"What a fool you are!" barked Chandria derisively. Turning to the crowd, she yelled, "All right, all right! Back to your drinks." Slowly, meekly, everyone obeyed. "As for you, Mandalorian, step into my office if you don't want to get yourself arrested by every single one of my TSF colleagues at the moment." The aforementioned colleagues gave her wide berth as she led the helmeted male to a glass-enclosed space. A typical law-enforcement officer's HQ.
"Now, then," said Chandria. "Sit down, but the only drink I'm offering you is water." She summoned a serving droid to pour him a cold, tall glass. "The job I mentioned is going after a fugitive. She has killed two of the best Jedi operatives the galaxy has ever known, Garrun Thax and Yorran Thul. The former was a human, the latter a Rodian, but that doesn't really matter now. Their ashes have been scattered, and so have the whereabouts of the suspect." She sighed. "My supervisor is offering a two-million-credit reward for the capture of one Tysyacha Dvyx. If not brought back alive, the deal's off." Needing a glass of water herself, she gestured haughtily to the droid.
"I've got to get that model replaced! Anyway, she needs skilled hunters, ones that know how to track bounties and NOT bring them home in a body bag. You could be the man for the job, if you'd get off the juma juice."
*******************
A crumpled leaflet, blowing in the wind, caught the wanderer by surprise as it almost flew right in his face. It read: JOIN THE JEDI! FIGHT FOR JUSTICE! FIGHT FOR HONOR! FIGHT FOR PEACE! Depicted on it was a picture of a tall, strikingly-beautiful woman.
A propaganda piece, to be sure, but sometimes propaganda could reveal the secrets of what lay beneath--what causes it was really supporting between the lines. As for this flyer, this detritus of destiny, what lay beneath its surface--and that of the Jedi?
It was almost as if the leaflet were alive, daring the shadow-dweller to try and find out.
"Or we take our chances with the law."
"It is obvious to me that someone...or something is chasing you. Why don't you simply confront them. If you wish I'll help you when you fight them."
Gelvik swirled the water in his glass, just staring into it as he listened. He had his helmet off, both so he could drink the water, and make eye-contact with his employer.
"I've got to get that model replaced! Anyway, she needs skilled hunters, ones that know how to track bounties and NOT bring them home in a body bag. You could be the man for the job, if you'd get off the juma juice."
He smiled, "I can get this job done. I know this 'Dyvx' women, fought several battles with her, but even more against. And laying off the Juma juice...."
He chuckled, "Never a problem, I don't like drinking in the first place. Doesn't bode well with my senses. I accept the job, if you're are willing to provide information and a form of transportation..."
The Mandalorian then looked at the TSF Officer's server droid.
"Oh...I'm sure you'll get a better model. Definately once your supervisor is pleased..."
He took a large gulp of the water, finishing it in a single swallow.
Chandria was pleased. "Done and done! The TSF has several vehicles at its disposal, including unnamed and nondescript space vessels that you can claim for your own and return once the bounty is captured. Did you say you--fought her?" Obviously the suspect in the murder of Garrun Thax and Yorran Thul was more dangerous than Chandria had first believed. "Several...battles?" She decided not to press the issue. In all honesty, she would rather not have known. It was best to think of her hunters as moral, honest, law-abiding.
Thus, she proferred her gloved hand for the Mandalorian to shake. "Deal."
****************************
"You are right on both counts," replied Tysyacha. "Something is chasing me, namely the memories of all the fights I've fought over the years. I've killed a lot of people--more than I care to admit. I was once a Jedi, as you probably assumed when you first saw my dvyxplanochniy-- my double-bladed silver lightsaber. Someone is also chasing me, namely members of the Exchange, since I ran into them not too long ago and had a very unpleasant incident. However, I don't even know if they know where I am yet. Maybe I'm assuming too much too early, but why would they not come after me? There still could be a few bounty hunters looking for creds, too."
She looked Niera straight in the eye. "I've been hunted by many over the years. It's going to take a lot of guile and a lot of work to evade them all."
"Done and done! The TSF has several vehicles at its disposal, including unnamed and nondescript space vessels that you can claim for your own and return once the bounty is captured. Did you say you--fought her? Several...battles?"
Gelvik put the cup down and grabbed his helmet.
"Yes...I was in the Mandalorian Wars...one of the few to survive...even at Malachor. I have experience with fighting Jedi...including Dyvx. I also was apart of multiple ragtag resistance groups that were assisted by the woman. She helped us achieve victory on places like Dantooine, Onderon, Telos, even Dxun. I know how she operates."
He saw the officer offer her hand.
"Deal."
He stared at her hand for a quick moment, but moved his hand quickly, taking her hand in a crushing shake.
"Deal."
He was about to put on his helmet, when he remembered on of the most important things to ask an employer.
"Also, before I go...what is your name?"
You could never be too careful, often you could trust your employer no more then your enemy. Giving one's name ensured a small amount of trust.
"I thought Jedi were supposed to be devoid of attachment, but then again, you don't exactly look like the Order's best." Niera told Juhani, ridiculing her attachment to the ship. "I wasn't exactly clear about this earlier, but I'm a smuggler, or at least I was until I got on Vogga's bad side. I probably could get ahold of this thing, or at least in contact with someone who can." She pointed out in response to Tysy's suggestion.
After some cursing, muttering and dead-ends, Sam'kil had found his way to the Jedi Temple.
"Hmmm, not much change here either." Sam'kil said as he looked at the spires seemingly endless hights, the grandiose halls and overly large pillars. The layout hadn't changed, or so Sam'kil hoped, and he would be able to find his way towards the council chamber quickly.
Oh wait a second! Another reason why Sam'kil remembered Tysyacha, which he now just thought of. Tysyacha was a General in the Mando Wars too, how he forgot he'd never know.
