For the Republic: Part 21

The Reconstructed Memories of Serena Kae
(previously known as Serena Revan)

“This is no place for a child.”

His hands were gentle, and his eyes, the color of the sky, won her over immediately.

So trusting.

He took me away from my parents’ home at five-years-old. Our home, with the stench of decay flooding down from the upper rooms, the flies, the silence. The things that had somehow come to mean "home" in the two weeks I’d been alone.

Utterly alone.

The man, Loren, took me to an orphanage where I received food, shelter, and clothing. Most everything a child should need.

When I was sixteen, I left the orphanage, the beatings, and the groping, fumbling hands of my peers. I struck out on my own and ended up on Tatooine, won a ship in a swoop race, and fell into the service of the Hutts as a runner.

Six years later, I found myself abandoned by a mutinous crew, left behind on a job with too many risks and too little reward—the crew’s words. I was too impetuous, I suppose. Okay, headstrong, and, yeah, I knew it.

My luck finally ran out.

The job, as it turned out, had included stealing from the Jedi enclave on Mustafar. It was the Jedi who imprisoned and questioned me. In a rare moment of conscience—more likely, self-preservation—I told them everything and then some. I was truly astonished at my own honesty and, even more so, at the sudden turn of events, as I abruptly found herself signing on to work for them. The Jedi!

I was amassing a fortune doing their odd jobs, mostly spying and espionage. The war was going badly for them and it seemed even the upright pillars of morality weren’t above such pedestrian methods.

On that final mission—the last I can remember, at least—something had felt decidedly off. I was behind enemy lines, an operative on one of the Sith ships. The details still won’t come to me.

There was an explosion, and then…nothing.

~*~

Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Serena Kae awoke in a hospital room much like every other. A little nicer perhaps, but still obviously institutional. The windows were blocked by heavy drapes, but a slender bar of light managed to peek through, falling on the form of a young girl snoozing in a chair. Her body was folded in on itself, and there was no way she could be comfortable.

Also, there was someone—

“Serena…child?”

“Ah…I…” Her throat protested the unfamiliar feeling of speech.

“No. Do not speak.”

The girl in the chair rubbed her eyes and sat up, making a sour face at the stiffness of her body. When her eyes met Serena’s, they lit up, and she hopped somewhat clumsily from her seat. “Serena.”

“Eh…”

“Please, Bastila, calm yourself.”

“Yes, Master Vandar.”

Serena’s mind latched onto the name. Bastila. And the other person, a small, very tired looking alien. Vandar. Jedi.

Slowly, the haze about her mind began to lift.

She was in the Jedi hospital wing, not for the first time. The girl, Bastila, she knew her in passing. And Vandar, he gave her assignments. Yes, now she remembered.

“You have been injured. A head wound. If you find it difficult to remember…” Serena nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck. “Fear not; it is as expected.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but, still, words eluded her.

“Your voice will return with time.” He paused and motioned to Bastila. “Padawan, fetch water and the nurse, please.”

“Yes, Master.” The girl scurried from the room with a small bow.

When they were alone, Vandar continued, “Can you remember anything about your last mission?” She shook her head no. “Very well. Bastila has been assigned to assist in your recovery, along with your nurse. They will guide you through rehabilitation and retraining.”

At her inquisitive look, he smiled a bit sadly. “Your body has lain disused for two months. Along with your mind, it will need to be retrained to your former level of activity. Of course, you shall have access to our best facilities. For now, please rest. When they return, I am sure he will want to get started as soon as you are ready.”

Before she could ask who this he was, the Master Jedi was gone, leaving Serena alone with her thoughts. Watching the door for any sign of the girl and her water, Serena huffed a sigh, at once tired and frustrated. She needed to be training, not reclining, waiting for—

“Serena! Are you alright?” Bastila rushed to her side.

Serena’s eyes flew open. She hadn’t realized she had drifted off.

“Your nose is bleeding. Just a second.”

She became acutely aware of the trickle of blood on her upper lip just before the blond who had entered behind Bastila wiped it gently away with a cloth.

“My name is Mical. I have been your caretaker since your admission to this facility, though I believe this is your first lucid moment.” His smile set her at once at ease. He carried calmness like a mantle, and the warmth of it spread to those around him also with the practiced ease of a medic. Something about him screamed Jedi, though he hadn’t indicated that he was.

