Kat' Kotor Retell Chapter 4 aka Strangers in a strange town

Clink.

A sudden noise and the man's hazel eyes shot open, senses instantly on alert and straining to locate the source of the noise. A dull pain started throbbing in his neck and shoulders as he glanced around at his unfamiliar surroundings.

He found himself sitting upright in a worn out armchair, in a room that was dusty and dingy from lack of use. His booted feet were propped up on a low table, and he found that his hand had instinctively sought the grip of one of his blasters. Seeing no enemy present, he forced his arm to relax and loosen it's grip on the weapon.

He let out a slow breath, giving his sleep deprived brain time to process the events of the last few days.

The battle aboard the Endar Spire, the escape from the ship moments before it's destruction. The crash landing of the escape pod on the planet's surface, right smack dab in the middle of the huge, vibrant city-state of Taris.

He remembered struggling out of the smoking, burning pod. Grabbing up what supplies he could locate quickly, and lifting his injured comrade out and dragging her away just before the engine finally blew up. He hadn't looked back, just scooped up the unconscious form in his arms and headed off into the shadows of the sleeping city. If the crash hadn't brought out official notice, then the resulting explosion definitely would.

He had managed to locate this abandoned apartment, breaking into the sealed door by splicing the controls and shut them inside without running into any curious onlookers. And just in time, he had found out scant minutes later.

After he had tended to his companion's wounds to the best of his ability, he had looked out the windows to see the patrols of Sith landing in droves, spreading out through the city and taking over with a ruthless efficiency. Patrols were criss crossing the city, accosting citizens and pulling many in for questioning. He had no doubt what it was the Sith were looking for.

The same thing he should be out there looking for. Bastila.

The Jedi should have hit planet side a good hour before him. He had watched the pod's descent to make sure it made it to the planet's atmosphere before the Sith shot it out of space.

Like they tried to do to the pod that carried him and his last minute comrade, the last two surviving members of the Endar Spire's crew.

He looked over at the inert form laying on the single bed in the apartment. She lay motionless now, a brief lull in between the periods of what appeared to be horrific nightmares that would have her thrashing and moaning words in what must have been her native tongue. Probably born of delirium from the head injury she sustained when the Sith fired on their life pod.

In fact, she lay so still it was hard to tell if she was still breathing or not.

A cold fear gripped his chest at the thought, and he found himself moving over to the bedside almost without realizing it. From closer up, he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest. Putting a hand a few inches over her mouth, he could feel slow, shallow breaths escaping her slightly parted lips.

He let out a breath he hadn't been conscious of holding, forcing his body to relax with the knowledge that she was still with him amongst the living. He sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

He had tended her wounds as best he could, using up the med packs he had scrounged from the life pod before it exploded. But still, she had remained unconscious for about three days now, as best he could reckon it. It was getting hard to keep track of time.

He had stood guard over her since the crash, only catching moments of sleep here and there when his exhausted body would doze off, only to awaken at the slightest sound.

He had thought about going for supplies, or trying to find a medic or doctor that he could convince or force to help treat his wounded companion. He had paced up and down, doubt gnawing at him in the darkened room about whether he should stay to tend to her or go in search of help, or for Bastila, who's rare Jedi gifts made her crucial to the war effort against the Sith.

But he had found out from observations that the Sith were patrolling the city, sweeping all the buildings in search of survivors of the battle overhead.

As important as Bastila was to the war effort, Carth couldn't bring himself to chance leaving a helpless woman to possible discovery by a team of Sith soldiers. He was far too familiar with what they would do if they found her. And the fact that she was unconscious and helpless would only drive their depravity to darker depths.

So he paced, or cleaned his weapons, or occasionally showered in the fresher that he had cleaned enough to be usable. And occasionally, he would doze off for minutes at a time until time seemed to blur and become a haze across his mind.

Not that the situation was all that new to him. During the wars, and the dark years after, he had learned to thrive on little to no sleep. To keep his body going through any circumstances.

Sleep was often a double edged sword, because with it would come the inevitable nightmares of that awful morning on Telos, and the bloody years that have followed. Perhaps that's why the cries of his companion, as she thrashed about in frantic struggles with her unseen demons, affected him so.

He knew all too well what she was going through.

