Star Wars 1. So we're basically screwed?

**So, here's my attempt to write KotOR into a novelization. 'Cause I'm sure that hasn't been done before. We'll see how it goes. **

**For some reason I have to explain that I don't own the plot, dialogue, or most characters. Thought it was obvious, but for those who were curious, there you go. **

The dark lord's arms fly forward as a lightning quick reflex, the red beam of the weapon held in both hands slamming into their opponent's respective weapon, right in front of their masked face with great force. They drive it forward, only to pull back in order to parry a blow rushing toward their side, stepping back and then onward to deliver another hit. The two combatants are locked in a dance of will and pure instinct. Evenly matched and unrelenting, the whirrs of their clashing lightsabers echo through the gray durasteel bridge. The gigantic viewport behind the pair that remain on the walkway reveals only stars and darkness, doing little to brighten the ship. The glow of terminals barely manages to reach beyond the pits beside the walkway, and the two battling figures are difficult to make out very clearly. They carry on for a moment before one staggers back, aiming their yellow weapon high above their head, and finally, they're illuminated. Alabaster skin, focused gray eyes, and tightly pressed lips. Her brunette hair is pulled tightly behind her into two short tails, only a few strands hanging into her smooth forehead. It sends a feeling of regret to their heart with a jolt, to realize that the person they're facing in combat is who they think they are, but the odd feeling is quickly demolished by the overpowering urge to strike her down.

Before the fight continues everything fades to black.

()()()

Syrin's eyes pry open to blink sluggishly in confusion while the woman checks her surroundings, realizing she's tucked into bed. Since...when? An unpleasant ache pounds her head, and she finds no comfort in the hard pillow placed beneath her. Black-brown eyes absorb a dingy apartment, with a couple of sofas nestled to the right in a corner, a workbench, tables in the middle and by couches, along with more plain beds to her left. It's fairly spacious. The colors are neutral. Kind of homey, Syrin thinks. There's dirt along the walls and smudged on the windows that are draped with barely opaque curtains to expose a glittering cityscape. Sunlight leaks through to rest on the carpeted floor, catching dust motes in their beams. It must be around noon. The door slides open with a whoosh, divulging a man with a rusty orange jacket, brown pants, and black boots. His eyes are a deep brown, with hair a shade or so darker that dangles in his face a bit, a face with a little stubble. His shoulders are broad, and Syrin supposes that he's a soldier by the way he walks so straight, not to mention his muscle tone and serious expression as he paces forward. Concern washes over his features when he spots her.

"Good to see you're finally up, instead of thrashing around in your sleep. You must've been having one hell of a nightmare. I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up." Syrin scrunches her brow slightly, remembering bits and pieces of past events, and his voice grows softer, "I'm Carth, one of the Republic's soldiers from the Endar Spire. I was with you in the escape pod…Do you remember?"

"Ah, the one on the communicator. I remember." They were attacked by the Sith. Only ones left on board. Crashed on some planet below in an escape pod. Intense pain in her head. Lights out. Leave it to the Republic to recruit her for the mission that ends in two survivors and a crash landing.

"You've been slipping in and out of consciousness for a couple of days now so I imagine you're a little confused about things." Syrin gets out of bed, looking around for her bag of personal effects, and gritting her teeth against a wave of vertigo, "Uh…should you be getting up?"

"Gonna stop me?" She flashes him a quick grin, spotting the pouch on the table by the right most couch, and then rifling through to inventory a few credits, her favorite blaster, and datapad. All there, except the datapad has signs of being tampered with. This smuggler always wears gloves, so her autoprint never shows. Now there is a partial unidentified one, and she drops it back onto the table, turning to the man, "Did you look through this?" She gestures to it with a jerk of her thumb and raised eyebrows. Her service records. Meaning, he knows where she's been, what battles she's fought, her skills as a translator, blaster prowess, her names, and all of that. Luckily there's nothing from childhood on that thing, but still.

"Don't take it the wrong way, you were out for a long time. I just wanted to know more about you, like your name, seeing as we'll probably be stuck together for a while.

"If you say so, but hey, whatever. Hope you found something nice and incriminating." She rolls her eyes, whirling again to the refresher this time, taking note of his distrust. "Name's Reth. Syrin Reth, in case you didn't find it among my aliases, by the way." The door clicks and Onasi just stares after her, sighing. She's going to be difficult.

The woman is done in the refresher after 5 minutes to Carth's surprise, dressed in black fitted pants, boots, a white dress shirt, and a dark brown leather utility vest, ready to go. Her obsidian hair is pulled back, leaving her side bangs and a couple of strands of hair framing her face.

"That was quick, for a lady I mean."

"You referring to me?" She straps her blaster to its holster, then starts wrapping her only pouch around her waist, "Lady isn't the term I'd have used."

A thoughtful pause as they start for the door. "Oh? What should I use then?" A chortle.

"Don't implode over it Onasi, just use my name."

When the doors fly open, there's a dramatic scene unfolding.

"You alien scum! Alright, everyone put your hands up! This is a raid!"

"Yeah, we didn't notice that." Syr mutters under her breath to her partner's dismay, analyzing the situation. There's only one Sith patrol in a cloth uniform, no armor, two battle droids, and he's facing two aliens. One alien, the blue guy, speaks up.

"There was a raid here yesterday, and they found nothing! Why do you Sith keep bothering us?" Reth flinches when the alien is shot down without another word, the shooter fuming with anger.

"That's how the Sith deal with smart-mouth aliens! Now get up against the wall before I lose my temper again!" Alright, that's enough of that. Reth steps forwards, whipping out her blaster to hide behind her back, other hand balled into a fist.

"Hey, you! E'chuta with the big, bad attitude!" Carth glares at her, though braces himself as the Sith whirls around.

"What's this? Humans hiding out among aliens?" He seems perplexed, and Syrin resists the urge to remark on his lack of intelligence, when his brows furrow into a well known expression of anger, again, "They're Republic fugitives! Droids, attack!" Syrin ducks, avoiding the first round of fire, while making a nice head shot at the commander. He crumples to the ground, dead.

Carth provides covering fire, and his companion manages to get up close range tp kick the remaining droid's weapon away, slamming its head into the wall with a loud crunch and some sparks. She releases it to slide to the floor, dusting off her hands and holstering her blaster. The quivering, hunched alien hesitantly raises from his position, taking in the destruction around him.

"Poor Ixgil. He should've never talked back to that Sith. Thankfully you humans were here to step in and help, or my fate could have been the same as his."

"How often does this happen?" Carth asks.

"Let's just say this isn't the first time the Sith have caused trouble for the residents here, but hopefully it will be the last."

"Not if the bodies are left to rot." Strips of sunlight run across the circular marble hall, reflecting oddly into a pool of blood. Limbs and droid parts litter the space, and some of the walls. It's not exactly fitting decor, Syrin realizes.

"Don't worry about them. I will move them so that it looks like they were killed elsewhere. That should throw the Sith off."

"Before you move them, mind if I do something?"

"I do not mind, as long as you hurry." The smuggler bends over to search through the Sith's pockets.

Carth doesn't hide his unease.

"Isn't that kind of...I don't know, low?"

"He's the one that murdered Ixgil over there." She tilts her head in the dead guy's direction, "Tell that to him."

"Good point." She stuffs a few grenades into her pocket, along with some credits and stims.

"Well, we'd better get going then." Syrin suggests, stepping over the corpses, for the far door, "Best of luck."

"To you, as well, human." After walking for a few seconds Syrin opens her mouth again.

"You know, why'd you choose to drag me to this place? Seems like mostly aliens live here. Illegally."

"That's precisely why. This is the perfect place to lie low."

"I suppose, until the next raid, conducted by the next brainless bantha that feels like taking our heads as trophies for the Sith."

"You could be grateful I didn't leave you when we crashed here, you know."

"Or I could be a Hutt."

"If you mean to say you're not, I'm having trouble finding the differences." An honest laugh tumbles from her throat, lips twitching as they wade through a stream of aliens, petty nobles, and patrols. The sound of speeders below and the chatter of humans is loud.

"Hey, you're not half bad. I thought you were going to be like one of those stuffy commanders on board the Endar Spire, but this is a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah? I'll have to remember to insult you more often...On a more serious note, where are we headed?"

"I just want to look around, get my bearings. I haven't been to Taris before."

()()()

The pair stroll side by side, scouting out the busy Upper City streets of Taris brimming with petty nobles, few aliens, and Sith patrols. They'd already had a run in with some bullying Sith, so they make sure to steer clear of the soldiers. The sun's setting, as they've been walking around for a few hours.

"So, let me get this straight. Taris is under Sith control, all ships are grounded, and Bastilla, the key to the fracking war effort, the oh-so powerful jedi we need to find before leaving, is nowhere to be found?"

"Yeah, pretty much. This is a bleak situation, but I've been in worse spots before. We should be fine as long as we keep our heads down and work together."

"No, no; I think we're basically screwed, but your optimism is quite the admirable feat. Might take us places." A chuckle.

"Let's hope."

There's a building ahead. A flashing sign above the door identifies it as a cantina.

A pause as they enter the cooler, darker set of adjoining rooms, a seedy looking place with people sipping drinks in corners in the midst of general scuffling of plates and chairs. The band plays a relaxing, albeit weird melody, and Syrin quickly slides into a chair, raising a hand to order a glass of juma from the bartender.

"What exactly are we doing here, again?" Carth wonders, glancing at some suspicious characters, fidgeting in his seat.

"Not your kind of place, huh?" The smuggler easily tosses a few credits to the alien barkeep, taking a shot of some sort of amber liquid. "I figured we could scout out here, dig up some information on the planet, and go from there. Maybe someone knows something about the escape pods that crashed, or maybe how to get to the Lower City." Yeah, apparently to get to the lower levels of Taris they need to be Sith. They'd passed by the elevator earlier.

"Okay. I guess I don't have any better plans." Onasi relents, waving away an offered drink.

"Really? You seem like a planner to me. Then again, I know next to nothing about you, whereas you probably have your fair share of knowledge about me." She takes another sip, placing it back to the counter to angle her body in his direction, asking a question with her orbs.

"You want to know about me?" He wonders, shrugging modestly, "Well, I've been serving in the Republic fleet for years now as a star-pilot. I've seen more wars than I care to count...I fought in the Mandalorian Wars before all of this started. Even with all of that, I've never seen the kind of slaughter these Sith can unleash. Even the Mandalorians weren't that senseless. My home world was one of the first planets to fall to Malak's fleet." This story isn't bound to have a happy ending.

"Which planet?"

"It was Telos. The Sith bombed it into submission and there wasn't a damn thing the Republic could do to stop it!" His agitation flares, having been escalating since the mention of war, even though the conversation started rather calmly.

"Most Sith are ruthless like you say, though not all of them. Some probably just need the credits. There's no use getting upset about this anyway, I was just asking."

"I know...I-I'm probably not making much sense, am I? I'm just not used to talking about it. At all, actually. I don't even know why I'm telling you."

"Consider us even, in that case. You know me, I know you; we're practically best friends at this point. It's uncomfortable." That easygoing grin again, "We probably need to search somewhere else, anyway." Syr stands, sliding the finished glass across the table at the same time, only to come face to face with a man wearing a spring green tunic, leggings, and all the typical civilian getup. Black combed back hair, gray eyes. Unimportant.

His accent indicates otherwise, however, as it's similar or perhaps the same as most Sith around. He's nothing special, or particularly menacing, but Onasi already has his hand on his blaster.

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help but to overhear what you said to your, er...friend, over there about the Sith. I wanted to thank you. Most offworlders here just don't understand what it's like."

"No problem," She shoots Carth a warning glance to stay out of the conversation, cooking up a delicious scheme in her head, "Say, what do you mean 'what it's like'?"

()()()

"Told you, I'm no lightweight." Reth crows, and stands in the middle of the passed out Sith in the apartment complex, holding a near finished Tarisian ale bottle by her side.

"No kidding, how strong of a kick does this stuff pack? Everyone's unconscious." Carth looks around amazed, heading straight for the supply closet as his companion wobbles a little, near the Sith who invited plan is working, since now they can nab a way into the Lower City. All it took was a party invite from this Yun dude.

She kicks his body with her black lace up boot, his head lolling to the side. For the first time real anger hardens her voice.

"Schutta. That'll teach you to make advances. Or underestimate my drinking capabilities."

If there is one thing in the galaxy to make her sick, that is it. She isn't sure which she's more pissed about at this point, as everything is sort of foggy. Well, she did challenge everyone to the drinking game, so she can't complain about that.

"Found them!" Onasi pulls a bundle of clanky silver armor from the closet.

"Wanna celebrate?" Syrin holds the ale up, donning a crooked smile.

"I...think I'll have to take you up on that one another time. C'mon, let's get out of here before they suspect anything."

**So, end of chapter 1. Next one coming soon, maybe? Thanks for getting this far, at any rate. *Cringes* The way of speaking, rubbing off on me, it is. **


	2. Finding a new Mission

**rycabar15: Thanks for being the first reviewer! I hope I don't disappoint.**

**DarkK88: I'm glad you're interested and seem to like her personality so far! It's fun to write characters like her.**

**Well, here's chapter two. Sorry I really need to get better at fight scenes or action in general. Still don't own kotOR.**

"Ice is down! Ice is out cold!" An incredulous declaration booms in her ears. Syrin's eyes finally leave the blonde woman's unconscious body while her chest heaves, the vibrosword tip she had aimed at last dropping by her side when her shoulders slump. "We have a winner, folks! Our rising star, The Mysterious Stranger, could very well be on the fast track to the title of champion!" The announcer of the duel has been ringing in everyone's ears with his enthusiasm, and the crowd in the circular stadium is cheering like they've gone wild. Syrin lifts her eyes to the crowd, becoming as happy as a child in a candy shop, disregarding the blood steadily rolling down her temples and lips from various cuts to soak in the applause and catcalls.

"Thank you, thank you!" She takes a sweeping bow, chuckling as they begin to chant her nickname.

()()()

"I could get used to this," The smuggler muses in her silvery tone, beside her misanthropic friend, tossing a few credits up and down as she walks, not even glancing at them as they land precisely back in the palm of her hand each time. The slight drip of water is their only steady background noise and their voices bounce from the walls. Lights flicker. The corridor is a mess. Mess: the definition of the Lower City.

"Yeah, well, just don't let this dueling thing get to your head."

"Why whatever do you mean by that? I simply enjoy the hundreds of fans loudly acknowledging what an awe-inspiring person I am." He shakes his head, deadpanning.

"There's no hope for you, is there?"

"Never was. Where have you be-...Up ahead." The all too familiar symphony of clashing swords, grunts, and blasters firing eject the pair from their light banter. Both of them zero in on the fight without a second thought. Syrin is in the lead slightly, pocketing the credits and then reaching for her melee weapon, the one that is supposed to help her improve her melee skills, keeping out of sight in the nook of the wall to view the fight in safety.

5 sentients face off, a few humans and opposing gang members, possibly, laying dead on the ground. She signals Carth with her eyes and a jerk of her head to the ceiling. He looks confused for a second but then understanding must snap him into action, because within a few seconds the lights explode, raining shattered glass onto the now shadowy room, with only a few glowing lights to the side walls left to evade complete blindness.

Syrin has already stealthily snuck into the midst, thrusting her blade into the closest human's back then pushing off of them with her leg to rip the sword out, spinning to grapple with an assailant for a few moments. The smuggler manages to throw the sword up against the attacker's and with a few sparks it's spinning through the air. Syrin takes the chance to deeply slice him across the chest and he staggers into the wall, sliding down, lifeless, in no time. A streak of red rushes past Reth's face as she strains to find another enemy, blaster fire from both sides enlightening the agonized expression of the last alien standing, his shrinking pupils visible for only a second before he drops dead. A presence flanking her right is about to land a stroke on her. Another blaster shot. Darkness. Silence.

"Are you alright?" Carth calls out, concerned and hoping she isn't among the bodies strewing the bloodstained floor. He is pretty sure he saw the alien's face light up, but it was hard to tell who was who among the fight. She could've easily stayed behind and shot at them, but no, she chose to run straight into a battle with blaster fire on both ends.

"I'm not dead." She bluntly calls back, tossing the body away using her sword, then sheathing it. Now, who's the shooter from that end?

()()()

"You've seen our skills, right? We could be a huge asset to this gang." Reth has been working at melting the guard's stern expression to allow Carth and herself into the Hidden Bek Base. Intel from the cantina visit earlier suggests that the leader of this mob may have information about the Republic escape pods that crashed.

"Well...we do need all the help we can get..." About time. "You don't look like you're with the Vulkars, either, or the Sith. You did help me defeat those bloody gang members just now. Besides, it's not like you can do anything to harm Gadon in the heart of his own base, no matter how capable you are. It would be suicide." She then sends them off with a warning to be on their best behavior, etc, etc to Reth. The doors swiftly open to a spacious area with a desk against the far wall and the pair of soldiers walk up to Gadon, ignoring the looks cast their way. Machinery screeches in the distance, the clamor of what must be a mess hall close by mixes in as well, and the smuggler can't help but to look around at all of the heavily armored sentients walking around, stocking and stacking crates of provisions among other tasks. There are too many to try anything.

"Excuse me, are you Gadon-?" Carth inquires, but is cut off.

"Hold it right there." A touchy twi'lek off to the side steps forward, a cutting edge to her voice, "Who are you and what is your business with Gadon?"

"Your attitude is quite nice, it almost matches perfectly to those vibroblades you've got. Name's Syrin, his is Carth, and we just want to chat with your leader there." Syrin throws out, unimpressed with the suspicion she attains everywhere and earning the thousandth irritated glare from Carth since meeting him at her sarcasm. Luckily as the guard opens her mouth to retort, hand on one hilt, the dark skinned man in protective covering behind the desk scolds her for her words, and then she proceeds to launch an argument with the man that she loses.

"Fine, talk to Gadon if you want, but I've got my eye on you. Talk to either of us like that again, or make any sudden movements, and we'll see just how quickly you turn to vapor."

"Zaerdra, that's _enough_." Thek crossly and firmly calls her off, facing the approaching group, "I'm sorry, she's just a little overzealous in her security duties. I suppose it's not so surprising with how things have been lately. Ever since Brejik and the Vulkars started this war against us, everyone's been more on edge. The problems with the Sith haven't helped things. So, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Have you heard anything about the escape pods that crashed here?" Carth says, "A...mutual acquaintance pointed us in your direction, said you might know a thing or two." A blue twi'lek teenager by the name of Mission. Cantinas are useful, it turns out.

"Escape pods?" He parrots, suspicion leaking into his voice, "You know, I heard the Sith were asking about the escape pods but..." He scrutinizes them with his dead, gray eyes, frowning as he rubs his goatee with a hand pensively, "You don't look like you're with the Sith."

"Gadon, they could be spies!" She's fingering her blaster now.

"Would you at least choose between weapons, or are you planning on vaporizing me with a cortosis weave?" Syrin laughs.

"You want to find out, do you?"

"Zaerda! That is quite enough!" Gadon interjects, and she steps back with barred teeth. "I think these offworlders have their own agenda..." Gadon continues, after sizing them up.

"That's what we've been trying to tell you! We're honestly not with the Sith. I mean, if I were Sith we wouldn't be having this conversation and if Carth were Sith, well," She glances at the guy, who's looking at her like she's suggested he should commit genocide for fun, "That's hilarious."

"Well, alright. It can't hurt to tell you what I know..."

()()()

"Ha! This'll be amazing." Syr's eyes light up as they walk down the rest of the long Lower City corridor to the Under City, having been unable to find Mission as of yet. The twi'lek's supposed to be able to help them get into the Vulkar base so they can steal some prototype swoop engine for Gadon, and then win the race to gain the prize the Vulkars found searching escape pods, also known as Bastila. They had to obtain authorization papers this time, to get past the elevator guard, and traded their Sith uniforms for them. So now they're off to the Under City looking for Mission. "Ever been swoop racing before, Onasi?"

"Can't say that I have. It's too dangerous. The bikes go so fast that the riders have to make turns on whims, or at least that's what people say after they've been behind the controls. I've read stories of other racers that like to play dirty, tales of rigged races, traps set on the course, and the like. A nasty business, to be honest. There's hardly ever a race on any track that doesn't result in spilled blood."

"Aw, c'mon. You missed the amazing part." She accuses like the tease she is.

"You missed the dangerous part."

"Same thing as amazing in my book." He exhales, vexed at this.

"Then hate to break it to you, but it probably won't have many chapters."

"That doesn't mean it's not worth reading." Carth glances at her, unable to find an appropriate response. Syrin Reth. He can't make sense of her. One minute, she's as persuasive as a diplomat, the next she's as blunt as a rock. One minute serious as all get out, the rest facetious. Nothing about her makes sense, especially the longer he studies her.

()()()

"5 credits! It's five credits to use the elevator!" Two grimy tunic wearing thugs are trying to be intimidating, but their ribs are apparent, gaunt faces desperate. Their voices are slimy and harsh. They're nearly foaming at the mouth with the prospect of a few credits. Syrin is frankly disgusted on more than one level, trying not to turn away from them.

"I can't believe this planet. Even the beggars are trying to shake us down!" Carth is in disbelief as they step into what is known as the Under City from the elevator. The absolute slum of Taris. There's no sunlight because it's deep underground. The scents of decay and blood, smoke, and other filth permeates the air. Crackling campfires cast dramatic shadows over everything, set up around the pathetic village of tents ahead.

"It's a public elevator but you know what, take the credits." She slides a hand into her utility pocket, scowling, and then dashes them to the ground off to the side, dragging her eyes away as they immediately scramble to grab them up. Her boots trod across short, dead grass and dirt. Lifeless, just like this place.

