A false peace reigns throughout the galaxy.

Since the end of the Mandalorian Wars, MALAK, Jedi Master and Supreme Commander of the Republic Military, has been enforcing the Galactic Republic's will upon all who dare to oppose them. Venerated as a brilliant war hero, Malak enjoys the full backing of both the Republic and a majority of the the Jedi Order.

Thanks to Malak's power, the Republic is utilizing the Star Forge to create an armada unlike any the galaxy has ever seen. When complete it will be an unstoppable force, capable of destroying entire solar systems in a single day.

Just when it seems that the galaxy is blind to Malak's corruption, a small band of rebels rises from the obscurity of the Outer Rim. Embittered by their experiences with the now-corrupt Republic, and burdened by their pasts, they may be the only hope to stopping Malak's total galactic domination...

1.

"So, what you're saying, is that you need a pilot?"

Vann sighs, plastering a smirk on his face as he nods. "I need a ride," he explains, not hesitating at the suggestive nature the last word takes. He watches the scruffy, brown-haired pilot in front of him, chuckling softly when he notes the way the man shifts uncomfortably. "A ride that will get paid more than their fair share, and that doesn't ask too many questions."

"Okay, alright! I get your point," the pilot snaps. Nodding towards his battered, Dynamic-class freighter he sighs. "So, uh, where're you headed?"

Pulling his datapad out of the inner pocket of his jacket, Vann scans the notes for his latest job. Just another gang boss who wants some extra muscle. Apparently, a big swoop race is coming up, and the local underworld wants to keep the rabble in line. "Taris," he finally draws.

"Taris?" A look of trepidation crosses the pilot's face, one hand moving to nervously straighten his worn leather jacket. "Isn't that kinda close to Republic space?"

Replacing his pad, Vann snakes his head. "Not really. Besides, I doubt they're going to pay much mind to a hunk of metal like yours." Grinning, he gives the freighter a more careful inspection. From the outside it looks like it's been through a war, and it probably has. But he can see signs of custom work around the engines, of plating that's been removed to make the ship lighter. It's a perfect smuggler's ship. And yeah, that would explain the pilot's nervousness. "What? Hauling something that you shouldn't be?"

The pilot huffs, suddenly indignant at the accusation. "No! Of course not!" he answers, just a little too quickly. "It's just… I prefer to avoid the Republic Fleet when I can."

"Don't we all?" Sighing, Vann rakes his fingers through his hair. It's getting long, almost to his shoulders. "Listen, I'm running on a deadline here. All you have to do is drop me planetside. Barely even have to land." Taking a step closer to the pilot, he lowers his voice conspiratorially. "Just get me to Taris in one piece, and I'll pay you double your asking price."

"I didn't even tell you my price yet!"

Van shrugs. "Exactly." From what he knows, Taris is a pit of a city. There are a few Hutts of note there, and it should be an easy enough task to talk them out of parting with a few extra credits for bounties or good duals in the ring. He plans to fly out of the city with a hefty payday, so spending a little extra getting there shouldn't be a problem.

Throwing up his hands in defeat, the pilot stalks towards the entrance of his ship. "Fine, fine!" he grumbles. "I'll get you there, uh… What'd you say your name was again?"

"I didn't. And what did I say about asking too many questions?"

The pilot scowls over his shoulder. "It's not like I'm expecting your real name or anything. I just would like to call you something other than 'hey you.'"

"Vann." Admittedly, the name still sounds fake to him, but it's the best he could come up with at the time. And now that his name's gained a bit of a reputation with some of the right people, it's not like he can change it.

Offering his hand in a firm shake, the pilot nods. "I'm Carth Onasi." The palm of his hand is calloused, the pattern unmistakably made by the handle of a blaster pistol. "And do you have a last name there, Vann? For the sake of my passenger log."

"Chis. Vann Chis."

Carth nods again, heading into the ship. "Alright then, Vann Chis. We'll be taking off in an hour. Best settle any accounts you have here."

There's something about the set of Carth's shoulders, the way he moves with practiced precision, not a motion wasted, that makes Vann immediately think 'soldier.' He's not sure how he knows this, he's not sure how he knows a lot of things really, but somehow he does. The thought of traveling with a former soldier shouldn't be comforting, not for a mercenary, but yet… it is.