After a lengthy walk to the turbolift, he found his way into the council chamber, which was not in use except for Bastila mulling through some datapads.
"Here goes nothing." Sam'kil said as he barged into the room.
"Master Bastila, an honor to meet you, I am here to offer my services in finding Tysyacha" He threw out his proposal, letting it hang in the air like a piece of bait.
"My name is Chandria," replied the TSF officer. "Chandria Par Sakhar. I wish you good luck with the pursuit, and remember, bring her back alive. My supervisor was very clear on this, and she's even higher than my boss here on Citadel Station. If she dies, especially in your custody, I don't want to be around to see what happens to you." She winced in pain. First her wrist, and now her hand, were burning like the fires of Mustafar! "Oh, by the way," she continued, placing a small silver object in the palm of the Mandalorian's hand. "You'll need this--an untraceable comlink to make reports back to me of your progress. I want to know how you're doing, and so will my superior. Be off."
She saluted him, not unkindly, and turned to the moutain of paperwork on her desk that had piled up in the course of the morning. Bureaucracy was a...
**********************
Tysyacha's blue eyes grew wide. "You can procure us an UMBRA? How?" Her breathing was almost raspy, and she abruptly shook her head. "Never mind. Your business is your business, and I'll leave the secrets of the trade to you alone. As for you, Juhani--I'm attached to this ship as well, so don't berate yourself for not being a perfect Jedi. Who said I was, either? I'm an--"
She caught herself just in time. Don't reveal too much too soon. Doing so would be like taking your queen out too early in your favorite game. Yes, it can be a productive and powerful move, but it's risky. If you're not careful, someone could discover a way to defeat you before the game truly starts. You know who your opponent is, Dvyx, and it's not the Exchange. Not exactly. Tysy shrugged. "I'm an excellent example of how to be cryptic."
Bastila Shan cast a withering glance in the direction of the stranger who had just entered her private offices. Where were her guards, her valets, her servants? Possibly in the mess hall, learning to control their appetites via not eating the bland Temple food, but that was not where they were to be at the moment. She would chastise them later for their disobedience, but now...
Another contender. Pathetic! No one ever said being me was easy.
"And your experience?" She took a sip of Tarisian port. "If you're going to capture someone as calculating and unpredictable as 'Tysyacha', you' had better be an established bounty hunter with the Republic or some other force. I have rarely found independent contractors to be trustworthy," she continued, "and I have already sent one out against my better judgment. Who are you? How many captures have you made? Do you have your own ship?" She took another sip, waiting for his answer. He seemed very weak.
((I thought Bastila was on Dantooine.))
"I thought Jedi were supposed to be devoid of attachment, but then again, you don't exactly look like the Order's best."
"I am no longer a member of the Order...I follow the path that Jolee Bindo follows now...if he lives still."
"As for you, Juhani--I'm attached to this ship as well, so don't berate yourself for not being a perfect Jedi. Who said I was, either? I'm an--"
"Outcast? Exile?" Juhani finished the sentance for her. "I too was exiled...though not by choice. When the Sith began to strike out at Jedi after the civil war I was forced into hiding...Seven years I waited on that cesspit excuse of a planet for some word from another survivor...and then after years of waiting I find that Bastila Shan rebuilt the order...in her own image."
Juhani's hand drifted down to her saber and she had to restrain herself from igniting it at the thought of Bastila.
"...She never even sent anyone out to see if I was alive...All she cared about was the order...despite all the battles we went through together.."
Juhani hissed angerly.
Gelvik nodded again, "Oh, I'll bring her back alive. Definately alive."
He put his helmet on, and it immediatley activated, the blue HUD identifying different routes to the hangar, or displaying current status of all in the TSF building.
"Until next time, Chandria Par Sakhar, su'cuy gar."
He returned her salute, and turned to leave. He went straight to the Hangar, and went about procuring a vessel.
The Mandalorian knew that he would find, and capture, alive, Tysyacha Dvyx. He would then be worthy enough to return to Mandalore, and rejoin the other clans.
((She wasn't on Dantooine in TSL, so I moved her to Coruscant instead.))
Tysyacha's breath caught in her throat. Again. She had to stop people from doing that, or more likely, she had to stop herself from being so surprised.
"You were on Nar Shaddaa for seven years, trying to dodge bounty hunters, the Exchange, and who knows what else? And, after all that time, you found out that..." She trailed off. Something else troubled her: "What order?"
If you found out about the incident on Eriadu--because word does travel fast among the wrong people--you could blow my cover story right now.
Nevertheless, she believed this agile Knight of a Cathar would bide her time.
****************************
After the Mandalorian departed, Chandria made a quick holocomm report:
"Master Shan? This is Chandria Par Sakhar of the TSF speaking. An untoward and dangerous incident happened today, involving a Mandalorian and an unnamed, elderly black male. At first, the Mandalorian was half-stuporous on intoxicating beverages, but the old man tried to rouse him to his senses. The two seemed to be arguing, so I assessed the situation. It turns out they were not, and I mentioned the job of capturing the Exile to the helmeted personage. He accepted my proposal, and he's now in your employ, albeit unwittingly. He doesn't know I work for you as well as the TSF forces."
She decided not to mention the part about the brouhaha in the cantina. After all, it had only been that foolish Mandalorian's way of getting her attention. Instead, she continued, "As for the old man, and his companion as well, I made two composite sketches which I'm sending to you right now via holowire. Sakhar out." She returned to her forms and requisitions, satisifed.
"You were on Nar Shaddaa for seven years, trying to dodge bounty hunters, the Exchange, and who knows what else? And, after all that time, you found out that..."
"I...was hiding. Before I managed to loose then I was under near constant attack by Sith...not the foot solders but strange sith. They were like predators, they were always able to track me no matter where I went. So I had to loose myself here."