"That's a little...degrading." Carth's eyes are still locked onto the beggars as they trip over themselves to get up, starry eyed at the chips in their hands.

"Credits, we have credits brother!"

"Shh! The others will hear us! They'll want our profits! We must hide." They run off in a direction to the right, never to be seen by the offworlders again.

"If they're going to act like they have no self respect, that's how I'll treat them. Let's go." That harshness again. It bothers Carth, and it's never consistent.

After they've been walking a moment, before reaching the village Carth stops her in a patch of shadows, nearly ten feet from the outskirts of the village, where a campfire full of outcasts is folding worn clothes.

"What?"

"I think it's time that you told me more about yourself."

"I'm pretty sure you know plenty, Onasi. We've got work to do." She starts pacing forward again, only for him to halt her by grabbing her arm. She flinches, and then slips out of his grasp, frowning.

"Oh, no. You're not getting out of this. It's only fair that you give me a little information, given that we're working together." He hopes that getting to know her could clear up the way she acts. She turns, rolling her eyes at the fact that he's used her words against her.

"If this is about the crash, believe it or not, it wasn't my fault." He had already implied she had something to do with it, seeing as she'd been added to the crew last minute by Bastila.

"No, it's not about that. I just want to know more about you as a person."

"What didn't you learn from my datapad?" He ignores the taunt.

"For one thing, what's your history?"

"I don't do back stories, Onasi. Far as I'm concerned, my past doesn't exist."

"Alright then. Where are you from? That isn't too personal a question." She pauses, and then relents. He did tell her about Telos, after all.

"I'm from Deralia. Never heard of it, huh? I wouldn't expect you to. It's on the Outer Rim, a remote farming world. Boring as fierfek."

"Oh." He didn't expect Syrin to be from any farming colonies. "Then how did you end up smuggling contraband and supplies planet to planet? It seems like a big leap racing around the galaxy after residing on some small farming region."

"I learned how to do things myself. Taught myself how to pilot. Hitched a ride off planet, never looked back."

"So you left?"

"Like I said, I hitched a ride, but yeah, basically. I like flying around the galaxy, so it's not as if things haven't worked out. Well, maybe not this whole crash-land-on-an-enemy-world-and-play-hide-and-seek-with-the-Sith thing, but that's what makes life interesting."

"...That's rather vague."

"Well, that's all I feel like handing out for now. It's not important, anyway, so let's keep our eyes peeled for that blue twi'lek. Maybe I'll share more later, assuming we survive that long."

**I started the next chapter already. I appreciate all of the views and if you have any corrections you want me to make or anything, feel free to tell me. Until next time.**


	3. Gorgeous Narcissists and Chosen Ones

**rycbar15****: Someone actually likes my story~! xD It was nice to see your review in my email. I got so excited**** haha...thanks again.**

**Some of the timeline stuff may be innacurate or different. I'm just sort of adding what I feel like in, but if I miss anything or screw something up really badly, feel free to tell me.  
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"Would you like some?"

"Oh, that's kind of you, miss, but we ate before we came. Besides, we'll have to get going soon enough." Carth and Syrin are sitting cross-legged on the ground, breathing in the smoke of a sputtering campfire. The warmth is nice, bright flames radiating softly in this dank place. Another nice thing would be the company, who have just offered what little soup they have. It seems to be made of nothing more than water, and a polite man like this republic soldier can't bear to take it from the friendly woman Shaleena's bony hands.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" She good-naturedly smacks her forehead with the palm of a hand, standing back up then bending over to her right to give the soup to an older man, who thanks her softly, "I'm so silly sometimes; I'm just not used to seeing offworlders here in the Under City! I hope I'm not badgering you with all of these questions, or-or keeping you from anything important." She fumbles with some drying laundry in a fluster, patting dust and ash from the cloths.

Syrin is surprised how lively the woman's disposition is despite these horrifying circumstances. Reth understands firsthand how poverty can take a toll on someone's spirit, though not to this extent.

"Don't apologize." She refuses the condolence in a snap, turning away from the woman's deep brown eyes to meet a shy child that tugs at her sleeve, "Ah...Hello, there." Kek. Kids aren't her thing.

"Welcome, Rylan." An elderly woman greets, the last one in the small circle, ready to ladel some soup into a small bowl. He shakes his head, telling her he isn't hungry and then focuses his attention on the strange new woman before him.

"You're from the Upper City?"

"Yup, kid. And you're from the Under City, I take it?" He nods, biting his thumbnail, his other hand tightly wrapped around a ragged cloth. A security blanket, perhaps? He can look straight into her eyes with his own ice blue orbs since she is sitting down.

"Rukil-Wrinkle-Skin says that he wants to talk to you. He tells us stories about the Promised Land. He says you'll be able to help us out of this cess-pool of a village."

"Now, Rylan! Who told you that? Surely not Rukil!" Shaleena exclaims, shocked at his language, "Was it Igear again?"

"S-sorry. No...I just heard someone in the village talking." He steps back hesitantly, having recoiled already, and he locks eyes with Reth. "Well...what is The Promised Land like? None of the grown-ups like it here very much, so what makes it such a great place?"

"I don't know anything about the Promised Land, but I can tell you about the Upper City."

"Really?" Shaleena clasps her hands together, unable to hide her enthusiasm, "Sometimes I think I can see it in my dreams...The stars in the sky, the sunlight...Please, can you tell us about it?" Syrin exchanges a look with Carth, then exhales, gazing up to the starless sky.

"The stars twinkle by the hundreds against the sky in the Upper City. The moons shine radiantly, giving everything an opalescent tint when they show, and the sun and sky...Imagine it a soft blue with a bright light in it. The light isn't artificial; it's real and casts warmth upon everything below. It certainly appears beautiful." By now she has captured everyone's attention. Carth didn't know she had it in her. Her tone abruptly changes. "But, it's not that special. You can't walk through the streets without hearing about your lack of fashion sense, or bumping into a Sith that will attack you for so much as sneezing. Yes, I swear that happened once. There's also the racism that is sickening on the best of days. Overall, I've had a much better time with the lot of you." A few smiles spread across the fire and Shaleena thanks them for their time. They stand to leave.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else you need? Medical supplies, clothing, anything?"

"No, we'll be alright. Thank you for everything, though. Really, you've been very generous. Just take care of yourself." Onasi bids the woman goodbye, muttering to Reth once they're out of earshot. "It's amazing the most giving people are the ones living in such poverty." As Carth and Syrin head for the gate at the far end of the village, planning strategy based on the information they've been given, Rylan beseeches her once more, catching up to them.

"H-hey wait..!" The young boy pleads. They turn around.

"Yeah, what is it, kid?" Carth kneels to his level.

"Please talk to Rukil-Wrinkle-Skin before you go! He's really close! I can even show you to him," He begins pulling Carth and Syrin by their hands toward a tent nearby, not waiting for an answer.

* * *

><p>"You may yet be the chosen one..." Rukil ominously says as Syrin and Carth turn, both chuckling nervously on the inside. He had supposedly predicted Syrin's arrival, claiming that she would lead their people to a better place by finding clues scattered in the Under City. He had guessed the traveler would be from the Upper City. Cue awkward laughter.<p>

"So, you'll find them, won't you?" Rylan chirps as they actually start to walk for the gates now. He's more excited than shy at this point.

"I suppose it can't hurt." Carth murmurs, and Syrin grins broadly, ruffling the kid's brown hair despite his weak protests. Anyway, the diaries leading to the so called Promised Land could be a myth conjured by desperate minds, and yet...

"Why not? We'll look kiddo. Just be safe."

"Watch out for the rakghoul monsters and all of those shiny soldiers," He thrusts his patched cloth into Syrin's limp hand to her confusion, before spinning on his feet to run off, "Keep this. It's a good luck charm. Rukil blessed it for me! You need it more than I do, lady. You too, Mister!" He salutes with a smile and disappears into the shadows.

* * *

><p>It isn't spoken, though both Republic soldiers are thinking it after they've been exploring a while without sign of Mission. The poverty, the rakghouls, the starving, dying, sick...This place is awful. So, as they search corpses of Sith, because the living are unwilling to hand over an antidote sample of the rakghoul disease, Syrin changes the course of her thoughts.<p>

"Hey, Onasi?" She slides her nimble fingers into a breast pocket, finding little more than dust.

"Got something on your mind?" He disdainfully dusts his hands off, having checked under an armor plate for something of use, then glances over at her.

"Yeah. Is this a good time to ask more questions?" She wonders, "I mean, with all the things we have to do, looting corpses is pretty much our only bonding time together. Sad, I know. So, you up for it?" He takes a breath, shaking his head.

"I'm all ears, beautiful."

"Oh? I like the sound of that." She smirks at him, moving onto the next Sith soldier.

"Which, the fact that I'm all ears or the beautiful part?" Syrin finally glances up, debating whether she should be offended or amused.

"Carth, are you flirting with me?"

"Not really," He sweeps it under the rug with a shrug, "Just a habit. You have something I'd rather call you by?" She doesn't have to think long, opting for amusement.

"Mm...How about gorgeous? That's way better."

"I might consider it..." He laughs, "What would you call me in exchange?" Well, it's not like he's being rude calling her nicknames, just passing by the time, so...

"How about handsome-thug?"

"The first part's good. I'm a bit more partial to 'the most handsome pilot in the galaxy' though. What do you think?" She snorts.

"Handsome-thug is already pushing it." He rolls his eyes, still amiable. "Say, that distraction was fun and all but I actually want to ask you questions now."

"Are they really necessary?" A pause ensues as Syrin's eyes widen, next grabbing up the serum with eager hands and showing it off to Carth.

"The serum? Nice going." He praises, happy to finally be able to raise from his kneeling position and to stop staring into dead bodies' void eyes. It was giving him the creeps and making him feel dirty.

"Now we can have it synthesized and in case we're scratched, we won't turn into blood thirsty mutants. That's always a good thing." She slips it into her pocket, standing up. They start to walk in another direction, scanning for rakghouls, weapons ready for more mutants.

"Since we're still doing nothing, want to answer questions now?"

"Where are those rakghouls when you need them?" Carth sighs, then chuckles at her raised brows, "Kidding, kidding. I don't have a problem with answering a few questions, really. Go ahead and interrogate me."

"Not a problem, eh?" She says, leaking sarcasm. Some rustling in the distance catches her ears, "Your secrets will have to be extracted another time, it seems. Don't think I'll forget about it, though." She grins mischievously as a pack of rakghouls appears, four or five of them at a quick count, snarling and snapping their teeth.

"You're the pushiest woman I've ever met, you know that?" Her companion grumbles as he charges his blaster, fixated on the beasts.

"And while we're stating facts, did I ever tell you you're an evasive hutt-spawn?"

Blaster fire rings through the dark environment, streaking ahead.

"Look out!" Carth yells. The slimy cyan monsters have advanced, pounding across the ground with their humanoid legs, spattered in gore all over. Syrin grapples with two that charge her at once, dodging swiping claws attached to muscular arms and watching Carth out of the corner of her eye, who is facing two of his own, having only a blaster to fend them off with. Syrin cuts one across its single eye, inwardly jumping for joy when it hisses and recoils. Just as she raises her sword to fend off an attack from the one flanking her left, the mutant grips it with its jagged, bloody teeth, and jerks its head so that the weapon sails through the air, landing somewhere in the distance. Did that thing just disarm her?

Shit.

She immediately reaches for her trusty blaster, only to misfire as the beast throws its paws against her chest, knocking her to the ground with its body weight. The blaster clatters out of reach when her arms are forcefully pinned to the dirt below. The creature feels cold and slimy as expected against her skin, pressing its claws into her vest. Luckily there's a blaster proof upgrade on it providing an extra layer of protection, but the sharp nails still sink a little into her skin, painfully at that. The sharp nails keep attempting to sink further.

"Onasi! If you're gonna blast something, aiming here would be helpful!" His eyes dart to her, and then back to the rakghoul in front of him, that he narrowly avoids being grazed by.

"Just hold on!"

So much for that. It's very unpleasant seeing this thing up close and personal while it tries to bite into her head repeatedly. The only thing barring it from doing so are her raised knees, pushing up against its rib cage so that its teeth and sharp claws are just out of reach. Her arms are pinned under its hind legs. The creature's stench and repeated jerking motions are starting to make her dizzy. She tries to roll out from under it or look around for her blaster but both efforts are fruitless.

"Damn...it!" She presses her back into the ground and then with with all the force she can muster, bucks her knees upward, successfully freeing herself just for a moment while the rakghoul is cast to her side, rolling across the dirt and just managing to avoid getting bitten or mauled to death by a second or so.

A red laser flies, nailing it right in the head, and Syrin scrambles for her blaster, shooting down the rakghoul from earlier that's blindly rampaging at full height a few feet away.

"Are you alright?" Syrin takes a few breaths, surveying the carnage instead of meeting Carth's anxious eyes, "I was tied up myself, so I couldn't help you out quickly enough. They were more difficult than the last horde for some reason."

"Yeah, no kidding...This is so your fault." She huffs, sending him a glare, "You just had to wish for those rakghouls earlier. Well, I hope you're happy; they must have heard you." Syrin is mostly angry because now she has to use the serum and she doesn't want to take up a drop in case it's needed again. Running out isn't exactly an option, but her comrade didn't seem to think of that. If it were Carth in her position, he would have been first priority. She isn't quite sure why it gets to her, but it does.

"B-Hey, I didn't actually mean it! I'm sorry the rakghouls showed up, believe me on that one." That's odd, typically Syrin gets some sort of adrenaline high from near-death experiences. Not this time, apparently. She's quickly walking away, injecting herself with some of the antidote on the go, and he jogs a little to catch up, "You really can't be mad about this kind of thing!" He really didn't mean it. It's not like he controls the rakghouls. But she's insufferable as usual, even seeming to enjoy his squirming a bit at the tone of her voice.

"Watch me, flyboy."

**Thanks for reading! I feel like these have been slowly getting shorter which is weird..O.o Hopefully the chapters will get longer as more characters come into the story. This chapter isn't my favorite, I may edit it later.  
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	4. Suspiciously Cranky Spacers

**darkK88: Thanks for the reviews! :) The rakghouls are really disgusting, aren't they? I suppose if they were cute and fluffy it would be weird for the outcasts to fear them though, so go figure.**

**rycbar15: Haha, Carth always helps. -w- Thanks for your review too! Support is a great motivator!**

**Disclaimer: KotOR isn't mine. I think I've been forgetting to add this.**

"Are you still in pain?"

"If you stop talking I won't be." The woman in question shoots back.

"You are-!" He snaps, then runs out of fuel just as quickly as the comment ripped from his lips, "You know what? Fine. Fine, I'll be quiet." Carth sighs, giving up now that the fourth try hasn't worked. He had spotted blood dripping down the torso of her white shirt and commented but she just blew it off then too. Carth and Syrin have been walking in cool silence since the incident with the rakghoul earlier. He's starting to fidget, becoming all the more uncomfortable the longer it goes on. There's only the crunch of grass below their boots as they explore the Under City. When they reach a dimming lamppost the drum of running feet alerts them to take caution, and they step back into the shadows in no time, stooping low near a permacrete wall and readying their aim. Carth in the back, Syrin up front. Just the way she likes it, he figures. The last time they had had human interaction was a lovely chat with annoyed Sith patrols who they managed to slip away from with a flimsy excuse. Now it's only a lone figure. Still, best to be careful. After a second of bated breath, the person sprints near the lamppost closest to them, only to be revealed as a baby blue twi'lek with lekku adorned by a simple brown strappy headdress, donning shorts, high boots, and a tan vest over it.

"Wait!" Syrin's up first, pacing quickly toward the teenager, who whips in the direction of the order in a snap, cocking her blaster tensely. Reth throws her hands up, positive this won't require a weapon to sort out.

"Woah, remember us?" Carth reassures the alien from beside Syrin, raising his hands up as well. Mission squints, slowly allowing her blaster to fall by her side. On closer inspection, the young girl has watery brown eyes, and her cheeks are flushed violet. Completely wired and unable to stay still. Something's definitely wrong.

"Carth...and Syrin? From the cantina?" She breathily mutters between gasps for air, glancing back and forth, taking a step forward as if she's suddenly remembered something, "Look, you have to help me! Nobody else will help me; not even the Beks will! Please!"

"Slow down there, Mission. What's the matter?" Syrin says, then notices her wookie friend isn't there, "Where's Big Z?"

"Gammorean slavers have him! In the sewers! Please help me! I know you can, I've seen you in the dueling ring!" Onasi looks to his female companion, then back to Mission. She looks close to tears again, so he interjects softly.

"Try to calm down, Mission. Where exactly in the sewers did these Gammoreans take him?" Reth ushers the adolescent forward with a nod and slight wave of her hand.

"You can fill us in as we walk."

* * *

><p>After the trio have made their way past a Republic escape pod that only revealed a slaughtered rakghoul and wreckage, and Syrin has picked up a a journal or two detailing the mysterious Promised Land, they make their way into the sewers.<p>

"I know it stinks, but I think that's why the Gammoreans like it. It probably reminds them of their homes, or something like that." Vao explains as they begin walking through the sewers, watching for dripping water and corpses on the ground.. At Onasi's grimace the girl tries to be more upbeat about it. "At least it's better than Nal Hutta."

"Torture is better than Nal Hutta, Mission." Syrin grins, spinning her blades in her hands idly, leading the group with the young girl's instructions.

"Can't argue that." She grins back, "You ever been there before?"

"Once. It's not exactly in my top ten vacation spots, however. I had to burn my clothes afterwards just to get rid of the stench." She smirks at the memory, a smirk that fades upon rounding a corner to come face to face with an axe that is just barely blocked by her sword before it hits her now focused eyes. Her arms strain to match the force applied, and she totters backwards. Sparks fly and with one push, the woman goes stumbling backwards, into Carth, who manages to catch her without falling down by wrapping an arm around her waist and taking the brunt of the force she's been thrown with. As soon as she feels his touch however, before he can even react, she elbows him hard in the gut, then deals a sharp uppercut to his chin using her newly freed elbow, eliciting a groan of pain when he careens into the wall. Syrin spins around to face him, looking on surprised for just a second. The Gammorean lumbers onward still and Mission shoots a series of three fast bolts, one ending the advancing pig's life before it gets too close. The twi'lek stares on with appreciative raised eyebrows at Carth's state of apparent agony once the pig drops with a loud thud.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Onasi is climbing back up with an arm wrapped around his own waist this time, wincing still.

"Did you have to hit me so hard?" He coughs, wearing a scowl. His chin will bruise later.

"I didn't mean to hit you at all...It was purely instinct." She's leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't care about any of the gunk on it, she's already covered in rakghoul...whatever that is, and chances are, much worse.

"Sure. I think I'll believe that when gizka start flying." He straightens fully, exhaling, "Are we even now that you've gotten that out of your system?"

"A hit or two more might do it." Her lips are visibly sliding upward at him, and he chuckles in relief. Eyes laughing. That's better.

"I don't think the geezer could take any more of your elbows. What are they made of, durasteel?" Mission snorts, searching a body nearby.

"No, this 'geezer' can't. Use your steel elbows on the Gammoreans next time, sister."

"Words of a master tactician. I'll be sure to keep my abnormally strong elbows in mind." After Syrin pockets the last journal Mission finds, they head deeper into the sewers, "Let's go."

* * *

><p>After slaughtering their way through evermore pigs and rakghouls, the group reaches an old style manual lock, which Vao manages to fiddle open to divulge an airy space of the sewers, with one tall Wookie standing in the middle. His fur is ruffled and sticking out in places, matted with goop in others. He looks happy though, lighting up when he spots his friend.<p>

"Mission! You're a sight for sore eyes!" He growls in Shyriiwook

"I'm glad to see you too, Big Z!" Mission gushes, closing the gap quickly to toss her arms around him despite his messy state, "You didn't think I'd forget about you, did you? I promised we'd be together forever, and I meant it."

"What language is that...? It's on the tip of my tongue," The Commander wonders, genuinely puzzled. Syrin laughs lightly.

"Shyriiwook. Nothing amateurs like you would understand as anything other than growls."

"Oh, and you understand it then?" Carth grumbles, earning an eyebrow raise, "Not to say you, er, couldn't learn it. It's just...odd." Syrin rolls her eyes.

"Who are they?" Zaalbar asks Mission, nodding in the pair's direction, appearing to just have noticed them.

"Oh!" Mission beams back at the two, "These are my new friends, Syrin Reth and Carth Onasi." She gestures with an open palm, "Without them, I never would have gotten this far." The Wookie studies Syrin in particular and she rubs the back of her neck, grinning easily. Zaalbar sincerely thanks Reth and Carth.

"Ah, don't mention it. I've always wanted to talk to a Wookie in person anyway, so it's my pleasure, Zaalbar. The Gammorreans-well, now I have a few new jokes under my belt, so all's good."

"What's he saying?"

"Loosely? That you're one kriffing crass laserbrain." Syrin translates smoothly.

"...Your life goal is to drive everyone crazy, isn't it?"

"Just now noticed? How am I doing?"

"He's thanking you for helping him out." Mission adds in before a fight breaks out between the two, laughing a little.

"I'm impressed you know the language of my people, Syrin Reth. It is strange indeed among your kind to comprehend my words."

"No big deal. It's amazing the things you pick up travelling the galaxy. "

"Still, you have saved me from a life of servitude and slavery. You, a human I have only recently met. It is no small matter. There is only one way to repay you for this; I must swear a life debt."

For a moment there's only the pouring of the stream of sewer water hitting the ground in a waterfall beside Zaalbar. He doesn't seem to mind the slight spray at his feet before it swirls into the drain.