The brief jump through hyperspace to reach Taris is uneventful, consisting mostly of Carth sitting at the ship's helm as he stares gloomily at the field of stars as they rush past the transparisteel viewport. His shoulders are hunched, expression dour as his hands rest lightly on the ship's controls. He's silent, not asking questions or trying to make polite conversation like some of Vann's rides have the tendency to do. And, honestly, that suits Vann just fine. For his part, he takes the time to check his weaponry, making sure that the beam-splitter and scope on his blaster are fitted properly, and that the edge of his vibroblade is well-honed. It's simple work, but it passes the time.

"Coming up on Taris now," Carth calls, voice flat and somewhat hoarse from disuse. It's the first he's spoken since the ship entered hyperspace. "Reading signs of a lot of ships in orbit around the planet… You expecting a crowd here?"

Holstering his blaster, Vann glances up at the sensor readouts. "Well, there's supposed to be a big swoop race happening or something, so I'm guessing things might be a little more crowded than usual…"

Before Vann can finish, the freighter jumps out of hyperspace and into the sheer chaos of a firefight. There's a Hammerhead-class cruiser stationed just about the planet, one of the older models still leftover from the Mandalorian War. Or, so Vann's been told. The cruiser is taking heavy damage from all sides, as a hoard of smaller and more maneuverable fighters and assault ships rain down cannon-fire, only to dart out of the way before taking damage of their own.

"What in the hells is this?" Carth pulls-up on his freighter's controls, quickly maneuvering the old ship away from a hail of cannon-fire from the cruiser. "I thought you said the Republic wouldn't be a problem!"

Quickly settling himself into the position of co-pilot, Vann scans the data readouts. "I never said that!" he counters. "And I have no idea what this is!"

A small, heavily-customized fighter whizzes past, barely swerving right in time to avoid a collision. Carth curses, attempting to maneuver his freighter between the cannon blasts. "You know that price I told you? Triple it!"

"Yeah yeah," Vann snaps, flipping a few controls to shift power between the engines. "Get us out of this mess, and then we can talk about price!"

On cue, Carth pushes several buttons and yanks a lever, the freighter's engines roaring as the ship dives down towards the surface of Taris. It banks a sharp left, blowing past two fighters and an assault ship that seem genuinely surprised to see a dented Dynamic-class leave them in its dust. And yeah, Vann has no doubt that this is a smuggling vessel.

"Hold on tight, things are about to get a little bumpy…"

Vann's hands hover over the co-pilot's controls, eyes scanning the various sensor readouts as the surface of the planet looms increasingly closer, even as the ship continues to pick-up speed. He's about to mention something, like how entering atmosphere this quickly might be a terrible idea, when the planet suddenly disappears from view.

Actually, it doesn't disappear. It's blocked.

One of the Republic's new Interdictor-class ships has just jumped out of hyperspace directly in their path to the planet's surface. Before Vann can shout a warning, Carth is pulling-up on the controls, forcing the freighter into a graceless u-turn that sends the ship spiraling twice from sheer momentum. Vann is fairly sure he'd be yelling if not for the fact that his throat is being pressed closed via the g-force created by the maneuver.

"Bantha SHIT!" he manages to wheeze as the freighter levels off, now headed in the opposite direction of the planet.

Carth, however, is grinning in a grim-though-amused manner, a hoarse chuckle escaping him. "Wow," he breathes. "Haven't had to use a move like that since…" Trailing off he shakes his head, expression sobering once more. "Never mind," he mutters.

For a moment, Vann considers pressing the issue, genuinely curious as to how a man with the movements of a soldier and the skills of an ace fighter-pilot came to be smuggling good along the Outer Rim. However, his train of thought is interrupted when a loud boom erupts off the starboard side of the ship, shaking the entire vessel. Glaring out the viewport, Vann lets out a loud stream of curses in multiple languages. "Got any more moves like that, hotshot? Because that Interdictor is firing on us!"

"Shit," Carth mutters, making a sharp right to avoid another round of cannon fire.

Already moving to open up a comm channel, Vann glances over at the pilot. "Maybe we should let them know that we're just trying to land?"

Banking the ship to the left, Carth shakes his head. "No time! And also, that's a bad idea. The Republic doesn't care if we're not the ones firing on them. We're in the way, and that's enough reason for them to shoot us out of the sky."

Van blinks, moving his hand away from the comm button. "Sounds like you know this for a fact."

Snorting in disgust, Carth's tone grows frigid. "You could say I have some experience with Supreme Commander Malak's Republic."