She hissed in anger yet again. "And...one day as I drank in the cantina, Bastila's face appeared on the screen...and at first I was joyful, One of my so called 'friends' was alive. But then...I began to find out the truth, she had rebuilt the order in her own flawed image...she never sent anyone to look for me! She left me alone...on one of the worst worlds in the galaxy."
"What order?"
Juhani turned and gave her a strange look. "The jedi order of course...Or what passes as the Jedi now. They are not Jedi...not anymore."
For the second time in what seemed like an hour, Tysyacha said, "Uhh...okay." She knew that something was entirely wrong with Bastila--what kind of a Jedi would blackmail anyone, even a murderess on the run?--but the rest of the Order? Did they even know what their Grand Master was doing? Probably not, but it didn't pay to assume anything, not now, not ever. The Exile sat again.
"Maybe you'd better begin at the beginning, Juhani," Tysyacha requested. "Niera? You might like to hear this, too, because if we've got Jedi that have turned rogue on our hands, there could be trouble. T3? Could you please bring us some drinks?" He dweedled an assent and sped off to the cargo hold.
Once the cold beverages had touched their lips--exotic and rare Tarisian dessert wine for Tysyacha--the ship fell silent, waiting for Juhani to explain.
Gelvik had moved to the Hangar without problem, none of the TSF officers questioning his presence, or even displaying any hostilities.
This was extremely unusual, the Mandalorian was used to someone posing more of a problem when you were using something of theirs, apparently Chandria's word was pretty good.
He got to the hangar and activated a anearby control panel, immediately searching through the available ships.
There were several, and they were nondescript, but too nondesript. They were little more then metal boxes with a hyperdrive. Finally, he found one...and it fit him very nicely. An old Basalisk War Droid.
It fit him perfectly.
He pressed a button on the bottom of the screen, and the picture of the Basalisk was replaced with a bright red, "Procured and in use."
Gelvik smiled and closed the panel, leaving quickly and quietly.
He opened the door to the Basalisk's Hangar, and felt old memories return as he walked toward it. The loading ramp opened and he walked up into the small interior of the droid, and began activating it. The excitement that had once filled him whenever he stepped into one fo these, returned. He could see the Republic ships again, the thousands of them, and he could remember the pure power and euphoria as he would stare out at his fellow warriors, prepped for battle.
But those days were long past. The Republic had won, though the Mandalorians had made them pay for it in blood. But Revan's retribution had been swift, and so many familiar faces that Gelvik would look upon before battle, were dead. Such was war.
Gelvik shook the thoughts out of his head and brought the Basalisk into orbit.
He activated the comm that Chandria had given him.
"Par Sakhar? Chandria? Do you copy?"
Coughing a little, for she had a little bit of a cold coming on, Chandria picked up her comlink. "Par Sakhar here. Are you safely launched?" She waited for his answer. Speaking of answers, Bastila was probably busy right now. If she had not been, she surely would have made a response to her recent holocomm report and looked at the sketches. No matter. Chandria was patient. She could wait. That was what made her different from all the rest of the idiots on the TSF. Despite what happened in the cantina, with the Mandalorian pulling his pistol, she knew that what counted here was the peace the Jedi taught.
Peace... The Mandalorians sure weren't peaceful, especially to foes.
"I wonder what kind of a vessel you've commandeered. Do you like it?"
Gelvik chuckled, "Yes, I've launched safely....and yes, I like the ship...you can probably guess which one I took."
The cabin was alive with the hum of the engine and the controls. He was still performing a diagnostic to make sure it wasn't going to kill him accidentally.
"So...do you have any leads, any information, any recent events, that could point to Dyvx?"
Another, more random, question came to mind.
"Also, if you don't mind me saying, you are a vui'tak more capable then the other TSF officers...you've either gotten alot more experience...or you're something else."
Gelvik wasn't one to ask many questions, but something about Chandria struck him, she didn't seem like you're usual TSF officer...she seemed more like the officers you don't get except every ten years or longer. Those officers, were either very smart....or not officers at all.
"Maybe you'd better begin at the beginning, Juhani."
Juhano bowed her head once. "As you wish."
"It began nearly seven years ago...I told you that I was with Revan when he went on his quest to defeat Darth Malak...he managed to beat his former apprentice and we were all awarded with the cross of glory. After that...I lived with another member of the crew for a short while after Dantooine's destruction. His name was Jolee...He's most likely dead now...along with all the other members of the old crew."
"A year later...I left. I had heard rumors that Revan had left known space and I needed to make sure they were true. He insisted that I shouldn't leave but I didn't listen to him...and thats when the Sith began to hunt me. No matter where I went...they were always there...hunting me...stalking me...toying with me. They were led by a man...who looked as if he had been killed a thousand times and then revived. His skin...his face...He was a Sith Lord."
Juhani lifted on one side of her robe to show them all the bottom edge of a scar that ran from the top of her chest down to her thigh. "I finally made my stand on Dxun...and I lost. Badly. I was forced to flee to Nar Shaddaa where I could lose myself in the people here. Shortly after..my ship was stolen."
"I survived the next seven years by working in a cantina...and then you know the rest. One day I saw Bastila's face on the screen and at first I was happy...but then I found out the truth. She left me...she never even looked to see if I was alive...She rebuilt the Jedi Order into something flawed...something that was not meant to be."
Juhani grinned a feral grin and stared at the two of them.
"There will be a reckoning, you can be assured of that. I spent seven years training, training my skills, Bastila will pay dearly for what she did to me...for abandoning me."