"A life debt?" Mission's brow crinkles, "Are you sure? That's a pretty big commitment Big Z."

"I am sure, Mission.." He goes on to talk about how the people of his homeworld are even being used as slave labor and how he could have been one of them without Syrin. He reiterates how important it is to him. Mission seems a little in awe.

"Do you know what this means?"

"What what means?" Carth can't help but to ask. The smuggler's lips curve again.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, yes, I actually would."

"It's a loyalty vow of some sort, right, Mission?" She asks, words to be confirmed with a nod. Mission explains that it's the most solemn vow a Wookie can make, and that he would serve her for the rest of his life, never leaving her side. Big Z makes sure to tell her that anywhere she goes, whatever she does, he will be there.

"I don't suppose there's a way out of this?"

"No, sorry. You're stuck with Zaalbar, and me too." The girl smiles ruefully, "There's no way I'm just leaving him, we're a bit of a package deal. I almost lost him once, and it won't happen again."

"It's not that I mind, it's just I hope you know what you're getting into when you sign on with us."

"What? You on a quest to save the galaxy or something? I think Zaalbar and me can handle it." Mission smiles cockily. Syrin twists her mouth, raising her palms.

"Well, actually..."

* * *

><p>"So you need in here? The way to the Vulkar Base?" Mission points to the force field as they pass back through, "Lucky for you I've got the codes. Picked 'em off of a Vulkar that had a li-ittle too much to drink that night." Carth almost comments about her being a kid, and how dangerous the things she does are again, but Syrin speaks first.<p>

"Before we head in there I've got a few things to do. We're running low on supplies at any rate, and credits as well so it probably wouldn't be smart to simply storm in. Those grenades aren't cheap." She had thrown a few in the sewers, exhausting their stockpile.

"Good idea. We can always come back tomorrow. For now, we should head back to our apartment." Carth agrees, realizing just how drained he is for the first time. Syrin doesn't let on but she's starting to get a little dizzy and all the adrenaline of fighting has left her system. On the way back through the dark Under City, the group splits; Onasi and the female smuggler in the front, the twi'lek and Zaalbar trailing. Mission's a little disgruntled that Onasi called her a kid earlier and she's trying to convince her friend to groom himself more often whilst Syrin and Carth are simply silent until Reth pipes up.

"So, about earlier..."

"Earlier?"

"With the rakghouls back before we ran into Mission." Syrin reminds him, eyes on the ground to monitor her steps a little more closely than usual. Carth exhales.

"Look, I told you I'm sorry! I don't know what else you want from me."

"You are, huh? How do I know that?" He fixes her with an incredulous look, nearly stopping short as they round a permacrete corner.

"I've only said it a thousand times! I thought you were over this already."

"Oh, I am. The thing that I'm not over is whether or not you _wanted_ that rakghoul to get me."

"_What?_ Don't be crazy!" He really does stop walking this time, causing Mission and Zaalbar to glance up questioningly. He lowers his voice, "Why would you even think that?"

"Hm, funny you think that it's crazy to think that. I agree that it's unreasonable. I mean, you've been watching my back since landing here. You have no reason to want me dead."

"You've lost me. Why are you even asking if you agree...?" Her lips slide into her trademark expression of amusement though it doesn't reach her eyes for a change.

"I have no reason to want _you_ dead, Carth. You watch my back, I watch your's. Only sometimes you watch mine like I'm going to start shooting force lighting from my fingertips or I don't know exactly what, if you turn around for so much as a second. If you agree the line of thinking is completely unreasonable, why keep this paranoia up?"

"All of that just to prove a point?" He goes on the defensive, easy to tell by his tone, "Well, it's not going to work. Nice try. I don't think you even get where I've been coming from."

"I think I _get_ more than you give me credit for."

"No, that's not it. I'm not trying to insult you here." He breathes out slowly, eyes darting back to their company, signaling for Reth to continue walking to the village gate, "You're probably one of the most skilled women I've ever met, and you're right: You've saved my sorry behind more than once and I'm lucky to have you here. No question."

"I sense a but?"

"But," He emphasizes impatiently, "I'm not going to stop watching you or being wary. I'm just not built that way. Period."

"I know there's a relationship forged of complete and utter annoyance with barely a hint of comraderie between us but I don't honestly want to blast you for it, laserbrain. You're not a bad guy, and last I checked I'm not either. Not completely. So, what have I done? Is it the corpse looting? Bounties? Gammorean jokes? I thought they were rather funny myself..."

"Uh, no, no. You're wrong there. You uh, haven't done anything deserving of my distrust...yet. So far you've proven yourself to be a good person. For the most part, anyway. It's just that there's no guarantee that you won't do anything in the future. I've been betrayed before, and, well...It won't happen again." Syrin nearly snorts.

"You want a guarantee? Let me tell you, Onasi. Life offers no guarantees. Not where the future is concerned."

"I know that. I think you're taking this too personally." They're just reaching the outskirts of the village. This is becoming truly annoying. It's uncomfortable being around someone so long like this and feeling like some sort of enemy in their eyes. Syrin has been everyone's errand woman, is stuck on a mission she really doesn't feel like completing, is barely standing...Don't get her started on the added drama that is Carth. She's met some cautious people in her days on the Rim, but this isn't the Rim, and it is personal, because since day one, they've been through everything together. She'd never admit it, but it actually makes her feel bad that he doesn't trust her at least a little by now, because she trusts him. So, Syrin whirls on the man, looking him straight in his deep brown eyes with her fierce orbs, placing her hands on her hips and stepping forward in a threatening manner.

"I'll take it however I want, you hairless wookie!"

"Yikes..." Vao mutters beside Zaalbar.

"Hairless wookie?" He mocks, stifling a laugh while throwing out his arms a little, craning his neck to get closer to her height. She stumbles as she takes another step forward, vertigo slamming into her like a crashing wave. To her distaste, she nearly falls onto Carth for the second time that day, and after he helps to steady her with a chuckle, she shoves him away, a string of expletives escaping her foul mouth. "Alright...just...just calm down before your head explodes, sister."

"We'll see whose head explodes, you fracking monkey-lizard!" She bristles, glaring.

"Is that your idea of an insult? I thought you were more colorful than that!" He goads, "Go on, take your best shot."

"You drooling bomar castoff!" Her hands curl into fists and drop by her thighs. To her surprise, he simply guffaws.

"Oh, ouch. I think you hurt my man-feelings with that one."

"They...they sound better in their native tongues. Don't patronize me! " Now she just feels stupid, folding her arms over her chest with a wince, gaze dropping back to the cracked dirt.

"Wouldn't think of it. Feel better now?"

"You're still a fracking monkey-lizard, but...maybe."

"Good. Then we can talk reasonably about this." Mission gestures towards the village.

"Can you two talk reasonably on the go...? 'Cause..."

"Yeah, Mission. Sorry about all of that." Mission turns to Zaalbar.

"And he says I'm the kid..."

They take up the lead again, mutually embarrassed that the supposed child of the group is more mature than they are at this point. "All I've been trying to say is not to take this personally. If you were smart you wouldn't trust anyone either. Not me, not Bastila, and certainly not yourself."

"Who would want to live that way? Believe me, it's not some sort of picnic."

"Not all of us have the luxury of a choice. I'm conditioned this way. Sorry."

"But you do have a choice." He sighs.

"Why is gaining my trust so damn important to you, anyway? Why...why do you even care? I don't even want to get into this again...We're all tired and beaten up. Let's just pick it up later, when we're out of this place."

'Why do I even care?' Syrin asks herself, kicking a pebble. 'Worse, why did I let it get to me this time?'

**Ack, mostly conversation again. I wanted to add Canderous in but I guess that'll have to wait for later. And bonding time with our favorite blue twi'lek and wookie. See you next chapter.**


	5. Dramatic Death Scenes and Swings

**rycbar15: Thanks :) (haha sorry if you're getting sick of hearing that by the way) and I think Syrin is destined for the light side, but she's probably going to struggle what with her emotional outbursts and disregard for the rules. Hope I caught all the typos and here goes...**

Back at the base, as soon as the door shuts out the dark apartment hall behind, Syrin collapses onto her bed without a word. Glittering reds and blues run across the carpet in squares, lights from rushing speeders outside no doubt. Mission tosses her stuff onto a table while Carth moves to drape the curtains back over the smudged windows, managing to make the lights less vibrant, though little more.

"Not a bad place, huh Big Z?" The wookie grunts in agreement, inspecting the modest abode with appreciation. She'll have to try the refresher tomorrow, see if the water pressure is any better up here.

"Where do you usually stay?" Carth asks her, pulling off his jacket as he leans into the couch. He's seen much better.

"Eh, here and there..." She throws her arms behind her head before occupying the spare bed, sighing in content as she kicks her boots off. "This litte hideout of your's is pretty nice in comparison, though. The Upper City sure is something."

"It's something alright, Mission..." Zaalbar asks to retire on the other couch and Onasi grants permission, throwing a spare blanket at him.

"Ha, Syrin's in dream land already." The youngest member of the team glances over to see the woman curled slightly in on herself, breathing in and out steadily, hair splaying against a pillow, slowly falling out of its usual style.

"That doesn't surprise me in the least. Syrin forgot to eat before we left and she hasn't been getting much sleep, staying up practicing until dawn. Sword fighting of all things. Crazy woman. She doesn't really need it from what I've seen thus far but she practices anyway."

"You know, she's pretty cool for that, though. I'm sure you've seen the way she fights. It's like...no big deal for her. I bet she could even do it in her sleep." Carth laughs.

"She can." The alien quirks an eyebrow.

"If you want to wake her up by shaking her, here's some advice: don't."

"Noted." A silence settles in and something nags at Carth. He can't quite place what as he stares at the ceiling, combing his jumble of worries for the source of his discomfort. A drawn out rumbling sound jars Carth from his mental search and his orbs dart around the room at high alert, body tensing.

"Right. I forgot to mention that Zaalbar snores." The soldier's mini heart-attack dies down now that he knows that isn't from one of the girls, and he pushes air from his nose.

"Ah, great." He mutters, already working at blocking out the sound.

"Well, night~!" He settles onto his back again.

"Good-night."

After nearly thirty minutes Mission has rolled over in her bed, breath quietly leaving her in timed bursts. Carth turns his neck so that he can see Reth, who's probably still in her damp and bloody clothes. She shivers a little in her sleep, something he notices after studying her mostly objectively for a while, and he waits a moment before pushing himself to his feet, crossing the distance to her bed in quiet steps. He bends down and gently pulls her dark boots off after unlacing them, setting them at the foot of her bed as quietly as possible. When he rises again from his crouching position her face is illuminated by yet another speeder whooshing past, shining through the thin curtain across the room. From that flash a feeling settles over him. His lips part a little. Peace. There aren't any lines marring her face from anger. There isn't her usual infuriating smirk. Her mouth is just a little slack, her head lolling easily against the pillow. There's only peace. For once he doesn't see her as a threat, a time bomb ready to go off. She's just a woman. Just a woman thrust into this madness. A person like him, another victim of circumstance. He pulls the cover over her body carefully, hoping not to wake anyone to this slightly awkward situation, telling himself that he'll give her a little more slack in the future. The soldier paces back to his designated bed, losing the nagging sensation to a web of forgotten dreams.

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe that the blaster you threw at Kandon literally blew up in his face."<p>

"Some force of nature out there loves me. Or hates me with a burning passion." Syrin looks to the ceiling with a chuckle, bumping Mission playfully with a hip, hiking her knapsack up on her back. Her eyes fly to Carth, "But, really. We are in serious need of new weapons. That thing overheated after five charges, the piece of bantha."

"If you have a way to get more credits, sister, I won't stand in your way."

"Thought you'd never agree, Onasi." To said man's surprise, instead of going straight for the Bek Base to their left, Syrin keeps walking, turning over a shoulder at their youngest tag-along, "Up for a little fun, Mission?"

"You know it. What do you have in mind?" Syrin lithely slips the pack off of her back, not even looking behind as Carth catches it in confusion. It has the prototype accelerator Gadon wanted for the race. What is Reth doing...?

"Take that to Gadon. We'll meet up at the cantina in the Lower City around noon, alright?" The pair walk side by side, the smuggler explaining something about paazak and back to back matches.

"Wait, where are you going, at least?"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, we won't do anything blatantly illegal." He bristles, immediately regretting allowing her to leave, then releases his knotted muscles with a sigh, reluctantly turning back to the Bek Base. No use yelling after them, Syrin does whatever she wants.

* * *

><p>"Oh, that swing almost took out an eye! This match is awfully close!" Another wild swing assaults the female duelist's vision, and she bends backward at a 90 degree angle with a grunt, balancing a palm to the floor, and kicking up with the gained leverage, meeting a trembling hand with her foot. As she flips back to half height in a fluid acrobatic motion, knee balanced on the arena floor, the satisfying clank of a sword resounds in the arena. She grins at her opponent Twitch, rising to look him in the eyes.<p>

"I'd say that signals the end of the match. What about you? No need to keep this little charade up." The alien is visibly fuming.

"Twitch kill!"

"Yeah, yeah. Do you know any other sentences?" He'd said it three times now. She levels her sword at the base of his throat, not daring to glance away from him. She's already got a few cuts. Pretty tactless, but dangerous all the same.

"I won't surrender!" He cries, leaping for her madly.

"See, was that so hard?"

She pulls back, dodging a few power packed punches and kicks before tripping him up with the sweep of a foot, bringing him to his knees. This time instead of asking him to surrender she swings the blunt side of her blade back and then connects it with his temple, watching with satisfaction as he crumples. She exhales, sheathing her weapons when he doesn't make a move to get back up. About time.

"It's over! This match is over folks! The Mysterious Stranger has bested the duel champion, would you believe it-" As Syrin turns to play the crowd, starting with a wave, a heavy weight slams into her back and she's thrown to the cold floor. The announcer is yelling about Twitch's unexpected recovery. The crowd loses it, shrieking and gasping or cheering depending on their preferences while Syrin is struggling to beat the crazy guy off of her, kicked to a position laying on her back while the fingers wrapped around her throat squeeze much tighter. She finally throws a punch despite the fact that the room is spinning, knocking his bloody temple yet again, gasping for air as he skids over the floor a few feet away. Syrin drags herself back into a standing position, unsheathing her sword just as her opponent dashes for her again, raising it on the defensive, one foot behind the other. Instead of stopping like she had hoped, he keeps running, and before she knows it she's slammed into the ground again, vital fluid splashing over her torso, tearing echoing in her ears.

"Twitch has impaled himself! He has actually thrown himself straight onto the blade and appears to be going for the kill!" The commentary doesn't reach Syrin's ears.

It takes her a moment as the sweaty fingers curl around her throat yet again to understand what has happened. She stares into furious eyes, and opts for letting go of the sword hilt to try and punch him off again,. He goes skidding just like last time as she lands a blow across his jaw, and painfully pulls herself up, coughing the kind of cough that pierces your chest. By the time Twitch is up on his feet some enforcers are dragging him away, kicking and screaming, for medical attention. What, was he going to try that again? He could have snapped her neck or something, but he seemed intent on choking her to death. Ah, whatever. Easier for Syrin that he's a raging idiot than a raging intellectual. The crowd is going nuts again, a bit more so than usual. Syrin stretches a sore arm out and then waves, smiling and bowing to the fans in the audience without a care for the marks on her neck or the blood sticking to her shirt.

"Amazing! Simply outstanding! Unheard of! The Mysterious Stranger has won yet again, even despite Twitch's apparent temporary break with reality!"

"Temporary?" Mission echoes amidst the roaring crowd. Zaalbar growls something beside her, and she pushes away his container of offered food, "How could you eat at a time like this, big guy?" She chides, standing suddenly, a little worried. "C'mon, we can meet up with her outside." She ignores the rest of the announcer's dramatic ranting as she weaves through the crowd.

* * *

><p>Mission struggles through a few autoprint groupies outside of the flashing lights of the cantina with rolling eyes and muttered curses to find her companion. Once they disperse she gives the smuggler an anxious once over.<p>

"Syrin, how are you? Besides the whole being famous thing." An at ease laugh escapes Syrin.

"The medics looked me over, Nothing a little kolto won't fix. Sadly, it's not the same for Twitch; he'll need a couple more weeks...or months. More importantly, check this out." She holds up a handful of credit chips triumphantly and the girl nods approvingly beside her wookie companion.

"Nice haul. Though I've gotta ask, what do you plan to do with that load?"

"I figured I'd kill two cannoks with one stone." A raise of the eyebrows, and just a grin in response, "You can stay if you'd like but I'm off to the Under City."

"Count me in. I've already tried my hand with the pazaak tables." And boy, did she profit.

"I will follow you as well." Zaalbar says, "I must admit it is not very stimulating to stay stationary in your apartment complex for long periods of time, even with the task of guarding it."

* * *

><p>The elevator stops at the pitch dark village known as the Under City. The scent doesn't bother the leading woman this time, nor the darkness; in fact, she's walking at a pace difficult for her companions to match, quickly rushing to the campsite.<p>

"Syrin!" A few villagers smile in her direction and she waves nonchalantly, muttering hello's as she goes along. Some spot Mission and Big Z as well. By the time they reach Gendar, Syrin is digging around in her pockets for something.

"Ah, Upworlder. How are you?" His smile turns to a grimace and Mission steps in as Syrin is too busy gathering materials to care.

"The blood isn't her's. Some crazy Rodian decided to impale himself directly above her. It's one of those have to see it to believe it kinda stories."

"I...see. And how are you, Mission? Staying out of trouble?"

"Depends on your definition of trouble," She sighs as he crosses his arms, not amused. "Alright, alright. Big Z wouldn't let me, would you buddy?" Zaalbar pats her back with a massive paw as answer.

"Ha! Found all of them. Gendar, it isn't too late, is it?" The dark complexioned leader of the village stares in wonder for a moment at the vials upon vials of rakghoul serum in her cupped hands, "I brought some bandages and weapons as well, if you'll accept them, food, basic tunics too...Zaalbar's carrying those."

"This...This is the rakghoul serum? How...?"

"A man in the Upper City synthesized it at a low cost, Zelka Forn's his name, I ran into a conveniently sizable profit, and that's pretty much all there is to it. Take it and treat those with the illness if it isn't too late." She places the filled vials in his outstretched hands, and after excusing himself, he basically runs to the local healer. Meanwhile, the three left behind sort through supplies, drawing a small crowd that helps with the distribution.

One child in line spots Reth and waves excitedly, causing her to drop her stuff for a while, pulling out a special space ship replica from her pocket to hide behind her back as she walks to his secluded end of the queue.

"Er, hey there, Rylan."

"I knew you'd come back! I told everyone that Rukil-Wrinkle Skin's blessed objects really do work!" She cracks a smile at that. Luckily the fire isn't lighting up the state of her clothes.

"Yeah, they do, don't they?" She'd kept his small security blanket in one of her many pockets since, "I found something as a fair trade." She pulls her hand out to the open, uncurling her fist to display the toy that immediately catches his bright eye, "Don't tell anyone, but it's your's from now on."

"Now way! Really?"

"That's what I said, isn't it? Go on." He takes it with near-reverent fingers, and zooms it around in the air, giggling in the way only a carefree child can. Kids really aren't that difficult to deal with, after all.

"A real spaceship?"

"Mm, it's modeled after one." She glances back to the at work Mission, earning a thumbs up when she nods to the distance, "Want to go visit 'Rukil-Wrinkle-Skin'?"

"Maybe in a minute." His focus doesn't leave the new toy as he fiddles with the mini painted controls inside, and Syrin rolls her orbs, clapping her hand casually over the kid's hair one last time with a half smile before tearing her eyes away to scan for Rukil.

Not a minute or two later, the old man catches sight of her, and his eyes nearly bug out.

"The chosen one returns!" Syrin whips out the journals before he can carry on anymore, feeling a bit relieved now that she isn't packed with various items, handing them over without a word.

"Did you...did you find them? This..." He reads them with hungry eyes, soaking up every word detailed, "So it is true! These journals really may lead to the Promised Land. No, they will. It's so clear."

"It is?" Reth raises her eyebrows, stepping beside him to skim over the words again, "Well, awesome if you can make sense of them, I guess."

"Thank you, Upworlder! A thousand times, thank you! I must tell Gendar right away." He runs off, leaving her in the dust. She shrugs, striding back to Mission and Zaalbar to finish handing stuff out.

* * *

><p>Carth taps his foot with obvious impatience, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes for the cantina door. She said noon. It's nearly an hour past, and it's only getting later while he sits here. He has no idea where Syrin and Mission went. Zaalbar isn't even answering the comm from the base, so he must not be answering for some reason. Though that reason alludes Carth and he's starting to feel anxious. He'd checked the hideout, maybe he could check again to see-<p>

His eyes flit to the opening as it whooshes and a familiar blue twi'lek, female with onyx hair, and wookie traipse in.

"-eah, my brother was pretty great."

"Seems to me like he taught you some pretty useful stuff."

"He was-"

"Where have you been!?" Carth exclaims, hopping up from his seat, "We agreed on noon, didn't-!Are...are you okay?" His eyes narrow with concern at the sheer amount of vital

fluid painting Syin's clothing rouge, and he takes a step forward to inspect her closer. He knew he shouldn't just let them go off. His anger fades in much the same way that a ship jumps to hyperspace. Reth gives Vao a conspiratorial look after catching his expression.

"No, actually-I think I've lost a bit too much blood..." She feigns dizziness, swaying and pacing back and forth, propping herself against the counter and sucking in a deep shuddering breath, "I'm...probably dying. As a last wish...please don't get upset.'" If it weren't for Mission's snicker, Carth would have panicked just a little bit more than necessary. With that and the theatrics, though, the worry turned to anger's back.

