft melody began to play on the bridge’s speakers. It started out in a slow legato before the tempo of the song picked up, accompanied by a strong bass and an assortment of wind instrumentalists, before drifting into silence again.

Pulling his head away from the computing system, Fetcher raised a curious eyebrow and his ears perked up, waiting for the song to replay. When it did not, the Shistavanen let out a low growl and returned to his work. However, as he picked up his power wrench, he muttered: “Jon, that’s not funny. You know that was her song.”

“If I angered you, Fetarollias, I apologize. I was simply trying to create a suitable work environment for you,” the AI chimed.

The Shistavanen scoffed. “No, you were trying to annoy me.”

“I don’t do anything to annoy you, Fetarollias. Remember: you programmed me, and I am instructed to do anything I can to assist you,” Jon retorted.

“As if you would let me forget,” Fetcher muttered, finally finding the loose wiring at the very back of the console. “And I don’t go by Fetarollias anymore, either. I’m just Fetcher now.”

The AI let a laugh track ring in the pilot’s ears. “You do realize a little girl gave you that name, right?”

“What’s this about a little girl?” Ralina’s voice shouted out from across the bridge.

Fetcher chuckled softly as Ralina Venli marched across the bridge. Like usual, – when she was off duty – Ralina did not look like a seasoned smuggler, or even like a starship captain, at all. Her tenebrous, satin-like hair was neatly combed back from her bronzy face, racing down her neck and halting near her shoulders. She wore a rough, leather naval jacket over her upper body; coupled with red shorts and green, cotton slippers, she hardly appeared to be a model commander, much less someone who should be feared. She stormed across the empty deck and made her way near Fetcher – who was still working – and gave him a swift jab to the arm.

“What was that for?” Fetcher yelped.

Ralina crossed her arms across her chest, indignant. “You called me a little girl, you scruffy old hound!”

“That was me, captain,” Jon admittedly, albeit sheepishly. “I apologize.”

“Doesn’t matter. The fact is, Fetcher created you, he’s responsible for your comments,” Ralina stated. She was just saving face with her explanations.

Fetcher groaned, massaging his wounded arm. “That’s hardly fair, captain. That annoying AI just won’t leave me alone; he’s bored, so he actively seeks trouble.”

“You’re just upset with Jon because he resembles you when you were younger,” Ralina retorted.

Fetcher and Jon both barked out quizzically, and the pilot-technician stared at Ralina dubiously.

“Oh, come on, Fetcher,” Ralina said. “How many sentients – let alone males – have you met since Irinna’s death?”

“Not too many, until I met you,” muttered Fetcher, who had returned his attention to repairing the radiator controls.

Ralina nodded. “Exactly. And you built Jon before you met the rest of the crew and I. So who else could you have modeled Jon after but yourself – your younger self.”

“That’s disgusting, captain,” Jon thought aloud. “Fetcher, if that’s true, I would request you tear out my circuitry right now and convert me into a text processor or something of that nature.”

“Of course it’s not true! Just space off, you annoying AI!” Fetcher barked.

When Jon did not respond, Ralina and Fetcher figured he had retired for the evening, shutting himself down or moving elsewhere – somewhere where he could not be yelled at – to restore his energy. Fetcher replaced the loose wiring inside the console and was pleased when his inputted commands raised the temperature of the bridge by several degrees. Ralina stood by, enraptured in the fact that it was warmer now, waiting for Fetcher to finish his work.

“You did base Jon off yourself, didn’t you?” Ralina wondered so Fetcher could hear her.

The Shistavanen looked disgusted – or embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“You were quite the charmer in your youth,” Ralina teased.

“Oh please. He’s not a carbon copy of me.” Fetcher snapped. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Me?” Ralina questioned innocently. “I just wanted to ask you a question. I figured you’d be here.”

“What did you need?”

“Is the crew… getting riled up at the fact I’m spending time with him?” Ralina asked.

“You mean Tserne?” Fetcher clarified. “Well, there are some rumors going around. Mostly spread by Manda.”