Chandria laughed, at first not catching the Mandalorian's full meaning. "Thank you. I've had a lot of training, in both combat and forensics, and that's made me a--vui'tak?--more experienced than most of my colleagues on the force. The TSF are honorable, sure, but I'm never one hundred percent certain if they were only hired because they're fresh meat. You know, new hands on deck? Citadel Station isn't the most exciting place in the galaxy, and onboard, you're mostly dealing with drunks--sorry!--and the occasional hacker or thief. My friends, or those I call friends, say they're only here because they have families to support." A Jedi shall not know anger, nor hatred, nor love... "If it hadn't been for the wife and the kids, or the husband and the kids, nine out of ten would be scouring the space lanes for some action. Like yourself, perhaps."
She found herself blushing. She hadn't meant to get too chatty with her client, who was in reality Bastila's client. Deciding to return to the matter at hand, she answered his other question. "In terms of leads, I have none, though if I were the suspect, I'd go hide out on someplace like Nar Shaddaa. Crowded, noisy, smelly, and the perfect place to slink into the shadows. Of course, if I couldn't stand the stink of nearby Nal Hutta and wanted some solitude, I'd head for Dantooine. Peace and quiet. There or Tatooine."
The Exile closed her blue eyes and then opened them slowly. "The one of whom you speak...his name was Sion. Darth Sion. He was a member of the Sith Triumvirate, one of the leaders of the same Sith who hunted you, Juhani. You are right about his being killed a thousand times and then being pieced back together--it was done through the Force, either through his own will or that of his Master." She paused. "You'll be glad to know he's dead. After fighting him almost to the death four times, I convinced him to let go of his ties to the Force, and that killed him for good. This was on Malachor V...the same planet that marked the end of the Mandalorian Wars. After closing his eyes in the sleep of death, I went to duel the one who taught him." Tysyacha sighed. "She was waiting for me in the core of the planet.
"I defeated her, but did not kill her. She collapsed after conceding she'd lost, revealing much to me. However, she was mortally wounded, and a true Jedi pays honor even to his or her enemies. When she passed away in the medical bay aboard this very ship, I personally wrapped her body in my former outer robes, gave her a proper funeral pyre on Dantooine in secret, and then carried her ashes to space, where I scattered them. No one knows about it, not even the ones I myself had taught and left on that planet in the rebuilt Enclave there. They would have condemned me if they'd known."
Her eyes met Juhani's. "It seems we both have pasts to put behind us."
"It seems we both have pasts to put behind us."
"Indeed...it seems we do."
Juhani stared at the celling with a blank look for a moment before snapping back to reality again. "Tell me...what has that Schutta been doing since I last saw her. I only saw brief news reports and heard rumors about her."
"To tell you the truth," replied the Exile, "I don't know. After I defeated Sion's master on Malachor V and tore the planet asunder using the Mass Shadow Generator I commandeered during the Mandalorian Wars, I went to look for him. Revan, I mean. Darth Traya, the one I checkmated once and for all, said that he had gone beyond the Outer Rim, to the Unknown Regions. She mentioned something about 'the true Sith' and 'perhaps you will go there with him to do battle at the end of all things'. I didn't understand what she meant, but I had to try and find out--and find him." Tread carefully, now...carefully...
"I moved around for a couple of years, working at whatever odd jobs I could on whatever planets I could. I knew that once I ventured beyond the borders of known space with the Ebon Hawk, all bets were off when it came to finding reliable sources of food and fuel. Thus, I needed as many credits and as many supplies as I could muster to prepare for the journey." She laughed ruefully to herself. "As you can both see, I haven't gone on it just yet."
Gelvik heard Chandria laugh. He couldn't help but notice, but she had a very nice laugh.
"Thank you. I've had a lot of training, in both combat and forensics, and that's made me a--vui'tak?--more experienced than most of my colleagues on the force. The TSF are honorable, sure, but I'm never one hundred percent certain if they were only hired because they're fresh meat. You know, new hands on deck? Citadel Station isn't the most exciting place in the galaxy, and onboard, you're mostly dealing with drunks--sorry!--and the occasional hacker or thief. My friends, or those I call friends, say they're only here because they have families to support. If it hadn't been for the wife and the kids, or the husband and the kids, nine out of ten would be scouring the space lanes for some action. Like yourself, perhaps."
Gelvik nodded, "Heh, I just thought you seemed a lot more experienced then the other officers I've encountered. I'm sure the other officers have their experiences as well, but your resolve seems stronger then the others...if you don't mind me saying....so you didn't have any experience before TSF? Work with anyone else? Do anything before Telos?"
"In terms of leads, I have none, though if I were the suspect, I'd go hide out on someplace like Nar Shaddaa. Crowded, noisy, smelly, and the perfect place to slink into the shadows. Of course, if I couldn't stand the stink of nearby Nal Hutta and wanted some solitude, I'd head for Dantooine. Peace and quiet. There or Tatooine."
Gelvik began to punch in the coordinates for Nar Shadaa.
"This is good...that's lead enough...just contact me if you have anymore leads. Anything could help at this point...I already have a good idea as to where Dyvx may be."
Chandria glared at her paperwork, condemning it to the lowest level of her mind and her existence. This Mandalorian was an excellent conversationalist, for one of his bloodthirsty and warmongering-grunt kind, and what was more, he was beginning to care about her as a person. Should I tell him?...No. It would only make things complicated, and that's not how I want him. It--!
"Before Telos," she said, "I was the atypical daughter of a typical Republic officer and his typical wife. Military brat. Yes, sir, no sir, and all that drak. We have it in the TSF, too, but it's not as strong as it would be if I were on some ship somewhere. As I said, I was atypical because I didn't want to go into the military per se. I wanted to do investigative work, behind the scenes and not up front in somebody's face. I also wanted a calling. Sure, serving the Republic and the galaxy is a calling, and a noble one, but I guess in the end, it all boils down to politics. I wanted something that didn't, and that's why police work appealed to me. Thus, I applied for a job with the nearby TSF director here, and the rest is history." She smiled to herself. "I don't find it boring." She stared at her desk again. "Well, except the paper."
"As you can both see, I haven't gone on it just yet."
"These things can take a great while to set in motion...and an even longer time to start. There is no shame in it."
Juhani sighed.
"...Sometimes, I can't help but wonder what happend to the members of Revan's crew. Mission...Jolee...The Mandalorian...Zallbar...Even that damned droid that he created. I miss them all...and the fun we used to have."
She turned to Exile with a grim look on her face. "Do you happen to have any remote training droids on board? All this talk of Bastila has gotten me angry and I would like to...train for a short while."
Psycho's cold eyes met the jedi's as she talked to him. He smiled and looked up at her, pretending to be a good boy. He listened to her talk about what some jedi did and didn't really care. What he did care about is what she said at the end. He had to find Tysyacha Dyvx in 30 days and they would set him free. He nodded in agreement and followed the jedi out the door. He was led to a storage room where his armor was. Psycho put it on, happy to be reunited with it. They had taken all his weapons away except for his two bladed tonfas and the flamethrowers that were in his gauntlets. He left the storage room and went into the hangar where a ship was waiting. He walked up the ramp and made his way into the cockpit. The ship took off and Psycho began to laugh. They were sending one criminal to find another and expected him to play nice. He set the coordinates for Nar Shadaa to pick up a few "items". Psycho knew he couldn't walk around looking like himself so he put a cloak over him. He made his way through the familiar streets until he got to the merchants. He approached an Ithorian merchant, the same one who always supplied him.
"Got anything good?" Psycho said in Ithorian.
"I've got the finest stuff in all of Nar Shadaa."
Psycho let his hood down and stared at him.
"Let's cut the chatter and tell me what you really got."
The Ithorian looked around before taking Psycho behind his counter. He knew what the maniac did to people so he didn't want to make him mad.
"I'm hunting a jedi and need to do so in 30 days. I'll need a sniper, thermal detonators, concussion grenades, mines, a blaster pistol, a saber dart, and my favorite the rocket launcher."
"That's a pretty big order, it'll take a few days."
"You've got two minutes," Psycho said as he pulled out one tonfa.
The Ithorian rushed back and forth giving the criminal what he wanted.
"That reminds me I need one more thing, a stealth generator. I'm tired of this cloak."
The Ithorian knew that this was no ordinary jedi if Psycho was asking for this much stuff. He went and came back one more time. Psycho put the belt on and activated it. He tossed the Ithorian some credits and walked out with his stuff. Things were looking good for Psycho, especially when he saw his target walking through Nar Shadaa. He followed after her until she reached the Ebon Hawk. He stepped back and made his way for his own ship. He watched the Hawk take off and he went after it. Psycho kept his distance, it would be foolish to strike now. He'd wait for the perfect moment to strike.
Run jedi, run! he thought to himself as his ship raced after hers.
The coordinates were set. He rechecked them, or maybe he was just stalling, he was actually enjoying the conversation. He hadn't really talked to someone like this since Dxun.
He chuckled, "Yeah, paperwork is the downside of every job. So, you were a military brat, but didn't want to be in the military? Hmm, see, shows that I was right about your resolve. You were an individual already at that age, a good sign indeed. You're doing investigative work now, correct? It's hard I imagine, but good work....I had a few friends in my clan who were Forensics Experts...that was before the war.."
His hand rested on the hyperdrive throttle. But he did not want to pull back on it, not yet.
T3-M4 beeped an affirmative answer. "Indeed we do. There's a canister full of them in the cargo hold, with a lock across the top in case any of them happen to malfunction and try to escape. The code is 7-2-4. Although, if you really want to hone your skills, especially against a Jedi type, then I propose..."
...a DUEL? WHAT?!? Get your head on straight, you crazy character! There will be time enough for that if--and when--Juhani finds out what you are. Once she discovers that you killed two Jedi operatives on Eriadu, even before Bastila came, she will never forgive you. She will think you are no better than Bastila herself, trying to execute a brand of vigilante justice when you know that isn't justice at all. Save your breath and save your strength. You'll need it when the Cathar decides to fight you, and she will if she pries out your little secret...
Out loud, Tysyacha only said, "...a bit more difficult of an opponent. There's an outdated, obsolete assassin droid that T3 shut down to keep the ship safe. He's in the storage compartment, which I kept well-sealed. If you have any trouble with him, signal me and I'll detonate the non-lethal charge to blow him to slag. If Bastila is as far gone as you say, he'd be better to fight."
"Ah, the war..." Chandria sighed. "Bad business, that." That was all she would say, and as much as she was going to say, about the war. She would not tell him that the suspect he was trailing was the very same one who had brought an end to the Mandalorian crusade through wiping every last one of them out at Malachor V. She would not tell him that Tysyacha Dvyx knew Mandalorian tactics, although from what he had said, he knew that much already. Most of all, she would not tell him that her parents had almost gone to fight in the war...
"Anyway, I've got to get back to work. Good hunting, and good luck," she said, signing off of the comlink with a definitive click. Business was business, and she had more of it to do. Besides, it was no good mixing business and pleasure, no matter how much the conversation with the bounty hunter had invigorated her. She'd get a good report from him soon, Chandria suspected.
Going back to her paperwork, she wondered why she felt so strangely warm.
"Indeed we do. There's a canister full of them in the cargo hold, with a lock across the top in case any of them happen to malfunction and try to escape. The code is 7-2-4. Although, if you really want to hone your skills, especially against a Jedi type, then I propose..."
Juhani winced as the Exile left off her sentance. "Something happend didn't it? You made a mistake...a bad one. Do not feel bad, I've...made them as well..."
She put her hand on the exile's head and had a sad look in her eyes. "Mistakes exist so that we may learn from them...And yours is no different. No matter how much we try...no matter how much we wish to, we can never forget or sometimes forgive ourselves. The guilt...the embarrasment is a reminder not to repeat the mistake."
"...a bit more difficult of an opponent. There's an outdated, obsolete assassin droid that T3 shut down to keep the ship safe. He's in the storage compartment, which I kept well-sealed. If you have any trouble with him, signal me and I'll detonate the non-lethal charge to blow him to slag. If Bastila is as far gone as you say, he'd be better to fight."
It can't be...I thought Revan took him with him to the unknown regions!
"Hk-47...It can't be...Tell me you have the parts to reactivate him! Please!" Juhani's voice softend. "He...holds many memories from my time on the Hawk. And besides...When Bastila and I will fight...I want to know everything he knows about fighting force users..."
Tysyacha could not have been more grateful, or more relieved, that the subject of Juhani's thoughts had shifted from her "mistake" to that of the rusty, rude, and utterly ready assassin droid. When she told the Cathar that yes, the parts to reactivate HK-47 were also located in the cargo hold (in the same canister with all the training droids, just in case), T3-M4 suddenly flashed his eye.
He let out a loud stream of beeps, tweedles, chirps, dwirps, and Brank! Brank's! that could only mean one thing: he was cursing a blue streak.
"T3!" the Exile cried, rushing over to him and hugging him like she would a child who was throwing a temper tantrum. "This is only for training purposes. Juhani here wants to test her skill against him in case she has to fight some Jedi--or Sith--in the course of our journey." After letting out his millionth worried dwoooo, he suddenly acted as if he remembered something...or someone. Uncertainly, he wheeled himself toward Juhani.
"Eerp?" he asked, an introduction of sorts, trying to focus his eye on the Cathar's face. He was an old droid and getting older, and yes, even droids' memories failed them from time to time. Nevertheless, T3 was sure...
"This is only for training purposes. Juhani here wants to test her skill against him in case she has to fight some Jedi--or Sith--in the course of our journey."
"That...is not quite true. I did travel with the droid as well...and to be fair I did miss his unique brand of humor. I would like to speak with him. Besides, he may recognize me."
"Eerp?"
Juhani turned toward T3 and smiled gently as she knelt down on one knee in front of him. "I wasn't going to say anything T3...You remember me don't you? You remember chasing Carth around the Hawk with your shock arm as well, correct?"
She took a closer look at him. "What happend to you T3? I promise you...as soon as I get the credits...I promise I'll fix you...a complete diagnostic followed by an overhaul."
She sighed and looked up at the Exile. "So much has changed...so much is different now. This little droid used to be able to outrun...well, outwheel anyone."
"Anyway, I've got to get back to work. Good hunting, and good luck."
Gelvik opened his mouth to reply, but the comm clicked off. He sighed and deactivated the comm as well. It was probably time to get moving anyway. At least he'd enjoyed the conversation.
He pulled the hyperspace throttle back, and the Basalisk roared into the stars.
I'll be able to talk to her again...I'll have to send back a report sometime soon...
He found himself feeling a happiness that he had not felt in long time, and he was basking in it. Gelvik smiled and leaned back in his chair, now he'd just have to wait...
"He still can," Tysyacha giggled. "Without the Force, I'm a slow mover, and I walk with a limp. You can hardly see it now, but if I'm not concentrating..."
War leaves many scars, but rarely does it blind one to the Force...
"Anyway, I'll leave you to find HK and get to practicing your skills with a lightsaber. Be careful, though. The last time I even tried to activate him to see if he was still functioning, he almost shot my arm off! He's like an old man--a dangerous, senile old man that's made out of metal." She snorted.
Suddenly, her spine went ramrod-stiff. Juhani had offered to repair T3, and not only that, but to repair him completely. If she did that, she would have full access to his holorecordings--which was fine--but to his incoming data? The Exile would not have it. Could not have it if she was to survive and keep running. That was how Bastila contacted her, and would contact her in the future, with demands for more credits. Tysyacha's only hope was to pray that Juhani wouldn't be able to decipher Bastila's code.
"I'm one thousand parsecs away" meant that Bastila needed 1,000 credits.
"Two missions were aborted" referred to the two spies that Tysyacha killed.
"Eight years of gridlock" meant eight years of Tysyacha being locked--up.
"Reports come my way all the time" meant "I've got my eye on you, Exile."
And, last but not least, "White always wins" meant "Good always wins".
Not even Juhani would be able to figure all that out unless she knew...
Almost as soon as Chandria clicked her comlink off, she got another call.
"Officer Sakhar? Grand Master Shan speaking. Excellent work! Your sketches are superbly detailed, and I daresay that one of them--not the Mandalorian, mind you, but the old man--reminds me of someone I used to know. It cannot be sheer coincidence, because the Force influences all life and all things. Our new helmeted bounty hunter, and also Agent One, are now in pursuit of the suspect. That's well and good. However, I want you to find the black male and tell him that an old friend of his wants to meet him."
Chandria was curious. "How do you know him, Grand Master? Who is he?"
"It's truly none of your concern, but if you must know, he traveled with me long ago, when I was still a Jedi Knight. If you find him, Sakhar, arrange a meeting between the two of us on Citadel Station in one of the private conference rooms. Also get a transport shuttle for us in case we wish to go to the Temple. Understood?" Chandria answered affirmatively and hung up.
I am not a maid. I am not a secretary. I am not a personal assistant. I am not a servant or valet. I am a respected member of the TSF, and a spy!
Yet, as long as I'm around her or in range of her voice, I know she doesn't mean to treat me like someone who only does menial work. It's just her way, her manner of speaking and dealing with people. I'm just being paranoid.