Serena offered him a weak smile of thanks before again closing her eyes.

“Bastila, I believe she may need another day to relax before rehabilitation can begin. I would like to bring her some books from the library. Is this permissible?”

“I shall inquire, of course.”

After a few silent moments, Serena listened to two sets of feet walk away and the door slide shut behind them.

She sat in quiet boredom, wondering what she should do next. What could she do? And then, Serena felt herself drifting back to sleep and accepted its blackness gladly.

~*~

When she awoke again, it was clearly dark outside. She glanced around the room, confirming that she was, indeed, alone, then noticed a stack of books on the low table beside the bed: A Brief History of Human Galactic Colonization, Comparative Mythology of Interplanetary Belief Systems, A Year of Swoop Bike Racing Statistics, Native Languages of the Inner Core, Revisiting the Twi’lek Plight. Randomly, she chose the book on languages, assuming she could probably bore herself back to sleep.

Three hours later, Serena found she knew more about native Corellian than she had ever wanted to know, but she couldn’t put it down. By the time Bastila returned, the sun was again breaking through the curtains and Serena had finished the book. In a gravelly voice she didn’t recognize, she greeted Bastila with “Khasaan'I.”

Smiling, the girl returned the greeting in Basic, and then sat beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

In the same rough voice, Serena deadpanned, “Great.”

“Oh, I see your sense of humor has returned, as well? Mical wants to work with you today—but first, he asked me to get you into the refresher.” Wrinkling her nose and holding out a hand, she added, “No offense. When you’re ready…”

With an enormous effort on both their parts, the young women managed to help Serena’s disused body out of bed and into the refresher. As Serena washed, Bastila talked. Serena learned that the girl had been visiting daily since the accident, stimulating neglected muscles and lessening the effects of atrophy. Even still, when the shower was over, Serena found herself grateful to fall back into bed.

And then Mical entered and shattered any illusions she might have had of getting some kind of rest.

“Come, now, Serena! Your body needs this. I promise to go easy on your first day.” His previously warming smile was only infuriating now, and the cheerfulness caused her temper to prickle with annoyance.

With a huff, she rolled out of bed and followed him, haltingly, down the corridor.

~*~

For three months, Mical frustrated her every attempt to sleep late, to slowly eat her breakfast, to dawdle, anything to delay the painful therapy for as long as possible.

Eventually Serena found her muscles were no longer stiff when she awoke. They no longer burned and screamed as she sat up in response to his dawn wakeups. In fact, she began to relish the early morning jog, the murderous calisthenics, the mind numbing meditations in impossible positions…

“That’s enough for today.”

“What? No way! I can still do twenty more, see?” She started her fourth round of sit-ups. Mical placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“Bastila will be pleased to know you are ready.”

Serena scrambled to her feet and peered at him, both hands on her hips. “Ready?”

“To continue your training.”

He started walking away and, as if on cue, the younger girl stepped into the fitness room.

“Is she really? That is excellent news.”

Serena arched a brow at the pair, both smiling mischievously.

“Serena,” Bastila began brightly, “today we shall start to retrain your reflexes.”

It took a moment for Serena’s mind to catch-up. “Weapon’s training?” A smart nod from Bastila had her by the Jedi’s side in three steps. “What? Blasters? Swords? I’m ready; let’s go!”

With an indulgent noise, Bastila led her charge through the spartan halls of the Jedi temple and into a dark, empty training room. Touching the lighting panel, Serena gasped at the sparring dummies, the gray mats on the floor, and the array of weaponry lining the walls. The room spoke to her in a primal way, beyond practice and training. It was like returning to port after a long voyage. It was like coming home.

Without prompting, she chose a practice blade and strode onto the mat.

“Serena!” She ignored the urgent near-panic in Bastila’s voice. “Wait! You won’t be training with blades. Blasters are—“

“Why?” Serena took a few practice swings and shivered at the euphoric feeling the movement sent flashing through her body.

“Well, you don’t actually remember ever using a blade, do you?” The girl’s worried fidgeting didn’t pass Serena’s notice, though Bastila was trying to hide it. In their time together, she had come to understand the many subtle nuances hidden within the girl’s posture.

Strangely, in that seemingly innocuous moment, Bastila appeared to be thoroughly alarmed.

With a sigh directed unquestionably at her friend, Serena lowered the weapon and thought about the odd remark. No, come to think of it, she didn’t recall ever using a sword before. Still, she couldn’t deny the innate feel of the blade in her hand.

“Bastila, I want to try it. I just…let me try?” Bastila looked toward the empty doorway. She glanced back at Serena, and then her gaze flitted back to the doorway again. She bit her lip and quirked a brow up in anxious indecision. It wasn’t something Serena was accustomed to seeing in any of Bastila’s expressions, and it didn’t suit her well. The thought of the righteous young Jedi actually considering breaking the rules, however, was what pressed her forward. “Hey, look, can it hurt to diversify a bit?” Serena flashed what she was beginning to learn was a very persuasive smile. “If I’m too terribly bad, we can just switch to blasters, okay?” She took another practice swing. It really felt as natural as walking, talking…breathing, and before she had long to contemplate, a second blade slammed into her own.

“Very well, Serena. But you should know that I do not approve, nor would Masters Vandar and Vrook.”

“I’ll take the blame, okay? Besides, I don’t think Vrook likes me very much, anyway.” She blocked Bastila’s blade with a deft move and spun, only to be blocked, herself.

“Perhaps…it is your…insistence on addressing him so…casually?” She parried only to find Serena’s sword meeting her own.

“Damn! I’m not bad, though, am I? Or are you just really horrible?” Bastila laughed and Serena stopped mid-swing, jumping back to dodge a well-placed slash of the blunt tip. “What’s so funny?”

“No. Indeed, Serena, it appears you are…a natural.” Bastila hesitated over the last word, but Serena didn’t pay it any attention as she was already preparing to attack again.

They continued for over an hour—thrusting, spinning, dodging—finding a rhythm, both thoroughly enjoying the challenge.

It was only afterward, when Serena hovered on the edge of sleep, that she wondered how she’d known. She couldn’t remember ever touching a sword in her life, and yet, it was as if her body had remembered.

Sleep came to her before she had time to ponder further.

~*~

Pulling ahead of the two Jedi, Serena taunted, “You guys are sloooow!” She sped off down the track, past windows that opened onto the sprawling city without, past the training machines with a wave to some of the regulars she’d come to recognize, past the viewscreens spouting a constant news feed. She caught up with Mical and Bastila on her second circuit, a sense of pride swelling in her chest as she recalled her progress. Seven months ago, she had needed help crawling out of bed. Now she had more stamina then either of her trainers.

“Don’t overdo it, Serena!” Mical called after her, but she was already speeding out of earshot. She waved again as she passed the other exercisers and came back around to the monitors.

A man—Is it a man?—leered at her from the screen. His piercing gaze caught and held her, freezing her feet in place. Serena felt a shiver roll through her body and hands balled unbidden into tight fists. If the commentator was speaking, she couldn’t hear it. The room behind her fell away, and it was only herself and the man on the screen before her. His disfigured face—half-human, half-metal—set every nerve on edge and instinct told her to run, to get away. But her feet remained planted to the track. She was falling, sinking, trapped, drowning—

The screen abruptly went blank, but for a moment longer those eyes remained, strangely brimming and empty at once. Angry. Flashing with madness.

“Serena, are you okay? Here, it is bleeding again.” The nosebleeds had continued through her training. She hadn’t even noticed the thick trickle this time.

Turning her gaze on Bastila, she smeared the bloody trail across the back of her hand and demanded, “Who was he?!”

Bastila looked away, then shrugged. “Who?”

“Dammit, Bastila, you know who! The man on the viewscreen! Who was he?” She knew she was raving and must sound delirious, but she needed to know. Anything to allay the sting behind her eyes and the racing of her heart.

Mical strolled up beside Bastila. “Darth Malak, commander of the Sith armies.” Serena wondered at the sharp look he received from Bastila for his candid disclosure. He continued, undeterred, “You were on one of his ships when you were injured.”

“Oh.” It made sense. He would trigger negative feelings if that were the case. “He…he’s so cold.”

“Yes. That is probably an apt description. Are you well enough to continue?”

“No, I…I think I’ll read now.” Softening her expression by force, Serena tried a smile. