Disclaimers: Everyone should be aware of this, but I don't own the rights to KotOR or its characters

Disclaimers: Everyone should be aware of this, but I don't own the rights to KotOR or its characters. No one should sue, because I make no money off this, gaining only some sense of satisfaction from the story as I believe it should be told.

That said, let it be made clear that I know my writing isn't perfect, nor do I expect it to be. I take pride in the fact that I'm trying to do as good a job as I can, though. I saw a lot of depth in KotOR that wasn't really explored, hence this story.

Now I know some of you like this sort of thing, character analysis, dialogue, thoughts, etc. and I also know that some people don't. I'm especially grateful to those of you who took the time to tell me one way or another. It's very difficult to know whether or not people are going to enjoy my work. I want people to enjoy what they take the time to read, after all. I'm a writer, but I also love to read, and I know how it feels to get both the bad and the good.

My point, in case anyone is wondering, is that I'm trying to write the best possible story I can while still holding true to my ideas and goals. And in order to do that I need to know what people think. So please, read and review. If you have reviewed, you have my thanks. I really do enjoy reading reviews.

Now... on with the show.

Dakari: The Real Story

Chapter 7: Under Sun, Sky, And Gaffi

As they stepped back outside into the harsh desert sun, Juhani gave the dark woman a quick look and stepped away, giving her and Bastila some semblance of privacy. She was grateful to the young Cathar, but that didn't stop her from being worried. With an internal sigh she approached Bastila, who, as always, pretended she didn't know what Alriah wanted.

"How can I help?" she asked distractedly, not really paying attention to the older woman. The scout shook her head, frustrated by how the woman tried so hard to be guarded and self-assured when she was really tearing herself apart mentally and emotionally.

"Do you want to talk?" Alriah asked simply, knowing she didn't need to say more.

"About my mother? I am unsure," Bastila replied slowly, her voice weary and frustrated, "I seem to find it difficult to remain objective when it comes to her. I find that... disturbing."

Disturbing was an understatement from the Deralian's point of view, but she wasn't about to say that. It would only cause trouble and perhaps make the woman close down on her again. Instead she focused on drawing her companion out with the same questions Bastila was asking herself.

"You don't think we should look for the holocron?"

"We have more important things to do," the younger Jedi replied sharply, then she saddened, her purple-gray eyes shining with suspicious wetness, along with more than a hint of bitter anger, "Still... my father is dead. Just because we find the holocron doesn't mean I have to give it to her."

There were many things Alriah could have said to that, but she kept them to herself. As she was now, Bastila wouldn't listen to warnings or cautions, nor would she tolerate being pressed on the subject, so instead she went back to her original questions.

"Why do you think she wants it so badly?"

This was something she was very curious about for herself, but she asked largely because she knew the question would bring up something Bastila was trying not to think about.

"Father recorded all his personal thoughts in that holocron even when I knew him. Having it would be like having him with you," the Jedi answered softly, and her companion's heart almost broke at the loneliness and sorrow in her voice, but then it was replaced by anger as Bastila added, "I don't see why she deserves it, however. She drove him to his death. I loved him... and I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye."

"You'd keep it for yourself?" she asked guardedly, trying not to make any judgments without all the information. It was hard, though, when the woman was acting so... childish.

"I don't know. Part of me would keep it just so she didn't get it," the young Sentinel replied with surprising honesty and a great deal of effort, "I don't like that part of me. I would have thought my Jedi training would have put me past this kind of pettiness. I wish... I really don't want to think about this. Please, let's just keep going."

Alriah considered complying, but she wasn't done with her questions, she decided to take the plea at face value and pretend she thought it'd meant that Bastila wanted to change the subject, not go on with their journey. It bothered her, though, that once again a Jedi expected something that wasn't really humanly possible. People had emotions and weaknesses, and yes, they were petty. Being a Jedi didn't change that. All it did, when a Padawan was trained correctly, was give them more ways to deal with it. Jedi were not a breed apart, for all that they liked to think they were.

"Why didn't you ask about her sickness?"

This was said very carefully and with as much neutrality as possible, but it was one of the questions that most disturbed Alriah. She knew Bastila hated her mother, but under that hate was love and a deep need for affection and approval. The woman had hidden those feelings away so deeply that she wasn't even aware of them, and there was little more dangerous to a person, especially a Jedi, than burying and resisting one's own emotions.

"I have my doubts as to whether she's actually sick," Bastila replied, too busy with her own thoughts, dark as they were, to really care about how and what she said, and that wasn't a good sign either. Knowing what her next question would be and honestly curious, the Sentinel shrugged slightly, the gesture completely overlooked by her companion.

"Why would she lie about it?"

"Mother used to lie about many things to get her way. She is a selfish woman who pushed my father into doing what she wished."

The stark response made alarms go off in her mind, but she couldn't quite decide which part of it bothered her the most. Regardless, she was starting to become afraid, though of what she didn't know yet. But she would find out soon, she sensed.

"You sound bitter," she observed, unable to keep a hint of warning from her voice. Bastila heard it and sighed, looking more shaken than anything else now.

"Yes, I... thought I had let go of that anger. All my training, and it comes back so quickly. I don't want to talk about this any more. Let's..."

She trailed off when Alriah shook her head, not letting her finish her plea this time. She had one more point to make before she could let this go.

"She certainly seemed to upset you."

She said this very deliberately, her black eyes meeting Bastila's purple-gray with purpose and intensity. The younger Jedi shook her head, but she didn't know what she was denying. Alriah did.

"I told you that my mother and I never got along. Obviously that has not changed. And now Father is dead. That... leaves a hurt inside, you just can't imagine. I haven't seen him in so long... I don't want to talk about this anymore. Let's... keep going."

This time the dark woman allowed it, signaling to Juhani, who rejoined them immediately. She was quiet as they walked, but she knew better than to deny the fact that she was angry. It wasn't so much that Bastila was denying what was happening within her own mind that upset her. It was that the Jedi had taught Bastila denial and avoidance rather than teaching her to cope. It was no wonder more Jedi were turning to the dark side. They were taking children who didn't know how to face life yet and demanding more of them than they could ever give, and in the process they never learned to face and live life. They were taught to live outside of life, and that was deadly to the spirit.

'This is not what the Force is for!' she growled inwardly, 'It is not a way to become superior to the rest of the galaxy!'

Despite her internal railing she remembered something someone had suggested and headed for the nearby droid shop. Her dark gaze was drawn instantly to a red droid of a design her mind tried, and failed, to tell her she wasn't familiar with. But she did know, just as surely as she knew that if she tried to think about it she would be knocked unconscious with pain from the barrier in her mind. Another surge of anger flared under her skin, but with a sigh she released it, knowing better than to dwell on what she had no control over. She wasn't strong enough alone to fight the barrier, because it was in her mind. It weakened her, and if she tried too hard, she knew, it could kill her. Alriah wasn't so vain as to think this mission would fail without her, but she did sense that it could go very wrong if any one of them faltered.

'And there is not enough time...'

She didn't know how she knew, but she did. Shaking herself free of her reverie and refusing to consciously think about how she knew the droid, she approached it, amused and mildly irritated by its mannerisms and quirks. Deciding that his claim to speak the Sand People's language was valid, she turned her attention to Yuka Laka, the shopkeeper, to ask the Ithorian what he knew of the unusual HK-47. When his responses were vague and incomplete enough to bother her, she asked him to clarify. The alien shrugged, as much as Ithorians could, looking at her a touch worriedly, as if he knew his chances of selling the droid were going down.

"The unit has been a little uncooperative. They get that way when they go too long without a memory wipe," he answered dismissively, but all three Jedi were aware of his increasing anxiety.

"And if the unit proves even more 'uncooperative' once we purchase it?" Bastila asked sharply, catching the alien's fear and latching on to it with all the intensity of a hunting kath hound. The Ithorian shrugged again, but his bulging eyes were fearful. He could see his chance at credits slipping away, and Alriah was almost amused. She liked Ithorians as a rule, in part because they weren't the best at being greedy.

"You can leave it alone if you find its mannerisms amusing. It might be a little eccentric, but it's stable," he commented, not really answering the question. Alriah laughed to herself, silencing Bastila with an upraised hand so she could start negotiating for the droid. She talked the Ithorian down to 2500 credits from 4000, and while she knew she could threaten him into giving her HK for less, she wasn't about to actually do it. She was a Jedi. Beyond that, well... unless she had to, she preferred not to fight. She had the money after some careful saving, so the droid was soon traveling along with them while Juhani went back to the ship. She talked to him briefly, getting more than her fill of his views on "organic meatbags" and his feelings about being owned by one. After determining that arguing with him was useless she simply sighed and walked on, knowing he'd follow. She noticed a Jawa standing near the gate, but unlike others she'd seen, who had been working or wandering aimlessly, this one stood with purpose, and his glowing yellow eyes were fixed on her. As she approached the little being stirred, looking up at her. She would have kneeled to be even with him, but she had the sense it would offend him.

"You there, of your kind, can you help Iziz of Jawa? There are troubles from the ghosts among the sands," the Jawa, Iziz apparently, said in a voice that was barely comprehensible even to her trained mind.

"Could you be clearer?" she asked carefully, trying to be diplomatic, especially since she wasn't especially familiar with these people and she didn't know what would be considered offensive, "I'm having trouble understanding you."

"It is doubtful he can be clearer. Their language is difficult even for droids. He is using a trade language to try and help," HK remarked from her side, and she noticed his blaster rifle seemed to be shifting almost restlessly in his mechanical arms.

"The trouble is yours, not of Jawa," Iziz cut in, sounding slightly annoyed now, "We must use a language of trade because you listen complicated to what we say simply."

That she understood and agreed with.

"Why wouldn't I understand your true language?" she asked curiously. She knew she was naturally gifted with alien languages, and the Force enhanced that gift. It was unusual, though not unheard of, for a language to be incomprehensible to her.

"That is not a problem for Jawa to have for you. You have the ears that do not listen," Iziz replied somewhat sharply. She smiled wryly, understanding his ire. Humans and several other races had well-earned reputations for not being the best listeners, nor the most tolerant of others views or needs.

"What is it you want, Jawa?" she asked, her tone taking any sting out of the words. He nodded, straightening to his full height, short as that was.

"Iziz I am. Leader of the tribe that is mine. You are the same in kind, a leader that stands before your tribe?" he waited for her to nod, then went on, "There are troubles that we have. The giants made of sand, they are horned ghosts that take us away."

"Giants made of sand... Sand People?" she asked reflectively, catching an image from his mind of looming shadows rising up out of the sand. No wonder he was so afraid of them if that's how they appeared to the Jawa.

"That is how you know them. Giants are different for us, we being smaller. People of Sand are who I mean."

She nodded, thinking through that. She liked that the Jawa knew the limitations and quirks of being small, and she liked that he could admit them without fear. He was small, and the Sand People were much larger. It was a simple fact to him.

"So, Iziz, what do you want me to do?" she asked simply, much more inclined to help the little alien. The more she listened and sensed of him, the more she wanted to find out how she could be of aid.

"There has been no help given by asking the great group that digs with machines. Now Iziz asks you. I ask that you find us, and then bring away from the People of Sand. Then we will offer a trade with you. Long have we scavenged, among you and those that came before. We have things you will like for this service."

Again she hesitated before speaking. The "great group" would be Czerka, and she wasn't surprised to hear they hadn't been willing to help. Czerka looked after its own interests. "Find us" must mean find his people, the other Jawa. So his people had been captured, and Iziz wanted her to find a way to bring them back in exchange for goods or information that wouldn't be available otherwise.

"Why have they taken your people?" she asked, unable to completely suppress her curiosity. Iziz didn't seem to mind. If anything, it seemed like he had expected the question.

"We find things, and they use them. Jawas slaves, serving. They lead with the whip and gaffi," he explained, and she turned to look at her companions, wanting their input, or more specifically Bastila's. She wasn't sure if the younger Jedi was following all of this, but her comment reassured her.

"So these Jawas are scavengers who are enslaved by the Sand People? I think I am beginning to understand his plight."

"With the group that digs, we trade and are free. With People of Sand , we serve and die. We prefer you," Iziz went on quickly, probably seeing that they were considering his request seriously, and that she, at least, was inclined to agree.

"A few more questions, all right?" she requested, knowing she didn't have enough information just yet to go running out into the desert.

"Iziz answers hoping you will free the tribe that he holds."

She nodded, carefully thinking of information she wanted or needed. She didn't doubt the native knew much more about this world than the feckless Czerka corporation, and this might be her only chance to get it. She couldn't help Iziz if she was ignorant, after all.

"Tell me about 'those that came before.'"

The little being shifted, slightly, and had he been human Alriah might have thought he was rolling his eyes.

"You stand on Anchorhead, a place named and named again. You come to dig, but it was already dug. Settled over and over. Also long ago, ships fell after battles above. Now we scavenge and find the pieces."

"It could be that this Jawa know things about this planet's history that the Republic has no inkling of," Bastila remarked, sounding a bit disturbed at the prospect. She wondered why members of the Republic always seemed to be forgetting that there was a great deal that was unknown, and that the natives of these worlds would always know more than a mere visitor. It made perfect sense to her, but so many others couldn't see that.

"You dig ore and dirt. In time from now, we will dig you, just like digging those that came before," Iziz commented, briefly fixing his glowing eyes on Bastila before turning back to her, awaiting her next question, or her decision.

"I'm looking for something called a Star Map. Can you help?" she asked, choosing not to say anything about that last, or to comment on how much the idea seemed to bother her companion. One day she'd learn that there was a natural order to things, and Jedi or not, she was part of it.

"These are things I know!" the Jawa leader exclaimed, his voice becoming almost incoherent in his excitement at finding he knew something about what they searched for, "Yes! From those that came before, the guide to lights far and away. I can tell you! Please, first help the tribe of Iziz among the People of Sand, and we will trade what we each need."

She smiled at that, amused by his reaction. She would have helped him anyway, but now that she knew he could direct them to the Star Map, she had a way of convincing the others to go along with it.

"Tell me where your people are. Maybe I'll help."

Alriah wished she could be more definite, but she wasn't in the practice of making promises she might not be able to keep. If she could find the place and free his people, she would. She just wouldn't commit to it until she knew she could keep her word.

"People of the Sand in the sand. There is a place in the far south where they live. The approach holds great fighting. Bring the tribe from in to out and there will be payment in trade and thanks."

The reply was straightforward enough, if not especially informative, but she appreciated both the information and the oblique warning.

"I'll check it out when I leave the city," she assured the little being gently, "Goodbye."

"Iziz hope you have the luck you need," the Jawa leader answered, apparently aware that she really did want to help him. She spoke briefly with the gate guard, who simply asked for her hunting license and let her through, though not without a glance toward Iziz. Just outside the gate was a woman she didn't recognize, and she approached her very cautiously, sensing a great deal of vindictive malice around her.

"Hello there. You're heading out to the desert? You're a hunter, right? You must be if you've been allowed to leave Anchorhead." the woman, who she sensed was named Marlena, called, then rushed on before she could say anything in response, "When you see Tanis, and I know you know him, tell him his wife hopes he enjoys the anniversary gift."

"Um, all right? What if he has a message for you?" she asked guardedly, trying to remember if she knew a Tanis. Then she recalled the annoying, flirtatious hunter from the lodge and sighed inwardly. Clearly his ways had gotten him in trouble with his wife.

"Oh, I'll be long gone soon enough. The next shuttle to... anywhere, really. I've had it with cleaning up his messes, repairing his droids," she replied coldly, and once again the Deralian picked up a clear sense of malice and outrage, "If he lives, he can try and get by on his own. I doubt he'll last long with no one to listen to his lies.

"Why do you think I would know him?"

The question was largely from curiosity, but also from an instinctive desire to keep the woman talking. Maybe she could get some information from her, or at least find out what she'd done to her husband.

"Don't play dumb. You're just another of his playthings down at that "hunting" club. I know your type through and through," Marlena retorted sharply, and it took a great effort not to burst out laughing, "Well, he can do what he wants. He'll get what he deserves. I bought my own license just so I could see that he did."

Alriah gave the woman a long look, then remembered abruptly that she'd called whatever she was planning a 'gift.' This didn't sound like a gift that she'd want to ever receive.

"Anniversary gift? What are you talking about?" she asked, hoping Marlena would finally tell her just what she'd done.

"Just a little something to remember me by. Something that symbolizes our years together. Something that will blow up in his face. Of course, he'll never understand how appropriate it is. He can't talk his way out of this one. He's not smart enough."

The dark woman frowned, glancing over at Bastila, who nodded. They both sensed the darkness and rage about this woman, then, but unlike her companion, she knew better than to believe this was the dark side of the Force acting on the woman. It was simply the dark side of human nature.

"You sound like you're planning to kill him," she remarked bluntly, and Marlena laughed.

"Oh, I'm through planning. I just left him a little mess that he has to take care of. If he's smart, he'll be just fine. But he's not smart," she replied, her voice cold and full of hate and vengeance. She wasn't going to tell them what she'd done, and Alriah sighed inwardly. It would be a delay, but they could hardly leave a man in the desert knowing he was going to be killed. Sometimes she disliked being duty-bound to be helpful and protect lives.