Ralina chuckled. “Of course. She’s a Devaronian; she’s good at that stuff.”

Fetcher stood up, wiping off his hands and knees with the rag he had brought with him. Replacing the equipment he had taken out of the toolbox, Fetcher carefully reattached the last few metal casings that had protected the monitor he had been working on. Once the console was fixed and returned to its former state, Fetcher picked up the box and headed out of the bridge. He turned toward Ralina just before heading inside the elevator.

“No disrespect intended, captain, but I’m certainly not a scruffy old hound. If anything, I’d prefer scruffy, but gentlemanly, hound.”

A small smile spread across Ralina’s tanned face. “Oh, get out of here, you old dog!”

Fetcher nodded complacently, heading inside the ship’s elevator and descending to the crew’s quarters. He dropped the box of tools at the back of the elevator cart, not willing to carry the crate throughout the trip. Once the elevator reached the lower deck, the exhausted hound struggled over to the janitorial closet near his room and – rather brusquely – threw the box inside. Once his tools were safely replaced, Fetcher crawled back to his room, where he collapsed in his cot and fell into a deep slumber.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Ralina headed from her quarters to the room down the hall. The captain was already wearing the crew’s newest set of armor: a gray-colored variation of armor worn by Republic scouts with a targeting optics helmet – containing a single slit that served as a transparisteel visor – atop her head, covering her face and most of her hair. She had a vibroblade attached to her belt, with three blaster pistols calmly rocking back and forth alongside them. On her back, she had equipped herself with a single, high-caliber blaster rifle, which had been modified by Fetcher to do significantly more damage to organics. Ever since Halendot had died, she had not taken any chances. The death of her young crewmate had steeled her resolve; she would not let anyone else die as long as she was their captain.

The captain ignored the sound of her metal boots clanking against the red-colored floorboards of the Hound’s Sapphire, despite the fact she absolutely hated the noise. Once she had made her way to the room at the end of the hall – the room that would have been Halendot’s – she stopped and aloud herself to mentally prepare for her meeting. Lifting the helmet off of her smooth, youthful face, she completed the retinal scan necessary to unlock the door. Ralina replaced her helmet while the door opened with a loud swishing noise; the captain placed a hand on one of her blaster pistols as a precaution. Taking a single step inside the room, Ralina warily flipped the switch that powered the glowpanels of these quarters. As soon as the pale, blue lights illuminated the room, she saw him.

He was sitting in the farthest corner of the room, as he did every time she had come to visit him for the past year. His blond hair was long – nearly as long as hers – and it could only be described as a disaster. He had the skin of a phantom; he was malnourished and his bones were visible in several places, including his sharp cheekbones, which almost pierced through the fine skin that pressed against it. His nose was small, almost compressed, and gave him a crafty appearance. He wore white clothes – which had become sodden with sweat and tattered around the edges – which contrasted his cyan eyes, which the captain presumed held some secret, locked deep inside. It was this secret that kept Ralina returning to her prisoner, trying to figure out what he was hiding inside of the vacuity of his head.

“Welcome back,” the individual whispered hoarsely. He noticed that Ralina had her hand by her blaster. “When will you learn that I’m not going to hurt you?”

“When I trust you. Show me your hands,” snapped the captain.

The captive did as he was told, extending his hands so that Ralina could see them both. Pulling out a pair of binders, the captain restrained the individual’s wrists, preventing him from lashing out or trying to attack without warning. Once he was securely shackled, the individual returned his hands to his lap, twiddling his thumbs absent-mindedly.

“Where did we finish last time, Tserne?” Ralina interrogated her prisoner.

“I had told you about my exploits on Zeltros. On the orders of a certain Preux character, I killed three politicians. It was quite fun, too,” Tserne noted.

“I recall,” Ralina said gruffly. “You also mentioned a ship…?”

“Did I? My memory is a bit foggy,” Tserne said in a fey manner. “Perhaps you should help me remember.”