There's a note of venom to the words that sends a shiver down Vann's spine, though it's not out of displeasure. The anger is absolutely radiating off of Carth, and there's something darkly satisfying about it. Something that sinks deep into the marrow of Vann's bones and feels disturbingly right. He tamps down on his own glee at his companion's barely-restrained emotions, shifting the entirety of his focus to the viewport. "If we can make it around their starboard side, we might be able to slip past the worst of their cannons and make it down to the surface."

"There's no way we can slip past their fire! Our ship's too wide!" Carth narrowly slips between another set of cannon fire. "Not unless we…

"Make the entry vertically?" Vann arches a brow, a reckless grin splitting his face.

Carth blinks, a thin smile creasing his own lips. "That's so crazy it just might work…"

Without waiting for further permission, Vann begins to reset the ship's thrusters, preparing to plunge past the Interdictor and make a nose-dive toward the surface of Taris. He just finishes making the adjustment when an explosions rocks the back of the ship. Warning lights flash and alarms blare as one of the engines sputters and dies. The little freighter immediately begins to lose altitude, plummeting towards Taris at breakneck speed.

"We're hit! I think it was the Hammerhead!" Carth is frantically trying to regain control of the ship, punching buttons and jerking the controls. "Going down! I should have enough power to land her, but it's not going to be pretty…"

Vann doesn't have time to think. He acts on instinct as he mentally grabs for… something. It's the thing that always feels like it's just outside of his periphery, like a lost sense that he's constantly trying to regain. He doesn't know what he grabs at, or how he does it, but he wraps that thing around himself and Carth as the freighter plummets into Taris's atmosphere. He's only distantly away of Carth wrestling the ship under control, and attempting to guide it into something vaguely resembling a crash landing. The jolt of the impact with Taris's surface is detached and foggy. Vann expects there to be pain, but there's not.

It all feels strangely familiar, Vann thinks, as blackness quickly claims him.

FLASH

Vann sees a man standing on the bridge of a cruiser as he observes a battle through the wide, transparisteel viewport. The man is dressed in dramatic black robes, his face obscured by a deep hood and hidden by a thick metal mask. There's a sense of grim satisfaction as the man watches the violent battle unfold.

FLASH

The same masked man is boarding another ship, weapons grasped in each hand. With a whirr, he ignites a pair of glowing lightsabers, both a brilliant shade of blue. The sabers are a whirlwind of death as the man makes his way through the ship, striking down any who stand in his way.

FLASH

Lightsabers hum as the masked man faces down a towering, armored opponent. While the opponent is strong, the masked-and-cloaked figure is stunningly swift. He dodges blows with ease, sidestepping hits that could fell a Human with a single strike. Still, the man is tiring, and his opponent is well-protected even from the lightsabers' harsh slashes. For a time it seems that this battle could go either way. At least until the masked man manages to get both blades past his opponent's guard, sinking them through the metal armor and straight into his chest…

Vann wakes up with a scream caught in his throat, sweat already cooling across his body and making him shiver. His eyes fly open, searching around him for signs of the masked terror from his dreams, for the flash of a lightsaber blade ready to strike him down.

There's nothing. Just a dimly-lit, unfamiliar room. He hears the sound of footsteps nearby, and instinctively reaches for the blaster at his hip.

The blaster that's not there.

A surge of panic hits Vann, and he balls both hands into fists, ready to fight his way out of whatever situation he's gotten himself into this time. While he's not sure where his martial skills come from, they're formidable. He's not going down without a fight…

"Hey, easy there!" Brown eyes stare down at Vann, brimming with genuine concern. A pale face, marked with reddish stubble, slowly forms within the room's low lighting, along with two hands held aloft in a placating manner. Carth. "It was just a dream. A pretty nasty one from the looks of it, but it's over now."

Vann sighs, fists unclenching as he draws a few shaky breaths. "Yeah," he mutters, "Nasty." Wiping one clammy palm over his brow, he asks, "Geeze, how long was I out for?"

Carth stares back a bit sheepishly. "Three days," he admits. "You tossed and turned through most of it. I thought my nightmares were something, but… You? You take the prize."

Groaning, Vann struggles into a sitting position, stretching out his body as he tests it for injuries. His left shoulder is a bit sore, and his joints feel like they've been shaken by a rancor, but it's nothing a medpac and a pint of Tarisian ale can't cure. "Three days? Really?"

"Yeah, I think you hit your head in the crash." Carth continues to look sheepish, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Though, all things considered, we both got lucky. The ship was nearly totaled, but there was barely a scratch between us."

With a nod, Van swings himself out of bed, bare feet landing on a cold, threadbare carpet. He glances around the room, taking it in for the first time. It's shabby-looking, the lighting poor and most of the furnishings are in desperate need of repair. But it's not the worst place he's stayed at. "So, where exactly are we?"

"Taris," Carth mutters. After a glare from Vann, he elaborates. "While you were out, I was able to find us an apartment. They mostly rent to aliens, or anyone else who can't afford better living conditions. It's not fancy, but they don't ask a lot of questions."

"So… how much do I owe you for all of this?"

Carth waves a hand, taking a few steps back when it becomes obvious that Vann can walk without assistance. "I sold some of the cargo from my ship, got us this room. No big deal."

"Some of the cargo that you definitely weren't smuggling?" Vann smirks, turning to collect his neatly-folded clothing from the wobbly little durasteel table.

Carth scowls at this, turning away. "Doesn't matter now, either way." He sighs. "Look, the crash was my fault. I should have seen that the second cruiser was coming around to fire on us, or at least noticed that the fighters were retreating. It's my fault you got hurt and…"

Tugging his shirt over his head, Vann rolls his eyes. "Is this what you do? Blame yourself for every little thing that happens? No wonder you've got such a bad attitude."

"Hey! I know I deserve that, and I know I don't have the best attitude, but…"

Vann snorts as he pulls on his pants. "I was joking. And anyway, I'm the one who wanted to come to Taris. So it's as much my fault as it is yours." Reaching for his belt, he's pleased to see that his customized blaster is still intact. "So let's stop assigning blame, because that's not going to get us anywhere. Instead, let's focus on catching the first transport off of this rock."

"Huh," Carth arches a brow. "What, are you some sort of negotiator or something?"

Checking his weapons for any imperfections, Vann arms himself. "Nope. Just a common mercenary." Slinging his vibroblade onto his back, he adds, "Now, about getting off this rock…"

Carth's expression immediately sobers, a flicker of fear crossing his features. "So… I didn't get a chance to tell you this, but there's a problem…"

"A problem?"

"That battle that knocked us out of the sky? Apparently a Republic officer was captured during the firefight."

Vann nods, a sinking feeling entering his gut. "...And?"

"And her captors are supposedly hiding out on this planet." Carth draws a slow breath. "And the Republic has set-up a planet-wide blockade until she's returned."

Closing his eyes, Vann groans. "Well, shit."

"My thoughts exactly."

Scrubbing his hands through his hair, which has gotten a bit greasy during his bout of unconsciousness, Vann tries to calm the rising panic. "So. Carth. Any ideas on how to get past a Republic blockade?"

"Without a ship? Nope." Carth sighs, resigned. "And even with a ship, there's no getting past a Republic blockade. They would shoot you down in a second. They probably have shields in place, alarms too."

"And you know this from… experience?"

Expression darkening, Carth narrows his eyes. "Like I said before, I have some experience with the Republic."

Deciding it best not to alienate his only potential ally on the planet, Vann doesn't push the issue. "Good enough for me," he finally shrugs, adjusting his blaster holster as he strides towards the door to the apartment.

"Wait! Hey! Hold-up!" Carth rushes after him, grabbing his own blasters from off a rickety chair and strapping them into place. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"To the nearest cantina," Vann quips.

Carth shakes head head, reaching for Vann's shoulder. "You just took a pretty nasty hit to the head. Are you sure what you need is a drink?"

Fighting the urge to brush the other man's hand away, Vann sighs. "For a smuggler, you don't know a whole lot about the way things work here on the Outer Rim, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Turning around, Vann barely manages to suppress his second eyeroll of the day. "If you want any information about the local happenings, you go to the nearest cantina. So, if you want off this planet, you'd better come with me."

"Oh." With a sudden nod of understanding, Carth grabs his jackets and shrugs it on. "Right! Coming!"

With a smirk, Vann smooths his collar and exits the apartment, Carth close on his heels.

One drunken mess of a Republic soldier and two sets of "borrowed" Republic armor later, Vann and Carth are safely ensconced in the Lower City cantina, listening to the local gossip about the kidnapped Republic officer as they nurse pints of ale. The Upper City cantina was mostly a bust, with nothing but rich businessmen complaining about the blockade ruining their trade prospects. But the Lower City is already proving much more fruitful.

"I hear it was a group of Mandalorian rebels who took that Republic officer!" one man is exclaiming, his drink sloshing out over the rim of his glass as he gestures drunkenly. "They're holding her captive as we speak. Demanding a ransom from the Republic!"

"Oh, it's always the Mandalorians!" his companion slurs irritably. "Been that way since the war!"

The first man sneers, "Like you know anything about the war!"

Before a disagreement can derail the two men, a young woman two seats down shakes her head. "I bet you haven't even heard the best part of this mess yet!"

The pair of old drunks wave the woman off with uncoordinated flaps of their hands. "Eh, shut up ya lousy cantina-fly," one mutters. "Nothing but a gossip, you are."

The woman huffs in indignation, reaching to pick-up her drink and move away from her detractors. But before she can get away, Vann slides neatly into the seat beside her and offers a soft smile. It's an expression that he's discovered tends to make people open up to him. His natural gift of persuasion has served him well over the last few years.

"Hey, don't listen to those two drunks," he reassures the stranger, leaning casually against the bar. "I have to say, you've got me curious about what could be worse than this damned blockade."

Biting her lip, the woman seems suddenly reluctant to speak. "I dunno," she purrs, "It's supposed to be a secret. Real hush-hush type of stuff."

Vann nods sympathetically. "Hey, I understand. How about this? I get you a fresh drink, and we trade stories? Just two people, trying to see who can tell the more ridiculous tale." He gestures to Carth with a mischievous grin, ignoring the glare the other man shoots him. "I bet you can't top the story I have about this guy and an overly-amorous rathtar…"

"Oh, there's no way that one's true!" the woman giggles.

"Well then, I bet there's no way your story's true either." With an idle shrug, Vann waves over the bartender. "Like I said, we're just two people exchanging ridiculous stories…"

Realization dawns in the woman's eyes, and her red-painted lips quirk into a dark grin. "Ohh, I gotcha," she murmurs. "Well, then you're definitely not going to believe this."

"Try me," Carth mutters, visibly beginning to lose patience.

Vann ignores his companion's irritability. "Go on," he encourages.

"So, my girlfriend is a Hidden Bek. You know, part of the swoop gang? She's a real good rider, won a few races and everything!" The woman preens for a moment before continuing. "Anyway, the Beks know all of the best information. And my girlfriend told me earlier tonight that it's no ordinary Republic officer who was kidnapped during that big battle overhead."

Leaning forward slightly, Vann nods, offering the woman another encouraging smile. "Really, now?"

The woman's grin broadens. "Oh yeah. Supposedly, she's a Jedi. You know, part of Malak's personal army. Word is that's why the republic has this damn blockade set-up. They want to find this Jedi before anyone else does. They're offering a real nice reward for her safe return, too."

Carth visibly tenses at the mention of a Jedi, and Vann has the urge to put a hand on the other man's knee and remind him to just act casual. But at the same time, the thought of a Jedi on Taris sends an odd jolt down Vann's spine, like it's something he should be excited for. As though this major inconvenience to his life is actually an opportunity. He draws a quick breath. "So, you think the Hidden Beks know any more untrue stories about this… Jedi?"

The woman laughs at this, obviously amused by the tourists stuck on her home planet by the blockade. "I'll put it like this - Gadon Thek knows just about everything worth knowing. But it's not like he'll share it with just anyone." Lifting up her drink, she tips it towards Vann and Carth. "Maybe I'll see you around again. Let you buy me another drink." She winks at them, and then downs the contents of her glass. "Enjoy your stay on Taris," she adds, tone less flirty and more sardonic as she stands from her seat and sashays towards the Cantina exit.

Vann lets out a sigh. "So," he breaths, lowering his voice so that only Carth can hear him. "There's a reward being offered? And it'll open up this blockade?" Swallowing a mouthful of bitter ale, he muses, "I bet between the two of us, we could put in a damn good effort of finding this lost Jedi…"

"No. No way. Uh-uh." Waving his hands, Carth scowls. "I don't care if the rumors are true or not, if there's even a chance of a Jedi being involved, I don't want anything to do with this."

"What do you have against the Jedi?" Peering at Carth from over his glass, Vann studies the other man, noting the premature worry lines around his eyes, and the way his jaw clenches in constant concern. "Aren't they just… soldiers and peacekeepers?"

Scowl deepening, Carth whispers, "Malak's a Jedi." The name is laced with venom.

"...And?"

Sighing heavily, as though he's trying to explain a simple concept to a petulant child, Carth shakes his head. "Look, I just have my reasons, okay?"

