Chapter 1 – A Promise
Dreams.
Dreams of betrayal.
Dreams of death, destruction, pain.
A star fighter, soaring through the endless black of space. A dozen fighters. A hundred. Thousands. A battle fought high above a planet, a vicious engagement in an impassable jungle and a stealthy infiltration, deep behind enemy lines.
Blaster fire incinerating entire legions. And behind it all, the hiss and buzz of lightsabres leaving scores of burning dead in their wake.
A large battle rages. Turbolaser fire illuminates the blackness of space. Smaller ships dart in between the larger, incinerating each other with brief flashes of exploding air tanks and detonating ordinance. Capital ships charge into the fray, turbolasers blazing death in an endless assault.
In the distance, a large cruiser crumbles under the onslaught, and explodes in a brief, but brilliant, flash of light. Pieces of the cruiser radiate out in all directions, creating a minefield of hazardous wreckage for the dueling fighters. The two sides ignore the lives suddenly snuffed out in their midst and continue to hammer away at each other.
A smaller battleground: a room… larger than a room… the bridge of a ship. Lightsabre wielding foes, blaster firing soldiers, all locked in a titanic struggle.
A face. The face of a woman, a young woman, still in her teens. Even in the dream, her dark hair, cobalt blue eyes and fine, almost delicate aristocratic features vividly clear.
She wields a lightsabre expertly, her motions a blur, the lightsabre spinning in the air.
Across her blade, a dark robed figure, face hidden behind a cloth scarf, brings his red lightsabre across her yellow blade. Together, yet apart. Locked in a fierce battle, an intricate dance from which only one will walk away.
They are not alone. All around them, a battle rages, two sides striving for dominance, countless lives hanging in the balance.
The buzzing clash of lightsabres rings out as the fierce mêlée rages unchecked. The young Jedi remains locked in combat with the masked Sith, her face a mask of concentration, her cobalt eyes locked on her opponent. Lightsabres flash and the young Jedi parries an aggressive stroke expertly, responding with a series of well placed slashes which force her opponent back.
Pressing her attack, the young Jedi dodges an overhand stroke from her opponent, knocks the glowing red lightsabre aside and runs the Sith through all in one smooth motion…
Jaran Kalind's eyes opened suddenly and he looked around him, completely disoriented after his dream. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings: the drab grey walls, two narrow bunks and sparse furnishings of the small dormitory. He was on a starship, the Endar Spire, but in his current state of confusion, summoning more than that insignificant piece of information seemed beyond his capacity.
He had always experienced exceptionally vivid dreams, especially since signing on to the Republic fleet late in the Mandalorian Wars. Even though a young soldier of only 23, he was a veteran of many campaigns, first with the Republic against the Mandalorians and more recently against the traitors, Revan and Malak, who had turned against the Republic in frenzy of death and destruction. He often dreamed of the battles in which he had fought; relived them in exquisite detail, even years after they had taken place. The strange thing about this particular dream, however, was the fact that it corresponded with no battle in which he could remember ever taking part. He had never met the young Jedi in his dream either, a fact of which he was completely certain due to his exceptional memory for faces. It was almost as though this memory was an intruder, a projection into his subconscious mind from an outside source. Yet it had been so vivid, as real as his memories of the Mandalorian Wars and even more vivid than the more recent Jedi Civil War.
Jaran frowned at the sudden thought. The fact was that the battles which had taken place early in his career as a soldier were clearer and more vivid than the most recent against the Jedi traitors. Those memories were far more indistinct, most taking on an almost surreal quality. Why that would be so, Jaran had no idea. It was almost as though fighting for freedom against the Mandalorians was much more real than this hopeless war – a war which had deteriorated into an endless rearguard action against the constant pressure exerted by the new traitorous Sith lords.
Jaran's thoughts were cut off as a fighter screamed past the small window of his cabin, closely pursued by another with guns blazing. Abruptly he realized what had woken him from his slumber, as another explosion rocked the ship.
The Endar Spire was under attack.
Jaran felt his body become suddenly weightless as he floated up off his bunk, only to be deposited roughly onto the deck once the ship's auxiliary generator kicked in, restoring artificial gravity to the wounded vessel.