"I have to go," she stated hesitantly, and the woman fixed her with a vicious smile.

"I'm sure you do," she murmured giving her a once-over that made her feel a little dirty, "Like I said, when you see him, tell him his wife Marlena says hello."

The woman jogged off, leaving the two Jedi and the droid alone in the sand. With a mental shrug Alriah started into the dune sea, following her instincts and the Czerka markers. Before long she could make out the form of a man surrounded by four specks, as well as a cry on the wind.

"Anyone out there...? Could you help? I seem to be... ahh... doomed!"

'Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?' the Sentinel asked herself, then shook her head and walked up to Tanis, surprised and a little amused to see his droids surrounding him, clearly on the fritz. She half-listened to his greeting, asking what the trouble was as soon as he gave her a chance.

"The wife put a kink in my battle droids." he explained, looking hurt and annoyed, "They're in some sort of discharge loop, and if I move from this spot, they're threatening to blow up. She knew I wouldn't know how to fix them. Could you try to do some repairs? They don't care if you move. It's just me who's stuck."

He gave her a long look similar to the one his wife had given her, and once again Alriah found herself feeling dirty. She shivered inwardly, shaking off the feeling, but not before Bastila had sensed it. Her eyes darkened, and she glared at Tanis, looking ready to throttle him herself.

"I say we leave him," she declared calmly, an edge of jealousy audible in her voice to the trained listener. Tanis didn't seem to notice, but the older Jedi certainly did, and she was both touched and a little concerned by her friend's behavior.

"You're pretty heartless for such a pretty lady, you know?" the dark man pointed out, and Alriah almost fell over laughing. Bastila just continued to glare, then looked over at the taller Sentinel, her gaze very serious.

"I take it back. Let's congratulate his wife."

It took all her self-control not to burst then and there, and only HK's comment saved her from totally disgracing herself in front of the younger Padawan.

"I say we blast the meatbag and save you the trouble, master."

"What's with all the droids, lately? My wife get to you, too?" Tanis asked, noticing, as the other two humans did, the way his rifle was once again shifting restlessly in his arms.

"Negative. I just don't like organic meatbags. Except for the master, of course. Ha ha."

Alriah intervened, holding up a hand for silence and ignoring the 'victim's' comments entirely. She went from one droid to another, assessing the problems that had been caused by the "Slimeball Must Die" subscript. Each droid had a different error, and would self-destruct if the wrong programming was entered. She shrugged to herself, fixing each one with cautious ease, privately amused by the message Marlena had left behind for her husband. When she'd fixed the four battledroids, Tanis thanked her and made some comment about repair manuals before running back to Anchorhead, a rather distinctive scent wafting after him. He obviously hadn't learned anything, though, and that was almost a pity. She just hoped she wouldn't have to save him again.

'And the Force knows I would, for some reason...'

She laughed inwardly, amused by her thoughts. Sensing trouble elsewhere, she turned, finding a huge sandcrawler in the middle of the area. They were attacked by what could only have been sand people as they neared it, and she had to admit that the Jawa had been right. They were like ghosts. Even with the Force enhancing her senses she barely felt them in time to block their opening volley of blaster fire. HK returned fire with a will while she and Bastila focused on the two coming at them with raised gaffis. They were skilled enough with their weapons, she noted as she exchanged blows, but she and the other Jedi were better. Before her opponent knew what was happening she swung her off-hand saber down toward his head, then buried her yellow blade in his chest, watching him fall with a sense of shock that was almost hidden by his mask and robes. Bastila was already dispatching her enemy as well, so she turned to the one HK was still exchanging fire with. Using a trick she'd picked up from watching Juhani, she leapt across the intervening space, using the sun to blind the alien as she landed behind him, her short blade buried in his chest.

'Bastila, I want to take their gaffi sticks... and their robes.'

'Theirrobes? You want to disguise yourself as a sand warrior?'

'That's exactly what I'm going to do,' she answered calmly, 'but not until we're closer to their enclave, and further from Anchorhead. I don't want to have to kill anyone I don't have to.'

Bastila had to agree with that, but she was mildly annoyed to note that the woman seemed surprised. It wasn't as if she enjoyed killing, after all. They started toward the crawler again, finding two terrified miners and their supervisor there, terrified of another attack by the sand people. When a trio came rushing from the dunes, she had to agree they had good reason for their fear. The first set was the same type of warriors they'd faced before, but the next were hardier, more skilled, the elite of their people, she decided. Once again one stayed back to exchange fire with HK, but while the other two closed, they refused to fight separately. They fought back to back, making it much harder for the two Jedi.

'I'll distract them,' she told the other Sentinel in a mental whisper, 'You try to take one of them down.'

Before she could object, Alriah stepped in, forcing both sand people to attack her. She was faster than they were, but they were much better defended, and more than once only quick reflexes and instincts kept one of their two gaffi sticks from striking her head. Finally Bastila was able to slip behind one, and he was run through before he knew she was there. The distraction gave Alriah her chance, and she took it, sweeping one lightsaber up to knock the gaffi out of his hands while the other decapitated him neatly. HK had already finished the third, but the cries on the wind alerted them to more incoming. These were again different, and from what little she could sense of them, they were Holy Warriors, though what made them holy was anyone's guess.

'They're strong,' she warned her companion, then had to duck as all three ran straight at her, clearly recognizing that she was the leader here. In pure skill she outmatched any one of them, but as a group they crowded her so badly it was difficult to keep her blade up, and for her companions to attack them, for fear they'd hit her. She took some hard hits to her arms and torso, and while her armor protected her from the worst of it, she was left hurting and a bit slow. She heard the rush of a gaffi coming for her head and ducked, only to have the wind knocked out of her by another. She keeled over, then fell as something hard and heavy managed a glancing blow against her head.

'Alriah!'

The cry warned her of danger, and she rolled quickly, feeling her muscles complain at the strain. When she looked up again Bastila had speared two of the warriors, one on each blade of her saber. The last she killed with a quick up thrust of her longer blade, climbing to her feet as he lay dying in the sand.

'Alriah, are you hurt?!'

She glanced at the younger Jedi, raising a dark eyebrow before using her Healing ability. Bastila used hers as well, and thankfully the two Force powers were sufficient for her head to stop spinning and her stomach to feel less like vacating itself of any food she may have eaten lately. The miners approached and thanked them before running to Anchorhead, and she leaned back against the now abandoned crawler, following them with her senses to be sure they arrived safely. Once they were back in the town she straightened with a sigh, giving Bastila a weak smile.

'I'm alright, Bastila,' she assured her silently, 'I just wanted to be sure the miners would be safe. Come on. We still have a ways to go.'

The Jedi might have argued, but already she was straightening her armor and ensuring her lightsabers were secure. The dark woman knew the younger Jedi was worried and upset, but she also knew they couldn't stop. As they walked past the crawler, she heard a cry on the wind, but it felt wrong. Still, she turned toward it, striding through the dunes to a pile of wreckage, where they heard a woman calling for help. She knew no woman was there, but still she felt compelled to stay. There was life here, full of malice and anger, but also stupidity. She sensed the impending explosion as she approached and used the Force to push Bastila out of it's range, but so subtly their waiting enemies wouldn't notice.

'Alriah, what are you-'

The frag mine went off, throwing shrapnel in all directions. Instinctively the Sentinel covered her eyes against the objects and light, knowing full well she could protect herself with the Force but choosing not to. Her enemies wanted her to be weak and injured, and while the frag mine didn't actually do that much harm the blood on her face and hands would be convincing. When the Gamorreans jumped out of cover and threatened them for credits, she laughed inwardly. The aliens weren't the most intelligent in the galaxy anyway, but at least two of the three seemed to be completely disconnected from intelligent thought. The leader, however, was a little trickier, but careful persuasion soon had them walking away thinking themselves the winners. She sighed, grateful they hadn't had to fight them, but the pain from the shrapnel wounds was making itself known and already another trio of sand people was coming for them. These were elite warriors, she noticed, and they were better prepared for them this time. HK laid down cover fire, slowing their advance, giving her and Bastila a chance to engage them separately. The battle was over almost as soon as it had started, and they walked on, though Alriah was aware of the concern and fear nagging at Bastila. They reached a pathway into the deeper desert, but it was surrounded by both mines and sand people. The scout sighed wearily, feeling very old and tired just then.

'I can disable the mines, but not while they're standing there,' she commented silently, 'We need to kill them to get through.'

She knew Bastila wanted to say something then, but she didn't give her a chance. Instead, she ordered HK to fire, so of course he did. The droid took entirely too much pleasure from killing, she decided, and she wasn't entirely comfortable having him around, but she needed a translator, and he was it.

