AUTHOR: Elizabeth E. Carter

TITLE: JEDI SECRETS

SERIES: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic I:

PAIRING: LF Revan / Bastila and Juhuni (friendship)

CATEGORY: action / romance
RATING: M for mature

SUMMARY: Knights of the Old Republic novelized from my own choices in the game.

AUTHORS NOTES: Some choices lead almost to the same responses so I opted for both in some cases of dialog. I also pulled a Peter Jackson by having some events take place at another time to fit time-line continuity a bit better and I also have some lines that happened in cannon spoken by another character though it will not change the events that happen we know in cannon game. (i.e. words spoken by Gandalf in LotR to Eowyn in the book were given to Wormtongue in the movie.) I also nicked lines from the Star Wars movies that paralleled the events in the game as well as foreshadowing the events in the second game. And because I like some of the colour options for light sabers in the second game as well as the Jedi armorer I transferred some of their items into this story. On that note the robe choices and armour for the Jedi are far superior to in the 1st game. So I'm adopting the robe choices as well. I also quoted lines and information from books and Star Wars Wiki about planets and historical events.

2) Despite my female Revan, I must also make note in cannon (despite game options) Revan is male so the romance of Bastila occurs but not Juhuni as she is the 1st cannon lesbian in the Star Wars games. But I thumbed my nose at that and made it all Femslash. So some things will vary from those who are experienced with playing the male Revan (I had to play it once as a male to get all the lines and reactions…) I also deviated from cannon in another factor: Revan was a Human in the game, in my story I turned her into a Nagai, because I love the elfin look (Drow, Bosmer, Dunmer, Dalish Silver, all of Tolkien) and as they don't have elves in Star Wars, the Nagai were the closest. (And yes I made mention of the Exile as being ½ Nagai.) I also use a bit of Klingon culture (all rights are to Paramount and Gene Rodenberry) for the Nagai because there is little to be had with the above-mentioned recourses. Anyone recognizing things as Night Mother will know they are from Morrowind/Oblivion and all rights are owned by Bathusda, as do the Nord (a nationality I imported to give to Northern Corllilions)

DISCLAIMER: Gorge Lucas owns all of this and LucasArts/ Bioware own the concept of the Revan, and other characters. History of the Old Republic via Wookipedia contributors. No doubt there will be readers who will recognize races from Morrowind/Oblivion and phrases from Baulder's Gate games. Well they belong to said game creators.

In the last Days of the Old Republic, the Sith-followers of the Force's dark side and ancient enemies of the Jedi Order—numbered two: one Master and one apprentice. Yet it was not always so. Four thousand years before the Republic's collapse and Emperors Palpatine's rise to power the Sith were legion…

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

STAR

WARS

Knights of the Old Republic

4,000 years before the rise of the Galactic Empire, the Republic verges on collapse. DARTH REVAN and DARTH MALAK, the new Dark Lords of the Sith have unleashed an invincible armada on an unsuspecting galaxy.

Crushing all resistance, Revan's war of conquest has left the Jedi Order scattered, as countless Knights fall in battle and many more swear allegiance to the new Sith Masters.

In order to combat the Sith the Jedi High Council has sent BASTILA SHAN, a prodigy of the rare Jedi talent of Battle Meditation, and a team of Jedi Knights to set a trap for the Dark Lords. Unless they are stopped, they will snuff out the flame of peace and freedom in the galaxy…

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Chapter 1,

The blast hit hard enough to rattle teeth out of a skull. Skye Ravensong half tumbled-half thrown out of her bed from a second hit. Ravensong, garbed in nothing but her skin, managed to regain her balance despite the repeated blast that threatened to send her back on her backside.

Skye Ravensong held a refined rare beauty, with midnight blue eyes and thick silky black hair which she kept back in a lose pony tail. Her forelock hung slightly over her upswept pencil thin eyebrows. Her ears were tapered into narrow tips at the end revealing her Nagai blood. Her angler face was heightened in loveliness by her high cheekbones and narrow nose. Her bottom lip was almost pouty and elegantly shaped. She was thin but not overly so, for Skye had an athlete's body. But then most Nagai had a gymnast's build: thin, wiry and toned, it was in the 'elfin' DNA. Skye was a near stereotypical specimen for her race what would have been refined for a human was ordinary for the 'Knives'.

She only just got to her feet when one of the Endar Spire's officers burst through her door.

"Who the hell are you?" Skye demanded her voice sharp but not shrill. She took an immediate martial stance which was not lost on the intruder. He wasn't intimidated per say as much as impressed.

"Trask Ulgo, Ensign of the Republic Fleet," he answered quickly in a mechanized fashion. Skye was surprised she wasn't given his service number, along with his name and rank. "I'm, your bunk-mate but we work opposite shifts, I guess that's why you never met me before."

Ah right, Skye knew she shared quarters with a male judging by a few of the clothing items she occasionally saw, not to mention the male military-issue bathroom kit bag in the refresher. "What's going on?" She asked over her shoulder not caring that he saw her nude form going for her wardrobe so she might collect her clothing and gear.

"We got ambushed by a Sith battle fleet. The Endar Spire is under attack. Hurry up we don't have much time, the captain called for an abandon-ship. We've got to find Bastila and make sure she gets off this ship."

"Bastila…?" The name sat on the edge of memory lingering there like a bantha in the room. "One of the Jedi, right?" Skye said slamming her foot into a calf-length boot.

"The same. Bastila is the commanding officer of Endar Spire, well not an officer really. Like you said a Jedi. She's in charge of this mission. Ravensong, our primary duty now isn't the ship but insure Bastila's survival, you took an oath just like everyone else on this mission, now its time to make good on that oath."

"Just because I'm not an infantry soldier doesn't mean I will hightail it out of here looking after my own skin. You don't have to remind me of my oath any more than you'd remind the captain of his." Skye shot back skirting on her stealth-field generator and utility belt.

"I'm used to raw recruits getting nervous before battle; reminding them of their oaths gives them strength."

"Understood," Skye answered strapping on the scabbard of her short sword across her back, leaving her hip free for her blaster.

"I heard what everyone's been saying about you, that you've explored the furthest reaches of the galaxy. You been to planets I will never see let alone heard of. People with your skills and abilities are hard to find, no wonder the Republic recruited you for this mission. Bastila needs all the troops at her side during this attack. The Sith might have already boarded the ship to try and capture Bastila."