The damage, however, had been done. Jaran realized immediately that the explosion must have taken out the ship's engines, as he could no longer feel their familiar hum. Looking quickly out the window, he could see stars moving past his vision in lazy circles, followed immediately by a planet, which appeared at the bottom of the window and slowly made its way toward the top. The ship's stabilizers were clearly knocked out as well and the ship was spinning out of control.
Still unable to completely clear the fog from his head, Jaran understood that the crippled vessel would only invite Sith boarding parties and that his currently unclad state would be no help in fighting off the invaders, if such a thing were indeed possible. Quickly he made his way to his footlocker and scanned the contents.
Obviously, for the Endar Spire to have been damaged so severely, they must be outnumbered and outgunned. Since the possibility of abandoning ship had to be considered, he rejected his Republic uniform as too obvious and easy to spot if he had to blend in with a civilian population. Instead, he chose a set of serviceable, yet inconspicuous, clothes, which would prevent him from standing out in a crowd, followed by a standard Republic issue blaster and his own vibrosword.
Hearing the door slide open behind him, Jaran leapt to his feet and whirled to face the door, vibrosword gleaming in his hand. Seeing the uniform of a Republic soldier, he lowered his blade and peered at the soldier facing him.
"I see you're on your feet, soldier," the newcomer said hurriedly. "We're under attack."
"Really? I hadn't noticed," Jaran responded wryly.
The man's name was Trask Ulgo and he had been Jaran's bunkmate for the week during which Jaran had been stationed on the Endar Spire. As they had worked completely separate shifts, Jaran barely knew the man and suspected that he was not the type with whom Jaran would normally associate, even if he had been a closer acquaintance. He seemed too idealistic and green for the worldlier Jaran.
"Let's go; we need to get to the bridge and help Bastila."
Although he had never met or even seen her, Jaran doubted that there was anyone in the Republic who had not at least heard of the famous Jedi. With her special battle meditation ability, Bastila was almost single-handedly responsible for the meager success the Republic had had in this war. Without her, the war would be going much worse at best or already over, with the Sith victorious, at worst. And of course, she had single-handedly killed the dark lord Revan in single combat on a daring Jedi raid on Revan's flagship nearly a year before. The war had not gone much better since Revan's death and Malak's ascension as Malak seemed to have unlimited ships at his disposal and a brutal will to use them, but at least Revan's military genius had been removed from the equation. Although having served under Revan in the Mandalorian Wars, Jaran had never met the famous Jedi, but he knew first hand the results of Revan's brilliant grasp of military strategy. Many engagements had been won on the strength of the man's planning. It made his fall an even greater tragedy.
"Right you are," he acknowledged. "Let's go."
As the door once again opened in front of them, thick, black smoke billowed into the room from the hallway beyond. The corridor beyond was lit only by emergency lighting, creating an illusion of a long, spooky, underground tunnel. As they stepped out into the corridor, Jaran could vaguely make out the silhouette of a maintenance droid busily trying to repair a conduit along the left wall. As they approached, a sudden spike of power from the damaged conduit sent the droid crashing into the far wall, to fall to the floor as a twisted heap of metal, sparking wires and plasteel.
Ignoring the unfortunate droid, Jaran drew his blaster from its holster and walked to the door at the end of the corridor. Glancing back at his companion and seeing his nod of assent, Jaran pressed the release for the door.
The other side was a hell of blaster bolts, cries of pain and flashes of light, as two opposing groups faced off against one another. Peering around the corner to the right, he caught sight of several shrouded figures wearing the Republic uniform. He glanced back at Trask and motioned to the left. Trask nodded his understanding of Jaran's unspoken communication and gripped his own blaster tightly in his hand. As one, they reached around the corner and let loose a lethal volley of blaster fire, cutting down the three Sith soldiers in an instant of carnage.
Once the way was clear, Jaran looked back at the Republic soldiers who had emerged from their places of concealment at the end of the hall. In that instant, a grenade exploded directly at their feet, killing all three soldiers. As they fell, Jaran cursed to himself, knowing that one of the Sith soldiers must have thrown the grenade just before being cut down. They could have used the extra help.
"Come on," Trask said, starting toward the fallen soldiers. "They need medical attention."
"Leave them," Jaran commanded, "They are already dead, and we don't have time to become a triage unit."
Trask stopped in his tracks and regarded Jaran with an astonished look on his face. "You don't know that. They may just be injured."
"We can't afford to take the time necessary to see to them," Jaran insisted. "As distasteful as it is, we need to keep our focus on the task at hand. We must get to the bridge and ensure Bastila gets off this ship. She is of paramount importance."
Trask looked helplessly as Jaran turned and began to walk away, before shaking his head and following the retreating soldier.
As he caught up with Jaran, he looked over at his companion with some dislike. "Heartless bastard!" he muttered under his breath.
Jaran whirled on Trask angrily. "Maybe I am a heartless bastard, but war makes bastards of us all! Perhaps you need to keep your mind on our most important priorities here and focus on the task."
"But you left those men there to die!"
"They were already dead! And if they weren't, we still can't afford to spend our time applying medpacks to every injured soldier we come across. In case you hadn't noticed, this ship is badly crippled and is swarming with Sith boarding parties. Not only are we in a difficult position here, but if Bastila does get off this ship, the Sith will immediately turn and destroy what is left. If we don't make it to the escape pods soon, we won't be around to do anyone any good."
Jaran began walking briskly down the corridor again. "If you don't like the way I do things," he called over his shoulder, "then I suggest you find your own way to the bridge. Otherwise, shut up and let's get moving!"
Trask stared at Jaran's retreating back for a moment before shaking his head and starting after the other man. He certainly was not doing anyone any good standing there and time was wasting. Besides, although he didn't want to admit it, deep down he felt that Jaran had spoken the absolute truth.
Another explosion rocked the ship, throwing Carth Onasi to the floor. Picking himself up, he returned to the ship's console and peered at the screen, his brow furrowing in concern. The Sith boarding parties had spread throughout the ship and had now managed to gain control of significant portions, including the bridge. The fighting still raged out of control, but given the numbers displayed on the console, Carth new it was only a matter of time before the Republic resistance was snuffed out completely. Even Bastila's vaunted battle meditation had not been enough to stem the advance of the Sith in this instance.
Carth turned at the thought of the young Jedi, knowing the battle was lost and that she needed to escape the ship. She knelt on the other side of the room with her head bowed, hands clasped in front of her. She was surrounded by a faint, blue nimbus, the only visible indication of her battle meditation.
Walking up to her, Carth leaned over and addressed her softly. "Jedi Shan, the battle is over. You need to escape the ship before it is too late."
Bastila looked up, the nimbus disappearing as her concentration was broken. "Are you sure? There are still many Republic soldiers on this ship."
"I just had a look at the console. We are outnumbered two to one, with more Sith soldiers arriving every moment. The longer you stay here, the more likely we'll be discovered."
"But I can't leave yet," Bastila responded, a worried frown appearing on her face.
"Bastila, the battle is over. You can't do anything more here."
"You don't understand," she pleaded intently. "He… I mean… there are still many soldiers on this ship who won't stand a chance of escaping if I don't continue my battle meditation."
"Bastila, we can't afford to lose you," Carth responded, wondering what she had been about to say. "And for Malak to capture you would be an unmitigated disaster. Please, the time has come for you to leave."
Bastila sighed wearily. "Much as I would like to disagree, I fear you are right."
"Then I suggest you get out of here before it's too late. There are two escape pods left. Take one and get off this ship."
"But what about you, Commander?"
"I'm staying here until I'm certain that everyone who can has left the ship. You go ahead, get down to the surface of the planet and I'll follow you shortly. We can meet up again on the planet, and figure out some way to get out of here."
Bastila frowned. "Commander, you are also essential to the war effort. I think you should come with me."
Carth shook his head. "I'm not in the habit of leaving anyone behind when there is any other choice. I'll be off this crate long before she goes up, trust me. Besides, I'm not the important one here – you are."