'Damn you.'

She smiled wryly, blocking an incoming blow from a gaffi while ducking under another one. She dropped and rolled as two warriors came at her, flipping her lightsabers in her hand and impaling them both as they collided. She put one in Stasis and threw her off-hand lightsaber, knocking away a gaffi aimed for Bastila's head. The younger Sentinel was fighting with two while HK was barely warding off another three, and she leapt up, coming down in front of the one attacking Bastila's back and killing him before running to clash with the droid's attackers. She could feel her companion coming to fight at her side, the droid a few steps away firing gleefully, but suddenly the battlefield vanished away, leaving her standing in nothingness. She felt a flash of fire, heard the distinctive crackle of a lightsaber, then there was nothing. She blinked once as sensation returned, feeling armor, cloth, and living flesh under her head and the burning sun beating down on her face. She meant to get up, but her body didn't seem to be under her control. After a minute or two had passed she realized why. She was having a seizure, and what was worse, she was completely aware of her surroundings and totally out of control herself. Alriah knew Bastila was holding her head down, keeping her from injuring herself further, and she also knew that the younger woman wasn't as strong as she was physically.

"No!NO!Don't you dare!"

It took a few moments for her to realize that her body was failing. Human's were so frail, she reflected absently. She considered just letting it be, letting everything fade to nothing, but something wouldn't let her. Bastila, specifically. The younger woman was holding her together on sheer will, and now she could sense that somehow one or more of the sand people must have gotten a blow to her head, incapacitating her. Bastila's lightsaber had cut the sand people down without mercy, if the state of their corpses was any indication, and something told her that should upset her, that it wasn't right.

"You're stronger than this, Alriah! Fight, damn you!"

She's right, a voice declared, breaking through the fog in her mind and revealing the bright figure, You are stronger. You cannot give up. Fight! You must not be defeated! You WILL not be defeated! FIGHT!

She couldn't ignore the two voices, no matter how badly some part of her welcomed death, almost as if it were an old, familiar companion.

Death was my lot, and I accepted it,the shadow told her as she struggled with that inner calling, But it is not your time. Rise, Alriah Dakari. The little one is calling. The Force is calling. The young one is calling. And you cannot turn them away, any more than I could.

She gathered her will, pushing away the urge to let death take her. The shadow was right. It wasn't her time. The song that was the Force told her as much, and it was incapable of lying. And she couldn't leave her.

'Bastila... Healing...' she managed to whisper silently, and the Padawan's trembling hands suddenly steadied and warmed. She could feel the woman's power flowing through her from those hands, and she took that strength and bent her will to combining it with her own. Light blinded her for a moment, then she was gasping as her body fell limp, the muscles relaxing and then becoming still. She rested for just a moment, content to lay staring at the brilliant blue sky, Bastila's hands in her hair, her head in her lap, then sighed and staggered to her feet. To her surprise HK-47 steadied her as she rose, and she got the impression that the droid didn't know why he'd done it, but if she were honest she was glad. She needed the help, and Bastila wasn't strong enough, since now that she was feeling better she could tell the younger Jedi was wounded too, though not severely. Once she was sure she was balanced she stepped away from the red machine, starting to work on the mines. She'd already let one blow up under her. She wasn't about to subject Bastila or herself to that experience again.

'You should be resting,' Bastila growled through their bond, 'Not retrieving explosives.'

The raven-haired Jedi chuckled to herself, aware her companion was right but also aware that there was no time for it just yet. Once they had the Star Map, maybe there would be, but not until then. Once the mines were safely stowed away they walked on, fighting their way through the large area of desert between them and the Sand People's enclave. As they went they found various corpses and more than a few mines for her to disable, and all the while she felt herself getting stronger, more connected to the Force. When they had neared the enclave and gone far enough that she doubted anyone else would be out here she had her companion don the robes of the Sand People, allowing them to walk unquestioned through the alien guards, right past the turrets at the gates, where the warrior standing there immediately recognized that they were not his people. HK-47 proved his worth then, translating and seeing to it that the guard took them to the chieftain of the tribe, who was suspicious, but willing to let her prove her intentions. After a few cautious questions, she found that they did indeed have the Jawas and they'd be willing to cut down on their raids, though not stop them, but only for moisture vaporators. After she agreed the chieftain had them escorted back outside, where she led them all back to Anchorhead.

'Where are we going to get vaporators?' Bastila asked as they approached the huge wall of the space port, 'From the Czerka? I doubt we could afford them, and Czerka won't like it. I agree that a peaceful resolution would be best, but...'

'I know,' Alriah answered, 'but I think I know who to ask.'

And she did. Greeta, the Czerka shopkeeper, agreed to sell her a set for three hundred credits, a price she could afford easily, even more so when she turned in the gaffi sticks they had collected. They returned to the enclave at a run, shocking both the guard and the Chieftain with their prompt return, and with the fact that they carried the vaporators. The chieftain handed over his gaffi and gave them permission to not only explore, but to take both Griff and the Jawas away with them. She gave the tribe the news, and they promised to return to Iziz. Before talking to Griff, though, she sent HK to summon Mission, who greeted her brother with enthusiasm at first, despite his attempts to lie to the Deralian about who he was. After finding out that Lena had been right about him, though, Mission was enraged, even more so when the Twi'lek asked for money from Alriah. She sighed inwardly, giving it to him for Mission's sake, because she knew Griff's little sister really did love him, despite her anger.

'That was kind of you, for all that he will likely waste the credits.'

She agreed, but it was the right thing to do. For now, though, she wanted to focus on the mission, and that meant going back to Iziz for the information he had promised. When they made the run back to the gate where he waited, he was almost even more incoherent in his pleasure at having his people returned safely, and gave her a map of the Eastern Dune Sea, where a cave housed an ancient device that could only be the Star Map. Iziz also warned her of the great beast that lived there, which she was grateful for. She hated going into things blind, and now she had much more information than she had before. Before she could start off toward the desert again, however, Bastila all but dragged her back to the Ebon Hawk, treating what wounds hadn't been already healed and commanding her to rest before storming off, mentally grumbling about stubborn foolishness.

'I can hear you, you know,' the dark-eyed Jedi commented, and she felt the younger woman start, then blush as she ducked away, putting a damper on her thoughts that really wasn't entirely effective. Deciding that maybe the other Sentinel might have a point about resting, though, she decided to spend some time talking to her companions, getting to know a little more about them. Canderous was ready with a story about fighting Revan in the War, and she was struck by the way he spoke of the woman who would become the Dark Lord. He had obviously admired and respected her, but there was something else in his tone, something that told her that if Revan were to resurface somehow, he would follow her to the ends of the universe without question. She left him feeling a bit disturbed by it all, reflecting on what Revan had been willing to do to win the War. Alriah remembered then how she had thought the necessity of Revan's actions evil, but was unsure about the fallen Jedi herself. Now she was even more unsure. She may have been the Dark Lord, but from her dreams she knew the woman had regretted and remembered every death. The ability to take responsibility, to recognize the consequences of one's actions, was rare, but Revan had always known what she was doing. With a sigh she decided to lay down, but as soon as she had closed her eyes she was thrown into another dream.

"Malak, hold still," the Dark Lord murmured softly, and Alriah realized they were in a medical bay of some sort and that the young man still had his jaw. She thought about the last vision, realizing with a start that one had been much later than this, shortly before Malak had turned on his master. This was near the beginning, and from the view out the windows they had just left Tatooine.

"Those damn Sand People..." the tall Sith muttered irritably, "Even the Force doesn't detect them until they're too close. Why?!"

"Because," Revan started to reply, forcing her larger apprentice down when he squirmed, "They are part of the desert. It's in them, in their blood, and they cannot help but blend into it. Can you blame them for taking advantage of it?"

"...No."

"Good. Now don't sulk and hold still!"

Malak chuckled, doing as he was ordered, and Alriah stepped closer, startled at the sound. She had heard it somewhere before, she was sure. Revan was examining him, using Force powers and technology both to heal injuries that had apparently been caused by both gaffi sticks and mines, but unlike the other interactions she'd seen between them they seemed relaxed and comfortable with one another, just two old friends talking about a battle. This was a side to them she hadn't seen up to now, but looking at them this way she could see why Malak would follow Revan so far.

"Where did you learn that guillotine trick of yours?" he asked, sounding amused, "You could have cut my head off if your aim had been off!"

Revan laughed, pulling his tunic out of the way to doctor a nasty gash on his back.

"My aim is never off, and you know it."