Skye nearly skidded to a halt when her communicator went off showing her the blue holo-image of a bridge officer. *This is Carth Onasi, the Sith are threatening to overpower our position! We can't hold off for long. All hands to the Bridge! Repeat all hands to the Bridge. *

Skye had little time to socialize with the senior staff of the Endar Spire, let alone the Bridge Crew. The name Onasi was familiar somehow, she had heard others speak of him saying he was one of the best star pilots in the Fleet.

"Commander Carth has seen more combat than the rest of the crew of the Endar Spire put together, if he says things are bad, you better believe it. We have to get to the Bridge to protect Bastila!"

"Keep moving," Ravensong shouted over the munitions bombardment. Another hit sent both careening into a bulkhead nearly missing being blown into space debris by a blown-out computer terminal. An astromech droid wasn't so fortunate. Chunks of mettle, wires and slag became shrapnel that imbedded themselves into the adjacent wall.

A storm of blaster fire ricocheting through the corridors suddenly stopped by the snap-hiss of a lightsabre. One of the Jedi. At last they had come. They were warriors of the greatest skill. Skye paused in her flight to watch in wonder as one Jedi took on seven Sith Troopers. 'Impressive. Most impressive.' Skye thought to herself, her eyes catching the stance of the Jedi and those of her who outnumbered her. Already Skye knew the outcome, the Sith would not survive the encounter.

"That's one of the Jedi who travelled with Bastila. We will only get in her way, come on Ravensong," Trask urged. "They must have made it to the escape pods!"

Skye turned to sprint alongside Trask when another blast struck the side of the ship so hard it blew the bulkhead apart. The Jedi were powerful but even they were vulnerable to explosions. The female fell with a pitiful cry of pain. Her blood had splashed across the opposite bulkhead.

"Damn it. We could have used her help," Trask snarled, rising to his feet. The blast must have sent him down to the floor. Three Republic soldiers were not so fortunate they too had been caught in the blast and died for it.

Skye nodded and sprinted past him only to pause one again as they came across three dead Republics and two Sith. She went to their sides, not to check vitals but to rummage through their belts, including the Jedi's. She left the lightsabre at least.

"What are you doing?" Trask was appalled at the scavenging ways of the Nagai scout. He had heard one of the scouts was a 'Knife'; they were so alien even if they looked like pale skinned pointed eared humans. Some even called them Night-Elves out of reference too old human stories. Most of them armed themselves with any number of blades. He knew the Knives or rather the rumour that said they gave very little respect to the dead for the body was but a shell. Personal effects stopped being personal once death took over.

"If we are to survive, we need med-packs and anything else that might help. There is a planet below who knows what we will find down there once we jettison in the escape pods. I rather not risk being unprepared. You don't survive the outer-rim as a scout if you are squeamish about recovering things from the dead. Or didn't they teach that to you in Fleet-Academy when you went?"

"Yeah they did. I …forgot; guess I've been on a ship too long."

The Republic Fleet Academy taught a plethora of survival techniques that would save your life on a host of different class of planets. One of the first things every soldier was taught was to recover all usable gear from a fallen comrade or perish alongside them for sentimentality. No doubt Skye's training as a scout in the Academy drilled this application of skill into her skull. The life of a Republic scout was often more dangerous than a grunt infantry or the navy. They were often deployed alone and behind enemy lines. They had to survive by their wits or not at all. A lot of battles had been won because of the risks the scouts put themselves in to just so they ferret back Intel that turned the tide of the engagement.

Ravensong said nothing more on the subject, nor did he.

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Commander Carth Onasi watched the security console screens one of the crew quartets flashed a warning that the doors had been tripped. He waited only a moment to be sure it was friendlies and not the Sith who broke Lock-down procedures before he hit the seals on the deck to effectively cut off life support. He saw Ensign Ulgo and one of the scouts the Jedi had recruited flee their quarters. On the holo-monitor he watched as they took down four Sith troopers in a small fire-fight before ducking into a corridor blocked with detritus in order to avoid a volley of small grenades. Carth knew Ulgo was a crack shot but didn't give much hope for the scout armed with a short sword. She was brave he did give her that, but not hope of living through this. She had a blaster at her side but wasn't using it. She was no Jedi; how could she think to take on the Sith with only a blade?

Six more pods away, three left. Bastila had yet to arrive.

Still monitoring the screens, smoke was choking the corridors blocking most of his view, but he could make out the moving images of Sith and Republics fighting hand to hand with blades or martial skills. One of the Sith tossed a grenade into the fray taking out the Republics and his companions. No loyalty amongst the wicked apparently. He was a bit surprised to see something ripple in the smoke and realized what it was he saw. Someone coming out of a stealth field. The Sith fell, decapitated. The little scout was clever.

'Okay brave and clever. There was some hope for her yet. Just who are you Skye Ravensong?' All Onasi knew was what had been in the briefing with the rest of the Senior staff. Several scouts had been recruited for the mission, one of them a Nagai. She was a natural linguist with the uncanny skill with a blade like the rest of her species. Nothing more than that and that made Carth weary. The fact the Jedi … that Bastila had asked for her deliberately made him even more so. In his experiences, last minute changes always spelled disaster. This whole attack, the Nagai's presence and the fact Bastila had little time to devote to her special meditations prior the battle. It didn't add up. And that made Onasi nervous. Instinctively he placed this little scout as someone not to be trusted. He turned from the monitors to another panel at the kiosk and drew up Ravensong's service record. There was little time to read it so he simply downloaded it into his data-PADD for later reading, if there was to be a later that is.

He chanced to look up at the blue-holo emitters transmitting the fight below. Ulgo and Ravensong were pinned down by five troopers. Ulgo took two out with a combination of a small calibre concussion grenade and blaster fire. Ravensong however charged her two assailants. Perhaps he didn't need to go over her service record, she was about to meet a very very messy end.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Skye's whole body hummed to the tune of the vibroblade she had liberated from a dead Sith. She launched herself at a Sith's back—the silver body half turned, gesturing casually to the scout to take her best shot at him. Skye ran past him vaulted up, using his shoulder as support as she drove the blade deep into his neck. He fell hard against the floor nearly taking the lighter weight of the woman with him. She managed to tumble and go with the fall, freeing her blade from his body at the same time. Her forward roll brought her directly in front of the second Sith. The trooper was rather shocked when he felt a blade penetrate his body. Stupidly he looked down to see a crouched Nagai female on her knees at his groin. Instead performing his preferred style of sex, her sword had driven between the space of the armour's codpiece and greaves.

"Bitch," he gurgled before falling back in a metallic clang.

"Remind me never to piss you off," Task chuckled though winced in sympathy for the fellow male's end. Not a happy way to go.