Bastila looked as though she wanted to debate the matter further, but ultimately shook her head in weary acceptance. "Very well then. I will leave now."
Carth held out his hand and helped her to her feet, stepping aside so she could make her way to the escape pod which he had prepared for her.
As she stepped into the pod, Bastila turned to look back at Carth. "Please, follow me soon. As much as you may protest, you are just as vital to the Republic as I."
"Don't worry Bastila, I will be along shortly."
Bastila studied his face for a moment before turning and entering the pod. Carth watched her through the hatch window as it closed and once he could see she had strapped herself in, he pressed the release button for the pod, sending it plummeting toward the planet below. Immediately, however, he felt his weariness fade, his posture straighten and a feeling of confidence return to him in a most peculiar way. Bastila had obviously begun her battle meditation again.
I hope she doesn't forget to pilot the pod, he thought. She may not like where she ends up if she doesn't spend some time piloting that thing.
Jaran and Trask paused outside the doors which led to the bridge. It had been a difficult trek through the ship, fighting their way through Sith war parties, avoiding and skirting them when the opportunity presented itself. Throughout the entire journey, they had been unable to add any others to their party.
At one point, they had come across a Jedi and a Sith fighting, and had witnessed the Jedi kill her opponent, only to be killed herself by an overloaded power conduit only seconds later.
Jaran glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye and considered him briefly. Trask had said nothing further about their previous disagreement, but Jaran could sense that inwardly he was still seething. However, Jaran was not concerned with the man's petty insecurities. He was useful only as long as he remained focused on the task at hand and was fit only to be discarded if he let himself be distracted.
Where did that thought come from? Jaran thought to himself, eyes widening in shock at his own cold-heartedness. Never in his life could he remember himself thinking of another in such a cold, analytical fashion.
Shaking his head in confusion, Jaran had to forcibly turn himself back to the matter at hand. Looking at Trask, he raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Well, this is the bridge. Any suggestions?"
Trask shrugged his shoulders. "Surprise and lots of grenades?"
Jaran chuckled to himself. "I suppose we have little choice in the matter. How many do you have?"
Trask held up two fingers on his left hand. "Only a couple, unfortunately."
"Then they will have to be well placed."
Trask swallowed uncomfortably. "Are you certain this is necessary? We could just make our way to the escape hatches and get off the ship."
"We have to ensure Bastila's escape," Jaran disagreed, shaking his head.
"But we don't even know if she's still here. She may have already left the ship."
"No, she hasn't," Jaran responded. "Haven't you noticed how energized you feel? How easy it all feels, after all we have had to fight through to get here? The slowness and sometimes downright incompetence of our enemies? No, Bastila has not fled the ship yet and what's more, she is still using her battle meditation to assist us. Surprising really, considering the battle is all but over from what I have seen. She is still on the ship and we have to make our way to her or die in the attempt. Besides, you saw the state of the port side escape hatches; whatever is still there is badly damaged and of no use to us. Bastila is still on this ship; she will likely be near the starboard escape hatches and we have no choice but to get there ourselves or we will not get off this ship."
"So what's the plan then?"
Jaran shrugged. "Like you said, grenades and surprise, not to mention blazing weapons. Here, let me have one of those grenades. As soon as I open the door, I'll take the left side and you take the right. Pick an area as dense in enemies as you can find and throw your grenade. I'll do the same, and we'll attempt to cut the rest down with our blasters. It's not the best plan, but the longer we stay out here, the more we risk being discovered."
Trask sighed, but handed one of the grenades over without comment, readying the other in his hand. Jaran took the grenade and cupped it in his left hand, the other holding his blaster, which was cocked and ready.
Jaran looked at Trask, who signaled his readiness. There was fear in the man's gaze, but also a grim determination, which eased Jaran's worries for the man slightly.
Taking a deep breath, Jaran readied himself and hit the release to the door.
As the door flew open, several heads immediately whipped around in their direction. Vaguely, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Trask activating the grenade in his hand and raising his arm to throw.