Ralina frowned as a devious smile spread across Tserne’s face. Using the pistol in her hand, she whipped the weapon across her captive’s face; she managed to give him a fierce strike to the cheek and if she could have easily knocked him unconscious. Sadly, for her, Tserne had managed to stay vigilant, even when the blaster had nearly shattered his cheekbone. The beaten prisoner wiped the blood away from his lips with his already-stained sleeve.

“Did that jog your memory, Tserne DeLarane? Just tell me what’s onboard the Convict’s Dawn ,” Ralina snapped.

“My darling, I’m afraid I just don’t know. You and I both know that my memories prior to my assassination mission on Zeltros are foggy – and that’s putting it lightly. You mentioned that someone told you of the Convict’s Dawn ; I said I recognized the name. That’s it,” Tserne explained in a dry voice.

Ralina chose not to believe that Tserne was being truthful; he seemed too manipulative for his own good. Since they had met on the Luminous Daybreak  nearly a year before, he had slowly expounded on his past, claiming he had very little recollection of anything before their meeting. The captain believed he was just being unnecessarily difficult.

This time, though, Ralina was not going to wait another year to strike gold. She and her crew had been working for the same quasi-Jedi employer for nearly a year, and he had gotten them into some dangerous run-ins with the Sith Empire. When she off-handedly mentioned the next vessel they were raiding to Tserne; he expressed a degree of familiarity, but he was unwilling to share his knowledge with her. Investigation on the vessel’s flight path indicated that it was headed to Korriban, although all contact with the vessel was lost in the galactic Mid Rim’s Orus sector. She planned on using Tserne’s knowledge of the vessel to steal whatever it was their employer wanted from the ship and escape – to protect the lives of her crew and keep them away from dangerous missions – but he was proving difficult.

“I don’t believe you,” Ralina finally said. “So you’re going to help me investigate the ship when we arrive.”

“But why me? Aren’t you worried that I’ll betray you or your crew?” Tserne asked, his voice taking an unexpected threatening tone.

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take. Besides, you’re going to accompany me, not my crew. So if you want to kill anyone, you’d have to kill me,” Ralina explained.

“Pity,” muttered Tserne.

Ralina’s comlink crackled and buzzed, indicating that someone was trying to reach her, probably from the bridge. “Hello? This is Captain Venli.”

“Captain, we’re approaching the Convict’s Dawn. Shouldn’t you be up here?” Manda’s perky voice asked.

“Copy. I’ll be up there momentarily,” Ralina responded, switching off her comlink after she had received the message. Turning to her captive, she motioned for him to stand. “Let’s go. Time for you to get some exercise.”

“You’ll regret this, I’m sure,” Tserne flatly mentioned.

Ralina pulled out her blaster pistol, and used her free hand to undo Tserne’s cuffs. “I’m sure I’ll kill you first,” she said, mimicking his nonchalant voice.

Opening the door to Halendot’s room, Ralina directed Tserne to go first. The prisoner complied, walking by the captain with an uncaring trudge in his step. Once he had left the room and set foot in the halls of the Lethisk freighter, Tserne waited patiently while Ralina locked up the room and directed him toward the bridge. During the slow struggle to their destination, Ralina held her pistol behind Tserne’s back, while the captive struggled to walk at a faster pace than his dutiful captor. After about ten minutes, the two reached the bridge, much to the surprise of the crew – who were all armored and ready for their upcoming mission.

“Captain… is that the captive?” Cortes asked, now distracted from the weapon controls he had been monitoring.

Ralina nodded drearily. “Yes. Everyone, this is Tserne DeLarane, the same individual we met on the Luminous Daybreak- ”

“And tried to kill me,” Manda noted.

Ralina hesitated. She had nearly forgotten. This would certainly be an unstable first meeting. “He’s going to help us steal the goods we need from the Convict’s Dawn, to prove his loyalty to us.”

“To you,” Tserne corrected her.

Fetcher ignored the prisoner’s latest comment. “Would you like to see the layout of the ship, Captain?”

“Yes, thank you, Fetcher,” Ralina said. Even as Fetcher powered up the ship’s layout, she remembered that it was, in fact, Halendot’s old job and was forced to repress the dark memories surrounding his death.

This time it was Jon’s voice that spoke up. “The Convict’s Dawn  is a K16 Cinnagar -class armored transport. Our employer suggested that the items we are looking for are located in the crew’s quarters, located on the portside of the ship, near its aft.”

“We’ll have to destroy the ship after we pilfer what we need,” Ralina noted. “Our Force-using boss said that we can’t risk the Sith finding this ship. Does the ship have a self-destruct sequence, Jon?”

“Yes, captain,” Jon answered. “However, it’s an older model than most; the self-destruct sequence can only be triggered from the ship’s core.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Ralina said, organizing the plan in her head. “Fetcher, you’ll head to the ship’s bridge, and monitor traffic. We can’t have the Sith sneaking up on us. Manda, you and Cortes go to the ship’s core. I’ll steal what we need.”

“I hope that plan is confirmed, captain,” Jon mentioned. “We’re closing in on the Convict’s Dawn. It’s appropriately classified as a derelict. No life signs aboard, shielding is down, engines were leaking radiation for some time before they were exhausted of excess fuel.”

Ralina nodded swiftly. “Jon, bring the ship in close. Conjoin our ship’s hangar with theirs. We’re going in.”

***                                                                                                                  ***

Ralina and Tserne had left the Hound’s Sapphire  five minutes after everyone else, waiting until Fetcher had confirmed that there were no hostiles on board. For precaution’s sake, she forced Tserne to walk in front of her – she could not trust him to watch her back – even though he was not equipped with any weapons to defend himself. He was much too calm for his own good, and it was almost as though he did not care whether he died or not. Even so, Ralina began to suspect that he was involved in a conspiracy with their employer – a large trap designed to eliminate the smuggler crew – even though she knew that was nonsense.

After they had left the spacious, abandoned hangars and began their silent trek through the equally eerie halls, the two smugglers took note of the malfunctioning alarm system. The walls of the transport – which were originally brown with gray stripes – began to alternate between varying shades of red and darker red. No sound followed; it was just constant flashes of color. The two thieves eventually left the confined halls and reached the ship’s barracks, which included a long hallway – lined with several locked doors – with a garbage chute on their end and a large metal grating on the other.

“Our employer mentioned the goods are in room seven,” Ralina noted.

Tserne mumbled something to himself before turning his attention to the captain and her comment. “Sounds exciting,” he muttered, clearly sarcastic. “Just get the stuff – whatever it is – so we can leave.”

Ralina ignored her captive’s droll commentary – she could not afford to reprimand him every time he said something idiotic or morose – and approached the seventh door in the hall. Unlike the others, this durasteel door seemed to have been locked by a thumbprint scanner instead of a traditional, keycard lock. The captain ignored it, despite protests from Tserne, hoping that it – like everything else on the ship – was broken. Once she removed her hand, a clicking noise was heard from the ceiling above, and a low screech emerged from the grate across the hall. Tserne took action immediately, tackling into the captain and sending them both to the floor as a massive blaster shot flew through the air where Ralina’s upper body had been seconds before.

A massive tank-like droid emerged from the grating that had been destroyed by its blaster; it had six durasteel legs that looked like metal pillars attached to a large, missile-shaped chassis, and a powerful primary cannon amidst several smaller rocket launchers that were all empty. It lumbered toward the pair while its main weapon recharged from its first blast.

“I believe you owe me, captain,” Tserne purred triumphantly.

“Get off me!” snapped the captain before shoving him off of her in a single throw. “Freak. Now deal with that droid!”

“Me?” Tserne mumbled, barely recovering his footing. “I think I enjoyed my cell better.”

The droid let out a low moan and charged at the pair; however, its attempt to plow through the two invaders was halted as it approached Tserne.

“Retinal scan: match. Facial recognition: identified,” its electronic voice stated.

“What’s going on, Tserne? Why isn’t it attacking you?” growled Ralina.