He had developed a routine over the last four years, as he devoted himself to what the admiralty called "fieldwork". When his body showed signs of the lack of sleep affecting him, dulling his senses and taking the edge of his skills, he would give himself brief rests.

During which time he would lock himself into his quarters on whatever base he found himself at with a few bottles of Corellian whiskey and drink himself into a stupor until he passed out. Then when he awoke a day or so later, he would take shower, take some stims to counter the effects of the alcohol, and head back out into the field, once he made sure the admiralty didn't have new orders waiting for him that he needed to see to first.

At first his superiors questioned this, and there was much concern. A psych analyst had once told the admiralty that he should be retired from fieldwork, that he was a danger to himself.

But Commander Carth Onasi never failed at a mission, or disobeyed orders given to him. He followed his orders to the last letter, and never let his personal quest affect his performance or put anyone else in danger. Quite the opposite, his personal quest for vengeance and subsequent death count was doing wonders for the war effort and troop morale as the man's reputation grew.

The troops whispered stories and the Sith grew nervous. The admiralty was pleased. Carth was handed an all purpose get out of jail free clearance and local headquarters were told to turn a blind eye to his sometimes questionable use of force against sith forces and spies.

His fame grew even as he tried harder and harder to slip into the obscurity that he would have preferred.

And yet still, the nightmares came. No amount of deaths could erase those horrible images that awaited him in the depths of night.

A low moan from the nearby bed interrupted his dark thoughts and he looked down to see a dark green gaze staring up at him with a look of confusion and fear....

The air itself thrummed with power, swirling around her limbs like shadowy smoke.

It was disconcerting, like watching through another's eyes, as battle raged all around her. Figures came at her, swinging swords of brilliant light as she blocked and parried, striking them down one after another.

The pile of bodies grew, along with the power that surged through her limbs, it's song growing in her mind like the rising of the wind in a storm. She felt a strange, dark joy rising inside her with that power, carrying her higher and higher, making her oblivious to the minor wounds her opponents managed to inflict on her.

The harder they fought, the more effortless defeating them became, as the sensation of their deaths rushed through her like a drug, burning through her veins like liquid fire, even as their blood pooled at her feet.

Laughing in the sheer joy of the battle...

Her eyes shot open, the dim light flooding into her brain bringing a throbbing pain as it passed through into her conscious mind. She shivered, cold sweat standing out on her limbs as her mind raced frantically to grasp her surroundings.

Images raced through her mind, battle and smoke, an explosion, sudden pain...but the images that flashed were of two different places and times, as if she were two different people, or at least seeing two different sets of memories, somehow intertwined with frightening similarities.

Neither one, however, explained where she was now. And aside from those memories, her mind remained frighteningly blank.

She sensed another presence close by, and looked to the side to find the figure of a man sitting beside her in silence. A momentary feeling of fear gripped her at the sight, alarmed that she hadn't sensed him before.

Instinctively, she tried to pull farther away, causing pain to lance through her sluggish limbs. A low moan escaped her before she could silence her reaction, spots of light dancing before her eyes as dizziness swept her senses.

"Hey, take it easy," the man's low voice soothed calmly.

He sounded vaguely familiar. She reopened eyes that she had shut against the wave of dizziness and looked up to see a pair of hazel eyes watching her in concern.

" You were injured in the crash, and you've been unconscious for three days. So give yourself a moment to adjust, okay?"

Those eyes sent a spark of recognition through her brain. She knew this man... but... memories flooded her mind of a fight onboard a ship, he was shooting troopers that had been chasing her, they escaped together...then the explosion..

"Where..where are we?' her voice sounded strange to her ears, almost hoarse as if she had been screaming.

It hurt to speak, but then at the moment...everything hurt.

"Taris." he responded briefly, his eyes seemed to be watching the way hers were tracking with the light.

He reached a hand up to push the hair out of her eyes, and his touch was firm but surprisingly gentle. He was looking at her forehead in concern, and she reached up to feel a bandage that went across part of her brow.

His fingers brushed the back of her hand before grasping her wrist. It took her a moment to realize he was checking her pulse.

"Do you remember anything? Anything at all?"

She searched her mind, flashes of visions coming faster now. Some were coherent, but others seemed not to fit at all. She fought down a wave of panic, telling herself to calm down.