There were two tightly packed groups of Sith in the room – a group inspecting the consoles near the front of the bridge, the other right near and to the left of the door which he had opened. Jaran quickly gathered his courage and tossed his active grenade at the group of soldiers standing no more than ten feet from his present position.
"Down!" he yelled furiously, willing his companion to heed the warning, while he jumped to the side in a prone position.
The Sith soldiers seemed to be moving in slow motion as they brought their blasters to bear on him. Two flashes of bright light, accompanied by two deafening explosions, rocked the already battered bridge, flinging Sith around like rag dolls.
When the smoke had cleared, Jaran looked up and saw the carnage his grenade had caused at close quarters. Several Sith soldiers lay about, twisted and smoking from the blast. A few still moved feebly, more dead than alive, but there were several who had gaping holes in their armor and one who had had his helmet partly sheered off.
Jaran looked away in revulsion, fighting to stop himself from emptying his stomach. A seasoned warrior he was, and no stranger to death, but he had never gotten used to the carnage which could be wrought in close corners and hoped he never would. Some things were too horrible to ever become desensitized to.
Jaran quickly rose to his feet and glanced over at Trask, who appeared to be unhurt. Confident his companion would follow him, Jaran proceeded into the room, his blaster ready in his hand, searching for any remaining opponents. The battered bridge appeared completely devoid of any remaining life.
Some sixth sense warned Jaran of imminent danger and he immediately ducked to the deck just in time to avoid a suddenly active lightsabre, which hummed past the space his head had just occupied. Knowing his blaster was useless in close quarters, Jaran dropped it and whipped out his vibrosword just in time to parry the backswing of a clearly enraged dark Jedi.
The enraged man raised his eyes at Jaran's defensive stance. "You think to challenge a Sith lord?" he spat contemptuously. He suddenly thrust his left hand in Jaran's direction, palm open, fingers extended. Jaran felt as though he were being buffeted by a strong gale, but grimly held his ground until the feeling passed.
The Sith stared at him, surprise etched on his features. Jaran, sensing an opening, quickly brought his sword down, forcing the lightsabre to cut into the deck, and kicked his opponent in the stomach. As the man doubled over, Jaran brought his sword up in a wicked backhand stroke and severed the Sith's head clean from his shoulders.
Jaran looked around and spied Trask picking himself up off the floor against the far wall.
He regarded Jaran with saucer-like eyes, as though seeing him for the first time. "How did you do that?"
"Cortosis weave," Jaran responded curtly. "Lightsabres can't cut through it."
"No, I know all about that," Trask said impatiently. "That Sith did something which knocked me clear across the room, but you just ignored it. And then you take him down like he's nothing. Are you some Jedi or something?"
"Of course not," Jaran responded, trying to remember. At length he shook his head, determined to concentrate on the task at hand. "I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, it didn't work. And Sith are not infallible; they can be killed like any other enemy. In any case, we need to get moving."
Jaran began walking around the bridge to the exit on the other side of a large island, not bothering this time to see if Trask was following him. Jaran was getting a little tired of the man's tendency to be spooked by everything he saw.
Their plan had either been very good, or very lucky, as all enemy soldiers on the bridge had either been dispatched or knocked out by their attack. Jaran wasn't about to question it, knowing that next time, luck could be against him; he simply made his way to the other door, relaxing when he saw the next room was not occupied. It was only a small anteroom off the bridge, but there were two exits leading out, one to a docking bay on the side of the ship, the other to the starboard decks and the escape pods.
Motioning for his companion to follow, Jaran started toward the door to the starboard deck. As he opened the door, he glanced back into the anteroom, to see Trask start toward the other door.
"No Trask, the pods are this way," Jaran called, suddenly nervous.
"But this is the docking bay," Trask protested. "Maybe we can steal a ship and get off this crate."
"Do you think the Sith would leave their boarding craft unprotected?" Jaran snorted derisively. "There's nothing but trouble that way. We've got to continue on toward the escape pods. Besides, we have to make it to Bastila, remember?"
But Trask merely ignored him, intent as he was on the docking bay. However, he had gotten no more than ten feet from the door, when it opened, revealing another dark Jedi on the other side. Both men stared at each other in complete surprise, before Trask reacted and sprinted toward the Sith rather than away from him.