"Hey," Vann stares at the other man. "If you plan on staying behind this blockade until someone else finds this Jedi, we're going to run out of things to talk about really fast if you don't start opening up."

"And what about you? It's not like you've told me much about yourself either."

Vann tries to offer a nonchalant shrug. "Not much to tell, really. I'm a mercenary. I work whatever odd jobs people pay me to do. Sometimes people pay me really well to do some really questionable things."

At the last admission, Carth frowns. "I saw you fight those Black Vulkars earlier. You have the skills of an elite commando, not just some Outer Rim mercenary. I… don't even know where someone gets skills like that."

"Wish I could tell you."

"But if you do, you'll have to kill me?" Carth forces a weak laugh.

Vann swallows hard, words rushing out in a rare burst of brutal honesty. "No, I mean, I really wish I could tell you."

"What, you don't remember who trained you to fight like that?"

"Nope." Vann forces himself to take a casual sip of beer. It burns on the way down.

Blinking, Carth sputters as he places his glass on the cantina's grimy counter. "Wait, what? You don't remember? What, exactly, don't you remember?"

Sighing heavily, Vann schools his features into casual nonchalance, trying to keep the never-ending sense of panic out of his voice as he acknowledges everything he doesn't know about himself. "I was in a shuttle crash a few years back. Way worse than our little dust-up above this rock. I… I don't know how I managed to crawl away. But I did." He gives an exaggerated sigh. "Anyway, since then my memory of the time before the crash has been… patchy."

"So… wait. You don't remember your life before the accident?" Carth's eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open ever-so-slightly. He seems torn between disbelief and something dangerously close to pity. "Nothing?"

"Eh, bits and pieces here and there." And that right there is a bold-faced lie. While Vann seems to have enough muscle memory to fight and otherwise function as as sentient creature, his past is a blank slate. A total void. He didn't escape the crash with so much as a name. Vann Chis is just something he made-up off the top of his head when he needed to tell strangers to call him something. For whatever reason, it sounded right at the time.

Carth continues to gape like a dying fish. "Really? Just bits and pieces of your entire life up until a few years ago?" He shakes his head. "I'm… I'm sorry. I just find that hard to believe."

Glaring at the other man, Vann grits his teeth. "Believe it. Or don't. Doesn't make a difference to me."

Something in his tone must convince Carth, or at least make the man realize that the topic is no longer up for discussion. "Right, sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine. Don't mention it." Despite not saying it, 'ever again' is heavily implied in the dark tone Vann's voice takes on.

Both men slip into silence for several moments, the music and noise of the cantina floating around them. It's an odd contrast to the irritation that sizzles between them. After a bit more uncomfortable silence, Carth clears his throat. "So…" he mutters, "Do you really think that you're capable of finding a missing Jedi? I know you can fight, but tracking someone down is an entirely different set of skills."

"Sure," Vann shrugs. "I've found missing people before. It was mainly to shake them down for the debts they owed, but it's the same basic premise." He tries to keep his tone nonchalant, "After all, people who owe money to crime bosses are remarkably good at not being found."

Carth frowns in distaste at this admission, though he doesn't voice his concerns. "I still don't like the idea of getting involved with a Jedi."

Vann chuckles. "And I don't like the idea of being stuck on Taris while the Republic tears the planet apart searching for their lost officer. This city is mostly underworld gangs. There's too many places for her kidnappers to hide her. The Republic has too many enemies here already."

"Touche," Carth grumbles.

"Look, help me or don't. If you want to leave me be and just look out for yourself, I won't hold it against you. Seems like you're the type who works better alone anyway." Vann finishes the rest of his beer in two long gulps, and then sets the glass loudly on the counter.

Staring at his own beer, Carth swirls the remaining contents. "I'm sorry if I'm giving you the impression that I just want to look out for myself. Like I said, I have my reasons. And maybe I'll tell them to you. Just not right now."

Slipping out of his seat, Vann adjusts his coat to better conceal his pistol. "Your life, your choices Carth. Whatever you decide, I'm planning to spend my time on Taris trying to find this Jedi. I want to get off this planet, and I wouldn't mind a nice fat Republic payday in the process."

Carth draws a deep breath, and then finishes off his beer in a single long chug. Grimacing at the way the bitter ale slides down his throat, he shakes his head. "I must be crazy, but, fine. I'll come with you." He stares at Vann for a moment, eyebrows raised and lips pulled into a bemused smirk. "Because, as weird as this sounds, I think you're my best bet of getting off this planet in one piece."