She had obviously hurt her head in the crash he mentioned, a reasonable explanation for her lack of memory at the moment.

"Not much." she croaked. "You....you're Carth, right? You helped me to escape. I remember a firefight, and an explosion."

"Yeah, we were the last two off the ship." he let go of her hand, seemingly satisfied and gave her an appraising look, as if weighing how much to tell her." The Sith fired on our escape pod, and you were injured. How do you feel?"

She considered the question.

"Like I've been caught in a stampede of rancors."

A brief smile twitched at his lips. He had a nice smile, if a bit melancholy.

'I'm not surprised. That was quite a crash.' he explained. 'Had me worried for a bit there. Glad to see you up and about.'

'Me too.' she responded, taking a moment to look down at herself and inspect the damage. Her nose twitched, sniffing deeply. 'Oh frak! I smell like a herd of rancors too!'

He chuckled a bit at that, looking relieved. 'I see your sense of humor is in one piece, lady. There's a fresher there that isn't too disgusting if you feel up to it.'

'I think I can manage,' she tried to raise herself up, then gave him a wry look.' Help me up, will you?'

He gripped her hand and gently pulled her upright, then helped her to her feet. He held her arms until he made sure her feet were steady underneath her. She glanced up at him, and saw he was very studiously trying to avoid looking at her scantily clad bosom. A mischievous smile twitched at her lips.

'My hero.' she whispered in a husky, teasing tone and was rewarded with a flush across his grim features.

Then she stepped out of his grasp and carefully crossed the apartment floor on slightly unsteady feet. She found the door of the fresher, poked her head in and wrinkled her nose in dismay.

Oh well, she thought. It will have to be an improvement. She didn't want to continue smelling and feeling the way she did at the moment.

She adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature, then began to disrobe. Moving was painful, and she was very stiff. She forced herself to complete the task, moving slowly but surely to get her muscles working again. Obviously lying around in bed for three days hadn't helped her much.

She stepped under the spray of water, sighing contentedly as her muscles relaxed under the warm pattering. Slowly she leaned her head back, feeling the muscles in her neck protest as the water streamed through her hair.

'So what's our situation boss?' she called out into the next room, after making sure the makeshift blanket Carth had obviously hung over the broken fresher stall door was pulled across enough to be modest. 'How about a de-briefing while I de-stink myself?'

She heard his footsteps come up to the doorway. A moment's hesitation as he peeked in, probably to make sure she was decent. She grinned to herself, mentally picturing the flush on his face earlier. He was cute, that one. Fun to tease.

'The Sith have taken over the planet, locked it down under martial law.' his low voice interrupted her daydream. 'No ships can land or leave the planet. Squads are searching the planet for Republic survivors. We have our work cut out for us.'

She grabbed up a sad looking remnant of what had been a bar of soap, trying to squeeze every bit of lather she could from it. 'That's not good news. What else should I know?'

'That I believe Bastila is still alive and missing on the planet somewhere.' he added.

Bastila. There was that name again. A chill ran up her spine and she shivered despite the warm water.

'Bastila?' she murmured aloud. A flash of image across her mind, a young woman with dark hair, neatly braided.....then a sudden memory of burning pain lancing through her abdomen. Her hands instinctively flew to cover the area, the bar of soap falling to the tile below.

A long, slender silver scar lay across her stomach just below the navel where the pain had been.

'Bastila. She was the Jedi knight that was in charge of this mission.' his voice sounded a bit confused, concerned even. ' She's the one who brought you along on the ship at the last moment.'

'Oh.' she stammered, tracing the scar with a finger. The feeling of unease grew inside her.' Of course.'

'She's crucial to the war effort. The Sith will be combing the planet to find her.' his voice took on a hint of urgency. 'I can't allow that to happen. I need to find her. And for that, I'm afraid I'm going to need your help.'

She hesitated, willing away the unease that had crept over her. It's obviously a bit of confusion from the head injury.

'I see. Any ideas where to start?'

'I've done a bit of asking around. ' he replied.' Spoke to a couple locals in the building here. Rumors are that some escaped pods crashed down in the Undercity. Dangerous place, full of outcasts, criminals and fearsome creatures. We won't want to rush down there unprepared.'

Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and pulled the bandage off her forehead. A slight whimper escaped her as the flesh burned when the water hit it. She carefully dabbed at it, trying to clean it and inspect the damage done with her fingers.

'We'd better scout out the planet topside first then. Get some information before we re-conn this Undercity.'

'My thoughts exactly.' he answered. She could hear a sense of relief in his voice and wondered at it.' I read your file. You speak a remarkable number of alien languages. That's really going to come in handy. Most of the lower areas of Taris are populated by alien races.'

A sudden desire ran through her to see that file. Maybe it would fill up some of the holes she still found in her own memory. She forced a smile on her face and peeked out from behind the curtain, giving him a coy glance.

'Oh really? What else does my file say about me?'

His face flushed again and he averted his eyes.'Umm well, not a lot. Just that you're a scout and you've spent the last few years out on the outer rim seeking out new hyperspace routes for the Republic. That's pretty rough work, lady.'

'It has it's moments,' she replied, wishing to hell she could remember enough about it to say for sure whether it truly did or not. 'Besides, I'm a tough customer, Commander.'

'But a lousy shot with a blaster.' he retorted with a soft chuckle.

It took her a moment to remember what he was referring to.' Hey buster....'

'The rest of that blanket is near the sink.' he cut off her threat.' You can use that to dry off when you finish beautifying yourself.'

She heard his footsteps disappearing into the next room. The smile slowly disappeared from her face. The lack of memory frightened her more then she was willing to let him know, to even let herself acknowledge. From the sounds of it, their situation was bleak enough without her falling apart too.

She turned off the water, wringing out her long, wet hair before stepping out of the stall. She found the remnant of the blanket Carth spoke of and wrapped it around her body. Turning to the sink, she wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked into it with a strange sense of hesitation.

The face that looked back at her seemed familiar alright, but there was a feeling as if she were looking at a holo from the past. There were lines around her eyes, a partially healed over cut on her forehead, and her skin seemed pale and drawn. Reaching up subconsciously, she ran her fingers over her features, as if reassuring herself she was real.

This was foolish. She was confused, that was all. Although, she recalled not being able to remember much before the escape pod crash. Back on the ship, when she had awoken to the battle. When Trask had rushed in....

Trask.

The images blazed into her mind of the horror of that moment, of the tall, dark monster that had killed him. The image of the dead officer, suspended in the air and transfixed on a light saber, his destroyed limbs littering the floor amongst the other broken and ruined corpses, the smell of burned flesh, congealed blood....

She stumbled backwards, sudden dizziness overwhelming her with a wave of nausea. She barely made it to the commode before her stomach emptied itself, retching violently. As if her body were trying to physically expel the reminders of that horrible sight, the haunting images that were seared in her mind.

Then she was aware of strong hands at her shoulders, lifting her gently from the ground and supporting her . Her knees were shaking violently, and she was aware of a burning moisture in her eyes. Tears. She was crying, and hadn't even realized it.

'Are you okay?' Carth asked anxiously, his hand smoothing her damp hair back from her face.' Come back to bed, Sarrin. It's probably too soon for you to be up.'

'No! No, I'm fine.' she wiped at her face with the backs of her fists. ' I just.....just remembered..'

'Remembered what?' he prompted, a look of concern etched in his features.

'Trask, how he died...the bodies..' she buried her face in her hands, shuddering from the horror.' Pieces of them everywhere. And that man...that monster...who killed them. Killed Trask. And I ...I should've...he was just a kid.'

He seemed to hesitate a moment, then slowly wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 'I know.'

She didn't answer. She just leaned against him, soaking up his strength and comfort until she felt her knees stop shaking. He said nothing, just held her and allowed her to get it out of her system. There was nothing he needed to say. She knew without being told that he understood exactly how she felt.

Finally, embarrassed about her reaction, she slowly pulled back, keeping her eyes lowered so as to not meet his gaze.

'I'm sorry. So far I've managed to be more of a nuisance then a help, haven't I' she murmured apologetically.

'Hey don't be sorry.' he responded sternly. 'Those things are hard for anyone to deal with. Reacting to it just means you haven't lost your humanity. And that's a good sign, Sarrin. I promise you.'

She raised her eyes to look at him. Something about what he said had struck a chord within her. You haven't lost your humanity...

A strange chill ran across her mind at the words.