"A dark Jedi! I'll hold him off! You get to the escape pods!"
Swearing to himself, Jaran started back into the room, only to be cut off as the door slammed shut once again. Jaran started for the controls, but another explosion rocked the ship, causing the panel to burst into sparks and sealed the fate of his erstwhile companion. Seething at the man's stupidity, Jaran turned his back on Trask and made his way to the other door, going through without a single backward glance.
Carth briefly regretted his decision to stay in the ship after Bastila's escape pod had departed. He returned to the console, only to realize that an enemy party had discovered his presence and was attempting to gain access to the escape pod room. For several moments Carth occupied himself with securing the door against intrusion, hoping that his skills with the security systems of the ship would hold them off until he was certain all personnel who were able to leave the ship had done so.
Once that task was complete, Carth returned to the console, his face blanching at what he saw. The battle for the ship had taken a turn for the worse, with only a few pockets of resistance left and those were disappearing fast.
Cursing himself for a fool, he began to turn away from the monitor, when something caught his eye. Moving along the halls of the ship toward his position was a single soldier. Although Carth could not tell the allegiance of the soldier, he watched the signature briefly, noting the quick, yet deliberate, way the person moved as well as the route taken, avoiding Sith positions. Convinced that this was a friend, Carth scanned the area and could see that there was not much in the unknown soldier's way, but with the Sith in the next room trying to break in, he would likely have trouble reaching the escape pods. Carth knew that whoever the soldier was, that person would definitely require help in making it off the ship.
Thankful now that he had stayed, Carth reached for the communications panel.
Jaran passed through the halls quickly and quietly, knowing that speed was crucial if he was to be successful in getting off the ship. For the most part, the starboard section of the ship was much quieter than port side had been, likely, Jaran suspected, because this part of the ship had been boarded first and resistance quickly eliminated. The few Sith patrols he had come across, he had bypassed, with the exception of a single sentry he had been forced to eliminate. He knew he was getting close to the escape pods, having served in this section of the ship during his time on board.
His main worry at this point was the possibility that the escape pods were being held against him. If the Sith had held this part of the ship since the beginning, as seemed likely, it was probable that they also controlled the escape pods. He had also had the brief impression that Jedi Shan had stopped her battle meditation, only to start it up again soon after. That could indicate that she had left the ship and continued once she had escaped, or it could mean that she had been interrupted and resumed after the distraction had been eliminated. Whatever the case, Jaran was rapidly beginning to suspect that Bastila's fate was out of his hands, and that the best he could do would be to escape the ship in one piece.
It was, of course, while he was immersed in these gloomy thoughts that his comlink, all but forgotten on his belt, went off, making him jump. Rapidly scanning the area to be sure no one else had heard, he switched the unit on.
"This is Carth Onasi on your personal communicator," the voice at the other end of the line stated. "I'm tracking your position through the Endar Spire's life support systems. I can't wait for you much longer; you have to get to the escape pods."
"What about Jedi Shan?" Jaran asked.
"Bastila's escape pod is away – you're the last surviving crew member of the Endar Spire. Look, we don't have much time. You have to get to the escape pods, and you're going to have to do it in a hurry. I've managed to hold off the Sith until now, but I'm not certain how much longer I can do it. They are between us, so when you get here we will have to find a way to eliminate them between the two of us."
Jaran nodded his head. It was only as he had expected and he knew that without Carth he would likely stand very little chance of escape. "Understood, Commander. What is the path in front of me like?"
There was a slight pause before the Commander responded. "Keep going straight down the hall you are currently in until you reach the next intersection. From there, turn right, follow the hallway all the way down to another intersection before turning left again. That should take you all the way here without having to dodge any Sith soldiers."
"Right, I'll be there shortly," Jaran responded. Abandoning all caution, he sprinted down the hallway, following Carth's instructions as he went. As he raced along, he passed numerous doors – entrances to crew quarters, recreation rooms and even the ship's galley, along the way. He even thought he heard noises coming from some of the rooms, but he kept going, hoping that the doors would remain closed.
At length he reached the door Carth had indicated and stopped, raising the comlink to his mouth immediately. The position he occupied was completely open and he knew that if anyone happened down the hall he would be utterly exposed.
"I'm here, Commander; what have you got?"
The comlink spouted static for a moment before resolving itself into Carth's voice. "There's a whole squad of Sight Troopers in between us. There are two working on my door, one standing guard near them and the other is on the other side of the room nearest you."
Jaran absorbed the information thoughtfully. The obvious strategy was to catch the Sith in a crossfire between the Commander and himself. "If we catch them by surprise between us, we should be able to take them out, Commander."
"Just what I was thinking, soldier," Carth responded. "Don't even think about using grenades. The room beyond your position is filled with ordinance containers. If you set one of those off, we are all Ewok guts."
"Well, that's an easy choice, Commander; I don't have any left. Since they're focused on your end of the room, I suggest I go first."
"Agreed," came the response. "I'll give you a few seconds to get their attention; then I'll come at them from my side of the room."
Taking a deep breath, Jaran calmed himself and looked over the blaster he held in his hand. He knew he would have to be quick and decisive and that he would likely be blasted before he could make use of his vibrosword. Ensuring that the safety was released on his blaster, he turned toward the door and brought his hand up to the access panel.
As the door slid open, Jaran vaguely registered the Sith troopers, whose heads whipped towards him almost as one, before he trained his blaster on the near trooper and squeezed the trigger, catching the man square in the chest from less than five meters. As the man flew back from the force of the impact, Jaran moved to the next trooper, standing near the other side of the room, and blasted him with a single shot before diving to the edge of the doorway, as the two Sith working on the door grabbed their blasters and began peppering shots in his direction. Jaran waited until he heard the far door slide open and the blaster shots aimed in his direction suddenly cease before he eased his head cautiously around the corner and peered across the room.
Through the haze of smoke which permeated the room, he could see the Commander standing in the other doorway, a blaster cocked in his hand. Quickly, Jaran signaled his presence and darted into the room, determined to leave the ship while he was still intact.
"Carth Onasi," the other man said by way of introduction, extending his hand, which Jaran grasped firmly.
"Jaran Kalind," Jaran responded. "Thanks for sticking around."
Carth nodded his head and gestured to the one remaining pod. "No problem – I've never left a crewmember behind before and I'm not about to start now. I suggest however, that we get out of here."
Jaran nodded. "I thought you'd never ask."
Once inside the pod, Carth depressed the launch button, sending the pod soaring out into the void of space. Immediately taking the controls, Carth began steering them away from the wounded ship, toward the waiting planet below.
With nothing else to do, Jaran gazed out the window at the Endar Spire, which was rapidly dwindling in the distance. Suddenly, a flash of turbolasers flew out from one of the Sith battle cruisers, taking the wounded Republic ship broadside. It exploded in a flash of brilliant oranges and yellows as the oxygen contained within the ship ignited.
Shocked at the brutality he had just witnessed, Jaran spun to face his companion. "But there were dozens, maybe hundreds, of Sith soldiers still on board," he protested.
Carth grimly returned to his piloting of the craft. "Such is the cruelty of our enemy and their total disregard for even the lives of their own soldiers."
"Cruelty and disregard for life is one thing," Jaran growled, "but a capable commander doesn't waste the lives of his own soldiers. For every one of your own soldiers you kill yourself, you make the enemy's job that much easier."
Inside, Jaran was raging, to the point where he completely missed the uneasy look Carth leveled him. He had always known the Sith were capable of such acts, but to once again witness one right before his eyes filled him with a burning hatred and a cold, hard resolve. Such evil must be opposed. Silently, Jaran vowed that he would do everything in his power to stop the Sith rampage, no matter the cost.
"Hold on," Carth said, voice tight with strain. "We're coming in a little hot here, and there is precious little I can do about it. The pod must have been damaged during the fighting."
Grimly determined to hold to his personal promise, Jaran grabbed on to one of the bars set into the wall of the pod and held on as they began streaking through the upper Taris atmosphere.