"Oh, but Revan," and now the young Sith's voice took on a pedantic, nasal tone, "You mustn't be so overconfident in your skills. One day that pride will lead you down the dark path! One day you will destroy everything! Now, go through the motions as I showed them to you, and DO NOT improvise! I am the master here, and you are disobedient and reckless!"

Again the Dark Lord laughed, poking her friend in the side with her scanning tool.

"Good old Master Jef. He always believed I would cut my own hand, or head, off one day," she remarked, then sobered, her tone weary and sad as she added, "And as it turns out, he was right in one way. I am destroying everything, Malak. I am the Dark Lord of the Sith, leader of a huge army that has, and will, kill countless people. He was right to fear me. Even Master Kavarr feared me, and he was one of the greatest weapon master's the Jedi ever had."

Malak sighed, sitting up and clasping his friend's arm.

"I know we are not as close as we once were, Revan," he remarked, he face serious and intent, "but I am still your friend. You are not alone in the killing, and I know you hate what we're doing, but would it better to just let things stay as they are? The Republic is corrupt. I know you well enough to be sure there's more to what you're doing than destroying it, but if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Just don't carry all those lives alone. I know they hurt you, even though you were that mask that hides you from everyone else."

Revan shrugged, touching her black and red mask absently.

"We're Sith now, Malak. We're not supposed to have regrets. If the dark Jedi knew, they would try to kill me, and eventually one of them might succeed. I can accept death, but not that way, not at the hands of some fool upstart who doesn't have an inkling of my plans."

Malak shook his head, his big hand wrapping around his friend's smaller one in a surprisingly tender gesture.

"The dark side is changing me," he observed quietly, looking earnest and sincere, "I know that, and I know that I am losing myself in it. Before long, you and I may not be friends, and I will be just one more upstart dark Jedi trying to kill you. When that happens, Revan, I want you to treat me as you would them. Until then, just remember that I will support you however I can. What I most want you to remember, though, and what I may not be able to tell you again, is that I do not think the Dark Side is to you what it is to most. You won't lose yourself in it like I am. I truly believe that."

The Dark Lord sighed, bowing her head as if it were too heavy to hold up.

"I feel myself changing, Malak, and I do not like where it is heading. Look at what I have done, and at who I was before all this. I know that I alone am responsible for my actions, but..."

"Another Sith would call you a coward and a fool, Revan," Malak remarked, rising and wrapping the shorter woman in his arms, "but not I. One day I might, and on that day you will know that I am lost. For today, however, I know you are far wiser than any Jedi or Sith alive. That is why you are the Dark Lord, perhaps the only one in history to be able to call on both the light and the dark so easily. You are more a gray Jedi than a dark one. So promise me, Revan, that you will not give up. Whatever you are doing, whatever you are seeking and hoping the Star Forge will allow you to destroy, you must not ever give up. You must not be defeated."

Alriah stared as Revan allowed herself to be held for just a moment, then shook her head and stepped back, and once again they were Master and Apprentice. The pact had been made, however, and she looked over Revan's shoulder, finding Bastila looking on in complete and utter confusion. As the dream faded they were left alone within the Force, each with her own racing thoughts.

"I never knew Malak and Revan managed to stay so close after the fall," the Deralian remarked finally, needing to speak to break the overwhelming cycle of racing thoughts, "From the other dreams I had gotten the impression that they had begun to hate one another early on."

"And if they were such good friends, how could Revan cut off his jaw later on?" Bastila demanded, trembling under the weight of her conflicting emotions. Alriah sighed, running a hand through her dark hair.

"He asked her to, Bastila," she explained softly, her tone conveying both her frustration and helplessness in the face of such an act, "He had fallen completely. She knew he was going to try to kill her, and he had wanted her to treat him as a Sith Master should treat an enemy. So she did. I understand that now. I just... I don't want to believe it, I suppose. Watching them like that, seeing how close they were, makes it hard to understand a great deal of what happened between them later."

Bastila nodded, and Alriah sighed inwardly when she sensed her companion had calmed somewhat. She didn't want to argue with her about this sort of thing again, and she was glad that the Talravin Jedi seemed to have learned not to assume that she condoned Revan's actions.

"Come along, Alriah," the braided woman murmured, her eyes fixed on where the two Sith had been standing, "I feel the Force has shown us what it will for now, and the lesson is learned. I only hope that the cycle doesn't end up being repeated."

Bastila disappeared, but she remained, sensing the shadow approaching her.

"It has already started."

It has. But you see now why they were so different. Malak drowned in the darkness, giving up the man he had been in exchange for greater power. His Master, who never sought blindly as he ended up doing, did not drown, just as he foresaw. The Force allowed him that chance, that moment, to do what he could. And he took it. Once he was a good man.

"I see that. And yet... it is clear he loved her. So why did he not fight?"

Malak knew his own nature too well. He could not resist the lure of the dark side, and he choose that path rather than the much harder road his Master took. I wished you to see this, because it was the last time he was truly himself. That man exists only as an echo and a memory now.

Alriah knew that to be true, just as she knew a great many things, but as was often the case she didn't dare think too deeply on the subject. Always that barrier waited, but she was learning now what triggered it. There would come a time, though, when that barrier would be shattered and she would know the truth.

And that day is coming, Alriah Dakari. And you know, as I do, that the little one fears and hopes for it.

"I do know," she answered softly, "and I share that with her. But it must come."

Very good. Go now. Be with your friends.

She woke up then, smiling gently at Bastila, who was leaning over her with a worried expression. She knew better than to address the dream with her right now, though, so she sat patiently while her friend examined her and declared her healed, if not exactly rested.

'I still think you need more sleep,' the younger Padawan remarked, her tone one of mixed concern and agitation, 'But for now this will have to do.'

Bastila walked out, leaving her to clean herself up. Once she felt a little less like a walking sand dune she left the dormitory and approached Juhani, who she had been worrying about for a while. When the Cathar greeted her, she smiled tiredly, knowing the Guardian could sense her weariness but was too polite to comment on it. In any case, they were all tired. The destruction of a planet was hard on anyone, but most of them had witnessed it, and Juhani was a Jedi. She would have felt it.

"Tell me more about your past," the Deralian coaxed gently, sincerely curious. Juhani had been reticent for a while, and she knew the younger woman was dwelling on something painful. Hopefully this would help take her mind off it.

"Well..." she started hesitantly, "I suppose I have not talked very much about the Jedi I met back home. They, all of them, were so very... invigorating."

"Invigorating?"

"There were so very alive," the cat woman explained, "So full of hope and energy and zeal. In retrospect I can see it was a little bit tragic..."

"Tragic?" she asked, a little surprised. Juhani nodded, looking past her at something or someone that seemed to exist only in memory now.

"Well... yes... these Jedi were going to fight the Mandalorians just after they had invaded. Many of those Jedi perished in the fighting. But to us, they seemed invincible, especially their leader, who they talked about all the time. Paragons of light and justice, sweeping away all iniquity before them. It was like looking at gods..."

Alriah frowned at that, wondering if the young Cathar was waxing poetic or being literal. She decided that perhaps she was being poetic, but just in case she wasn't she commented softly, "If that was the case, they seem to be misrepresenting themselves."

"I was merely using poetic license," the Cathar replied, sounding a touch embarrassed, but went on when the Sentinel gave her an understanding smile, conveying that she had thought as much, "Those Jedi... They were enthralling... Everyone wanted just to touch them. Some people thought it would bring them luck. Not that the peace they brought lasted very long..."

As the Guardian trailed off, the dark woman leaned in a little, sensing a wave of anger and sadness wash through her companion and wanting to alleviate it, but knowing she couldn't without knowing what had caused it. And of course asking would make it worse, at least initially, but at least Juhani would be able to get it out.

"What happened?"

"The Jedi left. The people grew complacent," the frustrated Jedi answered, her golden eyes seeing into the past, "Those who had been wronged saw their chance at revenge... and so the cycle continues. The oppressed became the new generation of oppressors. The human oppressed that is... The non-humans were never treated well in any case... We felt the brunt of both administrations..."

"Was it that bad?"

The question had been intended to provoke a reaction, and it did, though it was stronger than even Alriah had expected.

"Of course it was!" she spat, her voice dropping into an almost feline hiss, "They took their frustrations and hates out on us because the people they wanted had already fled or were too well protected. But no one looks out for the injustices we suffered! Oh, no!"

Juhani stopped herself from continuing to rant with a visible effort, shaking her head as if to clear it. The waves of emotion coming off her were still strong, but they were not so strained and felt less like the woman was ready to snap. Short though it had been, the words had released some of what she'd been bottling away, and that was what the Deralian cared about. Emotion was unavoidable, but what made it so dangerous to Jedi was the way they bottled it up until the smallest thing drew out every darkness and enlarged it.

"But... I am sorry, I should not have outbursts like that."

She shook her head and shrugged, feeling a surge of anger of her own. The Jedi Council may have been wise and even meant well, but they were destroying these young, talented Jedi with their teachings. Juhani and Bastila were prime examples of that, and she didn't know if there was anything she could do to show them that the teachings weren't meant to be taken quite so literally. After all, who was she to dispute the words of the Council?

"As long as you do not let your anger influence you."

"Don't you see?" Juhani retorted, all of her anger directed at herself now, "The very fact I mentioned it means it has its influence. Anger can lead to the dark side and I must be ever careful that I do not fall back into those ways."

The dark woman's expression must have given her away, because the Cathar suddenly relaxed somewhat, her fierce expression softening.

"I... I thank you for your support. My outburst was uncalled for, but you did not lash back at me. You are a much better Jedi than I, it would seem. But let us not speak more of this now. We should continue on our journey. Perhaps later we will talk again."

They would be doing that, Alriah decided as she strode away, calling the Guardian and Bastila to join her. She and Juhani had much to discuss, including her "fall" and its true source. She didn't doubt that Quatra had provoked the temperamental Cathar deliberately, but how was the real question. That needed to be answered, because it was festering inside her still, tormenting her until she was blinded by emotion. That was dangerous, but not as much as trying to fight or ignore it.

'You really believe that, don't you?' Bastila asked as they crossed the dune sea, heading for the area Iziz had marked for them, 'The Masters say that we must surpass our emotions, but I have seen that you do not do this, and yet you remain so strong in the Light. How?'

'I feel, Bastila, and I accept the fact that I must. To do otherwise would be to deny that I am a feeling being, and I cannot do that. No one can.'

The Padawan lapsed into silence, fascinated and frightened by the idea. In the Eastern dunes they passed several interesting desert creatures, dewbacks, as well as a small herd of Bantha. Outside the cave was Komad Fortuna, the Twi'lek hunter she had met in the lodge and thought worthy of respect. When his human companion yelled something about not waiting any longer and a dragon, she hurried forward, just in time to hear his dying screams. Komad shook his head, explaining that a Krayt dragon had taken up residence here, and he considered it a danger to Anchorhead. From what she sensed within the cave, Alriah had to agree. The beast was warped and enraged, like the kath hounds of Dantooine but on a much greater scale. He explained his plans and sent her off to lure some Bantha once she agreed to help, warning her reluctantly of the danger of sand people attacks. The warning turned out to be accurate, as they were attacked by a particularly vicious band about halfway back to the cave. The fodder she'd purchased back in the space port had come in handy after all, she mused as she fought, feeling her body responding much more quickly now that it was more rested. The Sand People were no match for three Jedi, and before long they had lured the great beasts close enough to the entrance of the cave to entice the dragon within.

'That thing is...'

There was no word for the great beast that came out, and as the trap was sprung and the mines exploded, Alriah grieved for its death. Such creatures were rare, and even though this one had been essentially destroyed even before the mines, it still felt wrong to have aided in its death. Komad seemed to agree, and handed over a very unusual pearl collected from the dragon, keeping another for himself. The Deralian accepted it and wished him well, watching him walk away with a bowed head and drooping head tails, staring at the gem in his hand. It wasn't a trophy to him, she realized, any more than it was to her. It was a reminder of what was wrong in the galaxy. With a mental shake she brought herself back to the present, reluctantly cutting the huge beast apart so they could enter its lair. The Star Map was clearly visible in the back, looking just as it had in the vision, but before approaching it some instinct told her to search the area. She found a couple of crystals, miscellaneous tools and equipment, and in one tattered pack, a slightly damaged holocron.

'Bastila?'

She handed the device over, and the Talravin girl gasped, tears springing to her purple-gray eyes as a shaky figure of a man appeared from it, speaking in a low, thoughtful voice. His daughter took after him, she decided, though she clearly got much of her disposition from her acidic mother.

'My father's holocron... he's really dead... I didn't want to believe it.'

'I'm so sorry.'

That was all she could say as grief washed over the younger Sentinel, and she looked helplessly at Juhani, who was watching them both with sad golden eyes.

'I know what it is to lose your parents,' the Cathar remarked silently, 'but now I see that perhaps it is worse to care for someone as they experience that loss and be able to do nothing.'

Alriah nodded, turning her black gaze back to Bastila, who had tucked the holocron away and was trying to gather herself so they could complete their mission here. By silent agreement they approached the Star Map, and it opened itself to reveal a similar map to the one they had seen before, but that didn't stop it from being both beautiful and disturbing.

"The Star Map. Even after all thousands of years it has been here, it still has tremendous power. Can you not feel it?" Juhani asked, her voice reflecting the emotions they were all experiencing. Bastila gave her a strange look, as if she was wondering if the Guardian wasn't being tempted by that power.

"The Star Map is an artifact of the dark side. The krayt dragon may have been drawn here by its dark power, only to be enslaved by it. Come. We should leave this place. There is nothing else for us here."

The Deralian met Juhani's eyes, shaking her head slightly to keep her from responding out loud.

'I know what you meant,' she assured her softly, 'And you are more right than Bastila. Some things get warped by exposure to the dark side, or even by the intentions of their makers, but the fact remains that nothing is inherently evil. The dragon was warped, yes, but not enslaved, and that is an important distinction. The dark side can enslave one's will, but it is far more likely to warp the mind until there is no need for enslavement. It is destruction, not tools, that the darkness craves.'

The Cathar took that in and found the statement both reasonable and accurate from what she had seen and experienced. They turned together and followed Bastila to the mouth of the cave, where the Sentinel gestured to the waiting air speeders and the various figures beside them. Calo Nord she recognized from Davik's estate, but the others, Aqualish and Rodians, seemed to be hired muscle. Calo said something about having a reputation to maintain, but she really didn't care about that. What she did care about was his mention of Malak. Regardless of who he worked for, he didn't want to kill him and his flunkies, but he wasn't giving her any choice. She was tired of death, but it seemed to be following her everywhere she went. And so was Revan's former friend. The question was why? Calo was targetingher, not Bastila.

'Alriah,' Juhani whispered, the faint strain of her mental voice telling her how much of an effort it was to connect with her like this, especially in the middle of battle, 'does this not strike you as odd? He mentioned Malak! Is he working for the Sith?'

'I don't know,' she answered, absent-mindedly blocking a spray of blaster bolts with her lightsabers, 'but I do feel he has been with the Dark Lord. But why would he be trying to kill me and not Bastila? She's the one important to the war effort...'

Juhani fell silent for a few moments, eliminating the last of the thugs along with the braided Sentinel while the dark woman focused on the bounty hunters.

'Perhaps Malak knows something the Jedi do not, or choose to ignore,' the cat-woman muttered, so quietly that if Alriah hadn't known she had to intentionally think at her in order for her to hear most of the time she would have wondered if she was meant to hear the comment.

'Or perhaps he realizes that Battle Meditation does not when wars alone,' Juhani went on, and this time she heard a touch of cold anger when the Guardian thought of Bastila. That worried her. There was some friction between the two Jedi, she knew, but she had hoped it would get better, not worse, with time and exposure to one another. Whatever the younger woman was holding in was related, she was sure, and as she drove her yellow blade through Calo Nord's throat, she sighed. It was bad enough they had to leave a trail of bodies behind them. Now she had to worry about conflicts within her party. She took the bounty hunters' gear and lead them back to the Ebon Hawk, determined to get some answers to at least some of her questions. First she approached Bastila, who was staring distracted at the holocron.

"How can I help?" she asked as Alriah walked up to her, and the dark-haired woman wondered why she always felt the need to say that.

"Do you want to talk?"

"About my mother? I am unsure. I seem to find it difficult to remain objective when it comes to her. I find that... disturbing."

The Deralian took a deep breath, trying to shake off her sense of deja vu. Then she realized it wasn't actually deja vu. Bastila had said that the last time she asked about her mother. She must have been very distracted to do that, or at least she hoped that's all it was.

"Are you going to give the holocron to her?" she inquired gently, putting aside her thoughts so she could focus on the smaller Jedi.

"Do you think I should?" the braided woman asked softly, unable to tear her eyes away from the small figure of her lost father.

"You might want to consider it," Alriah answered carefully, and this time Bastila looked up at her.

"That would just lead to another argument. How I always despised talking to her."

The dark-eyed Sentinel considered that carefully, unsure of what to say. Finally she settled for an honest, direct question that she hoped would get a direct answer, or at least would get her companion to really think about the issue.

"Do you need it more than she does?"