"He won't be making any more baby Sith," Skye said with a smile which faded abruptly at the snap-hiss of a lightsabre igniting beyond the threshold and blocking the door which they needed to go through.

If she was to die at the hands of the Sith at least it wasn't by a trooper but a Dark Jedi. Resigning herself to her fate, Skye prepared herself or a very short fight.

"This fight is too much for us Ravensong, come on run!" Trask pulled her away from the threshold of the corridor. What he saw from his angle, which was cut off from Ravensong's point of view, was a Jedi rushing into the battle. Blood red blade crashed with sky-blue. "We're cut off, we'll have to go around."

"Right."

Flying into the Bridge, Skye let out a small gasp of pain. Not from any physical wound but from the death around her. Five bodies, no Sith, all dead. An emergency force shield covered the front viewer from open space.

"My gods…" Trask uttered as he saw the carnage. What little there was of the Captain covered the helm, and operations. It was obvious he had been standing next to the controls, more likely flying the damn ship himself while his crew had been ordered to flee. There was so little of his body that wasn't minced.

"Bastila's not here." He said not knowing if he was relieved or angry the Jedi had not been able to save his captain, his crewmates…his friends. "She must have made it to the escape pods." If that is so why hadn't Onasi said anything? Were the comms down? It was a possibility given the state of the bridge. "Ravensong, there is nothing we can do here; we have to get off the ship. Now that Bastila is gone there is nothing stopping the Sith from blowing the Endar Spire into space dust."

As she had before, Skye pushed away her personal revulsion at the death and rummaged the mutilated bodies for anything portable they might need wherever it was they were going. 'This is death.' the epitaph of Nagai warriors. She lifted up her head and howled for the dead. Alerting the Black Fleet that warriors were on their way. This was the way of her people. If Trask was surprised by the recruit's actions he gave no show of it. Perhaps he understood the honour that had been given the fallen.

The ship shuddered and smoke crawled up along Skye's body filling her lungs with metallic dust. Trask coughed his own intrusion way, both struggled through the hatch heading for the pod-bay. Their path blocked again. Again, by a Dark Jedi.

Trask looked over at the youthful face of the woman beside him. He was an ageing ensign. If the other Republic soldiers and Bastila were to survive on the Sith world below they would need Ravensong more than him. She was almost Jedi-like with her skills of dodging in and out weaving like a hawk-bat rather than his clumsy kath-hound tactics. Her skills and abilities out matched his hands down. He was only an ensign she was a scout, and scouts do better in the situation that downed crew would find themselves in. Trask made a choice.

"I don't think sword up the groin is going to work with him." Ravensong chuckled and started to move forward to face this dark lord. For he was no mere dark Jedi, he was a Sith Lord. One who claimed the title Darth, the elite of their sect.

"No, you don't! They will need you more than they need me." Trask pushed her back hard enough to make her loose her balance and slide on the blood into the bulkhead and over a dead body. "I'll try to hold him off. Go!"

"What the hell are you doing?" She rose to her feet rushing the door Trask had bolted through. "Trask! Force-be-damned! Trask!"

The door had slammed and locked before Skye managed to get to it. "Son-of-a Kath-hound." She kicked the door with her black rancour-leather boots for good measure. "You stupid heroic bastard!" She spun on her heel, spiriting though the starboard door. "You will be remembered with honour," she whispered softly. "I'll make sure of it; if I live I will howl for you."

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

"Son-of-a-Kath-hound!" Carth growled. Communications had gone down for four minutes when they came back on…he saw only Ravensong dashing down starboard-side corridors. Where was Ensign Ulgo? He was still trying to get communications back to a better measure of operation. Skye had no idea there was a Sith patrol ahead she would be walking into an ambush.

He tried to follow her movements but one moment she was there the next…gone.

'Oh, you are a clever one. A stealth-generator.' He watched in amazed awe as the tip of a sword emerged from the chest cavity of the Sith warrior. Suddenly the whole blade was sticking out of him. Silver gauntlets clutched at the edge as if to pull it free of him. But he could not get a hold, just as easily as the blade had gone in, it slid out leaving only a thin red line along the armour's shinning surface.

Ravensong watched dispassionately as the body toppled to the floor. Casually she walked over the body, but not before going through the man's belongings and pocketing a few things that looked suspiciously like creds, stims and two grenades. Carth continued to watch her progress though the ship as she tried to reach the pod-bay. Her movements stopped and she slammed her body flush against the bulkhead, steadying herself.

Carth had to switch views on the monitors to see why she suddenly stopped, though he had a healthy hunch as to why. Three troopers dead ahead. Ravensong popped the top of the grenade and tossed it around the corner from where she stood with her back pressed hard against the wall. There was a small pop-bang. An adhesive grenade then. Her next move was to come in armed with the short sword in one hand, the vibroblade in the other, once more she somersaulted forward, this time each blade coming down hard, hacking into the calves of the Sith stuck by the cyan adhesive goo of the grenade. Twin moans burled out of their throats. Ravensong ignored them as she cartwheeled into the other. She shook off a few lucky blaster hits into her chest, her armour took the brunt of hit but it knocked her back.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Skye would normally have back-flipped up but she was winded, wounded and exhausted, all she could do was turn over and push herself back up to her feet. Her skull was pounding in what was going to be one mother of a migraine and blood seeped from a dozen different cuts of a vibroblade. Skye hit the stealth generator once more, it might get her past the trooper before and it might give her a moment to gather her wits. She slammed a few epis of stims into her body filling it with added adrenalin to heighten her speed and strength. The stims flooded her body causing a brief muscle spasm before Skye reigned it in focusing all of her energy, all of her rage over the senseless deaths of friends and Trask into her next attack.

The Sith trooper charged the corner to see nothing but instinctually the trooper knew the Republic scum was under a stealth cloak, it didn't matter, she'd be dead soon. He took wild random shots at the corridor ahead of him, spraying the area in a wide disbursement of rapid fire.

Only a desperate whirl to one side made what would have been a smoking hole in her chest into a line of scorch through the armorweave of her tac-vest. Skye slammed her blade down so hard that the shock of deflecting it with the rifle buckled the trooper's elbows. Ravensong spun around in a back kick that propelled the trooper careening into the bulkhead behind him. Skye became mechanically inexorable, impossibly powerful as an assassin droid with a sword: each step a blow and each blow a step. Her blade drove into his body deeper and deeper mowing him down like a scythe reaping the fall harvest.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Carth had not seen the whole thing. He saw the rush but communications winked out once more, he had managed to get them back on line again to see that Ravensong had managed to overcome the trooper that nearly killed her by some means and was not in a control room. Between her and the escape pods was a whole slew of Troopers. Without communications in full operations he couldn't tell her how to get past the squad. He prayed she was smart enough not to barge to get her head blown off. As he saw it there were two options. One fix the droid but that took time they didn't have, especially if she didn't have a skill for minor repairs. The other was the computer. With the lockdown in effect she would have to slice it.

She went for the droid first. Her hands were deft enough not to make a mess of the chassis or memory core. Inserting parts, she had obviously recovered of the downed astromech droids she was able not only repair the droid's primary patrol function, but initiate its force-shied and weapons abilities to their full capacity. When she had finished Ravensong sprinted over to the computer terminal before the droid opened the blast door. Taking out a slicing pin she tapped into the memory of the computer commanded the computer terminals in the next room to override which would cause an explosion.

'Smart move,' Carth approved of her measures. If the droid failed or was gunned down too quickly the computer blowing up the power couplings would blast open anyone still standing. She had doubled her effectiveness over the enemy. This little recruit seemed to be a clear thinking tactician as well as a talented tech. So why with all her talents and obvious skills was she so low in rank, besides the obvious: her age?

Why were the Jedi, especially Padawan Bastila Shan so very interested in her? It didn't add up. And that made Commander Onasi edgy, mistrusting and judgmental. Ensign Ulgo was an experienced junior officer but this recruit- not him- had survived the Sith boarding parties. How? No other recruit had made it, only this one. Onasi wondered if she was tied to them. How had the Sith known were the Endar Spire was? Was the battle he witnessed over the security cameras all for show? Or was it coincidence? Perhaps Ravensong was simply that talented. So, talented that it got Jedi attention?

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Skye's eyes fell upon the unique blade of a vibrosword. 'Must be a prototype,' her mind catalogued even as she took it up into her hands. She felt the weight of it and approved of its superior balance to the vibroblade she had been using. There was no time to lose; the ship was on the edge of destruction. It shuddered again and again as more and more ion cannons bombarded her hull.

Skye nearly lost her balance when the ship started listing. 'Not good! Not good!' The blast door between her and the escape pods had been locked up, making her have to slice it open. Blood on her hands made it difficult to hold the security slicer but Skye managed to retain a calm about her. Panic lead to stupid mistakes if not death.

At last it opened. Skye burst through the doors coming to a skidding halt, coming face to face with a male human wearing an orange Republic officer's uniform.

"You've made it just in time! There's only one active escape pod left. Come on, we can hide out on the planet below!"

Not even thinking about it she unholstered her blaster and pointed it at Commander Carth Onasi. "ID!" She demanded. He wasn't in a Sith uniform but that didn't mean he hadn't stolen a Republic officer's uniform donned it to blend in. The Endar Spire had been ambushed. How? Obviously a spy on board gave up their local to the Sith. This could have been the bastard to have done it. Skye wasn't going to take any chances.

The commander saw not vengeance but uncertainty in the baby-faced scout. It was understandable she had just engaged four squads of Sith troopers. Her adrenalin was running high, battle-lust was heated. "Not Sith. I am Commander Carth Onasi. I contacted you on your wrist comm"

The blaster lowered. "Sorry Sir," Skye said.

"Where's Ensign Ulgo?"

"He fell sir, he engaged with an elite dark Jedi. He ordered me to go, sir," Skye gritted her teeth for the loss of a good man.

Onasi saw that same expression a dozen times over during the wars. It was the expression of anger and mourning for a lost platoon-mate. "Into the pod soldier. We can mourn our dead later."

"Sir!" Ravensong snapped a salute before diving through the hatch of the escape pod. She dropped her gear into one of the small cargo footlockers before securing herself into one of the seats.

Onasi was on her tail. He hit the panel causing the hatch to close, seal and release the pod into space. Both watched from the porthole as the Endar Spire spiralled away. With no one at the helm what was left would likely burn up in the atmosphere. Fortunately escape pods were constructed with extra shielding against the heat of re-entry their decent would not be a fiery blaze of destructive glory like Endar Spire.

The last pod spiralled away from the Republic cruiser while over it, like a basking fraxon shark, hovered the hulking Sith destroyer. Small bursts of ion particles rippled along the hull like micron stars.

"Funny the damage doesn't seem as bad from out here." Carth muttered watching the scene of senseless carnage being carried out in the name of the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Skye was about to respond to the contrary but before a word passed her lips the ship exploded in a rose bloom of orange, yellow and blue plasma ball of gaseous detritus. The explosion could be felt in the pod's hull, shaking it as a gizka in a kath-hound's mouth. The inertia dampeners over-compensated was they plunged into the atmosphere of the planet below. A super-heated red comet tail trailed off of the hull was too much for the staining shields. This would not be a good landing. Both occupants had strapped themselves yet even the restraints pulled, groaned and threatened to buckle.

All over the planet the story was the same, pods descended like meteorites, careening into the streets and hidden recesses of the city of Taris attracting the attention of Sith, and scavengers alike.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Carth's mind asserted itself from the depths of unconsciousness only to conclude that he was in a very peculiar position. He was upside down held in place by the over-the shoulder restraints of the escape pod seats. Metallic smoke filled the small confines of the pod and threatened to send Carth back into unconsciousness. Already his lungs were filled with the burning carcinogens of smouldering durasteel causing him to cough and draw in desperate gulps of air only to pollute his lungs once more. His hand reached for the restraints pinning him in place and gravity took over plunging Onasi to the inverted ceiling of the pod's interior close to the recruit who was still out cold. Her blood dripped from a head wound pooling into a puddle by his boots. Her lungs wheezed, straining against the smoke filling them. Carth heard that sound before. Her lungs were filling with blood. She would die soon if he didn't get her out of there.

He had to first get air in the small confines; get rid of some of the cloying smoke tempting to steal away his life. It would certainly take Ravensong's. Popping the hatch, Carth poked his head out cautiously drawing in great gulps of fresher air in greedy desperation.

Night. The dead of it given the relative light traffic and given the circumstances of an escape pod landing smack upon the Upper City streets. The pod's crash had wiped out street lamps further plunging the area in darkness. But it wasn't to last. The city was waking from the intrusive metallic cacophony of escape pods crashing all over the city. In the distance Carth saw bobbing lights of wrist beacons heading directly for him. Voices cried out in a multitude of languages. Every one of them intent on being the first to the crash site. Nothing attracted people more than a good crash in the macabre fascination they might see blood and broken bodies.

'Here they come.' He ducked back in knowing he had very little time to flee.

Looking around he saw the pod's emergency survival kit pack which would have been filled with stims, medpacks, and possible life-support packs. He opened it up quickly searching for an epi that would save this woman's life until he could get her to relative safety. He was a soldier, he knew any gear in here would be needed thus it was his priority over the failing survival of his companion. Any gear left would be gone if he came back for it, salvage crews and scavengers would strip it clean. If he took it all and left Ravensong she would be taken prisoner, if she ever survived the man-handling of her captors. He had to get all he could in one go. Punching in the code for the footlocker Onasi recovered the gear Ravensong had secreted and slung it over his shoulders. Only then did he return his attention back to the young woman.

He positioned himself under her as he released the buckles holding her in place. Her slight weight fell onto his shoulder with a soft thump. He was a little concerned that if she sustained broken ribs he might have just sent the busted bone into her lungs.

'Now to get out of here.'

The voices once in the distance were closer now, almost upon the site. Carth managed to clamber over the detritus of the crash only to trip in the ditch the pod had gouged into the street's surface. Unable to retain his balance he lost hold of Ravensong who had been slung over his shoulder. Her body toppled over twice into the debris. She gave out a moan of pain but did not waken. There was a very small moment when Carth thought he should leave her. A seriously injured, nearly dead comrade was a hindrance to survival. But he wasn't about to leave anyone behind. Not if they had a flicker of life in them. Ravensong held onto hers with a desperation he had rarely seen in all his years in war.

Stooping to pick her up once more he realized she must have fallen into dormo-shock. A condition where by a traumatically injured person enters a natural state of profound sleep to allow the body's regenerative and recuperative powers to heal the traumatized area; a coma. 'Thank the Force for that.'

With most of his strength sapped away, Carth managed to drag his exhausted body and cargo into the closest complex before the onlookers and authorities reached the pod. He blundered along the circular halls hoping one of them would be open; he would not bank on a kind soul in this place. Besides the fewer people who knew they were survivors of the Republic ship the better. To his astonishment, he came across a human janitor who took one look at him and grunted.

"You're messing my halls, boy. That blood will be near impossible to clean up. Might have to resort on the droids." His wrinkled face contorted into a grimace. "Blood trails…humph! Gotta get it cleaned…before it attracts unwanted sentients. If I were you, boy, I'd take your girl and get somewhere you don't leave blood everywhere."

"That's the idea. Any open places?"

"A few. Now get. I got cleaning to do." The old man hobbled grumbling to the maintenance droids about inconsiderate folk and that they were to scour the floors until they show their reflections. There was to be no traces of blood that could be tracked lest it muck up the rest of the complex.

Carth managed to locate one of the abandoned apartments the janitor had hinted at. Stumbling in he dropped Ravensong onto one of the beds, dropped the gear pack and went back to the doors to seal it before he stumbled out of sheer exhaustion to the only other bunk in the place just opposite of Ravensong's. If he could just rest his eyes for a moment…just a moment, then he'd see to the wounded scout.

'Never leave a wounded soldier down, I don't care how tired you are, how out of hope you think you are. A downed soldier is a liability a healing one is an asset. When you're down in alien territory, worse yet behind enemy lines you need all hands, even the wounded. You push past your own exhaustion soldier and take care of those in your squad. The squad is your life. If you can't handle it get the hell out of command. Get the hell out of the Unit. We do not need useless Hutt-spawn slag quitters clogging up the military. YOU HEAR ME!'

"Sir, yes sir," Carth muttered to the darken room.

The lecture had been from a former mentor, a man trusted like no other, a man…gone now. Still the words were true. Carth forced his eyes open, forced his mind to awaken. Ravensong had taken a blow to the head, he didn't even know what other injuries she had sustained prior the crash and she had taken the brunt of the blown-out computer terminal inside the pod and the Force knew what else.

Rolling to his side Onasi pushed off the bunk towards his wounded companion. Blood had crusted upon her forehead, mattered her black hair and stained her once white tunic. He had been out longer than he thought for the blood to have already congealed in the wounds. 'Oh, don't you die on me now.' Carth prayed.

Gingerly he removed the black tac-vest from her body and dropped it to the floor, it clanged as it hit indicated she had obviously stuffed its many pockets with found supplies. Next came her shirt which didn't come off so easily. It had 'welded' itself to her body by infusing its fibres into her once open now scabbed over wounds. He would have to peel it off of her body. "Thank the gods you're out cold, because this is going to hurt like a son-of-a-kath-hound."

Carefully not to do her more injury he peeled the tunic off of her but no matter how careful he was, Carth could not avoid reopening the wounds. Without the proper medical facilities, he would have to make do with what the sparse apartment offered. Using one of the accordion bowls from the survival kit, Carth filled it with water and used one of the swaps from the medical kit to clean and sterilize the now bleeding lacerations and burn marks. Both sustained from her battles on the Endar Spire and the crash landing.

"Sorry but modesty is not something we can afford now." He had to remove the sports bra she wore to get to the wounds under her breasts. He didn't even have to distract himself from the perfect proportionate beauty of their shape or how they fitted his hand completely, his mind was utterly focused on saving her life to think of the sensuality he had before him.

Turning her over, he gasped in awe. A lattice work of barely visible scar tissue marred her perfect back, along her spine and down her legs. "What the hell happened to you? You look like you took an ion cannon point blank in the back or tangled with a rabid rancour. How in the bloody hell did you even survive that?"

Of course, she gave no answer. Whatever happened to her she had been Force healed or the marks would have been red, puckered and ugly as they were the scarring almost seemed like tribal. Onasi had seen more than his fair share of battle scars and knew this was no tribal tradition that marked Ravensong's back. She had seen hardcore battle. Onasi had seen Force healing, had even been a patient of a Force Healer during the Mandalorian Wars to know this young woman had been given the same treatment.

"Okay, if you survived whatever did that to you, you can survive this, besides it's a direct order. You will live, damn it."

The unconscious woman remained thus and gave him no response- not even a grunt. As he was dressing her wounds, Carth took note of something not uncommon amongst military personnel. Ravensong had a number of tattoos. Not a number exactly, though she had three rather highly detailed and rather large tats. One was of a Nabooian tusked panther. Her mouth was open showing an impressive display of teeth and fangs. The artist had cleverly made it look as though the scars that marred Ravensong's back had been made by the beast. Another elaborate tattoo was that of a Hoth ice dragon. Its wings outstretched in mid-flight, its tale cured along her left buttock and hip bone. Its face was turned to a three-quarters view; its mouth like the feline was open so it could belch out jets of ionic ice-fire up Ravensong's spine very near the clawed feet of the panther. Both tattoos seem to be designed to cover up a wealth of scarring that came from both shrapnel and blaster burns.