"You're not fooling anyone, sister. Stand up, you look ridiculous," He scoffs a touch, crossing his arms, "and we don't need anyone making a scene."

"Worth a shot," The act drops as hastily as it was procured. She laughs, sliding into a seat and covering up the blood with a tug of her vest, making a jab about trying to fool him using her superior wits next time. Now that some gawking patrons have gone back to their drinks, Carth rounds on Mission, unwilling to battle Reth on it.

"Now, where have you been? I even commed Zaalbar but there wasn't an answer."

"Like Syrin said we were getting credits. Guess who the Taris duel champion is?"

"So you got a lot of credits dueling. Then what? I would have seen you here had it taken up all of your time." The girl huffs, listing things off using her fingers.

"Well then we went back to the apartments to get Zaalbar, then to Zelka's to get the rakghoul serum synthesized, then we went shopping for a bunch of supplies, and finally we made a stop in the Under City to hand out those supplies." The twi'lek smiles wistfully somehow, "You should have seen them, they were so happy...especially Rukil. I haven't seem them like that, ever. They headed out to the Promised Land immediately. Apparently those journals really are legit, and so everyone left to find it." There goes the anger he was grasping to again, slipping like water through a sieve.

"Oh...Well, that's good...I'm glad. There are some really great people down there." He clears his throat, glancing to Syrin, "At any rate, I need to tell you about our deal with Gadon."

"Anything new?" The person in question asks, waving off the bartender. Everyone takes a seat, looking to Carth.

"Just one thing, Gadon has all of his bases covered, meaning that when he says he wants you to race, he insists that you race the swoop with the prototype accelerator."

"But...that accelerator is just a prototype for a reason." Mission is a little disgusted even though she's familiar with the leader of the Beks, "It's not stable."

"Exactly. There's a possibility that it will overheat in the race."

"Well, well, our little gang leader is much more ruthless than I gave him the credit for. We don't really have a choice, even if the accelerator is in that swoop. I'll just have to race. May give us an advantage." Syrin shrugs.

"You do realize," Carth starts, "that you could die if it overheats, don't you?"

"Hell, I could die right now if some random shabuir of a patron thought my breathing offended them."

"Yes, but this raises your chances just _a little bit_, wouldn't you say?"

"Would you rather us spring her out of-Ah, that's right: we have no idea where Bastila currently is." She leans forward, "Winning that race tomorrow is our best bet of getting her back, which need I remind you has been our goal since the beginning?" She has him there, though some part of him wants to argue it.

"She's right, you know." Mission agrees, "As much as I hate to say it." Zaalbar nods.

"The options we have before us are limited."

"I know, it's just, would it kill you to worry once in a while?" He laughs despite himself at Syrin, and she cracks her usual grin.

"You should know the answer to that by now." Her chair screeches as she stands, and the others follow her lead. Little do they know that when she turns around, the mask she wears drops.

** Thanks for reading! **


	6. Stability is overrated, anyway

**Rycbar15: That's good because you'll probably hear it a lot haha, and that's good as long as you aren't walking along the street on mobile or anything. I've done that before...It doesn't really end well. I'll try to keep changing it up if I can, so nobody gets bored. Even I get bored writing things verbatim. Hmm, I've really struggled with that question myself, actually. I think Juhani will join, but not exactly like she does in the game. Thanks as always for reading and giving me feedback and questions and stuff! :D**

**On to the story...**

Syrin's eyes are beginning to blur over as the hours tick by. She shakes her head, running a hand through her hair with a quiet exhale, straightening her posture out of the crouch she has slipped into. She can't allow herself to fall asleep like the rest of her company. It's too early in the morning and too late at night for that, anyway. Syrin is awake in a bunk situated within the Bek base, watching a spinning diagram of a swoop bike projected via hologram in the otherwise pitch darkness. Her trusty datapad is lying flat on the sheets, the source of the projection that's shining to illuminate her tired face. After one more review of the labeled controls and a search of a few databases, she flicks it off, and not so privy to face the darkness for hours to come she slowly stands and pads across the floor. The door swishes behind the woman, effectively silencing Zaalbar's obnoxious snoring as it snaps shut and she heads for the gang hideout's cafeteria for some sustenance, worry worming its way into her scattered mind without distraction to block it.

What if she fails tomorrow? It's all on her; every single bit of this mission. If she can't make it across the finish line in time she'll have to forcefully take Bastila, and that's if she can find out where Bastila even is tomorrow. It's not as if finding this jedi hasn't been an issue since landing on Taris, it's just that there's much more pressure this time. Or imminent death. Always lovely to ponder that.

As Syrin reaches the bar area in the empty dining hall, her eyes immediately catch sight of a thin durasteel lunch box stack. The mumble slips past her lips even though she's alone.

"I miss quality food..."

"You're not the only one, if it makes you feel better." In the midst of a mini-heart attack, Syrin whirls around, one hand grabbing at the top box, the other curling automatically in front of her chest, and the voice is revealed to belong to a tired Carth Onasi. He sends her a small smile, and she slowly drops her defensive position. Kek, how long has he been up? Even more disturbing, how did she not notice him following her? She shouldn't have let down her guard like that, so she plays it off as no big deal.

"Yes, I'm moved to tears that we can all eat tasteless gunk together. Let us rejoice." Half a smirk and a step to the side and Syrin is sitting at a table, Carth trailing after her leisurely, seating himself across from the woman after filling cups of water. She nods in thanks, snapping open the steel case to reveal packed vegetables, oddly shaped crackers, and dried meat. Well, she's had worse...

"How long have you been up?" He tries to bring this topic up casually, taking a sip from his cup. The commander is genuinely puzzled about Syrin more than ever. For once though, as she bites into a cracker with a grin, he doesn't feel particularly accusatory as he used to. The same as the night before.

"I could ask you the same question."

"Long enough to know that someone's been studying." She freezes and glances up from her the food. Think, Syrin. Frack it-what now? Her brain sluggishly works to spit out some sort of reply.

"What...does that matter?" Clever, Syrin.

"It can't be," The man scrunches his brow and leans forward, "Be honest, are you worried about the race?"

"What? Ha! No, don't be ridiculous, laserbrain. Believe it or not, I actually like to study and read."

"You...do?" It seems odd considering the woman's attitude.

"Being in deep space for months on end does things to you..." She explains. Carth laughs as she chews a weird looking vegetable.

"Is that so?"

"Anyway, it doesn't matter whether or not I'm in a panic about the race, and I'm sure the only reason you're asking is out of some sort of unfounded paranoia anyway." Yeah, she just doesn't want him to ask about the race anymore. Best to lead the conversation in another direction, even if it doesn't end well. The soldier realizes exactly what she's doing, however.

"Oh, want to argue some more like in the Under City, is that it?" He certainly doesn't want to argue anymore. He promised himself he would be nicer and after everything this woman has done, and is about to do, it's only fair. She fiddles with the rim of her cup, flashing her teeth.

"I'm always up for a good fight." The man chuckles, half relief, half amusement.

"Can't say I've ever met a woman like you before. You're really something, you know that?" She nearly smiles.

"I'm told."

Another silence and this time Syrin gives in to it, pushing away her food to cross her arms and look Carth in the eyes more directly.

"Look, about that fight...Why don't you trust me by now?" The smuggler cuts off his retort. "Yes, I will continue to take it personally, by the way, you scruffy nerfherder." They both smile before he looks away, squirming after the question has hung in the air for a while. The man seems tired again.

"I...just don't trust easily...and for good reasons." He catches Reth's look, and before she opens her mouth he adds in firmly, "Which are my own."

"Back to square one, then, huh?" She chuckles, "Well, I can always make you talk."

"Heh heh, I may be willing to take you up on that challenge. But, uh, you're not going to let up, are you?"

"I did just imply the use of brute force...If that's not enough, I'll even trade you stories if you'd like." It dawns on her that he only knows that she lived in Deralia and left, and here she is asking for such a personal tale.

"You want to know why I don't trust anyone? Fine..." He braces himself, brown orbs distant as Syrin closely monitors them, interest piqued, "Five years ago the jedi had just finished the war with the Mandalorians. Revan and Malak were heroes."

"I didn't know you served with them."

"Yeah, I did, and I was damned proud to have served in their fleet. It was completely unexpected when they turned on us, invading the Republic while we were weak. Nobody knew what to expect, least of all me. Our heroes had become brutal, conquering Sith...and we were all but helpless before them. Think about it, if you can't trust the best of the jedi, who can you trust?"

"Well, obviously Revan and Malak turned to that mysterious dark side the jedi always go on about. What, did you know them or something?"

"No...it's not that," He seems pained but Reth continues to listen attentively, "That's not what I mean...there were others. Good, solid, trusted men that joined them. Malak and Revan and the Sith deserve to die for what they've done, but those that fled the Republic to join them? They were even worse."

"Why's that?"

"The dark side has nothing to do with why they joined the Sith," He seethes, hands balling into tight fists on the table, one slamming onto it with a bang, rocking the items placed there, "They deserve _no_ mercy!" Syrin can't help but feel that was aimed at her for some reason, leaning back into her chair.

"Do I look like I've joined the dark side? Rumor has it that once you go dark, your eyes turn yellow and I've heard something about your skin cracking like it's tissue paper. Now that's just insulting, Onasi." She shakes her head in mock disappointment, though he can see the real deal in her midnight eyes for just a second before it's hidden.

"I know...I...I should apologize to you. I've become accustomed to expecting the worst in others, and you have done nothing to deserve that. It's just..."

"It's just what?" He sighs, refusing to disclose more.

"Nothing...What's that story you were talking about trading earlier? You never told me why you left your home planet." She'll ask him more about it later. May as well fulfill her end of the deal, now.

"Right. Since we're caring and sharing now, I guess I'll tell you." She loses the eyes contact, suddenly finding the grungy floor extremely interesting, scuffing a boot along it to trace imaginary patterns, "I had it pretty good. Sure, Deralia's as boring as any other farming settlement, but it was home, and my family was everything to me."

"What was your family like?"

"I had a mom, and dad, like most people...My mother, ha, she was the most resourceful woman. We didn't have much, barely scraped by, actually. Anyway, she could make dinner out of anything, patched our clothes up with household fabrics...Her smile was the most beautiful thing in the world, and I could tell my father fell in love with her again every time it appeared."

"Do-uh, did you have any siblings?"

"An older brother. He was so protective, and honest. I would get angry at him a lot, but he was just looking out for me, and my younger sister...she was sweet, but I only knew her for two years." It's as if Syrin is lost in the memories, detached. This is a new side to her. One of many sides to Reth.

"What happened?"

"One day, some group of thug Mandalorians entered our house, while we were gathered in the kitchen. Of course, they wanted our valuables, and didn't believe us when we told them we had none. I think they were looking for trouble. It's doubtful they even cared whether or not there was anything worth stealing. The leader put a gun to my head, and my brother...my brother attacked him. The leader shot him dead with one blaster bolt. I slipped away, don't even know how, took a hit to the arm. I didn't see it but my mother and sister were gunned down during the struggle. I could hear the screaming, feel the blood splatter in a spray...Our neighbors showed up before they took out my father and I." The man listening to the story is horrified by the turn of events, to say the least, and angry at the injustice of it. Syrin isn't displaying any emotion, gaze still cemented to the ground.

"The thugs flipped on their stealth gens like cowards, raided a few more homes in the settlement before hopefully spacing themselves. After all of that, my father turned to spice. He wasn't the same. Things happened...I got out as soon as I could." Before Carth can say anything, and he isn't entirely sure what to say, the woman stands and begins walking away.

"I'll tell you more about the fun part, how I got into smuggling, some other time. I'd say there's an hour left of sleep before it's time to wake up again, wouldn't you? By the way, tell anyone about this and you'll wake up one morning with a vibroblade shoved so far up your shebs you'll be tasting blade. Sweet dreams, Onasi."

"W-wait!" He stands in a rush, striding after her, only to stop short by a few feet. He was right, his suspicions, some things never matching up, but not for the same reasons. Certain things still don't add up but Syrin may actually be making some sense to him.

"What?"

"Just call me Carth, Syrin...and that race tomorrow? I wouldn't worry, nobody can top your insanity." Her lips twitch upward over her shoulder.

"Damn straight, Onasi."

"Just Carth, please." She laughs, voice nearly sing-song when she turns back around.

"Goodnight, Onasi."

* * *

><p>"What, you're kidding me, right? Syrin just stomped that chuba faced guy's time into the ground! Why did he just make the comeback of the season?"<p>

"I don't know, Mission..." Carth is barely listening, mostly carefully watching Syrin as she mounts her bike at the start line, revving the engine. Zaalbar growls something, pointing to the barred cage in the distance.

"Is that the jedi that you're looking for?" Vao inquires, squinting to catch a glimpse of her, "She looks completely out of it..." The sound signaling the start of the round pricks her ears, and she turns her head, lekku swinging. "Oh, the light went green! I don't know if I can watch this!"

* * *

><p>Syrin wastes no time, leaning forward to stare down the gray tunnel before her, and revving as far forward as she can. While she gains speed, she feels the air rush past her, faces from the crowd and objects blurring by with only seconds to make them out. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, and a laugh bubbles from her throat. Obstacles are everywhere, meant to trip her up, and she only just dodges them, trying to run across every accelerating pad on the ground. The crowd roars, probably at the time on the clock, but she tunes them out, focusing on the swoop in her control. Accelerator, turn left, turn right, go straight-jump! She scrapes against debris when she lands, flipping switches to gain control of the suddenly bumpy ride again. Once the racer hits another boost, a red light begins blinking rapidly on the dashboard, and she grits her teeth. The finish line is just seconds away now, the time on her dash glows 00:27, and she hits the last pad, anyway, despite the urgent warning light. Two things happen simultaneously. First, the swoop crosses the finish line. Second, Syrin dives from the machine, rolling out of the range of the bike right as it gives one last rapid beep and bursts into flames. The sound slams into her eardrums like thunder, and she covers her head, a few charred parts flying overhead. The smuggler can feel the heat radiating against her back, and she turns, stuck in a crouch to catch sight of what was once the bike, and is now a crackling bonfire.<p>

The announcer is yelling something, and there's a lot of commotion from the mechanics and racers at the finish line. A few aliens rush for Syrin, offering to help her to her feet. It's as if her knees are locked, legs as useless as twigs at holding her up. The woman pushes off the ground shakily for support anyway, rounding on the two flanking her. The world tilts a little, and she notices flames dance near their feet.

"Did I beat the time? Does the race count?"

"The race is legitimate, human, and it was amazing, you got the time of 00:29! There's no way Redros will beat your time! Nobody will, not for years to come!" A twi'lek assures her.

"We haven't seen a racer this skilled on Taris before! You beat racers who have been doing this for years!" The Ithorian enthuses. "Let's take you back to the start so you can get your prize, the cleaning crew has this."

* * *

><p>Once the group reaches the front desk a blue Bothan behind it has drawn a crowd, proclaiming Syrin Reth as the official prize winner.<p>

"Put your hands together for one of the most daring swoop riders this track has ever seen!" Whoops and hollering buzz in Syrin's ears and she takes a bow of appreciation for all of the clapping, a smirk sliding onto her face, "Through your skill and courage you have proven yourself the premier swoop rider on Taris, and brought great glory to the Hidden Bek gang!" A dark skinned man plated with heavy armor saunters in behind the alien, scowling heavily, "Now, here to present the champion's prize: Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars."

Fierfek. He looks unhappy, and his voice is palpably slimy.

"People hear me! Before I present the prize to the so-called winner, there's something you must know; the winning rider cheated!"

Why didn't Syrin see this coming? Her hand inches to her side, and she remembers she left her swords at the Bek Base.

"Sore loser, much? I beat your time because I'm the better racer, not because I cheated."

"Your swoop bike was using a prototype accelerator! Clearly an unfair advantage, and because of this, I'm withdrawing the Vulkar's victory prize." There are cries of outrage, including the person manning the desk, to tell Brejik that he can't withdraw the prize. He rounds on the Bothan.

"You old fool! I am the wave of the future. If I want to withdraw the prize and sell this woman on the slave market myself," He gestures violently to Bastila, the caged woman near the desk, "Nobody can stop me!" Syrin whips the blaster, holding it by her side, just as everyone's attention turns to the imprisoned jedi, who speaks, fully awake.

"I might have something to say about that Brejik!" Her prim, accented voice is as sharp as a kath hound's teeth and before anyone can do anything, the woman raises a hand and the guards beside her sprawl across the floor, cage door lifting. Brejik goes on about how impossible it is that she's free given she was restrained by a neural disruptor, and Bastila tells him calmly and dangerously that he underestimates the power of a jedi's mind. Just as he calls for the Vulkars to gather and kill everyone, Syrin starts shooting at him, effectively cutting him off as he ducks behind the desk so as not to get blasted.

"Kill everyone? Man, you _really_ need to learn how to take a loss if slaughtering everyone is your only response here." Bastila grabs a double blade from a downed guard and begins fighting her way to Brejik, ending up back to back with Syrin, whose shooting and dodging at Vulkars is attracting attention from shooters behind as well. Shan deflects a few bolts with the Force, clashing swords with Brejik.

"Hey, Bastila, right? Nice of you to join the party."

"This-is-not-the-time." Each word is enunciated with the scrape of her sword against Brejik's until she stabs him straight through the chest. Blasterfire from somewhere in the panicking crowd manages to take down the last Vulkar, and Syrin sighs, holstering her aimed weapon. She turns to see Bastila inspecting the crazy Brejik guy's corpse, and nearly laughs.

"I'm surprised you didn't cut out his tongue first, though I won't complain. Job well done, Shan."

"Maybe next time those bloody Vulkars will think twice before trying to keep a jedi prisoner." She sniffs, shifting the blade in her hand uncomfortably. It may have something to do with the skimpy outfit the Vulkars have put her in, all tight leather and revealing. Her face is pinched in disdain, alabaster skin flushed slightly. The two tails of brown hair that she wears are coming undone, and her gray eyes are narrowed as they rest on Syrin, "And as for you, if you think you can collect me as a prize-"

"Woah, woah. Let's not jump to conclusions, here." Something changes in Bastila's expression, from anger to-fear?-to shock, and Syrin doesn't have to continue.

"You're one of the ensigns who was aboard the Endar Spire. How did you end up racing for these swoop gangs?" The accusation at the racing rubs the woman in question the wrong way.

"How sweet of you to remember me. Name's Syrin Reth, and I didn't race for any prizes-in fact, seems your jediness was in need of some saving. At any rate, we should get you out of here before the Sith show up." She doesn't follow Reth's lead, only scoffing, voice rising in pitch.

"Save me? Is that what you were trying to accomplish? Well, as far as rescues go this is a pretty poor example!" There goes whatever respect Syrin had for this so-called legendary jedi, as she fulfills the stereotypical pretentious jedi sterotype. Syrin grabs Bastila roughly by the forearm with an exasperated eye roll and pulls her with her toward the exit in a swift stride. Bastila rips out of her clutch with a reproachful remark but follows this time, evenly paced by her side.

"Last I checked you and your glorified jedi powers were helpless under heavy guard and behind bars, anyone with eyes would say it's a pretty fine example of a rescue."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I managed to free _myself_ from those neural restraints. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that _I_ saved _you_. You would have been left for dead by Brejik's men had I not been here to step in. You're lucky I was here to get you out of this mess!"

"Yeah, and you're lucky I'm not sticking you back in that cage."

"I'd love to see you try." There's the superiority complex the jedi are know for, too. "Ever heard of something called the Force? But I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on you, you did try to save me after all, even if it didn't go quite as planned. So, let's get down to business. If we're going to find a way off of this planet, I'm going to need to know what kinds of resources we can draw on...First, are we the only two survivors on the Endar Spire?"

"Nope, Carth is here too, and we've got a few ideas as to how to get off of Taris, so don't bother yourself with it. We've gotten this far ourselves." This is the first thing that Bastila seems happy about.

"Carth Onasi is alive? Finally, some good news." She ignores Syrin.

"I lived too. But you know, whatever."

"Carth is one of the Republic's finest soldiers. He's proved himself a hero a dozen times over. If he sent you to save me, maybe I misjudged you. He wouldn't have sent you if he wasn't confident in your...abilities" She quirks her eyebrows, sneaking a look as they make their way through the Lower City corridor to the elevator, "Forgive me. Despite my jedi training, I tend to act a bit rashly sometimes. Where is Carth at the moment? I would very much like to speak with him." Well, mention of Onasi changed her tune.

"I'm not sure. The comm exploded with the bike, so I haven't had contact with him since before the race but if we get separated for any reason we're always supposed to meet at the apartment. He should be there."

"I suppose we're heading there right now? Good. Between the three of us, we should be able to work things out." Syrin rolls her eyes. Yeah, no. With this jedi it won't just be between the three of them. She glances at Bastila from the corner of her eye as they briskly make their way through the Upper City, blinding light illuminating her. The brunette hair, alert gray eyes, and...

"You seem familiar." Bastila's eyes slide to the smuggler.

"Do I? I get that a lot. You may have heard of me, as many others have."

"Being famous for the whole battle meditation thing isn't what I'm talking about. Not to sound as if I'm testing horrible pickup lines but have we met before?" The jedi stiffens, looking away.

"Perhaps aboard the ship at some point." Suddenly Syrin remembers the dream she had just before she woke up on Taris, and crinkles her brow. Why did she dream about this jedi? She's pretty sure if she'd met her before the Spire, she probably wouldn't have agreed to this quest, and how can you dream about someone you don't know about, unless-No, Syrin won't even consider it.

