Keeping the Galaxy Intact

[Rogue Nine]

Lane, buying some exotic-looking fruit from a local merchant, heard Kimber's plaintive shout. Pressing a few extra credit chits into the merchant's hand, Lane turned and darted quickly on long, lithe legs towards the Corellian pilot. Within moments, the enigmatic near-Human's sinewy body was interposed between Kimber and the approaching crowd.

 

"Kimber, what was that you said?" the lips asked as the eyes sized up the oncoming brute ahead.

 

Kimber was silent for a moment, surprised at Lane's swift arrival. "I said I think it's time to go," she replied, finally finding her voice.

 

"I think that is a good idea," the lips replied. Just as the lumbering man came upon them, Lane's hand quickly flashed out, stuffing a spiky, round fruit into his mouth. As the man staggered backward, Lane deftly stepped behind Kimber and cradled used long, spindly arms to cradle her up. Before she could register surprise on her face, Lane's legs had already churned forward and taken them meters away from the crowd of spellbound people.

 

Kimber turned to look behind them at their shrinking forms, then looked at Lane's face, only inches from hers. "How did you do that?" she asked breathlessly.

 

The lips curved up into a smile as the legs moved faster towards the Ebon Hawk.

[Tysyacha]

"Er...I don't think we need any fuel right now," stammered the Exile, "but we do need you. Belaya, if we prove to you that your 'purification' does not involve anything remotely related to being turned into fuel, will you stick with us instead of...the Machine?"

 

The Archivist nodded blankly, and without another word, the Exile grabbed her hand and gently but forcefully pulled her from the waiting bench. "If you're sure--madam--!"

 

Tysyacha, Belaya, and the stunned mechanic sped towards the Hawk, frenzied.

[ForceFightWMe12]

((Gaah, so far behind! >.< I apologize - I've been out of town since Thursday, so I haven't had a chance to post ^.^'' And now I have so much to catch up on...*sigh*))

 

He glanced to the side as he heard the call, his eyes the only part of him that moved. His ice blue gaze locked on Kimber, and then over her shoulder at the growing and approaching crowds. They would not be happy to find any of their group out of line for their 'purification', he knew that - and if they were, indeed, being controlled against their will, they would have no second thought if the time came to attack...or even kill. The thought of having to fight these people - no, not people, shells - regardless of whether or not they truly meant to kill them was enough to make him quiver. He had become so adverse to bloodshed...

 

He had been about to step forward to work his own against this Jedi before them, this Archivist, when Tysy herself launched forward and bodily dragged her off the bench. He paused, raising a slight eyebrow as he watched them take off. He knew that Tysy had always been strong...but that had been one hell of a pull. He must remember to ask her where she got her stims...

 

Breaking off into a flat-out run, he quickly caught up to the fleeing Jedi women, his ice blue eyes darting ahead to find the receding forms of their pilot and non-human crewmates. Sure that they were safe, at least for the moment, his attentions turned back to himself and the other two. They were just reaching the edge of the crowd of people, and he was feeling uneasy. Subconsciously, his human hand drifted over the left arm, his gloved fingers settling over the leather and tensing on the metal beneath. If it did come down to a fight...there were so many of them...

 

He glanced to the Archivist, with whom he was running level with now. He caught her eye for only a second, but it was enough. He could see the new light in her eyes. Their connection was established.

 

You know who I am. he directed to her, his eyes turning straight ahead as a blockade in the Force - subtly yet strong - hid their conversation from Tysy's knowledge.

[JasraLantill]

Back inside the Ebon Hawk, Kimber was starting up the engines. "I'm not even going to ask how you did that," she said to Lane as she scurried around the bridge, hurriedly flipping switches and levers to prep the ship for takeoff. "But thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

 

She plopped herself down in the pilot's seat and then flipped the view screen around to face the co-pilot's seat. "Here," she said. "You let me know when the Captain and the others are on board."

 

"Statement: If by the word 'others' you are referring to me and the diminutive mobile tin can that masquerades as an astromech droid, then 'the others' are on board."

 

Kimber turned to look over her shoulder at HK, and paused just long enough to raise a brow. "So glad," she said flatly. Turning back to Lane, she said, "Fuel or no fuel, the very second the Captain and Spanner are on board, we're out of here."

 

The engines now revving, her hand was poised on the throttle, ready to power up and take off.

[Tysyacha]

Sooner than a bantha could deposit its latest load of digested fodder on the ground, the Jedi Exile and so-called "Spanner Boy" boarded the Ebon Hawk with Archivist Belaya in heavy tow. Once they all settled into the cockpit and main hold for takeoff, the aging vessel bucked like an unwilling drexl larva against a novice rider, then shot upward. Everyone clenched their teeth hard.

 

"Irritated Statement: I highly suggest I pilot the ship next time, meatba--!"

 

At that moment, a flash of twin silver lightsabers cut HK-47's words short.

 

"You can't do that very efficiently without a head, can you, assassin droid?" snarled the Exile. "I'm sorry if any of you are going to miss his company, but as far as I'm concerned, we won't need HK until possibly Cocyta. Agreed?"

 

Snickers and smirks from the rest of the crew. Affirmative, Tysy mused.

 

Archivist Belaya slowly rose from her seat in the main hold, commanding everyone's full attention. "Why have you brought me here?" she asked, her voice almost whisper-soft and infinitely sad. "I will tell you what I know, presuming this is an interrogation, but all of you should have let me die."

 

Tysyacha also rose and took Belaya's hands in hers. "This is not a typical interrogation," said the Exile, "but rather something that could save us all."

 

"That could doom us all, betrayer," she answered. "Fuel rendering is the least-painful and most useful death I could ever serve. If Mistress Shan captures me--and us--rest assured we will be tortured slowly and then put to some more menial purpose. She will spend us all in her service for years..."

 

"This I promise you," said Tysy, "that I shall protect you with full strength."

 

"I believe it," answered Belaya, a smile starting to crease the corners of her parched lips, "but I also believe you are not strong enough to defeat or even face my Mistress. Not alone. The strength of many is required, and I am near my own end even as I speak to you. Thus, I shall tell you of the Jedi Code."

 

"Yeah, yeah, we know all that," complained someone, and then "Next"!

 

Tysy slapped a hand over her mouth in full-fledged shock. Not because she particularly loved or hated the Jedi Code, but Belaya only raised her palms.

 

"The Jedi Code means different things to the Light of the Galaxy than it does to other Knights. Masters shall fall before her teachings, and exiles. Let me tell you what each line contains, the death it shall cause, and the cleansing.

 

"There is no emotion; there is peace.

 

"Mistress Shan believes that emotion, passion, and feelings are all paths that can lead to the Dark Side. Thus, if she is to rid the galaxy of all evil, she must destroy that part of us that feels. Only the part that thinks must survive." Puzzled expressions from the crew. "She will purify our minds."

 

"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.

 

"Without emotions and base lusts and instincts getting in the way, the many followers of Bastila Shan will have nothing but facts. Clear, mathematical facts that bring true happiness to the diseased beings of this galaxy. We will know all and understand all, and the mysteries of all philosophy shall be as child's play to us. Even the Jedi Code, which the greatest Masters have failed to grasp in all its essence, will be as simple as the alphabet to explain. No one will ever be ignorant or prejudiced or fearful after Bastila rules over all.

 

"There is no passion; there is serenity.

 

"Passion, as all Jedi know, inevitably leads to the Dark Side. Without our feelings and emotions to lead us to such passion, we will all be at peace. Who would not want this, would not yearn to forsake the inner struggle that rages within? There will be no Dark Side if there is no passion--only Light. Children will be born in true love, not in corrupt lust. This is sin, and evil. Why would murder exist, or hate, or even the pettiest jealousies? All are passion.

 

"There is no chaos; there is harmony.

 

"Not only is my Mistress a benevolent one, but also a lawful one. Chaos is not only disorder, the clutter of a messy cabin or the shout-filled clamor of Nar Shaddaa. It is war and anarchy, what happens when wild animals are set free in a civilized city. Chaos means the breaking apart of the family, the nation, the planet, and the very galaxy at its logical end. Under Law, things come together and unify themselves as one great entity, settling into calm order. This order is what the Light will bring, and riots will no longer erupt at all...

 

"There is no death; there is the Force.

 

"In Mistress Shan's new world, there shall be no death or even what the unlearned and uninitiated call 'executions'--only rendering unto the Force. Those who refuse its embrace shall be torn from it, but they shall not die, only live as empty shells of the beings they once were. Do you understand?"

 

Tysyacha did...and she wept.

 

The final piece of the puzzle has clicked into place.

[JasraLantill]

Along with the others, Kimber had stood and listened to Belaya explain Bastila Shan's version of the Jedi Code. Of course Kimber had heard of the Jedi Code, but she really hadn't paid it much thought. After all, she wasn't a Jedi.

 

Now, hearing Belaya's words, Kimber began to think about it. And the more she thought, the more disenchanted with the idea of 'Jedi' she became. I always suspected that the Jedi weren't playing with a full deck. No wonder Tysy left the order and became an exile.

 

As Tysy began to weep, Kimber moved towards her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us, Cap'n," she said. "'Cause I for one do not want to end up as a feelingless, passionless, rule-following automaton." She frowned a bit, and then glanced askance at the headless assassin droid laying in a heap in the corner. And then she gave a mock shiver. "One per ship is enough, don't you agree?"

 

She looked at Belaya then. "This master Shan, for all of her knowledge of Jedi and lightsabers and using the Force and so on and so forth, has missed one very important, very crucial thing about life in general. Conflict. You can't have the good without the bad. I mean, how would you quantify 'good' if there was no 'evil' to compare it to? There has to be evil in the universe, otherwise, what's the point of being good? What's the point of being at all? And isn't that the essence of the Force? Life itself and all the conflicts and heartaches and joys and triumphs it offers?"

 

She looked at the mechanic and then Lane. "We have to stop Bastila. We might not have the strength of numbers behind us, but we've got brains, will, and a fair amount of ingenuity and lateral thinking. We may not win, but we have to try." She grinned. "After all, that's the point of life, isn't it? Trying? Experimenting? Exploring? Maybe between the five of us...," She looked at Belaya, who was looking rather confused. "Yes, that means you, too," Kimber said to her. "We can come up with a way to either, one, convince this Bastila Shan that she's wrong and make her clean up her own mess, or, two, stop her from completing her warped idea of converting the Universe into a load of mindless zombies."

 

She squeezed Tysy's shoulder. "We have to try. Besides," she added with a grin, "we have to go on to Cocyta now. We don't have enough fuel to get back."

[ForceFightWMe12]

He looked out the viewscreen, watching the blue lights of the wormhole flood across and around the ship, constantly shifting and warping as they painted different patterns across the durasteel cockpit. His hands were folded behind his back, his legs spread shoulder-width, in military fashion. He looked...very at home in his position, as if he had always belonged there.

 

"This is it, then." he said, smiling ever so faintly, no mirth in the expression. His eyes, usually kept carefully void of emotion, were tinted with a grim sadness now. The sense of a nearing end to their path was overwhelming...and rather ominous. "We either die or succeed. There is no retreat."

 

How often had he been in this position before? How often had he put others in this position, both in his command and out? So often he had risked the lives of those who loved him, of those who trusted and admired him...he had put them before him so very, very often, when he himself should have stepped forward.

 

Allowing his hands to fall to his sides, he lifted them to rest on the dash of the Hawk, now hunched over it ever-so-slightly. His eyes still didn't leave the screen. "Whatever happens..." he said softly, "I want you all to stay out of the way when we finally find and face down Bastila." his eyes flashed with a hard, steely determination that hadn't been there before. "Leave her to me."

[Tysyacha]

"Really?" A quiet, coldly sly question from Tysy. "You'll have to get past me first. Please remember, I'm a Jedi, the Exile Tysyacha Odnova. I have the power of the Force behind me, while you have--what? A hydrospanner?" Tysy turned around.

[ForceFightWMe12]

He snorted a single, mirthless laugh. "You always were easy to fool, Syscha." he murmured under his breath, his voice so low that he wasn't sure if any other person in the cockpit had heard him. He straightened up again, still not turning to face the other occupants, his eyes still glued to the view screen.

 

"I have far more power behind me and over her than you could even imagine, Exile." he said softly. "Trust me. When this all comes to an end, you're going to want me there. Just leave her to me - I can handle things."

 

How long has it been and you haven't even a suspicion, Exile? Could I have faded so deeply into your memories...? The thought was both a comfort and a pain. A comfort to know that he hadn't caused her nearly as much pain as he had feared, and the pain to know that...perhaps he hadn't meant as much to her as he had thought.

[Tysyacha]

Tysyacha felt a faint stirring in three places: her mind, her heart, and a private one, physically felt and yet known in the soul. How long had it been since such strong words, such a promise of power and protection, had truly moved her? Certainly not since Atton--strange, since she had not felt "the fool" in the Force lately--but this, this was much more than a wisecracking pazaak player could ever say, Force or no.

 

She heard a sigh and felt a warm, heightening glow. Reveal me, apprentice. Now.

 

Reluctantly, but only halfway so, Tysyacha reached into a fold of her long robe and brought out the holocron of Traya, a cube infused with saving darkness. "Yes?" This was it--the moment of either damnation or acceptance, fragmentation or forgiveness.

"What do you wish me to do, Traya?" One second beat by, then two, three, four...

 

"Who are you?" asked the Lady of Betrayal finally. "By what name are you known?"

 

A slow smile spread across the Exile's lovely face, shadowed red in the light from the holocron. "You already know," she said to Traya's presence in the cube, "and as for her, the Light of the Galaxy, she will meet her end at the hands of Miss Odnova. There is only one who could stop me now, who could turn me back from this duty, and he is not here. He alone knows who I was then, and who I still could be. Alas, he has chosen to wander hidden from the eyes of man and droid, so I am Odnova, still."

 

She closed her hand around the holocron of Traya and turned to the crew. "Bastila doesn't know what's coming," she hissed, "or whom. We shall turn her back from the dream of turning the galaxy into a formless white void, all of us, but it is I who shall strike the final blow, if it comes to that. Agreed?" Tysy ignited her silver sabers.

[ForceFightWMe12]

He gritted his teeth slightly, wishing that he could get Tysy to stand down...but, at the same time, knowing that to do that he would have to give away more than he was at liberty to reveal at that point. And so, he bit back his initial response, allowing his head to drop a bit, almost ducking away from the flashing, dizzying lights. He sighed lightly, knowing that the argument would be a losing one.

 

"Very well." he said softly, "But on one condition." he turned to look at the others, finally, his eyes moving at once from Lane to Kimber to the Archivist and finally to the Exile, his blue eyes hard and commanding full attention. When he caught each of their gazes, they would find it quite hard to look away. "When I tell you to get out of the way, I mean get out of my way. I don't want you all to become liabilities."

 

In truth, he didn't think that things would have to come to a 'final blow' - if he had his way, he wouldn't allow the fight to get anywhere near that intensity. But, should it come to that last strike...he wasn't sure that he would be able to bring himself to deliver it. Her chocolate brown eyes were in his mind, watching him with a soft expression from years in the past. He had fought those eyes before. But...would he be able to duplicate the act?

[Tysyacha]

Tysy deactivated her sabers and lay them crossed at the mechanic's feet in a formal gesture of surrender--that of a Mandalorian, not a slave or a coward. "I accept. I also have one request of you, not that I'm in a position to demand anything. If I'm going to duel this threat, this Dark Side marauder who thinks she's Light, then I'd like to have my lightsabers upgraded. I...was never much for repairing things," she mumbled softly.

 

The Exile turned to the rest of the crew. "I apologize. My passions overtook me."

[ForceFightWMe12]

He grinned faintly, resisting the urge to pick up the sabers without using his hands, settling instead for bending to pick them up. He twirled each once in his hand, examining the hilt and the plating that made it up. Nodding slowly, his grin became somewhat softer as he addressed the Exile once more.

 

"Upgrades can be made," he said, "And fairly easily at that. Did you construct these yourself? They're quite well done." He crossed slowly towards the exit of the cockpit, weaving between the others as he continued to examine the sabers. "What are you looking to have done with it?"

[JasraLantill]

As the 'no-name mechanic' brushed by her, examining Tsys's lightsabers in his hands, Kimber exchanged a guarded look with Lane.

 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... wait just a minute here," she said, laying a hand on the mechanic's shoulder. "Upgrades?" she asked him. "Hey, Lane and I can tinker about with droids and machinery as much as the next spacer, not nearly as good as you, obviously, but enough to probably get something working. But lightsaber upgrades? I don't have even the foggiest clue about how a lightsaber can be upgraded." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And neither should just a regular ship's 'mechanic', unless there was some sort of 'Jedi equipment maintenance home-study/correspondence course' that you took," she added, sounding suspicious. "Now, I'm not accusing you of being something that you're not, but if we are going to take down this Bastila person, everyone here needs to trust each other. Completely. So, spill it, Spanner-boy. Just where did you learn your 'Jedi' repair skills?"

 

Her brow raised inquiringly as she waited for him to answer.

[ForceFightWMe12]

He froze as he felt the pilot's hand on him, his shoulders stiffening even further with her question. Damn it all! How could he have been so foolish? So eager to finalize this battle, to put some sort of surety to their future and then escape the presence of the others before they got too suspicious, he had been completely oblivious to the implications that him upgrading the Exile's sabers would have. This...was going to take some quick thinking.

 

After a moment, the mechanic relaxed, his shoulders falling from their stiffened position. "I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I told you that I was just planning to play around with them until I figured it out?" he asked over his shoulder, a small grin on his face. He didn't wait for a reply to his rhetorical question, and instead turned around to face them. The grin, now that it was in full view, was really rather...sad. "Well...alright. The truth is that...well, I fought in the Mandalorian Wars." he said, his confession ringing true. His face fell even further, his eyes suddenly far away as he stared at the floor. "I served under Revan himself."

[Tysyacha]

Tysyacha's suddenly-wobbling knees buckled underneath her. She hadn't been prepared for such an admission. Revan himself? He was a servant of Light now according to the Jedi and their near-flawless archives, plus a heavy dose of rumor. However, during the Mandalorian Wars, Revan had been a Sith and a monster. How could this mechanic have survived, unless he was not there during that final battle?

 

"How did you survive?", whispered the Exile. "Were you not at Malapyatiy--?! She blushed for a split second and cleared her throat. "Malapyatiy. Malachor V. It's my own personal shorthand for that planet--my personal shorthand for horror. Your loyalty to Revan must have been without question. Otherwise you would have died, like I would have if I had not severed my ties to the Force. Please--tell me." Her lips, quivering halfway like a child's and halfway like a woman's, were open, panting.

[ForceFightWMe12]

His jaw flexed, his teeth clenched together. His human hand curled unconsciously into a fist while the mechanical tightened around the lightsabers. He blinked slowly, his eyes distant and hard as they left the Exile, returning to the durasteel plating of the floor. He took a slow breath before closing his eyes, his voice soft and sounding...rather defeated. "I was with Revan on his ship orbiting Malachor. I...I watched the entire planet - and over a thousand of my comrades - die, while I stood helplessly by, unable to turn my general's mind." Real pain flashed in his eyes. "It was...a living nightmare."

[Tysyacha]

"I can imagine," said Tysy softly, but then a paralyzing sense of foreboding washed over her. "Is it--as much of a living nightmare as we face right now? According to the viewport of this vessel, we're being pulled into the atmosphere of Cocyta. Just like it was a ship itself, with a giant tractor beam that sucked anything and everything into it!" There it was, the white world, dead and gleaming as any of Tatooine's moons. It was coming closer, or rather they were coming closer, and dread filled the Exile...

[ForceFightWMe12]

He looked over his shoulder, past the Exile, to the glowing surface of the nearing planet with a rather hard look taking the place of the pain that had been there previously. "I'm sure that what is awaiting us on the planet's surface is hardly as fearsome as Malachor. You yourself should know that much, Exile." And with that, he turned to tend to the lightsabers in his hand. It would seem that his illusion would survive another hour...but it was quickly growing tiresome. Soon enough, though, it would be beyond pointless to go on, pretending that he was someone he wasn't. Or rather...let them believe he was.