Resolving to quit whining and start working, Chandria went to locate the man.
"Anyway, I'll leave you to find HK and get to practicing your skills with a lightsaber. Be careful, though. The last time I even tried to activate him to see if he was still functioning, he almost shot my arm off! He's like an old man--a dangerous, senile old man that's made out of metal."
Juhani nodded and went off to retrieve the parts and then she cautiously went up to the old droid.
He still has the rust stains. Somethings may have changed...but somethings never will.
Juhani looked down at the blaster in the droid's hand and chuckled quietly as she removed it.
She quickly inserted the parts needed to activate and quickly stood back as the droid shook and then the red photoreceptors blinked once and then became steady.
"Decleration:HK-47 is ready to serve. Wha-? Where is my blaster...wait...you look familiar. Have we met at some point? Self Correcting answer: Impossible...If we had met you/I would not be alive."
Juhani sighed as the droid continued babbling to itself. She quickly got behind it and opened up a small control panel in the back of HK's head."
"Confused Statement: Why are there two of you? And what is a meatbag?"
The sooner I rewire him the better. That just is not right. Now...how did Revan do it? Left red to secondary blue? Yes...I believe that is correct.
Juhani connected the two wires and a few other odd ones and the droid jolted a few times as sparks and gaps in it's memory began to fill.
"Statement: Primary memory is resetting. Combat functions resetting to maximum operating levels. Ohhh...my head...Wait! Who is working on my internal circuts?!"
Juhani stepped in front of the HK and looked up at him. "Hello droid. It's been quite a while hasn't it?"
The droid looked down at her. "The Cathar meatbag! I did not expect to see you again. I would have expected you to have been terminated by now."
Telos
It's time I get moving. I've already drawn too much attention to myself here and the last thing I want is Bastila or one of her pawns coming after me.
Jolee quietly got up and left the cantina as quickly as he could. That lass...something is wrong with her.
"Sir, our spies have detected the Jedi Exile in Coruscant."
"Coruscant? Darn that woman. Send the Immortals."
The "Immortals" Gorrak referred to are an elite group of pistol-toting gunmen. They are famous for getting close to their target before disposing of them. The immortals don't have identities. Two immortals were sent. The first one, a Caucasian Human, was tasked in the elimination of a Cathar Jedi accompanying the exile. The second, a black woman was tasked in abducting the Exile and bringing her back to their master, Gorrak.
Chandria took her time in locating the "elderly black male" that she'd met earlier. She knew he was already suspicious of her, although in her own mind, he didn't need to be. The Jedi were the Jedi, and they stood for order, peace, justice and honor. They always had, and they always would, so why had he said what he did back when he was still with the Mandalorian?
Once she had found him, a great wave of embarrassment swept over her.
"Look," she began slowly, praying to the Force or whatever gods the ancients worshipped that the old man would not be too offended. "I'm sorry I treated your friend the way I did. That was wrong of me. He wasn't a child; he'd only had a little too much to drink back in the cantina. I also shouldn't have blown you off. That's not at all what we in the TSF have been trained to do."
She winced a little--trained to do? What was she, a serving droid? Chandria quickly backpedaled. "My superior, the one who's even higher than my boss here on Citadel Station, is coming for a visit. Apparently, she's heard of you, and she says she's an old friend of yours. If she's right and isn't just playing tricks or something like that, I've arranged for her to be in Conference Room C at 1400 hours, which is coming up pretty soon. She wants to meet you. Whether you do or not is up to you, but I suggest you consider it."
A pause. The old man had the best "pazaak face" that she'd ever seen...
"My superior, the one who's even higher than my boss here on Citadel Station, is coming for a visit. Apparently, she's heard of you, and she says she's an old friend of yours. If she's right and isn't just playing tricks or something like that, I've arranged for her to be in Conference Room C at 1400 hours, which is coming up pretty soon."
Jolee leaned in close to her. "If my hunch is right...then your 'superior' has fallen...at least partially fallen to the darkside. I think you should think about a career change young lady. Stay alive longer that way."
He turned and headed for the confrence room.
Ebon Hawk
Juhani handed the droid the blaster she had appropriated from him earlier. "You were badly damaged and were behaving oddly. It appears some wires and circuts had been shaken lose. I fixed you."
HK-47 blinked his red diode eyes. "Begrudging Admiration: Your repair skills are far beyond those of an ordinary meatbag. I soundly appreciate the attention." He stopped short for a minute: "Query: Why did you reactivate me? Are there certain hostilities you want terminated? I can do so."
*********************************
Telos, Citadel Station, 1400 Hours
Bastila Shan hadn't changed a bit. Other than the shining-steel gray in her long brown tresses, her face was still the same pale, heart-shaped vision that had entranced Revan so long ago. Yes, there were the beginnings of crow's feet in the corners of her eyes and deeper creases around her firm, full lips, but no one would ever consider her ugly unless they were insane.
She wore her brown, full-length Grand Master's Robe, adapted from one Master Atris who, coincidentally, had once set up her headquarters in the polar regions of the very planet Bastila was now on. Her hair was sculpted on top of her head in an elegant twist, and her eyes shone as luminously as ever. With the easy grace that came so naturally to her, she sat down in a plush chair in Conference Room C across from the man she came to visit.
"Jolee!" she cried, smiling warmly, without a trace of deception in her voice. "I knew it was you the moment I saw Chandria's sketch. I'm sorry you might have had some unpleasant difficulties with her. She is still too rash and impatient for my taste. However, I didn't call you here to talk about her! How are you, and how have you been doing since our travels with Lord--Revan?"
The Basalisk came out of hyperspace above the busy, traffic-filled, space lanes, of Nar Shadaa.