The other tattoo was of a Nagai hawk-bat on her left bicep. The raptor was screeching coming in for a kill, its talons outstretched to catch its prey unawares. No doubt this was a familiar tattoo marking her to belong to a certain clan of the Nagai. Onasi was surprised to see that one for it marked her being ranked as a Nagai Blade. Again, this tat seemed to be covering a scar that looked a lot like a lightsabre scar. Had a Sith or a Jedi put it there?

Carth looked at the bat-hawk again. Nagai? She looked human, rather than the paled pointed-eared Knives. Carth always thought the Nagai looked more like animated vampiric elves in the holovids he used to watch as a boy then anything living. A Nagai? It would explain her dexterity and affinity for blades over blasters and how she was able to do some of the moves he had seen over the holo-cameras. The Nagai were always swift on their feet and quicker still with a blade. It was why some called the race, Knives. Most Nagai warriors carried a plethora of blades about their person. Ravensong had only six. A short sword, a vibroblade and what looked like a prototype vibrosword. The forth was a Nagai stiletto dagger that had fit along an Echani gantlet she had been wearing. The last two were twin honour blades that no doubt were of her clan as they bore the same hawk-bat design on the hilts.

She didn't carry the normally albino corpse-pale skin tone of the Nagai but a more flushed appearance of a Correllian Nord human. Her ears were tapered into points so she could hide them if she kept her hair either down or in the loose pony tail she he had seen her wear. Her windswept up-raised eyebrows could be easily overlooked. Her eyes were not black or grey as the Nagai but a deep midnight blue. It did happen even though it was extremely rare in their kind. Her hair however was the jet-black common amongst the Nagai. The slight body build could be explained as a factor of her tenaciously demanding athletic workouts, though no doubt it was to her Nagai blood. Most would think her human, a factor Ravensong no doubt took advantage of. Sentients would find her exotic but not know why. It was as if she was on the very edge of being wild. That made her unpredictable in Onasi's books and it was something he was going to watch in his new companion if she survived that is.

Onasi drew in a satisfied sigh; at least the young woman was stabilized now. How long it was going to last only the Force knew. He turned away from her, looking longingly at the tempting bed in the opposite corner. But however desirable it was to simply crash Carth could not ignore the grime coating him, he felt as if every pore in his body was oozing the stink of smoke, sweat and blood, most of the latter being Ravensong's. How she survived with so much blood lost was a mystery to the commander. No sense looking a gift tauntaun in the mouth, so Carth just accepted it as a part of her excellent physical conditioning. It was plainly obvious Ravensong took care of her body.

Carth wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of his jacket when as he shirked it off. The rest of his clothing and those of Ravensong's were just as offensive to the nose. There would be time enough to clean them up after Onasi took his own shower. Going into the apartment's head he spotted a sonic shower. That was fine by him, sonic showers were standard on any military vessel and he was used to them. He knew others detested the use preferring hydro showers but he wasn't about to complain. At least it wasn't a bath. How he hated the idea of sitting in one's own dirt trying to get clean. It was disgusting and unhygienic. Now sonic showers … they vibrated the grime, sweat and stink down past layers of pores. It made you feel clean.

Once he finished Onasi decided to throw all their clothing including their undergarments into the stall and hit the cycle to run a second time. Great thing about sonic cleansing it didn't leave you or your clothes sopping wet. He'd have to make sure to redress Ravensong in hers least she wake and jump to the wrong conclusion.

Exhaustion tugged at commander demanding to be answered. At last Onasi allowed himself to surrender to Morpheus' warm embrace after he double checked the security on the door to the apartment.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Gray clouds, black swirling mists spiralled in and out of the mindscape.

This is death!

Blood swathed her face as war paint.

Remember Death so you recognize it when it comes again.

Blood.

Shadows. Streaming down like rain like pumas from Blood dripping into pools about her feet.

Mask…this is death…blood. Shadow…this is life. Taste the acrid flavour upon your tongue, savour it. Know it. Feel it. Give it. Receive it. Blood death. Blood life. Remember!

A world gone.

Shadows consume it. Blood spurts out from an open vein but not from a body but from a planet.

Thump. Thump thump do you know its staccato beat? Under skin river, under world river. Blood. Shades. Shadows. Golden rays. Not a sun. Yellow burning. Sentinel. Red. Blood. Blaze. Clash!

Thump thump thump. Under skin river underworld river life. Death. Shadows eating worlds.

You will do as I ask, as I need. My beautiful General. Others...bonded. Will answer. Call the shadow. Blood…see it. Know it. It is the only way. Trust. Surik….

She will turn on us, you must kill her!

Never! Red blade, wild sweep, blood, cry of pain. You will not harm her. I free her. Now you will always remember who is the Master.

Burning

Hacking.

Biting.

Thump thump thump. Underskin river. Underworld river. Life…death.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Carth Onasi watched as Ravensong moaned, tossing in her dream haunted coma.

"Wake up, Ravensong, it's a nightmare…come on wake up."

The only sound she made was a mewling sound as if she was a wee little girl not a full-grown woman.

Carth opened one of the medpacks and took out one of the sponges to soak up water so he might stimulate her mouth to suckle upon the wetness so she would at least not become dehydrated. On Telos, doctors, would not see a patient unless they were paid in full up-front. He suspected it was the same here on Taris. With so few credits he could never afford a kolto treatment for this wounded soldier. They would have to make do with the scant few supplies they had. Fortunately, Ravensong had a scout's prepaid cred–stick he could use in the Czerka synthesizer for food.

Yes, apartments came with standard with refreshers, coolers and synthesizers but you had to pay a standard month's fee for the latter's use. Without an account or rather one he wanted traced Carth almost gave up hope on using it until he rummaged in Ravensong's tac-vest and found the prepaid stick. All scouts carried one if not more to use in order to keep their trails all that more difficult to trace. Fortunately, hers had a hefty sum already allowanced. They could live a month rather comfortably if needs be. Granted it could not be used for materials and gear but at least they wouldn't starve or have to resort to the MRE's in the survival kits.

Carth attempted to get a clear vegetable-soy broth down her throat but that only resulted in near choking her to death. So he stuck to simply getting her to suckle water from the sponges.

Onasi would be lying if he said the torpor didn't frighten him. In truth, he was terrified she would never waken. The head wound must have been far more serious than he thought. He only had forty credits on him. Of course, in his accounts he had several thousand credits but that was a bit moot now. Yes, he might have been able to use Ravensong's prepaid cred-stick but there was not enough in it to cover a visit from a doctor. A house call alone cost nearly six hounded credits; add to that the treatment…which could not be covered. Kolto cost well over a thousand and that was about what she had in the stick. Onasi reasoned he might be able to get more medical kits, and stimulants to keep her alive from the one of the shops around the Upper City.