Vann nods, a grin slowly tugging at his lips. "So, then, I guess we're off to find Gadon Thek."

"I guess we are."

"So, let me get this straight." Vann studies the stern face of Gadon Thek, searching for any signs that the older man is joking. "You want us to sneak into your rival gang's base, through the sewers, and steal back some swoop bike prototype accelerator that you lost? All of this, just so that you'll possibly trade information on a missing Republic soldier?"

Gadon's expression remains impassive as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. "Two off-worlders come into my base, asking for information that only I have, and I'm supposed to just give it to you, no questions asked?" He arches a brow. "This is the Lower City. Nothing comes cheap, especially information. Besides, it's not like I'm sending you in alone…"

"Oh, right, I forgot about that part." Vann barely represses the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. "You're sending us in with some kid and her pet walking carpet. Who we have have to find first before they'll lead us anywhere."

"Mission may be young, but she and Zaalbar have spent more time exploring the Undercity than any of the Hidden Beks. I wouldn't discount her as just 'some kid.'" Gadon smirks. "And besides, I don't think you have much room to negotiate."

Vann feels his temper rising, crumbling the thin facade of the charming, devil-may-care mercenary. It's an anger that always seems to be seething just beneath his skin, something cold and vicious that evaporates the thin thread of moral decency that he usually clings to. His anger, he knows, is dangerous. But sometimes he can't help but welcome it like an old friend. "Or I could just shoot you in the kneecaps and make you tell me what I want to know," he quips, voice and expression carefully neutral.

It takes some effort to ignore Carth's sharp gasp of protest.

Gadon, for his part, actually laughs. "Oh please. You're in my base, surrounded by my people. They'd pump you full of blaster bolts before you could even draw your pistol."

Anger flaring into ice-cold rage, Vann swallows hard. He wants to lash out at Gadon for laughing, for having the gall to think that Vann needs a blaster to hurt him and bring him to his knees. Some long-forgotten instinct forces his left hand to twitch, fingers curling into a choking gesture. For a moment, he feels like he really could just reach out and choke the snirk off Gadon Thak's face without ever touching the gang leader. Like he could drain the life out of every member of the Beks in a whirlwind of pain and unbridled fury. His fingers twitch again and then…

And then the sensation is gone, the rage ebbing back to nothing more than a casual whisper of violence.

"Hey, no need to draw any blasters!" Carth is holding up both hands, a terse smile on his face as he forces himself to match Gadon's laugh. "We'd be more than happy to help you get your accelerator back. After all, it's not like we have much else to do while we're stuck behind the blockade. Right, Vann?"

Vann snorts, jerking his head in a curt nods towards Gadon. "Whatever," he finally growls out.

Placing a firm hand on Vann's shoulder, Carth half steers, half drags the other man towards the entrance to the Hidden Bek's base. His fingers dig harshly through the scant protection of Vann's leather jacket and modest body armor. "Anyway," he mutters awkwardly, still guiding the pair out of the room, "We'll be back once we find that accelerator. And then we can talk more…?"

"Of course." Gadon's smile grows wider, though his his tone is sardonic. "We'll talk once you have my accelerator."

Carth says nothing else until he all-but pushes Vann through the base's front door, hand still retaining its iron grasp on the other man's shoulder. It's only after they're several meters from the base that Carth leans in closer, hissing, "What is wrong with you?"

Vann blinks, expression suddenly one of faux innocence. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh don't give me the innocent routine! I know that you can probably talk a Hutt out of his credits when you're in the right mood." Carth scowls, tone suddenly full of what Vann feels is a decidedly misplaced sense of righteousness. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You can't just… threaten to blow out someone's kneecaps!"

Shrugging-off Carth's hand, Vann continues striding through the Lower City streets. "It was a bluff. Gadon knew that, and he called me on it."

Rushing after his companion, Carth shakes his head. "It sure as hell didn't sound like a bluff! You looked ready to shoot out both of Gadon's kneecaps, and frag grenade the rest of the Beks just for good measure."

"It's called intimidation, Carth. Comes in pretty handy in my line of work."

Choking back laugh of indignation, Carth throws up his hands. "That's not how sane, civilized people handle situations…"

Whirling around, Vann glares at the other man, both hands balling into fists at his sides. "And in case you didn't notice, we're not exactly in a sane or civilized situation!" He sighs. "Like I said before, if you don't approve of me or my methods, you're more than welcome to go and find your own way off of this festering bantha-shit of a rock."