He pulled the ship into a dive, and roared down past the numerous craft speeding past him. The Basalisk nearly scraped the side of a freightor, but Gelvik pulled hard on the control stick, and spiraled down in a controlled dive.
He then broke out of the dive, pulling up and navigating his way through the tall buildings that covered Nar Shadaa entirely. He then began searching the landing pads. The Mandalorian didn't know if the Exile still used the Ebon Hawk, so he needed to contact Chandria again. If he had that last bit of information, then everything else would fall into place.
He activated the comm, "Chandria, are you there?"
Chandria activated her comlink. "Par Sakhar here. I copy loud and clear."
She hoped that the old man she had met and directed toward Conference Room C had gone there. Her superior was a very--intense woman, driven by duty and her great devotion to the greater good of the galaxy. If, as Chandria suspected, the old man was important to her plans, then he had better show up to meet her. Otherwise...
She didn't like to think of what would happen otherwise. It was better not to know.
As he sat down to contemplate, Drayden experienced something very unexpected. A flier, dancing on the slow wind of the understreets, blew right onto his face, and then continued to move about down the dark passages. Standing, his heart pounding for a reason that he didn't understand, his eyes traced the flier until the wind stopped pushing it about.
Walking slowly, making sure no one was present, he approached the flier and then snatched it up. It was wrinkled, but the distortion was not great enough to cover up the blaring message that it conveyed.
Join the Jedi?
Bastila Shan, the leader of the Jedi Order. He'd seen her face so many times on the holonews, but something about her seemed off. In his eyes, she was a frightening character, one who had the look of a murderer, or at least a cold complexion that longed to kill. He had heard tales of the Sith Lords before, and for some reason she reminded him of them. But he also knew, somehow, that she wasn't a Sith Lord. She was just another power-hungry individual that had an endless list of things she wanted.
Join the Jedi my--
Through the Force, he recognized a presence. But then it passed. However, it was enough to alert him that he had to keep moving. Something piqued his curiosity, however.
Where had the flier come from, way down here in the understreets? Sure, this entire place was a wasteland full of thieves and thugs, but the flier did not look like the type that would simply be handed out to someone down here.
Perhaps it was a chance coincidence. Or perhaps it was something else. But, regardless, he wanted to learn more about Bastila. Rumors had spread about a new bounty out, and he hadn't considered it because of the danger involved. Searching for answers to his strangely irritating questions seemed like a priority for now, however.
So he began to walk once more down the lonely streets, thinking back to all the things he had done. Maybe he could make a small change in his life for a bit. Go find out about this Bastila. It seemed like a good idea. Still, he needed money and a place to hide for now, and that wasn't going to be easy.
Time for another bloody contract.
"Par Sakhar here. I copy loud and clear."
He continued searching most of the Landing Pads.
"Very good...do you have any files on what the Exile is using for transportation...is she still using the 'Ebon Hawk?"
His HUD was already scanning through the docking reports. If he could find her ship, everything would move extremely fast...he'd be able to collect on this job very soon.
"As far as I know, she is. That's what my Master--er, superior--told me." Chandria sucked in her breath as quietly as she dared. "Sorry. All that talk about the Jedi and the Mandalorian Wars must have filtered over into my regular work," she said, joking.
"As far as I know, she is. That's what my Master--er, superior--told me. Sorry. All that talk about the Jedi and the Mandalorian Wars must have filtered over into my regular work."
He chuckled, "Heh, I'm sure. That happens to me as well."
Gelvik could feel something...else about what Chandria had said. He had picked up the ability to pick out feelings or motives when someone spoke, really just enhanced observation. The way she said 'Master' was spoken with a sincerity, and a sense of duty...at least, that is what Gelvik had picked up. Her attempt to throw him off what she said worked to confirm that Chandria had to be more then just a capable TSF officer. He was sure of it when he had spoken to her earlier, but that was a different feeling.
He wanted to know what she was.
"Chandria...this may sound interesting...but..uh...after this assignment, I would very much like to talk to you, just person-to-person, if you catch my meaning."
Something caught his eye, a familiar transponder code. It was the Ebon Hawk's transponder, it was labeled on the code list that was posted on his HUD. He was in the right area, he just needed to contact the dock-controllers, and he'd be able to find them.
"I'm onto something."
((Sorry to tell you this, Q, but the Hawk is now in space headed for Telos! :) Check at one of the cantinas, garages, or even run into some pissed-off Exchange! They'll tell!))
Chandria perked up her ears. "Really? That fast, eh?" She leaned forward at her desk. "Do tell. My superior wants frequent reports, and the more frequent, the better. What have you found?" She took another sip of her water. As she waited for a response, she added, "I'd very much like to talk to you person-to-person as well. Before I met you, I thought all Mandalorians were thugs."
She cringed. "For the millionth time...sorry. You can sign off if you want."
*******************************
After Juhani had left to reactivate HK-47, Tysyacha turned to the Twi'lek smuggler, Niera. "You must be phenomenal at your trade--or at least have phenomenally-sensitive lekku--to have heard of the UMBRA device. As far as I'm concerned, if you talk about it to the wrong people, you get killed. True?"
"For the millionth time...sorry. You can sign off if you want."
Gelvik nodded to himself, "It's okay, we're known like that for a reason, that was our fault. I understand what you really meant, so no offense is taken."
It was true, the Mandalorians had done some pretty horrible things in their past, they practically deserved to be called thugs.
"Oh...and I've discovered the transponder code for the Ebon Hawk. I don't have their destination logged, but I'm going to check with the Dock Authorities, they'll know due to the roster kept on all ships coming and leaving the system."
He landed the Basalisk on a pad not far from the nearest Control Tower.
"Have you picked up any other information," Gelvik said, as he unstrapped his safety-harness and began to equip.