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Burning

Hacking.

Biting.

Thump thump thump. Underskin river. Underworld river. Life…death.

The One. The Elder.

Thump. Thump thump do you know its staccato beat? Under skin river, under world river. Blood. Shades. Shadows. Golden rays. Not a sun. Yellow burning. Sentinel. Red. Blood. Blaze. Clash!

Snap—hiss lightsabre. Hunted!

Beauty. Rage. Anger.

Blood

Explosions.

Remember who you are.

Raven with yellow eyes. A face painted in blood.

Flurry fight. Blades clash yellow, red. SHE was here. Calling, wanting, hating, loving.

Yellow eyes Raven. Revan. Blood. Blood. Red, yellow. She …they sent HER! Hunting. Calling. Hating. Loving. Blood mask. This is death. Remember it so you may recognize it when it comes again. Know…feel, remember. Snap-hiss-yellow…red. Clash!

SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW

Carth watched Ravensong once more as she seemed to slip out of unconsciousness only to fall back into it. Whatever plagued her dreams were hard, brutal and terrifying. It terrified him at the thought she was going to be trapped in this endlessness and never truly waken.

He sat down with a bowl of nerf stew replicated from the synthesizer and poured over Ravensong's service record.

Skye Ravensong

Biographical information

Homeworld: Deralia

Birth -

Physical Description:

Race: Nagai

Gender: Female

Eye color: blue

Hair color: black

Blood Type: A –

Distinctive markings:

3 Tattoos: Nabooian tusked panther, Hoth Ice dragon both covering upper and lower back, Nagai-clan marking: hawk-bat wrapping left bicep.

Extensive scarring from plasma, blaster and ion burns, lightsabre scarring, as well as laceration scaring due to shrapnel caused by a downed fighter behind enemy lines.

Family: Parents deceased, no siblings

Religious affiliation: neophyte disciple: Temple of the Night Mother

Political Affiliation: Loyalist to the Galactic Republic

Position: Scout. Republic Military: Elite Commando: Special Ops

Rank: 1st Lieutenant

Special Training: Close combat specialist unarmed level: 3

Close combat specialist melee: level: 3

Marksmanship small arms. Marksmanship rifles: level 2

Survival Training level: 3

Computer slicing

Demolitions

Tech-specialist

One-man-fighter pilot

Polylingual: Speaks several alien dialects with natural affinity

Languages include: Galactic Basic, Nagaiese, Catharian, Ryl, Huttese, Durosian, Taftian, Mandalorian, Shyriiwook, droid-speak, Selkath, Gamorrean, Rodian,…

Deraila? That was beyond the Outer Rim territories. Of course, the Nagai hailed from beyond the Outer Rim territories so it was possible she came from Deraila though it would be next to impossible to trace. Onasi hit on Elite Commando…no wonder she was highly skilled. Even the most the raw recruit in SF was a better soldier than many high ranked officers in the regular branches of the Republic military. A first lieutenant wasn't quite a full grade lieutenant but it was not necessarily a recruit either. So why the deception? Bastila and the other Jedi seemed to think her a mere recruit as did Ensign Ulgo. It could be a reference to her newly minted status in Special Ops. It was one of many questions Onasi wanted answered.

Carth scanned over the numerous alien languages the woman spoke. It seemed to him she spoke almost every alien he had ever heard of and several he had not. How did she learn not only to understand but speak Shyriiwook! Onasi couldn't even understand the grunts and growls of a Wookiee, let alone mimic them into anything resembling a conversation. Hell the woman didn't even need a sonic translator to understand the bleeps and whirls of an astrodroid or any other droid for that matter. Granted a protocol droid spoke over three million forms of communications but Ravensong spoke well over thirty which was phenomenal for a sentient. He could put it down to an implant in her cranium that gave her such abilities, this however wasn't the case. She had a natural talent for linguistics. He knew some Jedi who possess the same talent but Ravensong was no Jedi.

Why did the Jedi Council want her specifically? Was it her…or her talents… wasn't there amongst their number one equally talented? Padawan Bastila Shan had taken a very keen interest in her…what did they see in her that he was missing. Jedi…

He looked down and the diminutive figure was she…. did she have a connection to the Force perhaps? Too old for training but too connected to the Force to ignore, so she is recruited from her previous post and appointed a position on the Endar Spire roster. It had to be because none of it was adding up.

Looking at the baby-faced woman made him feel as old as that ancient janitor scouring the corridors he had met earlier. Each of his thirty-eight years became a decade…. a century. Humans lived to be about hundred and fifty if not a bit longer, so why should being in his late thirties seem so very ancient? A simple question with an equally simple answer, this woman was twenty-five and already accomplished much. The number of languages alone was something quite astonishing.

He looked up from the data-PADD watching the young woman once more. She was beautiful make no mistake. Obviously talented and skilled add that to what he seen of her in action on the Endar Spire she was a quick and decisive thinker. A person he could use, but was she loyal? Or would she betray him as so many in the past? Onasi made a snap decision not to risk any sort of entangled friendship; he'd keep her at an arm's length. He had a mission to do and to accomplish his agenda he needed to use every tool at his disposal this included a 1st Lieutenant Scout.

Ravensong seemed more stable at the moment. She was still floating in and out of consciousness, plagued with nightmares. She mumbled in her sleep flipping from one language to another so swiftly Carth couldn't make out much of what she was murmuring. Onasi figured the recent crash and explosion resurrected the trauma of whatever happened to her to have caused the scarring on her back. She must have spent some time in a kolto tank and rehab with a Jedi Healer to have made the recovery she had that allowed her to move about as she did on the Endar Spire.

Carth could have used a Healer now or even access to a kolto tank. Both options were out of the question. With little more he could do in the apartment Onasi decided he would walk the streets. He was no scout but Carth was confident in his own skills to ferret out basic Intel at least enough to start the formulating the foundations of a battle plan. He might even be able to find something out about Bastila and any surviving soldiers from the flight from the Endar Spire.

Carth knew a few things about Taris, though not much more than what occurred just before the Mandalorian wars. He knew for instance that in 3,966 Taris had a seat in the Galactic Senate but would not last long. In '64 Captain Saul Karath commanded the Republic fleet that protected Taris. A fleet Carth had been for a short time apart of.