"That's probably it." They reach the complex, finally able to lift their heads, and talk in louder tones. No Sith here. "Oh, just a warning. You may end up on a couch for the night unless Carth plays the gentlemen and gives you a bed, on account of our company."

"What sort of company?"

"Ah, the usual. Ever met a wookie or a twi'lek that speaks basic?"

"No, I can't quite say I have for the first part. Why are they involved in this? This mission is rather sensitive, is it not?" Reth just wants to lie down now, rounding on their hideout, suppressing a suffering exhale.

"That's precisely why they're involved, your jediness."

"Do stop calling me that, it's demeaning."

"That's the point."

"That's quite the immature attitude. I hope you don't treat the commander like this."

"Better than a pretentious attitude, your jediness, and Carth likes to be called names."

"In that case, I shall have to commend him for keeping his lucidity all this time." Syrin snorts, waving a hand in front of the door.

"Hah, what is this lucidity you speak of?" Bastila can only hope the time between now and their departure of Taris is short indeed.

**Thanks to everyone reading and following. Until the next time. Sorry there's a lot of dialogue this time too. *Cringe***


	7. The Slumber Party

**rycbar15: I'm happy you think so. Haha every time I play kotOR again nostalgia hits me hard, especially on Taris. It's fun to see how many new dialogue options open up when you go certain places with certain party members or choose a different option once in a while too. Anyway, it's cool this story got you into kotOR again. c: Hope you're enjoying!**

**DarkK88: As for both reviews, I got you to laugh? Sweet. :D Bastila shall be quite annoyed with Syrin for a long time, so there should be plenty of interesting conversations where that's concerned.**

**Thanks as always to those following and reading the story! You're appreciated because seven chapters in and I'm not even off of Taris, plus I've disappeared for a while, and this list could go on-yet you support whatever this is.**

Carth and Syrin pace hurriedly side by side across the durasteel a small utility droid and twi'lek trailing behind them in the golden hued evening sunlight. The twi'lek is watching the two ahead with surprise through squinted eyes, still anticipating some sort of dramatic limb tangled trip due to their proximity. They're whispering fiercely, their hushed tones a measure so as not to draw attention. Mission suspects they'll still draw attention from mingling pedestrians, but they'll be written off as some bickering couple without a second glance. Bickering couple for sure, she thinks with a snort when she tunes back into their argument.

"You're acting like my mother and I'm thoroughly perturbed. For your own sake, cut it out."

"I'm just being a decent human being! Have you even given a _thought_ as to what they're going to do to you if you stay too long? I-I can't believe we're just now sorting this out now!"

"If you'd rather I have told you in the presence of her jediness, you're asking for it. You could have stayed with her- Honestly, pick a side."

"Oh, so _now _you want me to pick a side as opposed to dragging me from the apartment without explanation to whatever asinine scheme you hatch next? Sorry, beautiful. Doesn't work that way."

"This plan is necessary. Canderous wants us to grab the launch codes from inside the base as part of the deal to steal the Ebon Hawk with us and get off of this force-forsaken rock of a planet filled with a bunch of crinking brats and xenophobic morons that-" She glances back to her teenage company mid-rant for the first time in a while, grimacing apologetically, "Uh, no offense, Mission, crash landing here and living as a refugee has sort of skewed my view of this place."

"No, it's alright. You don't need to keep apologizing for dissing the place. I kinda understand where you're coming from, even if Taris is my home planet." The girl exhales the words, eyes skimming up to the giant compound ahead, "So, is this your stop?" Probably is, considering the amount of people nearby-few. They always go to the places nobody else wants to. Syrin stops walking abruptly, whirling to face the group that stops with her, covered by the shade of the looming building. Plain but with three blue blinking insignias above the large doorway. Carth raises his voice again, feeling fidgety at the very sight of this place.

"I still think this is a bad-"

"Finish the sentence and find out what a hydrospanner looks like wrapped in your organs." Syrin threatens so offhandedly that it might just make his eye twitch. Despite her attitude, Carth keeps his mouth firmly clamped into a hard line, scowling and crossing his arms even though he knows she probably won't act on it.

Probably.

Damn it. She flashes a self satisfied grin his way and then turns to the pale twi'lek, back to business.

"Now, got that breaker, Mish?"

"No way I'd forget this puppy." She procures her precious invention from her breast pocket with a flourish and a proud twinkle in her eyes, "It'll short circuit any force-field for at most three seconds, and at least one. In the case that it only works for about one, you've gotta make sure it doesn't regenerate while you're stepping out. So be speedy."

"Leave it to the famous Ash Roeder. Speed's her specialty, after all."

"Modesty sure isn't." Carth mutters to himself. She ignores him. Syrin can't help but to flaunt this particular alias. She even disguised herself as the woman before heading out. Yeah, Carth wasn't too happy to see that the aliases he'd noticed on her datapad so long ago hadn't simply been flashed by an i.d card, that they'd actually been used and perceived as real people, but it's going to come in real handy here.

Syrin salutes Mission with her unchanged gloved hand, taking the breaker card with the other to stuff it into her right boot. Her pants, utility belt, and boots are unchanged as well, but she discarded her vest in favor of the ivory shirt beneath, the sleeves rolled up and the bottom ends unbuttoned and tied together into a loose loop. This is to expose maybe an inch of her stomach to better capture her usually hidden curves, capturing the persona of Ash Roeder at the same time. There's also a navy bandanna tied around her head to top off the guise. The woman sends yet another cheeky smile the teenager's way, pivoting easily and tugging Carth by the jacket and gesturing their newly acquired T3 droid toward the door. She nods back to the girl.

"Might wanna head out now, Mish. I don't want any connection between what's about to happen and you."

The teenager bites her lip, casting a glance to the military base then to the two of them again. "Alright, alright. Do me a favor and come back in one piece, okay? Both of you." She steps back into the sunlight slowly, still looking at them, then picks up the pace into a jog after tearing her orbs away. The droid rolls over the ground, beeping cheerfully at the giant door that leads to the Sith base, removing his probing utensil from the conduit built into the wall after a little bit of fiddling. Reth praises him. Looks like the little droid was worth all those credits. She knew she liked him.

"Got it, T3?" Carth asks, taking Syrin's upper arm with the affirmative beep, "Head back to the base for now. We'll be back soon, hopefully." The droid beeps, and then rolls away. The man's mind jumps back to the woman beside him, "Let me do the talking at least. I have this feeling you'll get us killed wisecracking otherwise." The door to the base unlocks as a series of mechanisms pull apart and the two walk in.

* * *

><p>There's a bit of an awkward silence near the reception desk as a heavily armored Sith troop reads over a datapad. The armored commander beside him taps his foot impatiently, every tap clinking against the frigid floor to bounce from the walls. Confusion is evident in one voice, as he glances from the pad to the almost bored looking woman across from him, whose eyes are currently roaming idly around the gray, white, and black schemed steel room. She shifts her weight from one foot to another, causing Carth to adjust his death grip on her. The impatient commander breaks the silence finally.<p>

"Well, what is the damned woman cited for? We don't have all day!" He chides in the accent typical of the Sith here, voice tinny through the helmet he dons.

"...It says here that she's cited for...everything."

"Everything?" The tone of sharp shock dripping from the word is palpable, "Define everything."

"Aiding and abetting, spice possession, battery, bribery, smacking a Sith official, credit fraud-"

"That's-er, quite enough. I congratulate you on capturing Ash Roeder, sir." The man nods to Carth, who is still roughly holding to 'Ash', "She's been eluding our authorities for nearly a year now, according to reports. It's a great help to our Empire as a whole that she is put away."

"Thank you." Onasi manages between gritted teeth, hating the way the word tastes on his tongue, "I heard something about a bounty walking around town and stumbled upon her the next day, hiding out amongst a cantina crowd. I'm, uh, glad to be of service to you and your Empire."

"_Kissing_ ass and taking names now, are we, _sir_? Never thought I'd see the day." The captured woman's eyes dance at the mock and the Sith grunt, one pulling her from Carth's grip without warning. He tenses a little, forcing himself not to take a step forward. The gap between them makes his stomach squirm. _Let him do the talking, _he tries to convey to her with his eyes, but it's useless. The Sith jostles her more than necessary when she makes another snippy comment, and the other moves to restrict her free arm, barking his words.

"Let's take her away. Perhaps a little time in our detention cells and she'll change her smug tune."

"Not the detention cells!" She sarcastically pleads, "No criminal has ever escaped from those cheap, unguarded things before!" She tilts her head over her shoulder to aim her trademark smirk at Carth before the guards force her forward, adding in more harsh words and the door snaps shut behind her. Onasi stands a moment, running over the plan she explained on the way over here in his mind, still very uneasy with this.

"Excuse me, miss?" He glances to the pale yellow twi'lek with green lekku at the reception desk, smiling the charming way only Carth can smile. He'll have to be pretty persuasive for this to work.

"Ah, yes. Do you need something?"

"Yes,. I was thinking, maybe we can work out a deal..." With the promise of a few credits and a shared conversation involving their mutual hate of the Sith, the twi'lek is out of the door without another word. The station she left still logged in, leaving certain defenses vulnerable. Perfect.

"That was easier than I thought...Now for the defenses." He shakes his head as he scrolls past the live containment cell feed, "I hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

><p>Syrin leans against the cold metal strip behind her in the force cage, crossing her arms. It's an understatement to say that the lovely view from this cage is getting boring. Gray floors and glowing lights on the walls. Excuse her if she isn't soaking it in with fervor. Her neck twists so that she can look at the Duros beside her cage, distorted a little, as he's being viewed through the wall of humming orange energy in a cage beside her.<p>

"What are you in for?"

"These Sith raided my apartment complex one time too many, needlessly shooting my friend down, and a brave stranger by the name of Syrin, I believe, killed them for it. I hid the bodies for her and cleaned up the blood and residue, but the Sith eventually found the corpses and I have been detained here ever since." Oh, hey. Syrin thought he was familiar. She grins at the coincidence, pushing off of the metal strip and reaching into her boot for the breaker Mission rigged up.

"People and their trumped up rules, huh? I say we break a few. You in?"

"Well, yes, but how-"

She jams the card into the wall of buzzing energy, half expecting an unforgiving shock, but instead effectively answering her cellmate's question, hopping out easily as the field sputters and dies, unable to regenerate in time to so much as clip her. Nice. Three seconds exactly. She raises her eyebrows at the pleasantly startled Duros.

"I think Mission deserves a medal for this beautiful invention." She sticks the card into his energy field with a precise flick of the wrist, allowing him to step out before it hums back to life, then stuffs it back into her boot, scanning for any guards at the doors. They exchange a glance.

"A friend of mine's working on defenses, or should have, so I'll bet the turrets are offline in that hallway."

"I'll watch your back as long as you agree to watch mine. If I am not mistaken the armory is that way..."

* * *

><p>Carth ducks behind the corner for cover, pulling the trigger of his blaster with a step forward, only to resume ducking behind a corner when a red bolt flies over his head. Something round and dark goes flying next, seemingly from behind him. Suddenly the corridor explodes in sticky plasma, and screams and grunts are silenced after a few seconds. Only the constant ringing of claxons continues, and Carth wishes he had found some sort of shut down for the alarm system earlier. Onasi whirls around, gun cocked and ready when a presence behind him casts a shadow over the dimming red emergency lights in the base, when he realizes it's Syrin. Carth's shoulders slump with relief.<p>

"Glad you made it."

"Me too. I've searched the whole level with another prisoner. Came up with squat, even in the terminals, so he took his leave and I came to find you. You in the same predicament?"

"I hate to say it but yeah, me too." His eyes run to the hallway ahead once he's contented himself with checking his partner for injuries, and the other hallways for remaining soldiers, "I'm thinking we'll have to take the elevator to the main level up ahead. The receptionist was still logged into the system though, so the droid guarding it should be deactivated."

"Maybe you're not so useless after all."

"Did I hear that right over the alarms?" He smirks, acting stunned. "_Syrin Reth _just said something nice. Without swearing? You should say that again, louder this time so I can make sure I heard it right."

"Ah, my bad." She raises her volume, chuckling, "You fracking son of a fracking kath hound, you're not so useless after all!"

* * *

><p>"You sure you're okay?"<p>

"What did I say about mothering people earlier?"

"What did I say about being a decent human being?" He counters, still fixated on the cut across her left bicep as they duck through the dark streets. It's only accented by the white shirt, stained with rouge in a noticeably sized blotch. She'd taken on a guy twice her size, with ten times the armor, before Carth could lift a finger to blast him The injured woman wraps her bandana tightly using her teeth as more blood trickles down her arm, wincing only slightly, "You're so reckless." Carth grumbles finally, glancing away to opt for silence. The two retreat into their heads. On the main level of the base they met a Sith apprentice who happened to have the launch codes, a bald man with a presence as strong as that of a rancor. He'd assumed the man to be as dense until he opened to his mouth to inform Syrin that he's a force user. A force user, who'd said something strange about Syrin, something indicative of-what was it the jedi call it? Force sensitivity. In Syrin herself. She'd said she didn't know what he was talking about and didn't care. The guy had managed to slash her with his double bladed sword after, but for the most part she'd been able to match him with vibroblades of her own. Of course she matched him. That's why she's so good in combat, so quick. Some would call it luck. The jedi and sith claim that luck doesn't exist, only the Force. Force sensitivity, yet another mysterious thing about Syrin. Another thing pops into his head as he contemplates his partner's identity.

"Tell me something," He murmurs after a while, once they enter the lit up apartment complex. It's got some semblance of safety, as compared to the lit up city outside. The city searching for whoever cleaned out the Sith military base, as the security records were mysteriously wiped.

"What?" Reth quirks a brow, wiping at a nick on her face with the back of a hand, proceeding to focus on rolling down her sleeves and fixing her shirt.

"Did you really do all of those things? You know, the charges cited..." Syrin shakes with laughter. So that's why she'd been getting weird looks the entire way back.

"Oh, you bought that? Aha, hell no. I'd like to think some of them are against my moral code."

"Then why were they cited, if you didn't actually commit any of the crimes?"

"The record's _forged. _By your's truly. I always planned to collect my own bounty once it was high enough. I only committed one crime actually listed using this alias, besides forging Ash's record."

"Which was that?"

"I may have smacked a Sith official."

"Oh..." That's a weight off of his shoulders then. "That's not so bad."

"How did I know you'd approve of that one?" He chuckles.

"No idea, gorgeous."

A small pause.

"Using this alias?" He repeats the words, brow crinkling, "What do you mean by that?"

"No idea, flyboy." She grins, waving a hand in front of their door. He lets it slip, shaking his head with a breathy laugh. As usual, Syrin Reth does what she wants.

* * *

><p>As soon as the ebony haired woman emerges from the refresher later that evening, she is met by serious orbs and a thinly drawn set of lips. She immediately grits her teeth, expecting another long tirade about teamwork and trust and blah blah blah, but instead the jedi's calm, clipped tone is back in action.<p>

"There are matters we must discuss."

"If these 'matters' involve another critical analysis about my sense of humor, or idiocy, I'll stand in the corner the rest of the night, thanks."

"Your tasteless sense of humor aside, this is a serious discussion." Mission, Carth, and Zaalbar look up from the pazaak game at the table curiously, and she spares them an emphasized look, "It is also private, if you will be so kind as to step out with me." Syrin sighs in a suffering manner, then begins walking to the door.

"Coming, your highness?" Bastila crossly paces across the room, and once the door snaps shut behind them and they're left in the hallway to their own devices, Syrin presses her back into the wall, folding her arms over her chest. Bastila stares a moment too long, contemplating Syrin.

"You had something you wanted to talk about, or is this a staring contest now?" Her abrasive attitude simply makes Bastila reluctant to start any conversations. Not just her abrasive attitude, but how perceptive she can be is another factor in play here. Bastila needs information from this woman, and this woman must remain in the dark...about many things. Bastila quells her anxiety with a jedi mantra, then opens her mouth with _determination_.

"I'd like to know _exactly_ what happened after you crashed on Taris. I'm curious as to what you and Carth were doing before we recently joined forces."

"Before we saved your sorry shebs, you mean? We were looking for you. Haven't we been over this already?"

"Yes. I realize that, of course. But surely there was more to it than a simple search. I doubt there were flashing signs pointing you in my direction."

"You're right, no signs. I'm pretty sure we just followed the trail of uprightness." The jedi troops on, holding in an exhale at the woman's commentary.

"_Yet_, you found me. You also avoided detection by the Sith, discovered I was a Vulkar prisoner, gained sponsorship for the race, and became the Taris swoop champion. Recently you defeated a sith apprentice inside of a military base using vibroblades, a base that you somehow managed to slaughter your way through in a matter of hours. That's quite a resume." Reth frowns.

"Where are you going with this?"

"I know others helped, but you were the catalyst for this series of events. A jedi could have done such things, of course, but only by drawing heavily on the force." Nope, Syrin does not like this. Everything has been pointing to it, but that does not mean she wants to acknowledge it.

"I think you're underestimating us _non-jedi-" Which I am, _she thinks with fervor_, _kicking off of the wall to right herself,_"_So, if that's all, I'm going to go back to-"

"No, wait a moment. This is important. I implore you to listen, Syrin." She closes her eyes, facing the door and then turns back around to look Bastila straight in the eyes.

"Just spit it out then."

"The force is in all of us, but for most it's barely a whisper. However some individuals are force sensitive, some individuals outside of the jedi order. It's apparent to me that the force has been working through you. There is no other explanation for your success." No other explanation. Not hard work, not daring, not skill. Reth's eyes narrow. The reality of that sets in, and suddenly she feels small, as though she is a lost child supervised by the helping hand of an adult. She hadn't considered this a possibility before-she couldn't-for this exact reason.

"Perhaps if-well, if you were younger the jedi might consider you for training, though as it is..."

"If that's all?" Syrin turns back for the door, wondering why Bastila had brought it up if she can't even train to become a jedi. _Maybe she thinks I deserve to know? Or I should consider getting training?_ Well, whatever. She wouldn't train as a jedi even if she could. Not after meeting one up close and personal.

* * *

><p>The smuggler curses the universe when her eyes pop open to meet darkness. She can hear her heart pounding in her ears, drowning out the gentle breathing of her companions sleeping in the room. She pushes the covers from her body, feeling sticky with sweat. The dream is fresh in her mind. Clashing lightsabers, yellow and red, a ship in deep space, a resounding boom throwing everyone to the floor, searing pain this time, and a woman- the woman she now recognizes as Bastila. She glances at the sleeping jedi in her bed, eyes able to make out lumps in the absence of light. <em>This is what I get for denying my powers, huh? See if I care. Send me all the visions you want, Force. I'll continue to call them dreams and ignore you. <em>

Despite the promise, her mind races around being a jedi, and things that don't make sense. Things that aren't consistent. Her personality. Her likes. Her dislikes. Her emotions. Her past-

_Stop._

If she doubts herself now, this mission may as well be over. If she doubts herself, others will doubt her too. More than usual. She can't afford any of the consequences of doubt right now, or what doubt leads to. She glances to the couch, trying to make out Carth. Enough people distrust her, she can't add anyone else to the list. Like him. Mr. Misanthropic with a capital M.

"Hey, Carth?"

No response. She pauses then tries again, less softly.

"Hey, Carth? You still awake?" Sheets rustle somewhere in the near pitch darkness.

"What is this, a sleepover?" His voice is groggy. She smiles at the ceiling.

"Kek, you're right! We should be having pillow fights over dreamy boys right now."

"It's the middle of the night. You should be sleeping."

"I tried. Sleep isn't working, so...why don't you tell me more about yourself? Hobbies, dreams-" She drops the congenial tone for a blunt one, "or maybe the name of the person who gave you trust issues that put conspiracy theorists to shame. That would be nice." Ouch, okay-she wants to take back the words already.

"I thought I made it clear that I don't want to talk about it anymore." His voice hardens, and more rustling sounds, as if he's throwing himself into another sleeping position on the couch across the room. Syrin exhales, unwilling to admit that she needs something to keep her busy, even if it's dealing with his anger. She is actually curious, anyway.

"Yes, but I'm bored, so spit it out." Onasi scoffs. What the hell is wrong with this woman?

"Listen, sister..Just because we're working together does _not_ mean you get to go badgering me with constant questions!"

"Really? I think it does." She laughs without mirth, propping her head up in a hand with a swift movement. He sits up this time, crinkling his brow to try to make her out in the darkness, mouth slack.

"Blast it, if you aren't the most frustrating woman to talk to! Isn't there someone else you can harass for a little while?"

"Ah, but there's nobody as fun to harass as you. More fun than her jediness over there, even. Be honored, that's no small feat."

"Oh," He groans, plopping back down on his back, "No. I'm not getting into this with you. I wasn't born yesterday, you know."

"It's hard to tell."

"Just...just go to sleep. Between the pestering you bring to the table and Bastila's never-ending nagging-even if she means well- it's difficult to have even a _little_ relaxation around here. All I'm asking is for you to keep your mouth shut long enough for me to sleep for a few hours." Something constricts in Syrin's chest and she pushes herself to a sitting position on the mattress, orbs smoldering with anger. Is that all she brings to the table? Pestering? She doesn't do it all the time. Sure, occasionally it's fun to annoy the guy, but most of the time she likes to think that she's simply joking. She only pesters him rarely, in actuality. Why doesn't this guy get it? Does she have to spell it out for him? They're working together, and it seems that the only way he'll talk about anything is if she _makes_ him talk. Maybe pestering him is the only way he'll actually say anything. The realization hits her like a blast to the head. She sits up abruptly, hands balling into fists, one resting on her pillow, the other next to her left leg. The woman will regret the words later, but for now they are already darting from her mouth.