“I’m about as confused as you are, darling,” Tserne admitted. “Maybe it has me confused with someone else?”

“Whatever,” the captain sighed, annoyed. “Get that thing into the chute over here so we can get rid of it.”

“Fine. I’d like to keep it, though…” Tserne grumbled before returning his attention to the droid. “Droid… machine… thing. Follow me to the garbage chute by the corner.”

“Voice recognition: certified. Carrying out command,” the droid’s shrill voice whined.

The defense droid slowly stalked Tserne, following the former assassin to the shaft near Ralina. The captain waited for the machine to carelessly enter the garbage disposal room, and once it was inside, Ralina hammered the wall panel nearby. The airlock sealed shut, separating Tserne and the droid, before the room itself was jettisoned into the vacuum of space with the droid inside of it.

“I should have let you go inside with it,” Ralina spat. “You useless oaf.”

“Too bad.” Tserne shrugged. “Lost your chance to be rid of me, I suppose.”

Ralina sighed hopelessly, not knowing what to do with her difficult captive. While she was still contemplating their next action, Tserne approached the thumbprint lock – despite protests from Ralina – and was about to apply his thumb before he suddenly stopped.

“What’s wrong?” the captain asked, still irritated.

“There’s a hull breach beyond this door. It disabled the artificial gravity. Can your suit survive in those conditions?” Tserne asked.

“Sure. But how did you know that?”

“Intuition,” Tserne said, avoiding the actual question.

Ralina attached the plastic tubes from her helmet to the oxygen canister on her back and closed off her helmet, keeping her entire body safe from being exposed to the inherent pressures of the vacuum. At Ralina’s confirmation, Tserne opened the door with his thumbprint, and the first door opened, allowing Ralina to step inside without exposing Tserne to the vacuum. Once she was inside, the captive closed the door behind her, which automatically opened up the second door, allowing to captain to enter the room proper.

Floating a few centimeters above the ground, Ralina attempted to get a feeling for her surroundings. Room seven was silent – the emptiness of space tended to do that – but the captain enjoyed the absence of sound. It was actually relaxing for her. The room itself had been punctured in several places, and the protective shielding around the hull had long since faded, exposing the room to the harsh environment of deep space. Several dismembered skeletons floated about in the weightlessness of the room, unnerving the usually reserved captain. Glancing about, she finally spotted the footlocker where the goods she was supposed to steal were located.

The captain got to work, prying and picking at the storage device’s outdated lock with the pick she had brought with her. When her generic lock picking skills failed her, Ralina pulled a security spike from her belt and applied it to the lock. After several turns and failed attempts later, the crate opened, revealing its contents – a plethora of Jedi and Sith holocrons.

Ralina used the ornate cloth located at the base of the footlocker to collect all the holocrons before they floated off into space – a treasure trove of knowledge and power collected in a makeshift bag. Once all the storage devices had been acquired, Ralina floated back to the door that separated room seven from the rest of the ship. Rapping on it several times, – it made no noise – she waited for Tserne to feel the vibrations before opening the door to room seven with his thumbprint. As soon as Ralina left the cryptic room behind, the captain noticed that Tserne looked even paler than usual. Before she could ask him about it, she was interrupted by the crackling of static from her comlink.

“Captain? Captain? Ralina Venli, are you there?” Fetcher’s voice worriedly asked repeatedly.

“I’m here, Fetcher, what’s wrong?” the captain asked.

“Where were you, Captain?” Fetcher asked. “We lost contact, and.... well, forget it. Anyway, we have a Sith Interdictor coming in, alongside a small cruiser and several waves of Sith fighters. They’re headed right for us.”

“Set the detonation of the core to five minutes!” Ralina shouted back. “We can’t let them steal anything from his ship. Tell everyone to fall back to the Hound’s Sapphire !”

A confirmatory bark from Fetcher allowed the captain to switch off her comlink and return her attention to Tserne. His coloration had returned during her brief conversation with Fetcher, and he appeared as bored as ever, leaning against the wall opposite of her.