At some point prior to or during the Mandalorian Wars, the Jedi Order established a satellite training academy on Taris, ostensibly as a means of preparing its students for the more rigorous duties of patrolling the Outer Rim. Such was the mutually-beneficial relationship between the Jedi and the Tarisian authorities that the planetary constabulary sought in vain for even more Jedi to be stationed there. The pressing threat of the Mandalorians however rendered this wish untenable what with all enclave graduates earmarked for front-line combat duty. It is presumed that the academy—under the leadership of headmaster Lucien Draay—was either destroyed or abandoned at some point during or after the year '64, before the later Sith occupation.

After fugitive Padawan Zayne Carrick escaped from the Jedi Tower twice, massive rioting spilled out across the world, causing the Jedi Council to withdraw the Jedi presence from Taris and for the Republic to abandon it before the Mandalorians. In 3,960 the Mandalorians were defeated they presumably abandoned the planet. Now the world was decaying rapidly with much of the once-magnificent metropolis having fallen into ruin and disrepair after over only century of prosperity.

Though Taris held a Republic military presence, it had not been viewed with any military importance since the First Battle of Taris of course that was before the Endar Spire had arrived in orbit. Everything had changed since then; the Jedi were gone, the Mandalorians long since gone, now the Sith were here in droves.

Finding anything more Carth had to do some legwork. There was a rumour that the swoop bikes had been invented here in the Machineville sometime ago. Lhosan Industries was a swoop bike-building corporation that employed many people in the Lower City on Taris. Its chairman was Jervo. In 3,966, after the Tarisian resource worlds of Jebble, Vanquo, Tarnith, and Suurja were threatened, Lhosan used its money to ensure Taris received a seat in the Galactic Senate, and ensured the formation of the Jebble-Vanquo-Tarnith line.

In 3,964, in response to the Padawan Massacre of Taris, the company announced their plan to move operations off-planet in hopes of finding a safer location. This caused the ruination of half the denizens of the Lower City, who entered into an orgy of destruction when the news broke out.

During the Siege of Taris, their building near Machineville was abandoned, and later occupied by basilisk war droids before being destroyed in the fighting. Of course, now the old building is said to be inhabited by one of the swoop bike gangs. Ironic really if one gave any thought to it.

Ultimately, the Mandalorians were successful in their conquest of the planet; upon which, it must be noted, were a number of the last Cathar refugee-survivors from the Mandalorian genocide of their species. A resistance force, including the world's swoop gangs was established in the Lower City. The precise length of the Mandalorian occupation of Taris is as yet unknown, but it would eventually end with the retaking of the planet by the Jedi Knights under the command of General Revan, in 61. After the Mandalorian War, Carth knew very little of this back-water world or how much it had changed. It was no longer the thriving metropolis world it once was, Onasi had to find out as much as possible before he implemented any sort of action.

He had just passed the threshold of the apartment when he turned around and dashed back inside narrowly dodging the attention of a Grey-belly and two silver troopers intent on harassing the skulking inhabitants of the South Apartment complex.

"Kriffing brilliant Onasi! Just lead the Sith right here and give up why don't you." He scolded himself. In his hurry to get information, Onasi had forgotten to remove the ID patches from his uniform bomber jacket that marked not only that he was on board the Endar Spire but also his name and an officer of the Republic Navy. What a rookie mistake! There was much more to being a scout than coxing people to talk and weeding out information from bantha poodoo, like the little easily forgotten details: dog tags, patches to name a few. The blood honour piping down his trouser legs could be overlooked, but not the id badges on a uniform.

Going out once more Carth tried to look as inconspicuous as possible so he might blend in with the milling populace of the Upper City. Hitting the local cantina was as far as Carth was concerned the best point to start. Disgruntled spacers would talk your ear off if you bought them ale. On a Sith occupied world no doubt there would be several spacers willing to talk. Even citizens might have a few words to share if he kept their tankards filled. The Upper City featured a cantina famous for its duelling ring owned by Ajuur the Hutt, one of the few non-humans allowed in the Upper City.

It took him two long days but Carth had managed to dig out a bit of information from protocol droids and a handful of cantina patrons but everyone was keeping their mouths closed and thoughts to themselves. Frankly Carth wasn't suited to fish intelligence out of reluctant people and he knew it. He was able to find a few things that would be an asset to the mission of search and rescue.

The Upper City was a beautiful area inhabited by rich and powerful people, dwelling in the highest reaches of the towering skyscrapers that dominated the planet's landscape. It had been the same when Onasi had been here during the Mandalorian Wars. A Sith military base was also established in the Upper City, and its roads were heavily patrolled by Sith Stormtroopers. Carth continued to keep his head down as not to gain their unwanted eyes.

Here, the privileged classes surrounded themselves with the trappings of prosperity, oblivious to the suffering and oppression of those forced to dwell far below them. Access to the Upper City was restricted to non-Humans, although notable non-Humans found in the Upper City included a Twi'lek droid merchant Janice Nall, Ajuur the Hutt, and a Rodian duellist named Twitch. There were a few other shops in walking distance and even a medical facility close by.

Carth knew that before the Mandalorian war the Middle City was the most populated level of Taris. It contained the middle class and working citizens of the planet's Human population. After the second escape of fugitive Jedi Zayne Carrick, massive riots rocked the Middle City causing extensive damage. Now much of it was condemned. You couldn't even get access to it from this part of the city. The Mandalorians had razed it to ruin and the Sith saw no purpose in reconstructing it.

The Lower City was home to the poor people not born into the privileged classes of society, and aliens were common there, as this was the only area where they were legally allowed to live. From what some of the grounded spacers mumbled the most popular lower city attraction if you wanted to go slumming was Javyar's Cantina run by of course Javyar. But getting access to the Lower City was difficult it seemed only Sith could come and go as they pleased or rather more likely as they were ordered to do so. If you didn't have authorization papers or were in the Sith military you were prohibited access. Harassing the guards stationed at the lift was a good way to get yourself blasted into dust.

Even if you were able to get down into that cesspit, the place was overrun with swoop gang thugs that would shoot you as soon as they clapped their eyes on you. It was better to stay in the Upper City.

The last 'city' of Taris was a very generous description of the squalor that was the Undercity. It was a village on the ground level beneath the immense skyscrapers of Taris and was a dark, wild area inhabited by the Outcasts—people whose predecessors were banished from the city for their crimes. It was nothing more than a hive of scum and villainy not to mention rakghouls. Most of the Uppercity citizens were thoroughly convinced that anyone sent down to the Undercity became one of these humanoid zombie mutants. This was why none of the Outcasts or their brood were ever allowed up even into the Lower city. No one wanted their filth around.