"I'm not trying to harass you when I ask about your past! I'm trying to _connect_ with you, you-you absolute _huttspawn_!" It's not so much volume as tone that indicates just how pissed she is, lucky for their sleeping friends. Still, Carth doesn't expect the pillow that flies right into his face with a small thunk, causing him to grunt before it drops to the floor, "But fine! I don't know why I bother, even if we are working together! Goodnight." She lays back down in a huff, bundling the covers in her arms and facing the complete opposite direction as the object of her frustration.

"No, no-wait. Dammit." Carth must have actually done some damage this time, and he doesn't like the way it makes him feel. Bad. He glances worriedly toward her bed, where he can only make out a lump turned on its side. "Syrin, don't shut me out."

She stays silent, but listens to every word, swallowing back the tight sensation in her chest.

"Look, I suppose...I suppose I could use someone to talk to about this. I'm just not used to it, and I don't know why you're so interested, but here goes..." He really hopes nobody is awake. Syrin listens intently as he talks about a man named Saul Karath, his old mentor. A good, solid man. A man that had tried to recruit Carth into the Sith, stole the Republic's bypass codes, the very ones that allowed the Sith to bomb Telos into dust. He hasn't forgiven Saul, and he blames himself, from what Reth can gather. Syrin hadn't expected that, and when he finishes the story she's unsure of what to say.

"Is that the whole story, then?"

"No, there's more but I-aren't you tired?" Syrin swallows, settling back into her pillow.

"I'm sorry. For making you tell me"

"It, uh...no, it's okay. I feel like a little bit of weight's fallen from my shoulders, actually. Talking like this; it's kind of nice."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it is."

"I think so too." She whispers as she loses consciousness.


	8. Changes

**I'm so sorry! Finals and family emergencies and then personal stuff has really destroyed my motivation to write, but I'm back now. I hope I remember Syrin Reth. Sorry for the more serious tone for now and for the shorter chapter. Anyway, see if you can catch the reference at the end. Slice of pie if you do! It's pretty simple.**

**Rycbar15: If there's one thing I really don't want to do, it's screw up the romance with Carth so that's reassuring to hear. Aw, thank you so much! I have a ton of fun writing this, and I definitely don't plan on giving up, especially since you guys seem to like the story, so expect more updates in the future.**

**CarthRevanlover3: Oh, awesome! Thank you for reading my story! Haha, I try to keep them in character, so glad that's working so far. Maybe I exaggerate Bastila...nah. :D **

**darkK88: Haha, I just had to write that. It was stuck in my head. ^-^' I seem to like injuring the poor guy. Good that you liked it! **

As soon as the doors whoosh shut, Syrin sits down on the edge of one of the beds in the lavish quarters of Davik's estate, giving into a long awaited pleasure after a second on account of the knots in her shoulders and falling back onto the bed with a whumph. The plum silk brushes against her cheek, the tension melting from her shoulders and back. She sighs, squeaky boots still touching the white marble floor with intricate designs. She traces them idly. Her dark orbs catch sight of Canderous and Carth after skimming to the fancy light fixtures above, the two who came with her to steal Davik's ship, pacing around the room, their boots still waterlogged from the sudden downpour on Taris as well. The shoes are shrieking with each step, leaving puddles. Carth had to take off his jacket to wring it out, donning a black t shirt below that Syrin notes. It looks much nicer than the sad excuse for clothing he calls a jacket. Though she doesn't bring it up because he talks first.

"So now what? Davik said we couldn't leave our quarters or his guards would take care of us. Nobody said anything about being prisoner here. This whole situation is just great." Onasi shoots a look at Ordo, who smirks back at him, then the same look to Syrin, "And what are you doing?"

"A little something called _relaxing_ before we hack through the guards that probably aren't the big deal you make them out to be. You should try it sometime." She smiles sweetly at Carth and he pulls his coat back on roughly, deciding to ignore that. Canderous snorts beside him, holstering his repeating blaster.

"She's right, you know. The guards here are nothing more than gizka compared to some of the enemies I've fought. There's no need to get in a twist about it. In fact, it will be a warm up. Fun, even. But hey, if you want to sit here and mope about our 'bleak situation' we could always ditch your shebs."

"If anyone's ditching anyone it'll be-"

"Alright then, that's enough." Syrin grunts, pulling herself off of the bed with a roll of her eyes and stretching her arms once she's up. Those two have way too much tension between them and they'd already gotten into it over how much of a brute Canderous is for being a Mandalorian and how much of a hypocrite Carth is, so she doesn't particularly feel like listening to what they'll come up with next. The woman slips her vest back on, stuffing Rylan's rag from the Under City inside of the pocket of her utility belt with some grenades and a blaster, then holstering her vibroblades before heading for the door. This is as dry as they're probably going to get, at any rate.

"Close quarters call for melee. Got any, Ordo?" The door fliesback open with a wave and her eyes sweep both ways down the long marble corridor before she steps out.

"I'll be fine. I have a feeling you'll take care of any close range combat. I'll take up the back and provide cover for you and Soldier Boy over there." He'd seen her in the dueling ring. He can't help but watch her appreciatively as she walks along the halls, sizing her up as a warrior. She's a bit rough around the edges, some of her forms sloppy, but she's quick and smart beneath her brash exterior. She could probably best a Mandalorian with more training. Maybe even now. Carth glares at him when he catches his line of sight, trailing behind but picking up speed and brushing past him to walk by Syrin's side. The man only chuckles. Yes, this will be fun.

* * *

><p>"Why don't you hate Mandalorians?" Carth finally spits it out, unable to quell his curiosity any longer. They take a turn after Syrin carefully monitors the hall ahead, then gestures it clear. Canderous trails at least ten feet, out of ear shot.<p>

"You mean in the way that you hate the Sith; with a burning passion that's kind of unhealthy? Not all of us are like you." She glances at him to catch his frown then bumps his arm with her shoulder, glancing back to meet his eyes again, that have jumped away. Before he can defend himself she interjects. "Just a joke, flyboy. Honestly, it's not worth it."

"What's not worth it? Didn't they-well, didn't they kill your family? How could you just...choose not to hate them? If there's anything that's worth it, wouldn't it be your family?" Carth doesn't know why he's so irritated by her attitude toward them. Even the way she treats Canderous is respectful, with only the slight wariness reserved for strangers. If it were Carth, well...Even mention of the Mandalorian Wars makes it difficult to look at the guy. Syrin blows air from her lips.

"You're wrong there. I do hate the people who killed my family. I...feel sick thinking about them." The woman glances to the floor. "If we crossed paths it wouldn't result in any tea parties or polite chats, that's for sure. It's just that...Canderous over there didn't kill them. That goes for most Mandalorians out there as well."

"But how do you _know_?" Syrin thinks about making a jab at him but bites her tongue.

"I don't." She says simply with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Before Carth can feel contemplative or even more agitated, Reth hisses that there's a guard up ahead, and they get ready for action.

* * *

><p>Syrin throws a punch, making contact with a palm. Her foot flies up, impacting the assailant's elbow, and forcing him to let her hand out of his bone crushing grip. The woman steps back to dodge a punch her way, grabbing the man's arm and using his momentum with a twist of her body to slam him face first into the wall behind her with a loud crunching and dull thwack. His blaster clatters to the ground as he grunts. Syrin keeps his arms held behind him, effectively trapping him in place despite his squirming. Canderous and Carth flank her, aiming their blasters after a few more guards drop.<p>

"Where are the security codes to Davik's flag ship?" Syrin demands roughly, pulling him up a hair by the back of his collar so he can speak without being muffled by the wall. During a brief pause, the man takes a few deep breaths, blood dripping from his chin to the floor, and then struggles violently in a last ditch effort, only to kiss the wall again with a sharp movement from Reth.

"Want me to take care of him? I have a few ideas as to how to get the _or'dinii_ to talk." She only waves him off nonchalantly.

"Nah, I think I've got it. All I have to do is stick this vibroblade in the right place-"

"No...!" The man grinds out pathetically, his nose obviously broken the way he's speaking and sucking in air. "I...can't tell you the codes myself..."

"There had better be a but there, or you'll be looking for your limbs." Canderous commands menacingly beside her, cocking his blaster.

"_But_, Hudrow, the old pilot, probably has them! He's...being held in a guest room up ahead, above Davik's throne room...You can't miss it, seeing as it's the one...with the force cages and torture droids inside."

"That'll do." Syrin releases him with a careless shove, "Now get lost before I sell you to a hutt, and that may or may not be a figure of speech." The guard runs off, tripping over himself like his life depends on it.

* * *

><p>When the group is almost to the hangar, there's a resounding crashing noise, and the entire ship shakes, causing them to lose their balance, careening into walls and tripping over their own feet. Carth steadies Syrin by her elbow as she stumbles, probably the first time she has allowed him to touch her without resorting to violence, before she yanks away, glancing up to see her own confused, and then concerned expression reflected.<p>

"To think Malak would actually do it...I don't know if he's either got guts or no brain cells. Maybe both." Canderous muses darkly, voicing the thing neither of his companions dare to mention just yet.

"Mission, Bastila, and Zaalbar are still on planet." Syrin says, still looking at Carth. He turns for the door first, suddenly much more panicked than he wants to be,"Come on! If we make it out of here we can get to them in time." As the doors rush open to reveal the hangar, Davik and Calo Nord are already running for the ship, a bright bomb exploding near the opening of the large, drafty hangar. Laser beams rain down as well. It's unknown where the next hit will be.

"Damn those Sith, they're bombing the whole planet!" One of them yells. Syrin clears her throat suddenly, twirling a blaster in her hand as she steps ahead of Carth and Canderous. Calo and Davik turn in unison, nearly to the ship's loading ramp.

"Well, well...look what we have here." Davik snarls, "Thieves in the hangar."

"You got that just now, did you? Your stunning deductive capabilities almost make me wish I didn't have to shoot you to get to the Ebon Hawk. Almost." They walk closer to meet Syrin's party, both scowling heavily and picking up their weapons.

"So. You figured all along you could just steal my ship so you could get away and leave me high and dry while the Sith turn the planet to dust?"

"Are we still going over this? Yes, we're pretty much here to steal the ship, old man. Vindicated yet?"

"I'll take care of them, Davik. I've wanted to do this for a while now." Calo interjects in a solid tone, as if he were taking out the trash. Syrin smirks. Famous bounty hunter her foot, she's wanted to do _this_ for a long while now.

"Oh, yeah? All one point five meters of bark and no bite against the three of us? Bring it on, shortstuff-" When Canderous bursts out laughing, Calo takes a few sharp, rage filled shots, red beams slicing the air, and Syrin has to dive behind some crates to avoid them. She aims a few blasts of her own, head sticking above a crate, missing a few hits as he maneuvers to avoid the fire from Carth and Canderous as well, who are ducking and side stepping to narrowly steer clear of any vital shots. This goes on for a while, Davik soon joining in the shooting, and the bounty hunter and crime lord are clearly outmatched. Both seem to have taken a shot or two when Calo whips a small, spherical object out of his blue pocket, pulling up his ridiculous goggles with another hand.

"Is that what I think it is?" Syrin mutters with a hint of exasperation, standing from her cover as he goes on about the thermal detonator in his hand that will end up killing them all. Carth laughs without any mirth in a short breath beside her.

"You just had to call him short, didn't you? You couldn't think of anything else-not arrogant, or ugly, or-or annoying-all perfectly suitable-s_hort_ was the only thing that came to mind? Really?"

"I knew he was a touchy guy, but come on!" Syrin defends herself. Canderous adds his two cents, grinning somehow.

"If we go out like this, it might just be worth it. You know what working with that kath hound it like?" Just as Calo mashes the button, ending some other unrelated farewell rant to throw his arm back and lob the grenade toward them, an explosion sounds and part of the ceiling collapses on the bounty hunter-and Davik, the detonation muffled by the wreckage.

Carth, Syrin, and Canderous only stare a moment before running for the ship, Canderous actually laughing again.

"How about that." He snorts with a gesture their way, "What an honorless death. Now, let's go save your friends before the planet is little more than ash."

* * *

><p>The situation on the planet is not pretty.<p>

"Damn it," Syrin seethes under her breath, not lacking intensity, "If I'm not back in exactly five minutes fly the hell out of here. Watch the rooftops." Just as the man on the receiving end of the orders thrown at him is turning to look at Reth, straining to focus on the controls of the rocky ship at the same time, the woman is out of sight, ignoring every call for her to come back. He curses, eyes lingering on the smuggler's exit. He's torn between the controls and his companion, but as another building crumbles nearby and the ship is thrown to the side, he grits his teeth and does his job. Syrin strides across the main hold once she regains her footing, to the ramp, hand slamming onto the button to lower it without hesitation, bracing herself against the wall.

Her eyes steadily watch the ramp unfold to a scene that can only be accurately described as chaos.

What was once Taris, all glimmering, high towers and blue skies is burning buildings, chunks of sky-scrapers, and fire. Much more telling than the way it looks from the viewscreen in the cockpit. There's a slight whirring caused by the ship that's easily drowned out by the torrential rain, thunder, and bombs revealed. The ground must be at least fourty feet below, and she's sure Carth flying the Ebon Hawk this low is more than risking the entire crew. Syrin steps to the edge, hair and clothes flapping about madly in the frigid wind. Her eyes scan for some sign of her friends on the ground, noting that what was once their apartment has caught fire. Her chest seizes, frown deepening at the sight. Damned bombs that won't burn out. Not now, even in the rain, and maybe not ever. After the brief moment, her hand slips from the durasteel and she's free falling, body sailing through the air. She loses all sense of what's left, right, down, and up. Lightning strikes, a flash of vivid violet nearby. Somehow, after a long few seconds, her feet hit the ground, sending a sharply painful jolt through her entire body, and she slides into a kneeling position on the slick steel, steadying herself with a hand. The woman looks up from the streams of water, dirt, and ash, deciding to wonder how she survived this later. Syrin is sopping wet, dripping with water from head to toe, and already shivering, She stands and forces herself to look around with her limited vision, trying to catch something amidst the earth shattering booms, the debris raining down, and the slippery ground. Her eyes skim over a body buried under a crossbeam, the hand sticking out in a pool of blood that mixes with the rain, washing over her boots. A fire burns brightly nearby. Brown orbs dart left and right as she steps around it, searching elsewhere.

"Mission! Zaalbar! Bastila!" Syrin has never yelled so loudly in her life, and yet it's hard to hear her own voice. She walks toward some buildings that are still standing, nearly stumbling when another impact rocks the planet. A violent cracking follows. Glass breaks. The smuggler pauses, picking up on a blue figure in the blurry distance, "Mission!"

The girl turns, lekku swinging. Syrin? Her heart soars and then clenches in the same instant while Reth runs towards her, boots sloshing rain everywhere. "Syrin! Over here!" Reth hears the creak behind the girl before she sees the source, and without thinking, she tackles the surprised twi'lek to the hard floor, straightening her elbows with a grimace and a bow of her head, fully expecting a flaming durasteel panel to slam into her back. There's an eerie silence, involving only the pounding rain, and after a moment, Syrin looks up, following Mission's dazed line of sight in time to catch the large object floating five feet above them. Syrin stands after a second so that Vao can get up.

"Hurry up-and-move!" That tone of prim annoyance can only belong to Bastila, who is holding out her quivering arms, behind them, "We-haven't-got-all-day, you know!" Zaalbar growls beside her and Mission is off, plowing right into his arms. No unnecessary words are exchanged when another bomb going off nearly knocks them all to their feet, Shan dropping the rubbage at last, allowing it to slam into the platform with relief.

"Carth will be watching the rooftops if he's still here. Let's go." Bastila nods, following the woman as she weaves through the damage, flames, rubble, and water with the cold determination she has had since the beginning of this madness. The group climbs one after another onto a remaining building, spotting the Ebon Hawk as it swoops toward them, humming while it hovers nearby. Syrin makes Mission, Bastila, and Zaalbar go first, climbing onto the ramp one at a time. Just as Syrin is reaching for Bastila's outstretched hand against the gray sky, a boom very close by makes her knees buckle, causing the woman to lose her footing at the edge of the roof.

"Syrin!" Bastila cries, just barely grabbing Syrin's wrist to attempt to haul the dangling woman up, gripping the ramp for support.

"Bastila, just let go!" Syrin yells after a few failed attempts to dig her foot into the ship side and gain leverage, slippery as it is. No way can they wait any longer for one more person. Her life isn't equal to that of the entire crew's.

"I may not like you, but I hardly think this is the best way to get rid of you! Now hold on!" Shan pulls back suddenly with more force, managing to pull the woman's upper body over the edge of the ramp. At the same time Syrin's utility belt slips from her waist, objects spilling out. She catches a glimpse of Rylan's blessed rag sailing through the air when she claws to a sitting position, gripping the floor with both hands before the ramp rises and the ship is accelerating. The woman tears her eyes away from the hatch to meet Bastila's troubled orbs. They had been resting on Big Z and the teenaged girl sitting at the chairs around the center briefing table.

"The _best_ way to get rid of me?" Syrin raises her brows, trying to shake off the feelings and thoughts swirling around her head when the ship takes a hit to turn to Bastila, "You said that like you've thought about it before."

"Who on this ship hasn't at this point?" She replies coolly, straightening with an undercurrent of wariness in her voice as she rings out her pig tails, glancing again at Mission, who is laying her head against Big Z's shoulder, legs curled to her chest. Syrin throws off her weapons carelessly, standing.

"Here I thought you were classy. Unless you'd murder me with a fancy dining fork in my sleep or something, then I suppose I couldn't complain about manners."

"As fun as this fruitless banter is," She says painfully, though slightly appreciating the distraction as she begins walking toward the cockpit, "I believe we need to discuss a few things that are more urgent. In the cockpit, if you will."

"Yeah, I know." They make it to the designated area with a speed that picks up midway there. Sharp, rapid, beeping immediately assaults their eardrums. Carth turns in his pilot's chair immediately. By now they're in deep space, stars rushing past them, but the ship is still swaying like the blasts on Taris are throwing it off course.

"Syrin, Bastila! It's a miracle you're alive!" He swerves again, turning back to the controls with a grunt."Sith fighters are still on us. Canderous is at the turrets. We've almost lost them, just a few more!"

"Plot a course for Dantooine, quick!" The woman commands, "There's a jedi enclave there where we can find refuge." Syrin opens her mouth to protest, and then remembers landing on the ground without breaking a bone. Bastila levitating the hunk of metal above her head. All of the people she met on Taris.

Once the ship is set on autopilot, and the rocking has stopped, Onasi turns, and Bastila lets out a breath she was holding in the abruptly quiet, empty space. "Dantooine...it seems a lifetime since I last set foot on her surface, though in truth it's been only a few months. We should be safe there." Carth bristles at that.

"Safe? You saw what Malak's fleet did to Taris-there wasn't a building over two stories high left standing! They turned the planet into one big pile of rubble!"

"Even the Sith would think twice before attacking Dantooine. There are many jedi there, including some of the most powerful jedi masters. There is great strength in this place."

"Bastila's right, Carth." Syrin says levelly, earning an odd expression. "Oh, don't give me that look. It's not like we have anywhere else to go, anyway. Besides, maybe Mission needs a boring world like Dantooine after what just happened."

"I can't imagine how Mission must be taking it...she's a strong kid, but witnessing the annihilation of your own planet can't be easy." Lights from space pass over his face, illuminating him in the dark room for a moment. His eyebrows are drawn tightly.

"We would all do well to find a place to lay low and recover from this." Bastila assures him, "I suppose I'll stick with my own advice and retire to my quarters now." When she leaves the two left behind don't say much for a moment, stuck in their heads.

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine." Syrin says offhandedly.

"I would believe you but you haven't cursed me in hours." The woman with onyx hair smiles faintly, leaning on the galaxy map to shudder against the cold metal.

"I think I've cursed everything else. Is that good enough?"

"Heh, you're not the only one...It'll have to do." He still can't believe the woman's alive-he's happy, sure-but jumping from that height? It's nothing short of insane. He's sure she's as exhausted as everyone else after all of that. Who isn't? Carth sits back down in his chair, punching in a few things at the controls to give his hands something to do other than run through his hair, "Anyway, why don't you go find a bunk or something? You've done enough for today. You deserve some rest." He expects her to joke about the compliment but instead her voice flips to a flat tone.

"I didn't do a fucking thing, Onasi." She spins on her heel to leave, ready to end that uncomfortable conversation. "I appreciate the sentiment, but it's not necessary."

Little does he know-nor will she let on-that it is.

* * *

><p>Later, after a few rounds of practice with forms in the cargo hold, when everyone has dried off and gone to sleep, Syrin pokes her head around the main hold. Zaalbar is still holding Mission, both of them dozing off. Tear tracks are visible on the twi'lek's cheeks and Syrin turns back around, suddenly striking the sword tip against the floor with a fluid stabbing motion, causing a small dent.<p>

Her fist curls tightly around the hilt as she looks down, her messy bangs and falling strands of hair covering her eyes.

Malak will pay..because, now...

This war is personal.

* * *

><p><strong>So, Canderous made his debut. What do you think?<strong>

Carth: "I'm telling you, I don't trust this guy."

Syrin: "You wouldn't trust a blind old lady." She frowns. "Why do I feel like that's a bad example?"

Carth: "Beats me, sister."

**Until next time! Hope it was okay and as always thank you for reading!**


	9. Save the Gizka

**rycbar15 ****：****No problem! ^-^ Thanks for sticking with me!**

Bastila imagines her troubling thoughts and emotions as trash bags, tossing them one by one into a bonfire with each deep, slow breath.