“So what’s going on?” Tserne questioned, his voice making it clear that he did not really care.

“We’re leaving. Follow me,” Ralina ordered.

“Me? Follow you?” Tserne asked. “Are you sure I won’t stab you in the back and-?”

“Shut up and move!” Ralina snapped, already breaking into a full sprint and heading back toward the hangar.

Tserne complied halfheartedly, chasing after the sprinting captain; Ralina noticed that he was having trouble keeping up with her, probably due to his lack of nourishment. The long hallways were as barren as they were when the captain and her aide first traveled through them, and the broken alarms were still active throughout the ship. Pulling her blaster rifle off of her back, Ralina prepared herself for any boarding parties the Sith decided to launch.

“Hull breached. Warning: deck three – room six, deck three – room fourteen, deck four – room nine,” the ship’s automated interface announced over the craft’s intercom.

Ralina ignored the warning and continued her advance. A shout from Tserne caused her to slow down, and she turned to see what the obnoxious prisoner was screaming about. Tserne pointed toward the other end of the hall, where a Sith soldier emerged from a room further down the hall. Unlike generic soldiers, this warrior was wearing coal-black armor, and it was significantly heavier and more imposing than the suit given to standard troopers. A military-grade carbonite rifle was resting across his back, but that was not what Tserne or Ralina were worried about. No, they were worried about the lightsaber in his hand. The two thieves returned to the corridor they had just run through, effectively preventing the new enemy from seeing them.

“That guy has a lightsaber,” Tserne noted.

Ralina almost slapped her head in frustration. “Your clairvoyance is almost matched by your usefulness,” she cried aloud.

“Thank you. I try,” Tserne retorted.

“Listen. I can’t fight a lightsaber-wielding combatant,” Ralina lamented. “So we’ll have to find another way around.”

“Isn’t this ship going to blow up?” Tserne reminded her. “I think it’d be better for me to handle our new friend.”

“You? You don’t even have any weapons. You’re incompetent, you’re lazy, and you’re incapable of saying anything remotely optimistic. I could count on a nerf to get more done than you,” Ralina shouted.

“Ah, but like a nerf, I’ve got horns,” Tserne countered.

“You know what? Shut up,” Ralina said, annoyed. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Tserne sighed loudly. “Do you have a combat knife I could borrow?”

“Yeah,” Ralina said. Pulling the vibroblade from her belt, she handed the weapon to Tserne.

“It’s cortosis-standard grade, right?” Tserne asked, tossing the knife in the air and catching it repeatedly.

“Yeah,” Ralina whispered. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Get to the ship,” Tserne said, ignoring her. “I’ll handle the manka over there.”

Before Ralina could respond, Tserne vanished, disappearing into the shadows. The Sith soldier had started walking toward the captain’s position, scanning the hallways leading up to hers. Worried that the soldier would attack before Tserne acted, – if he acted at all – Ralina jumped out from behind the wall she had hid behind and opened fire on the dark-clad Sith soldier with her blaster rifle. Although the first few shots managed to hit her opponent’s armor directly, the powerful shielding on his suit negated any damage that her attack might have done. The Sith trooper charged forward – deflecting any further attempts to gun him down with his ignited lightsaber – and approached the captain at an alarming speed. She subconsciously reached for her vibroblade in self-defense, only to realize that she had given into to Tserne.

Cursing her ill fate, Ralina tried to use her blaster rifle as a melee weapon to block her foe’s lightsaber. The soldier’s red-bladed weapon easily broke the rifle in two, but before he could strike at Ralina, the captain noticed that a small piece of vibrating metal had torn through his left arm, hindering his attack. Once the Sith solider could no longer maneuver, Tserne grappled him from behind, capturing the soldier’s weapon arm and rendering it immobile. Ralina moved next, shattering the soldier’s visor – and smashing his face – with the remains of her blaster rifle, causing him to topple over.

“Told you I could help,” Tserne said proudly.

“Come on! This ship is going to explode!” Ralina yelled, already running.