Blinking once, Carth frowns. "I like you Vann, I really do. I just… don't trust you. But then, I really don't trust anyone, so don't take it personally."

And that actually makes Vann laugh. "Oh, so you're irrationally suspicious of me, but at least it's nothing personal? That's comforting."

Stalking forward, wearing an almost sheepish frown, Carth mutters, "I'm sorry. I'm probably wording this all wrong. You honestly seem like a decent person Vann, all things considered. Yeah, there's a certain darkness about you that I don't necessarily enjoy, but you don't feel entirely bad."

"And you would know what a bad person feels like?"

"Yeah, actually, I do." Carth stares pointedly straight ahead, gaze cold and hard.

Lips quirking into a smirk, Vann can't resist pushing the pilot further. "And what, exactly, makes you such an expert? Is this what gave you all of your trust issues?"

Still refusing to look at the other man, Cath shakes his head. "Look, I said I don't want to talk about it! At least, not yet."

Quickening his pace, Vann swerves into his companion's path, blocking the other man's way down the narrow Lower City street. "We're about to walk straight into a sewer full of rakghouls, and Force-knows what else. Our guide is going to be some street-kid, and her job is to lead us into a base full of violent gang members." He gestures to the twin pair of blasters strapped to Cath's hips. "As far as I can tell, you'll probably be the only decent shot watching my back, so if this isn't the time to air-out your trust issues, I don't know what is!"

"You want to know about me? Fine!" Drawing a deep breath, Carth exhales shakily. "I was a pilot in the Republic Naval Starfighter Corps."

Vann nods. "Yeah, I had that feeling." When Carth arches a questioning brow he explains, "You move like a solider. I could just… tell."

"Well, yeah. I devoted my life to serving the Republic. And they…"

"Didn't do right by you?"

Carth laughs, a sharp, brittle sound. "To put it mildly. I don't want to get into details. Not here. But, let's just say that they, that Malak, managed to betray everything I thought they stood for."

And there's that name again, spoken with absolute venom. Vann takes a slow breath, as though drawing in Carth's sense out outrage. He, of course, is peripherally aware of who Malak, Supreme Commander of the Republic, is. It's impossible to travel anywhere in the galaxy and not hear that name bandied about with varying degrees of awe and contempt. But Vann's never met anyone who seems so personally slightly by the Jedi Supreme Commander. The fact that Carth apparently has a personal connection to the man tickles something at the very back of Vann's mind, but the thought remains just out of reach.

Ignoring the nagging sensation that he should be remembering something, Vann merely offers Carth an accepting nod. "So, you're a former Republic soldier who was betrayed by the very people you devoted your life to." Pausing, he breaks into a smug grin. "And now you're a smuggler on the Outer Rim."

"Hey! I am not…" Carth sputters, before offering a weak smile of his own. "Yeah, well, you're an amnesiac mercenary who threatens to shoot out people's kneecaps when he doesn't get his way."

"We make a great pair, don't we?"

"Oh yeah. Fantastic." As they approach the elevator to the Undercity, Carth eyes it warily. "Nothing can possibly go wrong with the two of us working together."

Retrieving the Republic passes bartered from Gadon, Vann flashes them at the armored guard in front of the elevator. It takes a moment for the guard to finally acquiesce and allow them to pass him, but he eventually waves them along. The elevator doors open with a hiss of stale air, the interior of the car ripe with the odor of rot and decay.

As they enter the rickety elevator car, Carth frowns. "I'm going to live to regret this, aren't I?"

"Well," Vann replies with an airy shrug, "That's certainly the plan."

Author's Notes

Thank you readers! Comments and (constructive) criticism are always welcome. I like to know what I'm doing well, and what needs more work.

A few notes:

1. Obviously, this is an AU. Certain events are different in this universe, causing a ripple effect that impacts most of the characters. The universe's alternate history will be described throughout the story.

2. I know that, canonically (as canon as the EU/Legends can be), Revan was not a duel-wielder at the time of the Mandalorian Wars. (And in some canon, was never a dual wielder.) However, I needed him to have a Very Distinctive Saber Style for the purposes of this story.

3. I'm also aware that the characters aren't quite this snarky and sassy in the game. In my defense, Obi Wan and Anakin are far more snarky in SW: The Clone Wars than they are in Episodes I-III.

4. Yes, the opening line is a reference to Episode VII.

EDIT - I just realized that some of my formatting (mainly breaks between sections within the chapters) was erased/altered. The problem should be fixed, and things should be much easier to read.