_My guilt for the destruction of Taris._

_Everything I must hide from Syrin._

_The conversation the Council will surely wish to have with me when I arrive on Dantooine..._

The jedi's shoulders slump, her fists uncurling on her crossed knees. The ship becomes far away.

She senses a strange object before it whistles as it slices through the air. Bastila's eyes snap open, her head tilting to the side just before it smacks into the durasteel wall behind her, thumping quietly against the ground.

A boot?

The orbs that have followed the object sharply jump to catch Syrin's in the doorway.

"Might I ask just _what_ that was for?" Her tone is only barely controlled, like a tidal wave breaking against the top of a flood wall. The woman is already rising to her feet, dusting her robes off with a slight disdainful sniff.

"What wasn't it for would be a better question." Syrin shoots back, crossing the room to retrieve the thrown item, receiving a deepened scowl as she passes her jediness. "Alright, alright. I needed to get your attention."

"Ah, I see. Everything is crystal clear now." Her almost venomous sarcasm vanishes without warning." You throw things to get attention-not unlike tantrum prone toddlers." Syrin snaps around at that with raised eyebrows, having just finished slipping the clothing item back on.

"You act like it was an attempt on your life." She chuckles. "If you'd like, princess, I could try that next time." Bastila exhales, folding her arms. She won't let this woman get under her skin. Not this woman of all people.

"What do you want? I sense a question weighing heavily on your mind." Syrin's face sombers a little, the faint smile tugging at her lips slowly falling. She clears her throat.

"Yeah, actually. There is. I didn't come here exclusively to throw things at you." The jedi's brow wrinkles. "Okay, maybe you'll accept that as a fact when Malak grows hair, but it's true."

"Malak is hardly a joking matter! You've seen what the Dark Lord can do with your own eyes."

"No, you're wrong. That's the reason he's a joking matter, your jediness, but I didn't come here to talk about that either." Syrin shifts her weight onto her left foot, glancing to the bunks. Bastila hasn't seen her so willing to speak, or so sober. It must have been the mention of Malak. She nods.

"Let's hear it then."

"Teach..." She glances back up to lock her onyx orbs with Bastila's, "Teach me how to use my abilities."

"You want me to teach you how to use your abilities? I thought you wanted nothing to do with the Jedi. You've made it rather obvious your opinion of the matter."

"I still have mostly the same opinion of Jedi, but I've never thought they lacked power. Amazing power." She can't help but to think back to when Shan levitated rubble high above her head. What more could Syrin do, with training?

"Seeking power is not a proper motivation. Power corrupts-"

"_People_. I know. Power corrupts people, but only if those people allow it to. I want to use it for the right reasons. People like Malak will be sorry-" She stops short, having had no intention to let that slip. Bastila searches Syrin's eyes for a few seconds before breaking the short pause.

"So, this is about revenge? An eye for an eye? Moreover, you're speaking of Malak." The brunette states it like a fact. Bastila doesn't know whether to laugh or scream, but somehow she keeps her composure. Somehow. She softens her voice, speaking slower and more rationally when a witty retort isn't hurled at ehr. "Syrin, I understand you took the decimation of Taris and Mission's pain as your own loss but-"

"But what?" She steps forward, clenching her fists tightly. The leather scrunches together audibly. A sliver of vulnerability creeps into Bastila, the same emotion found in Syrin affecting her. "Please. I don't want revenge, I want to make sure no more planets burn, no more children die, no more tyrants clench entire systems in their iron fists!" Bastila feels as if she isn't supposed to be seeing this side to the proud woman, so she turns away, facing the wall behind her.

"I myself am not qualified to train you. Only a master can take on that responsibility. I must consult with the Council before any decisions are reached...Even then, I cannot promise you anything." Bastila can feel Syrin's relief coursing through her.

"Thank you." She turns to leave, pausing in the doorway as Bastila sits back down, trying to meditate once again. "You know, if you're still doing this 'centering' thing when I get back, flying shoes will be the least of your worries. Sweet meditation, now!"

_My recurring urge to beat that infernal sass out of Syrin._

* * *

><p>The days blend together in a lazy haze. The crew that did nothing but work has nothing to do but idle onboard the ship, suddenly lost without a mission. Bastila meditates endlessly, Canderous tinkers with the swoop bike in the cargo hold, Carth sticks to the cockpit, and Mission wanders rather aimlessly about the Ebon Hawk in the wake of her planet's destruction. Attempts made by Syrin or Zaalbar most often do little to cheer her up.<p>

It's amidst a particularly cursory game of pazaak involving the entire crew in the main hold save Carth that things mercifully change.

"-could not be considered the most glorious of tasks. When I think of the battles I've fought, the thousands I've killed, the worlds I've burned, I weep for my past." Mission, Zaalbar, Bastila, and Syrin suddenly look up, astonished. Bastila in particular looks as though Canderous may as well have said he chopped up her favorite Jedi master for all the accusation written over it. Syrin herself had immediately imagined Canderous Ordo weeping and hasn't blinked since, smirk quivering as she holds back laughter. Even T3 beeps appreciatively from the floor. Mission's the one to pipe up and break the silence, slapping down a -8 card.

"Wow, Canderous. Pretty deep for someone who's killed thousands." _Burned worlds_. Mission doesn't bother to correct her monotone, nudging Zaalbar to take his turn with a limp arm.

"I told that story at your request. The least you could do is be grateful, girl." The Mandalorian growls back from across the table, glaring with his cold gray eyes, "We will never again speak of this."

"Well, that concludes fun story time with Canderous. Possibly permanently." Syrin mutters as a side-note, clearing her throat and propping her feet up on the center table, "Up next?"

"Perhaps a traditional story?" Bastila suggests, caving into her boredom and eagerness to change the subject matter of this group conversation. She'd prefer to be by herself but somehow she had been goaded into this card game, having never cared about the outcome or the rules in the first place.

"I have a story. It's not exactly traditional though." Syrin muses, remembering this time when her vessel crashed on a remote world and she met the strangest alien species that was determined to sacrifice her. It was a great planet, really. Maybe Mission will perk up a bit at this. "It was a dark and stormy night-"

T3 chirps something.

"I didn't mean traditional in that sense."

Dweee?

"Nah, sorry little guy."

Dwoop! Dee-deet! Dwee?

"I'd like to hear the story of how and why you talk to droids like they have _feelings_" Canderous mumbles, shuddering at the word feelings as Syrin continues to converse with the 'little guy'. Bastila openly stares at the Mandalorian across the table with a frown, wondering if he was born without compassion or if he lost it somewhere between cracking his fiftieth head and blowing up his second planet. She's about to say as much when there's the clank of feet across the durasteel from the cockpit.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're landing in five minutes. Thought you'd want to know." Carth informs, and Bastila stands to throw her hand down, silently thanking the Force.

"I should prepare to meet the Council, if you'll excuse me."

* * *

><p>Syrin leans against the humming ship, squinting her eyes in the bright sunlight. Streams of people walk across the pathways inside the open air building: jedi, citizens, and protocol droids alike. From moss colored walls to grassy areas beside the duracrete walkways, this place has more vegetation than Syrin's seen in months. Not to mention more sun.<p>

"It's not that hot she said, it will only take a minute she said." Her eyes slide to Carth beside her. Everyone else in the crew had gone off to do their own thing, from buying drinks to exploring the area. Why he's still around, Syrin isn't sure. It wasn't as if they'd been speaking very much, this was the first time in a while. He still doesn't say anything, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"You know, you could go off and jump in frozen carbonite or whatever you do to stay cool if you wanted. Nothing's keeping you here...unless you're drawn in by my magnetic personality?" She tilts her head to catch his eyes, ones that have suddenly turned in her direction. He rolls his own at her cheeky smile, lips twitching just a bit.

"Yeah, keep dreaming, sister. I'm just here to make sure you don't get detained by any Jedi for loitering suspiciously, and don't even _try_ to convince me you don't look suspicious toying with a blaster in the middle of a busy enclave." He stands up straighter, eyes straying when a familiar face appears, "Bastila. There you are."

"Carth." Bastila seems intense, all business. "Syrin, the Council requests an audience with you. We should go at once.

"Really?" Syrin brightens at the news, kicking off of the Ebon Hawk to right herself and holster her newly obtained weapon. She hadn't expected Bastila to actually get her in on all of this, "That's great."

"An audience with the Jedi Council? Great?" Carth's brow furrows, and it will only be later that he starts to think about that response. "Pretty unusual for someone who isn't even a Jedi. What's this about, Bastila?"

"I'm sorry Carth, I cannot tell you. All I ask is for you to trust in the wisdom of the Council and the Force."

"I don't really like getting left out of the loop...but I guess I'm not looking to get you into trouble with the Jedi masters."

Bastila gestures to Syrin swiftly, her pigtails swaying over her shoulder as she changes direction. "Come. They're expecting us."

* * *

><p>The Council chambers are basically a large circular room with many cushy seats lined at the back. A few plants, thick trees with thin branches and few leaves grow in specific areas, where the walls open to the outside world to allow sunlight and blue sky to leak through. Birds sing cheerily and squares of sunlight pattern the floor.<p>

Four masters stand patiently to greet Bastila and Syrin. A pink male twi'lek to the right, a grumpy balding man, a short green alien-Syrin can't recall his race for some reason- and, a kinder looking man with dark skin. They all don blue robes and stern miens.

"Ah, so you are the one who rescued Bastila." The pink twi'lek studies her as she closes the distance between them, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Hear that, Shan? 'Rescued.' " Syrin can't help but to smirk. She only gets an irate shush in return.

"-only appropriate you are here with your rather...special case." He continues to introduce the masters as Vrook, Vandar, Dorak, and himself as Zhar.

"So, what is this about?"

"Bastila tells us you are strong in the Force. We are considering you for jedi training." This is easier than Syrin had thought.

"I would appreciate it very much if I were to be able to train as a Jedi...Masters."

"Perhaps Master Zhar speaks out of turn." The grumpy old man interjects, narrowing his eyes at Syrin. "We need indisputable proof of your strong affinity to the Force before we even consider accepting you for training."

Maybe she thought too soon.

"Okay, I'm not sure if Bastila told you, but I survived an escape pod crash, twenty-two rakghoul attacks-yes, I counted-a shootout with Davik Kang and Calo Nord. I won a swoop race, the dueling tournament-What's disputable about that?"

"Surely, the entire Council can feel the strength of the Force in this woman. I have already related to you the events on Taris."

"Perhaps it was simple luck," Vrook continues. Zhar chastises him, saying there is only the Force.

"We all feel the power in Bastila's companion, though it is wild and untamed. Now that this power has begun to manifest itself, can we safely ignore it?" Zhar faces the rest of the council.

"The Jedi training is difficult, even when working with a young and open mind. Teaching a child is hard. How much more difficult will it be teaching another adult?" Vrook has been grating on Reth's nerves.

"Funny how you speak of an open mind." Master Vrook doesn't take well to the fairly blatant jab, nearly spitting.

"Such arrogance! This is exactly the kind of behavior that breeds dark Jedi!"

"Now, Master Vrook. Traditionally, the Jedi do not accept adults for training, though there are rare exceptions in the history of our order." The dark skinned man offers, glancing to Syrin. "But you are a special case."

"I agree with Master Dorak. We need recruits to stand against Malak. With Revan dead..." A small breeze flows through the building, gently rustling the loose strands of Syrin's hair.

"Are you sure Revan is truly dead?" Vrook booms, throwing his arms out and rounding on Vandar crabbily. "What if we undertake to train this one and the Dark Lord should return?" Syrin crinkles her brow, missing the surprise the rest of the jedi scramble to hide.

"I don't plan to take up a red lightsaber anytime soon. I said I would appreciate becoming a _Jedi_, remember? Though, it's fine. I understand. Old age tends to affect memory." Yeah, okay, maybe she needs to control herself a little more if she's going to ask favors. Before Vrook can get any strangled words from his throat, Vandar quickly speaks.

"We should discuss this matter more fully in private. Bastila, you and your companion must go. This is a matter for the council alone."

"As you wish, Master Vandar." Bastila bows graciously, and Syrin bows beside her slightly, not nearly as generously under the critical study of the masters. "We shall leave you to your deliberations."

* * *

><p>The two are exiting the compound through a corridor, Syrin trailing way behind Bastila in the sunny courtyard, trying to work through the tangled web of secrets that had been spun in her mind. Ever since Taris. Everything is so kekked up, and why-<p>

"Hey, you! Padawan!" A jedi emerging from a joining hallway jars Syrin from her deep thoughts, approaching her in a swift stride, "Why are you not wearing the customary robes of the Jedi? Do you mock the sacred traditions of our Order?" Her eyes are narrowed, and she's very close to invading Syrin's personal space. Syrin turns to face her fully in a slow, forced movement. Oh frack, it's like a second Bastila-only with short, lighter brown hair, and no accent. Reth sighs, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, what of it? Bastila tells me that I mock the Jedi Order on a daily basis."

"Syrin, you know that is not true. Padawan Belaya, this is Syrin Reth." Bastila has backpedaled to join the conversation. "She is not wearing robes because she is not a part of the Order."

"I thought for sure..." Belaya trails, hands still firmly planted on her hips. "You claim she is not a Jedi? I find this hard to believe. The Force is strong within you. If this is some type of jest, it is in poor taste."

"_Jedi_." Syrin murmurs, "You wouldn't know a joke if it slapped you with your own lightsaber."

"What she means to say," Bastila corrects in a rush, "Is that she isn't a Jedi. Not yet, at least. She only just arrived here." Belaya's hands slide from her hips.

"Oh. Well, please pardon me, then. I was perhaps a bit unfair. I wish you a pleasant stay here on Dantooine, and may the Force be with you." She bows, turning.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Syrin blows air past her lips, walking ahead to sink back into her conflicted thoughts.

"More than you, or even I realize." Bastila says to herself, staring after the onyx haired woman for a moment.

* * *

><p><em>It's a tomb of stone, icy and dark in atmosphere. A fog permeates the air and curls across the floor in haunting tendrils, as if it's alive and reaching for something. Two people pace, one wearing a dark, floor length cloak and the other wearing orange armor, the most distinctive features about him the pale blue tattoos across his bald head and his deep, somber voice.<em>

_"The dark side is strong in this place-I can feel its power!" The dark figure passing by him merely ignores the statement, reaching for an ancient stone door. "Is this wise? The ancient Jedi sealed this archway. If we pass beyond this door, we can never go back. The Order will surely banish us."_

_The cloaked figure waves a gloved hand, and the door's series of locks turns, revealing a strange device of stone and nothing else within the room.._

_"Are the secrets of the Star Forge so valuable? Can it's power truly be worth the risk?" A projection of some sort lights the space._

* * *

><p>"So what the Council just told us is that basically I have this really creepy Force connection to you, these visions we've <em>both<em> apparently been having are some key to what Malak and Revan were doing in an ancient grove that just so happens to be here on Dantooine, and I have to jump through a bunch of hoops to gain the lowest status within the Order before I can search the aforementioned ancient grove the masters are oh-so interested in."

"If that's how you'd like to put it."

'I just wanted to take down Malak.' Syrin thinks, kicking at a stray pebble along the path leading to the Ebon Hawk. 'But fine, whatever.'

"Let's get to it, then, your highness."

Training begins. It's a flurry of sword fighting, levitating objects, meditating, studying...Syrin wakes at dawn and as soon as she hits her pillow at night she's fast asleep, Vrook's sharp commands echo in her head. She interacts very rarely with people outside of the Order. It's strange sword-fighting without backup in the form of a sarcastic blaster wielder but soon she acclimates. Slowly she begins to listen to Bastila, opening her ears and mind to a select few teachings that roll so automatically from her tongue.

It's not just the Order's teachings that Syrin opens her mind to, however.

One beautiful afternoon the woman finds herself holed up in the lofty enclave archives alone, shuffling through documents displayed above a borrowed datapad. Her ebony orbs rapidly shift from left to right, soaking in the blue glow of a projected basic page detailing Jedi powers. She'd read some material after carefully combing through the archives on everything from affecting minds to defensive bubbles utilizing the Force, but had found nothing on the Sith. Not a word. It's no surprise that none of the Jedi have taken down the Dark Lord of the Sith taking into account they know nothing about him or his techniques.

There has to be something here.

She scrolls down more, leaning forward in her chair to prop her head up with a leather fist, selecting what must be the hundreth document. With a skim of her lazy eyes, Syrin suddenly perks up, furrowing her eyebrows at a restricted title. After decrypting the lock on it with a moment of concentrated effort she begins to read.

"...telekenetic use of the Force including lifting, pushing, pulling, throwing, applying pressure..." She pulls her mouth to the side, replacing the glowing page with a wave of her hand. "...darker techniques spawned from the Order's apprentices during the Great Schism...causing severe wounds. Huh. Now that's more like something the Sith would use."

At the whoosh of the door across the room, Syrin jumps to wave away the image in a hurry, clicking a button on the top of the device, the hologram image suddenly disappearing. The woman shifts to spinning the shut down datapad in the air along with a few chairs using the Force. She relaxes back in her seat, glancing behind her leisurely to see Master Zhar approaching.

"I see you are making remarkable progress." His eyes dart from the multiple floating objects to Syrin, who lowers them gently in order to stand and focus on her master. "Many cannot do in years what you have done in weeks. I am most impressed."

"I'm glad you are. Anyone else and it would be, "No levitating objects in the archives! Didn't your mother raise you right?" She grins easily. Master Dorak and Zhar especially have grown on her, and despite her initial reservations about Jedi, she has learned that they are actually rather warm once you get to know them. Well, some. Vrook was the anyone she had referred to just now. A trace of a smile lights up Zhar's eyes. Always so lively. It's something about this trainee he had always liked.

"Perhaps. Nonetheless, I am not the only one marveling at your abilities." He steps forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "In fact, I am honored to welcome you fully into the Jedi Order."

"What does that mean?" She raises her brow. His hand falls away and he nods, stoic yet again.

"Soon you will be granted the title of Padawan. Yet first you must prove yourself worthy."

"I knew it." She throws a fist by her thigh, looking to the ceiling briefly, "Okay, what do I have to do? Save a hundred old ladies from burning buildings? Cure galaxy-wide hunger? Save the gizka?"

"You must successfully complete three tests to earn your place among the Jedi..."

**Thanks as usual for reading! Sorry for the wait guys. ;_;**


	10. I'm the schutta?

**rycbar15: Aw, I know! I always liked to play with them. They're just so adorable. C: Thank you as usual! I really appreciate your support, and I'm glad you like how I'm doing things.**

* * *

><p>"So, how do I look?" Syrin poses mockingly in her new cotton robes by the bridge leading to the plains. Despite the sun beating mercilessly upon her head, the gentle bubbling of the river and slight breeze is rather nice, and being able to see her friends for the first time in a while has lifted her spirits considerably.<p>

"Besides sweaty?" Carth aks bluntly, stopping once he reaches her.

"Smooth, geezer." Mission rolls her eyes beside him, swatting away a bug resting on her left arm before assessing her friend more seriously. "You look different, but not in a bad way. The whole Jedi look suits you." She looks slimmer in the fitted light brown robes. Her outfit consists of leggings, a short tunic, and boots. A lightsaber hanging from her belt glints in the sunlight as she turns to lead the party. "Well, is it official now?" The crunch of their footsteps through the tall grass is rhythmic.

"Nothing's official before you jump through a few hoops, Mish. Or a thousand, in this case." Syrin exhales, "When it comes to becoming a Jedi, that is. I'm not even at Padawan status right now, which is why I called the two of you out here. According to Master Zhar, something in the ancient grove is making the kath hounds go feral and if I want to earn the title of Padawan, I'm going to have to cleanse it."

"Just say what you need us to do and we won't waste any time." Mission grins, hiking her pack back up over her shoulder.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what we need to do yet. I have a few ideas as to what's tainting the kath hounds here, but I was just hoping for now you could-" _Keep me company. Really, Syrin. Give spontaneous hugs and weave flower necklaces while you're at it. _She risks a look back at the teenage alien, still walking,"-tell me what happened with Lena."

"Who told you that I met Lena?"

"Zaalbar talks more than you'd think. All it took was a bantha steak."

"Big Z..." Vao huffs, thoughts shifting toward the skank that stole her brother from her. "Yeah, I met Lena at the spaceport one day...Just the thought of that cantina rat makes my blood boil! She tried to tell me that Griff could have taken me with them, but that he-he abandoned me instead. Crazy, isn't it? I can't believe her! I mean, Griff would never do that!"Syrin mulls this over, drawing a few conclusions and questions as the group passes by a thrumming land-speeder.

"What else did Lena say?"

"Oh, nothing much, just that-" Her bitter rant is cut off by a desperate sounding woman nearby, who nearly grips Syrin's arm, but is too slow before the soon to be Jedi hops away, jumping into a fighting stance. She raises her palms.

"No, wait. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, young jedi!" Syrin slowly falls from her position, quirking her eyebrows at the plainly dressed woman with worry lines etched into her face.

"Yeah...good job at that. I'm going to guess you need something?"

"Well...yes, actually. I seem to have lost my companion, you see." Syrin will have to get used to this whole, 'Ooh, a Jedi. Let's make them do stuff for us with their magical powers whether or not they're busy' mindset. She sighs slightly, slipping out her datapad to add this to her list of tasks.

**3. Missing person**

Syrin looks back up. "What happened?"

"We were working on my farm to the north of here. I was working in the garden outside while he was inside. I heard the sound of the door opening, but it didn't close. I went to see and the door was wide open! I searched everywhere!" She spreads her arms wide at this, shaking her head in dismay, auburn pony tail swinging softly. "I need him back! I miss him so badly! I wonder if he...could he have been kidnapped?"

"Was there any sign of a struggle? It's a possibility, but it's strange that you didn't hear anything but the door opening..."