The two reached the Hound’s Sapphire  after bypassing three more short hallways. Ralina entered the vessel first, and then the former assassin followed. Once the two were safely inside the smuggler’s ship, Ralina ran through the vessel’s metal-lined halls and to the bridge, where the rest of the crew was already waiting for her.

“Let’s go,” Ralina ordered, taking a seat in her uncomfortable chair. “We’re the last two, and we have the goods.”

“Joy. The assassin survived,” Manda said dryly.

Fetcher complied silently, activating the ship’s engines and pulling the freighter away from the Convict’s Dawn, which was already quaking and falling apart on itself – in preparation for its inevitable, silent destruction. The Hound’s Sapphire  glided away from the doomed derelict seconds before it exploded, sending embers and fumes into the expanse of space. As the ship exploded, Ralina noticed that the Sith Interdictor – screened by several dozen Sith fighters – that had arrived earlier was quickly closing in on their location.

“Captain,” Jon spoke up. “The Sith Interdictor, which my sensors have identified as the Leviathan itself, is employing its gravity well generators to prevent us from leaving the system via hyperspace.”

The Sith Interdictor cruisers were well known for their gravity wells, capable of pulling ships out of hyperspace or preventing them from fleeing by utilizing vast fields of gravity to hinder hyperspace flight. Although it was fairly new technology and the devices currently in use had a sub par range of interdiction, Ralina sadly acknowledged that the Sith were already putting it to good use.

“If the Leviathan is here,” Tserne said, walking onto the bridge, “that’s the least of our problems. The Behemoth  will be here soon. And then none of us will survive.”

“The Behemoth ?” Cortes asked. “You mean Darth Revan’s flagship? That was destroyed when the Sith Lord died.”

“Yeah,” Manda snapped. “Keep up with galactic events, please, reverend apocalypse.”

Ralina ignored the bickering that was taking place amongst her crew. “Jon, how far from the Leviathan  do we have to be to escape its hyperspace-interception range?”

“Several kilometers,” Jon explained. “But I doubt they’ll let us get that far. Especially that wing of starfighters pursuing us. They will be making their first run in 3, 2, 1…”

“All power to rear shields!” Ralina commanded. “Brace for impact.”

Everyone on the bridge steeled themselves, preparing for the Sith fighters’ first attack, but they were surprised when no blaster fire reached their ship and no attack came. Instead, the ship shook slightly, and a single Sith fighter was seen across the primary viewport, being destroyed in a burning fireball.

“Hostile wing destroyed,” Manda pointed out in shock, monitoring the sensors. “And we’ve got multiple unknown contacts that appeared to have destroyed them. Four more unknown vessels are coming in out of hyperspace; they seem to be separating us from the Sith dreadnought.”

“Who are they?” Ralina asked.

“No idea. Visuals point toward Republic ships, but Jon’s database doesn’t have any records on their ships,” Manda said, before pausing. She turned toward the captain, rotating her chair, before continuing. “They’re hailing us. Should I patch it through?”

“Go ahead,” Ralina said, edgy.

The transmission – which was audio only – crackled and hummed momentarily before a male’s voice was heard on the other side. “This is the cruiser Sagacity. We’re the head of the Jedi strike force here. Are you Ralina Venli?”

“I am.”

“Let us distract the Sith while you escape. Go to Dantooine; our master will meet you there,” the voice responded.

Ralina pondered the instructions she was hearing. “You do realize that even with your ships, you are dealing with the Sith’s flagship. You won’t survive,” she informed him.

“That may be,” the commander of the Sagacity replied. “But the Force wills it. And I would rather die than allow you or your cargo to fall into the hands of the Sith.”

“Very well. Ralina out,” the captain motioned for Manda to cut off the signal. Pulling off her helmet, Ralina allowed her hair to spill out across her tan face and armored shoulders before cupping her sweaty head in her gloved hands. “Get us out of here,” she finally said.

“Where are we headed, captain?” Fetcher asked.

“Dantooine,” she responded wearily. “We’re going to Dantooine.”