Bastila stared at her for a long moment, then bowed her head, staring at the holocron projection again. She could hear the noise of her thoughts in her head, chaotic, agitated, and distressed, but otherwise incoherent. Had she had less self-control she would have been overwhelmed, but instead she let the emotions take their course, something Bastila still would not allow of herself.

"I would like to keep something to remember Father as much as she would. I'll think about it," the younger Padawan answered finally, her mind still in an uproar, "I should... try and remember my training. I should be able to let go of this, but I can't. I don't want to talk about this any more. Lets... keep going."

Alriah wanted to say more but knew she shouldn't just yet. Instead she strode away, aware that Bastila needed to think on her own but wishing she could just hold the young woman and take her pain away. That, however, was not how life worked. Instead she went to the bridge where Carth stood, waiting for orders like a true soldier.

"Yes? What's on your mind?" he asked softly, not quite meeting her eyes. The Deralian shook her head and shrugged a little.

"Do you want to talk? You got pretty upset the last time we spoke."

"I, ahhh... I'm not very good at this," he mumbled uncertainly, radiating frustration and misery, "I... I know I owe you an apology. Uh... more than one, probably. I was just so desperate to finally face Saul directly in the battle over Taris, and now the Jedi have us looking for these... these Star Maps. I know this mission is important, it's just... I feel a bit useless. I can fight, sure, but I'm no Jedi... all this feels completely out of my league."

"Why don't you return to the front lines, then?"

The question was serious. He was clearly uncomfortable and miserable with them, and he was right. This was out of his league. She wasn't sure it was in hers either. She was a scout, and her place was always in flux. He was a soldier. If nothing else, he would always have something he could be a part of, something he was singularly good at.

"Because this is more important. This may really, finally, make a difference... I suppose even if I can't figure out everything that's going on, I still want to help if I can," he answered finally, looking helplessly at his hands as he added, "I just hate not knowing what's going on and feeling this... helpless. But I shouldn't have taken that out on you. I've been a royal pain in the backside, haven't I?"

"Don't worry about it, Carth."

"No, I do worry about it," he argued persistently, refusing to just let it drop, "I've traveled the lanes more than once, I should know better than this. So... I'm sorry. Will you accept my apology?"

She laughed, clapping him on the back. She was tired of the tension among her group and if forgiving him would settle at least some of it, she would. It wasn't as if she was particularly upset with him any way. In the scheme of things, his outburst was fairly minor.

"Only if you agree to work with me, for once."

It was the older man's turn to laugh when he realized she was teasing him.

"Done! Let's get underway, then, shall we... partner?"

They shook on it, and Alriah walked away feeling just a bit easier about the dynamic between them, at least. Bastila and Carth still didn't like each other, but Mission and the big soldier seemed to have settled things between them, and Juhani had apparently decided to largely ignore him. It wasn't good, but it was apparent that if she tried to make them like each other, which she would never do, it would just make things worse.

'I haven't had to work in conditions like this since...'

Her thought trailed off as she realized that as far as she could remember, she'd never really been part of a group like this. What little she could remember of her time before the Republic military and of her childhood told her that even when she had been part of a group, she had always been separate from it somehow, close to only one or two other people. In this group she was closest to Bastila and Juhani, but she cared for all of them, including the droids. She wasn't sure how to behave with that revelation, but something she sensed made her turn her thoughts from herself and back to the others, which was just as well. She wasn't used to spending much time contemplating her existence or past, and she was getting a headache.

"Yes? What is it?" Juhani asked, her voice a touch harsh as she approached.

"Is something wrong?" the Deralian asked softly, sensing that not only was something wrong, which wasn't new, the younger woman was ready to talk about it, which was.

"I... I have been bothered by something of late..."

That was something of an understatement, she felt, but she wasn't going to say that. Instead, she settled for keeping it simple.

"What is it?"

The Cathar's fierce eyes wouldn't meet hers, and that was never a good way to start a conversation.

"I never told you where I came from, did I? Where I grew up as a child? I suppose I was trying to deny what I was feeling."

"What?"

Now she was a little confused, but the picture was starting to come together. Had she been talking to Bastila she would have used the opportunity to tease her, but this wasn't the time, place, or woman to do that with. Juhani was deathly serious, and almost vibrating with tension and anger.

"I have been wrestling with my feelings inside. Trying to come to terms with it, but I find I cannot," the Guardian started, fixing blazing eyes on her, "I must have someone to blame! Someone to blame for the destruction of my home world. Someone who is responsible for the deaths of everyone I have ever known except those on Dantooine!"

Agony coursed through Alriah's body, both her own and what Juhani had been trying to bury, ignore, or restrain as long as she'd known her. This is what had pushed the young Cathar over the edge, this is what Quatra had provoked her with, and now she needed to face the consequences of the Jedi's "training."

"You mean..."

"Taris!" the girl spat violently, interrupting her, "It was Taris that the Sith destroyed to try to kill you and your precious Bastila! Taris, my home world!"

"I am sorry, Juhani. I did not know."

She could have said a lot of things, but that was all she would allow herself. Bringing up the subject of the purple-eyed prodigy would only enrage her further, and any attempt to placate her would be a mistake and detrimental in the long run. She wanted Juhani to get this out. An explosion of emotion only led to darkness if it was ignored or invalidated. She would not allow that. She cared far too much for the woman to watch her be destroyed by the "training" the Jedi Council and her beloved Master had given her.

"If it were not for you and Bastila, the Sith would have never had reason to destroy that world! It was your fault for being there, and your fault for rescuing Bastila! Without your intervention the Sith would have had no cause to lay waste to my childhood!" Juhani continued, oblivious to her thoughts, which was just as well.

"I..."

"Just let me vent my anger!" the Cathar hissed, just as she hoped she would, "I need someone to blame... something... anything! I hated that world, yet everything I learned as a child I learned there. It is as much a part of me as the air I breathe. I have this ache inside me where all my childhood memories lay, and I find your face there with them. If it were not for you, that world would still exist!"

Alriah bowed her head, letting the rage wash over and around her. Juhani was gasping at the unexpected release, and she looked up, meeting the golden eyes with her own black gaze, her expression understanding and pained.

"I am sorry, Juhani. There was no way to prevent it."

"I... I know..." the young Guardian answered softly, her body sagging visibly at the loss of the tension she'd been carrying around all this time, "I suppose I realized that. But it is so hard to lose your entire past. You would not understand."

Suddenly the Cathar stared at her, and Alriah's head started to pound. Juhani started to apologize, realizing that she'd said something very wrong, but the older Jedi wouldn't let her. They both knew that she had no past, really, though how she wasn't sure. It was just one of those things she didn't understand, and couldn't question without causing herself pain or worst.

"It will be alright, Juhani," the brunette assured her gently, and with so much understanding that tears sprang to the cat-woman's fierce eyes.

"Yes... Yes I suppose it will. As long as we remain focused on our task it will. I am sorry. I will try not to distract you in the future with my trivial experiences. We should stop for now."

She heard Mission and Zaalbar passing, arguing about something or other, but she wasn't about to be interrupted. She didn't want to be overheard, however, so she switched to a mental whisper, staring deep into Juhani's eyes.

'Your experiences are not trivial, not to me. And if they are a distraction, they are a worthwhile one,' she stated firmly, 'If you ever want to say anything to me, you have my leave and encouragement to do so. It is not evil to feel. It is evil to suppress and deny it. I know what you have been taught, but you are Cathar, and I am human. This may sound corrupt, but there is no such thing as "no emotion," but there can be peace. Please, Juhani. Try to trust me.'

The cat-woman sighed inwardly, reaching across the distance between them to embrace her, which her fear and the presence of others would not allow her to do physically.

'I do, and I thank you.'

With that settled, if only for the moment, she felt a bit better about heading back to the cantina to see Helena. Bastila came, of course, and so did Juhani, who seemed to take comfort in her presence.

"Back already? Have you even looked for the holocron, yet?" the aristocratic human demanded, her voice even harsher than it had been when they'd first met.

"I have the holocron, Mother," Bastila replied wearily, shaking her head, "I'm just not sure I want to give it to you."

"And why not? Would you deny me even that?" Helena demanded, trying to look indignant and hurt at the same time and not quite managing to balance them. There was no doubt in the dark woman's mind that she was indeed hurt, but she doubt it was for the reasons she was trying to portray.

"I've never denied you anything, Mother. You may think I don't remember what it was like before I left for the Order, but I do. You were the one who pushed Father to go on one treasure hunt after the other. You loved living in wealth. You think I don't remember the fights? You were eager to send me to the Jedi, even though I didn't want to go. You took Father away from me, and now this holocron is all I have of him."

Alriah was distinctly reminded of what she'd gone through with Juhani just a few minutes ago, and sighed. Was she destined to travel with damaged, hurt Jedi who had never been taught to cope with real life? 'No emotion' was all well and good, but it was not meant to be taken so literally! She cursed inwardly, forcing herself to pay attention to the older woman's response.

"Fool girl! You have a strange way of remembering things. That wasn't --"

'She protests too harshly,' the Cathar remarked from her side, quietly enough that Bastila remained oblivious to their conversation. Not that the Talravin Jedi was listening to them anyway, of course.

'Of course she does,' the Deralian replied, just as softly, 'She's so accustomed to either going through life like a Rancor and just ignoring everything in her way or lying her way through like a smuggler. Even if she's telling the truth, she doesn't know how to make that clear.'

"No, I don't wish to argue with you anymore, Mother," Bastila was saying when she refocused on the conversation happening in the outside world, "It's time we parted ways, now, for both our benefit."

"Maybe you should listen to what she has to say," she uttered softly, reminded her braided companion of her presence as well as gently nudging her to talk to her mother. Bastila could not live out her life burdened by this. One way or another, something had to be resolved, and she wouldn't waste this chance, even if Bastila was hell bent on doing so.

"You don't know her," the younger woman muttered, half miserable, half irritated, "My mother is notoriously deceptive when she wants something. Why should she have the holocron?"

'Bastila is... not being sensible.'

Alriah chuckled inwardly. That was an understatement, but she was proud of the tact the Guardian had just displayed.

"Is it too difficult to believe that I am a dying woman who simply wishes to see her dead husband one last time?" Helena retorted, oblivious to the exchange between the two Jedi.

"I find it difficult to believe anything you say, Mother," Bastila replied tiredly, and that at least the dark woman could understand. As she had already pointed out to Juhani, Helena was not accustomed to telling the truth, so even when she did it sounded like a lie.

"It sounds like you've already made up your mind," the brunette commented, her tone holding just the faintest hint of a reprimand. The younger Sentinel responded as if she'd been struck, looking back at her for just a moment as she sighed in frustrated exhaustion.

"You're right. It shames me, but I just... I find it difficult to... let go of the past," she remarked slowly, sounding as if the words were very difficult to say. She turned to her mother, shaking her head as she added, "I'm sorry, Mother."

Helena seemed to relax, and Alriah sensed that it was a mix of relief and hope that she could still get her way with her obstinate daughter.

"I was hard on you, dear. I wasn't a very good mother to you, I know that," she replied, her voice taking on what could almost have been sincere sadness and affection, "Your father loved you so. He wanted you to be just like him... he wanted to take you on his hunts, but I said they were too dangerous."

"Treasure hunting is a dangerous occupation," the dark-eyed Sentinel pointed out, again with a hint of reprimand in her voice.

"I always tried to keep him from the dangerous ones, but he would have none of it," Helena argued sternly, almost, but not quite, convincing the older Sentinel and the Guardian, "It was a reckless life we led, always moving... I didn't want that for you."

"So that's why you gave me to the Order?" Bastila asked, and to this Alriah said nothing, going so far as to block her thoughts from the other Padawan. She had her suspicions and doubts, but some parts of what Helena said she believed, and she didn't want to take away any chance of the two generations of Shan women making amends. The younger Jedi wanted to believe, and she certainly wasn't going to stop her.

"What do your father and I have to show for all those years of hunting? Nothing. That was no life for anyone, especially not someone as gifted as you."

The older woman frowned, shrugging as if to say there was nothing she could do.

"Your father... he spent all his last years trying to pay for my treatments. That's why he went for the pearls. I begged him not to, but..."

"Your treatments."

"I'm dying, Bastila. I did not lie about that. It's been a long time in the coming, and there's really nothing that can be done anymore. I told your father to let me go, but you know how he was. Stubborn. Like you."

Bastila trembled all over, looking more than ready to cry but refusing to allow herself the release.

"I'm so sorry, Mother. I don't know what to say," she finally managed, looking helplessly at Alriah, who stepped forward to lightly touch her arm, steadying her with the contact and with her own emotional stability.

"Keep the holocron, Bastila. It would do me good to know you have it. This... talking to you... this is what I really needed before I..."

Helena trailed off, as if unable to say the word, but she and Juhani knew it was also for effect. This woman never did anything for only one reason, and never selflessly, even when she meant it to be. That wasn't her fault, but it was still unpleasant to be around. Neither of them would comment on it and ruin the moment, though.

"I know, Mother. Thank you. I'm glad we talked too."

"Well, now. You said you had important business, and you were never one to mince words," the older woman said hurriedly, sound much like Bastila did when she was trying to get away from a subject that was too overwhelming and made her feel to exposed. She turned to Alriah, fixing her with an intense stare.

"You there... you take care of my daughter, you hear me?"

The Sentinel grinned at the blush that spread across her face, standing strong and sure under the intent gaze. She's seen worse and it wasn't as if she wouldn't do it anyway. Still, she couldn't resist the chance to tease just a little.

"As if she'd let me!" she replied, trying not to laugh at Bastila's expression.

"You make her let you. She's too much like her father in that respect." Helena answered, and that she believed. With a soft smile, she lightly squeezed the younger Sentinel's shoulder, her black eyes boring into the older human's.

"I'll do my best," she stated simply, and she meant it. Helena smiled too, then straightened, once again seeming to feel that she was entirely too exposed.

"That's good. I'll feel a lot better knowing there's someone to watch her."

"Where are you going to go?" Bastila asked as her mother started to turn away, making her turn around and shake her head, her eyes sad.

"It doesn't matter, dear. Don't you worry about me."

Once again Alriah glanced back at Juhani, who sighed. Neither of them believed it entirely, but they were bound to silence here.

'I wish this woman could be trusted, but let it be,' she told her cat-like companion. The Cathar shrugged, agreeing but mildly annoyed by it all. That was all right. She was too.

"Here. Take these 500 credits. It's all I have. Go to Coruscant and find a doctor. I'll meet you there after... after what I have to do."

'Had I known you wanted to give her money, Bastila...'

'I know. But this is something I have to do for myself.'

"But I already told you there's nothing that can --" Helena argued, once again unaware of what was going on in front of her face. Bastila shook her head, her face almost desperate.

"Please, take it. I... want to see you again. When we can talk."

Helena sighed heavily, but now it was more of an affectation than ever.

"Alright, I will. Now you do what you have to, Bastila. You go make your father and I proud."

"I'll try. Farewell, Mother."

The older woman left, and the two watching Jedi breathed twin sighs of silent relief. Neither had the patience for much more of Bastila's mother. Neither of them were fond of actors and liars.

'Is she really dying, Alriah?'

The dark human turned to her Cathar companion, black eyes hooded and full of shadows.

'Perhaps. It really depends on whether or not she chooses to live. Personally, horrible as it may sound, I think she prefers things this way. It makes her a martyr and gives her some sense of power over how she dies.'

She left Juhani to consider what she'd said, and why, and approached Bastila, who was staring at the doorway her mother had just left from.

"So do you feel better now?" she asked softly, giving nothing away in her voice. The Talravin prodigy sighed and nodded, turning to look up at her with warm eyes.

"Yes. That brought me a lot of peace. More than I thought it would have. Thank you for urging me towards it. After all my training, I would have thought it would have been easier. Apparently I still have much to learn."

They left the cantina and returned to the ship, done with their business on Tatooine, but Alriah was left feeling disturbed. It was true Bastila had gained some sense of peace, but it was a fragile thing, easily shattered. She shook her head sadly, laying down in one of the dormitories. She was tired, and her spirit hurt. On her own world they had a word for this feeling, and she snorted in amusement at the image of what the masters would look like if she said it in their presence.

Do not give up all hope, Alriah Dakari, the bright form whispered, sounding very far away just then, It is not time for despair.

'But that time is coming,' she answered calmly, without bitterness, 'And you are going to bear the brunt of it.'

Suddenly something shifted, and a new figure seemed to separate from the brilliant form, and now she understood something that had been nagging at her. The shadow approached then, and they stood together, one brilliant white, one grey, shining with an inner light until it was pure silver, dull in comparison to the light beside it, but no less beautiful for that. Behind them was the shadow, a blackness so complete it stood out from the darkness around it. Together they seemed to represent her past present and future, but she didn't know yet which was which. Before she could say anything, the light had absorbed the silver figure, and they were one again, as if that one had never been. So those two were still unclear and impossible to tell apart. That was interesting, but she was much too tired to think about it now, and her head was already starting to spin and pound.

Rest now, Alriah Dakari. The little one can wait a while. The young one and I are with you. We will hold back the dreams for now. Sleep while you can. You have much left to do.

'I always do.'