"Maybe it was the Mandalorians...or maybe kath hounds!" Syrin scrunches her brow slightly at that abrupt suggestion, exchanging glances with her party members. "But no...Kath hounds are not intelligent enough to open doors. No, it had to be someone who opened the door. Come to think of it, the door was locked!"

"Okay, well...From what you're telling me it seems as though the person you're looking for just left." The lady steps forward, voice rising in pitch.

"But he had no reason to run away-his programming!" _A droid? What kind of droid leaves their master, unless...Oh, that can't be healthy._ Syrin tries to be polite.

"Well, I'll be off then...Jedi stuff to do and whatnot." She waves limply, turning around with a slightly confused look, only to be frantically called on to wait.

Dammit...

"Young Jedi, he is very valuable to me all the same! He is the last piece of my husband left! He is very dear to me, my precious is."

"Her precious? She really misses her droid, doesn't she?" Carth murmurs, Mission affirming with a nod beside him.

"He's the only companionship I have on all of Dantooine! Please, I beg of you, return my droid to me!" Syrin exhales, finally turning back around. Well. How can she say no to someone begging for her help?

"If I see him, I'll let you know. That's all I can promise."_ I swear Jedi training has stolen a piece of my very soul...but, whatever._ She slips her datapad back out, resigned to her fate.

** 3. Missing DROID**

* * *

><p>Syrin swings her saber in a precise arc, the hum it makes while it slices through the air like music to her ears. The beam reminiscent of captured sunlight effectively disconnects the kath hound's head from its body, agonized shrieking lost to more feral growls behind her. Blaster fire downs a hound near Reth as she pushes the next away with the use of the Force, eliciting a whimper before it skids across the ground, lifeless. One last red laser flies across the plains before the battle is over. Syrin wipes some blood from her cheek using the back of a hand, retracting her lightsaber to holster it.<p>

"You learned to do all of that in weeks?" Mission asks, allowing her blaster to dangle by her side, stepping over a lifeless, bloody mess of a white and red hound, careful to avoid its jagged canines.

"Mm." She begins walking ahead again, shielding her eyes from the sunlight, "Don't underestimate Vrook's training regime...incoherent babbling, that is. Works wonders. Who knew? Anyway, it's good we can hold these things off with how vicious they are. That one back there went after you even when it lost its second leg."

"Seriously. What's with these kath hounds? It's like the things are...mindless. Like someone's controlling them or something. It's weird."

"Controlling them, eh? Influencing could be a better word, actually..." Reth contemplates, taking a turn on the grassy plains, only to hold out an arm to stop Onasi or Vao from going further, orbs snapping to the scene unfolding. "Up ahead."

A Mandalorian, fully armored, and a middle aged male civilian are facing off by a landspeeder. The Mandalorian has a weapon, and he's hitting it against his open palm in a daunting manner.

"-I'm going to have to take it out of you, piece by piece."

"Hey, kriffing di'kut over there!" She speeds up, still casually walking, though nearly losing her companions in her stride, hand resting on her weapon, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Who are you calling a di'kut?" The man sneers through his helmet, openly aiming his weapon at the man suddenly, "Take another step, schutta, and I shoot the pathetic excuse for a man where he stands." Syrin grits her teeth, veering to another course of action.

_"I'm the schutta_? You're the one aiming at an unarmed man, schutta." The guy cocks his blaster anyway, eyes jumping to her onyx ones from behind his visor with an aggressive jerk of his head.

"He owes me a debt!"

"No! Just-just-don't shoot!" The man begs, clutching at his head in terror, "Take my wife and children instead-anything!"

Syrin pulls a face, hand slipping from her lightsaber slowly as that sinks in. Mission and Carth drop their weapons as well. "Oh, so a di'kut is about to be killed by what do you know, another di'kut...I apologize for interrupting."

"No, please help me!"

At the last second, Syrin lazily raises a palm, utilizing the Force to fling the Mandalorian's weapon away, just as the blaster shot goes wide, and the civilian crumples to the ground in a fit of trembling. Before the armored guy can regain his blaster, Mission and Carth have shot him full of holes, and he drops to the ground with a thump, dead.

"Oh, thank you Master Jed-"

"I'll give you five seconds before you taste lightsaber, coward." She jerks a thumb behind her, scowling darkly at the man, and he whimpers a few times, stumbling over his own feet as he scurries past her. Carth glances to the woman, frowning at her hard stare as she loots the Mandalorian's body. Once she's finished, she tucks a hand into her robes and procures a flask, tossing it behind her in a lightning quick motion. Onasi would have caught it had he not been so deep in thought, fumbling with his hands only for the object to slip through his fingers. Syrin turns around, eyes dancing.

"This is why we don't have nice things, flyboy."

"Hey, c'mon!" He bends to pick up the flask, spilling water dripping over his hand as he raises it to brush the dirt off. "That throw was out of nowhere! A little heads up next time would be nice."

"Heads up!" A rotting apple flies by his head from behind, and Carth steps to the side, watching as it rolls to a large stone in front of him.

"Oh, so that's how you wanna play it, sister?" He snorts, "You're lucky I don't feel like playing this game today or you would be sorry."

"Aw, don't lie, now." Syrin teases with a smirk, turning around to get back to the task at hand, "You would be up for it, your reflexes just aren't." Carth simply exhales as Mission snickers, shaking his head lightly and screwing the cap onto the flask more tightly. Syrin used the Force for that one anyway...

The once smuggler is different from the last time he saw her. Her powers are one thing, but the harshness that she keeps displaying...she's more dangerous now, especially taking her powers into account. He thinks that she probably won't do anything that bad-she has proven herself after-all, but...he can't know for sure, if his past serves as any example. He wants to believe that she can be trusted, that she's a good person. He does like her company. Despite this, Carth keeps his eye on her, even as they're fighting back to back, and his thoughts to himself.

* * *

><p>The sun is starting to set, an orange yolk on the horizon, casting dramatic shadows and painting clouds in its wake. It's a relief as the group is wearing down, having fended off what must have been dozens of hounds and Mandalorian raiders by now. Conversation has died down, the last subject the droid they had destroyed. It had said something along the lines of the woman treating it as her husband at all times, and Syrin had drawn a line at that point, figuring putting it out of its misery was probably the best option for everyone involved.<p>

Making her way along a cliff side, Syrin spots some stone ruins in the distance, presumably a temple that has been run to the ground, pillars standing and supporting nothing, slowly crumbling to pieces on the dying blades of grass. Something's there. It's not something she can ignore, like a beacon in the Force. There's a tugging sensation in her gut, and at the same time, a cry to turn away from the white-hot signal there.

"What is it?" Carth asks, wondering if her leg hurts from earlier. An encounter with the last group of Mandalorians had left her scratched, but she had just tied a bandage around it and went on.

"You can turn back if you want." She meets his eyes fairly sincerely, then the young twi'lek's.

"Why would we do that? I don't know about the geezer over there, but if it weren't for you I would be brushing a struggling wookie's teeth for him about now. Not the most glamorous task in the galaxy. Not to mention, when I say I've got your back, I'm not messing around. I mean it."

"Likewise. I would be tinkering with that damnable synthesizer aboard the Hawk about now. Is something wrong?"

"It's just...a feeling. If you're still coming then, be cautious." She begins padding to the ancient grove, unclipping her lightsaber from its belt. Respectively, her party members ready their weapons.

There's a woman with russet padded pale blue clothing sitting meditation style. A Cathar to be more exact. With a feline face, whiskers and all. Her hair is in a bristly pony tail, swaying lightly in the breeze. What's more eye catching, however, are the bodies strewn around her.

"Who are you?" Syrin demands, holding tightly to her weapon. The woman doesn't answer, simply standing and igniting her red lighstaber, narrowed yellow eyes shooting daggers.

"I will be your doom!" Their lightsabers are clashing in front of Syrin before she can take a breath, the woman having used the Force to quicken her steps.

"Was it something I said?" Syrin quips, jumping back to avoid a lightning quick swing to the head, and then throwing her saber out again, only to be parried with a jarring buzz.

"Shut up and fight me!" The trainee glances back very briefly to check on her friends, only to realize they're frozen to their spots. No wonder there's no blaster fire.

"If that's what you want." She pushes a palm out, thrusting the pony tailed woman into a pillar behind her before she can execute a Force move. The Cathar yells out in pain, trying to get up in spite of her aching back. Syrin walks up to press her lightsaber to the feline's neck and declare this over when a well timed gust of the Force hurls her weapon from her hand. It rolls across the grass, deactivated. while the Cathar flips to her feet with a graceful acrobatic movement, activating her saber with a deadly thrum. A foot flies toward Syrin and she's forced to use her hands and arms to block each melee blow, ducking back at a near 90 degree angle to avoid the droning rouge saber stabbed at her chest. Every attempt to summon her weapon is thwarted. Finally. she kicks up with a hand planted against the ground, clipping her opponent in the chin, then pushing off to flip back around and regain her footing, stretching out an arm to gather her weapon. Syrin activates the saber immediately to block the lady's attack again, red on yellow beams clashing in front of their chests, each woman pushing forward, neither giving leeway.

"Why don't you just give in? You do not know who you're messing with." The Cathar drawls arrogantly, pulling back and swinging low, only to be caught by Syrin's weapon again. The dance continues in much the same way for a while, a flurry of crossing beams.

"Heh." The Jedi trainee steps forward, the dueling womens' clashing lightsabers striking together with a whir of sparks in front of their faces. "A stereotypical hot-blooded cat with no rhyme or reason? Yeah, not hard to peg your type." The sudden harsh set of the Cathar's eyebrows are the only warning sign before Syrin is flying backwards ten feet through the air, landing hard on an elbow and a leg. The impact with the ground hurts, a lance of pain through her body causing her to grit her teeth and suck in a sharp breath, trying to stand despite the twist of her already injured limb.

"Despicable." Her attacker spits, pacing forward slowly, pausing just before Carth and Mission's surprised, frozen forms. Just as Syrin gets to her feet, wobbling a bit and squinting in the orange light, the dark apprentice flicks her hand forward, and Syrin is lifted in the air again, spinning around.

_What is she even doing? What-_

Just before the red beam is driven through Carth's head, something snaps inside of Syrin, and with the violent wave of a hand, Juhani staggers backward, clutching at her chest with a string of choking noises. The lightsaber slips from her hand. Syrin falls to the grass in an abrupt heap, world tilting and warping as she forces herself to stand, wincing with each step. The stasis crumbles, and Mission and Carth fall to the earth in a moment's time, blinking in confusion.

"Are you alright?" Reth inquires, coming up behind them as they get to their feet.

"What...happened?" Mission mutters, glancing all around, in much the same way Carth is. Syrin lets out a breath in relief, thoughts shifting to the woman she attacked, who is now coughing up blood in the fetal position. Alarm slaps her in the face, her eyes widening at the scene.

_Damn. I didn't mean...not like she didn't have it coming._

_"-_going on_, _Syrin?" Onasi comes up beside her, eyebrows drawn.

"I'll explain later." The onyx haired trainee marches forward, bending down by the writhing woman to examine her._ A Sith on Dantooine would probably intrigue the Council, at the very least. I can't kill her now that she's down, and maybe she's connected to the taint in the Grove. She probably is the taint, actually. Maybe she'll survive long enough for me to get her back to the enclave. _

Syrin tries to be mindful of the injured lady, pulling the woman up with a hand behind her back, but immediately she hisses in pain, orbs flaming.

"Leave me be...I do not want your help!" She turns her head to the side, blood dribbling from the corner of her grimacing mouth. Syrin pushes air through her nose, slinging the woman's arm over her shoulders without regard for her well-being this time.

"Gonna fight me? I really don't want to do this either, let me tell you." With a grunt Syrin climbs to her feet, hunching a little under the dead weight draped over her. Carth quickly offers to take the Cathar, and ends up only supporting her on the other side, the teenage group member trailing behind.

"What did you do..?" Carth inquires once the woman is unconcious, after a few minutes on the plains, orbs jumping to his companion. It must be internal damage, but there doesn't seem to be a source on the outside of the feline's body, "I mean, I understand why you did it, anyone would have done it, but how exactly did you do...this?"

"I don't..." She shakes her head, sending him an annoyed look. "Forget it, Carth. This isn't the time. Plenty of people besides you will be wondering what happened."

* * *

><p>Syrin is reprimanded by multiple people, even in the process of hauling the woman, who she later finds out is named Juhani, to the medbay. It turns out she had been a Jedi once. Belaya, Bastila, and the Council are pretty upset that she didn't talk to the Cathar, instead fighting her. Mission is pretty much the only one who will bite back, saying things like, "Seems like self defense to me." or "Back off, lady!" Though, she can't really say so to the Council, who calls Syrin for a meeting once it's discovered that Juhani will live, but she'll be coughing up blood for a few more hours.<p>

Syrin stands silently before the four masters that night, refusing to bow her head to their stares, although remaining unwilling to say anything flippant or in her own defense. Their guilt trips seem to be working, if only a little. Some are understanding of her attack on Juhani, but the problem each has at the moment are her methods.

"Where did you learn that technique?" Master Vandar begins, sternly eyeing her.

"I taught it to myself."

"That doesn't answer our question, young one. Where did you learn it?" Master Zhar is gentler than the others in his prodding, but still clearly disappointed. Syrin heaves a sigh, feeling humiliation spark within her like a fire sparks in a dry forest.

"The archives...Master."

"Force Wound is the name." Dorak cuts in, pacing to the right. "It is a forbidden ability, locked away with good reason. With the wave of a hand, the user can apply pressure to internal organs, until either the organ is torn, or collapses on itself. Young Juhani's lung was shredded. This technique is used primarily by the Sith. Knowing this as you did, you still used it." He stops pacing to look back at Syrin pointedly. "Why?"

"She's clearly not as interested in becoming a Jedi as you seemed to think. It's only a matter of time-!"

"Master Vrook, we will discuss this when she is not present." Vandar interjects, an undercurrent of caution in his tone, "Many do things in self defense that they regret. As pained to admit it as I am, Juhani has been lured by the dark side. We all must know this. She is a formidable and threatening opponent for a mere apprentice to face. Syrin did what she believed best at the time, and hopefully she will learn from her mistake."

"I do not think you would use such an attack unless you had reason, as Master Vandar suggests. I am simply curious, so, again I ask, why did you use it?"

There's a small silence, and Syrin supposes she has to answer the question. Why did Syrin use it? She could say that Carth could very well have died had she not taken action. What she did was unfortunate, but necessary. Maybe not, as she could have simply pushed the Cathar backwards. Syrin got angry, wasn't thinking, and valued her friend's life more than anything in that moment. Syrin says nothing still, trying her best to hide her thoughts. The Jedi wouldn't like the truth, anyway.

"Well?" Vrook prods, crossing his arms. "I hope you realize the taint that you were supposed to cleanse as a part of your trial was Juhani, a turned apprentice of this very enclave. Moreover, had you talked her down rather than dueling with her, as any _true_ Jedi would have known to do, you would not have failed. Now, as a consequence of your brash and thoughtless actions, the taint is still strong within the Grove, and Juhani has not been redeemed."

"You may be dismissed." Vandar orders, so the Council can talk more fully in private about their concerns.

* * *

><p>Syrin throws a punch at the courtyard wall on impulse, letting out a breath of night air deeply. She quickly sinks into a melancholy irritation. All she can think is that the task was so obvious. Jedi show compassion, they don't strike in anger, and they most certainly don't use painful Sith techniques. It was so simple. The Council is probably wary of her turning into a dark jedi now, more so than when she first began training, which is saying a lot. Carth even seems to be distancing himself. Worst of all is her old doubts are resurfacing. Will she still become a Padawan? Has this all been a waste of time? Is she good enough? Crickets chirp, as no Jedi are around to make noise. She stands alone, craning her head up to the starry sky, back pressed against the cooling wall. Now what?<p>

"Beautiful, is it not?" The prim voice jars her a little, but she doesn't show it, only glancing to her left nonchalantly to see Bastila.

"Why do you always sound like you're spouting cheesy pickup lines, princess?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you should re-examine your own words before analyzing mine. Princess, in particular, could be taken many ways." Bastila stills beside her, glancing sideways expectantly.

"Walked right into that one, didn't I?" She shrugs with a wry smile."Point taken, your jediness. Any more friendly observations? Insults? Go on."

"I was trying my hand at amiable banter, but I see I have much to learn..."

"Come on." Syrin's eyebrows quirk. "Amiable banter?"

"All right, then. I came with the intention of consoling you, to be perfectly candid."

"No need. I can take care of myself." She turns to leave.

"Syrin." The woman stops in her tracks.

"That _is_ my name..."

"Just as you were expected to redeem Juhani to cleanse the taint, you can redeem yourself. Jedi are nothing if not forgiving. I kept the archive doors open on my way out this evening. I trust you will use your time wisely?"

"Yeah...Yeah, I will."

* * *

><p>After nearly an hour of sifting through the deserted archives, Syrin thinks she's ready to practice what she has absorbed. Slipping through the infirmary hall and into the dark room, she pads to the bed containing Juhani, door swishing softly behind her. Belaya was here, but no visitors are allowed after a certain time. Syrin isn't entirely sure what the woman's mindset will be like if she wakes up. The Jedi haven't spoken with her yet, wishing her adequate time to recover, and so she wouldn't panic, it seems she isn't tied down or anything, even if she'll go berserk when she wakes up. The woman is currently fitfully asleep, so Reth drags a chair up to the side of the bed slowly, trying to work in the limited light, only the moon shining softly through a skylight overhead.<p>

Hesitantly, Syrin holds out her hands, letting them hover a few inches above the woman's chest. She closes her eyes, focusing energy to her palms, clearing her mind. A few seconds pass, and only a whisper of a tingling feeling spreads through her hands. She opens her eyes to see no noticeable change in the feline. Syrin straightens up, taking a breath and pushing her hands back out. This time, she concentrates on Juhani's wound, visualizing mending it alongside pushing energy into her palms. This time, a warmth like a flame flows through the veins in her hands, and after a few moments, she believes Juhani has drifted into a deeper sleep. _Mission success. _Now-Just as she's lowering her arms, she has to block a punch. The Cathar's eyes have snapped open, and she's sitting up, glowering at Syrin.

"_What_ are you doing here?"

"Wish I knew the answer to that myself. Now, some say we were put here by-" Syrin tilts her head to the side before a hand can grip her neck, standing and backing away from the bed a few paces before another hand can catch her robe collar.

"I said _what_ are you doing here?!" Syrin ignores her, switching the subject.

"You know, Belaya came to see you. The Council was pretty ticked that I beat you up so badly. But, Belaya? She was _this _close to death threats." She gestures with her fingers, "The Council? At the moment, they're probably wondering whether or not they should allow me into the Order for what I did. You should be grateful to them for caring about you so much. You're not acting like you are, though."

"Do not pretend you know me." She retorts, voice breaking as she grips her sheets in fists, "I could never come back here, after what I did. Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you just kill me? You were more than able to, I realize now."

"I was. The dark side may seem powerful, but all it does is feed off of you, piece by piece. Until you're consumed by it. A shell of whatever you used to be. At least, that's what the masters say, all the time. Belaya told me what you used to be like, before you struck your master in anger and ran away. Where is that person now?" Juhani sighs, anger evaporating under Syrin's earnest study.

"What is it you want? Why do you bother me?" Syrin steps forward again, tone calm and measured, almost casual.

"Originally the Council sent me to cleanse a taint from the Grove as my third task. The hounds in the plains are still vicious."

"Why then, if you bested me so easily...why did you not simply finish your task? Is it not apparent I can never be saved? The Juhani the Council and Belaya once knew...she is gone."

"Well, in case you didn't notice, I just healed the rest of the damage to your lung-You're welcome, by the way-and I really don't want my hard work to go down the drain. I'm not killing you now, so don't try to convince me."

"I am pathetic. Even you and your naïve attitude have defeated me. I sat in the Grove and thought I was more powerful in the dark side, but I was-and am-nothing. I cannot be turned back to the light. I was never good enough to meet Jedi standards."

"At least you can admit your wrong doings. A step in the right direction, if you ask me."

"Even if I were to change back to the light, it would not erase the past. I slayed my master Quatra."

"You know, your master lived. You didn't cause as much damage as you seem to believe. The Council can explain more about that messed up scenario if you stick around."

"She is...she's alive? There are many things...many things I would like to say to her, to apologize for...and yet, how can I face her again? How can I face the Council, with what I have done? It is unforgivable."

"Just don't look them directly in the eye. Take it from a pro..." Her mouth curves to one side, "No, but really. Would they allow you to stay here or treat you if they didn't forgive your past, even a little bit?"

"You really think they will accept me back? After everything..."

"If they don't, they can't call themselves real Jedi."

"Thank you, Master Jedi." Juhani gushes, "I will speak with the Council tommorow. I will hope they forgive me. If only there was some way I could make this up to you."

"Eh, first off, don't get all wishy-washy about it. Just get some sleep, and don't tell anyone I was in here past visiting hours. That's about it." She spins on her heel for the door. Hopefully that cleared up the kath hound problem as much as it did her conscience.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for getting this far, lovelies! I really, really hope everyone was in character. I had some trouble with Juhani, and Syrin, actually. The Council wasn't exactly simple either. I was trying to find a medium between scolding and forgiveness with them, and I had to re-write the scene several times. In game Carth is supposed to be quiet, and it's so hard to resist writing more dialogue with him. I actually wrote a ton of scenes with him ahead of time to make myself feel better...Yeah, I have a problem. .; I'll edit anything if it's called to my attention. Anway,'til next time!<strong>


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Star Wars, Adventure, Romance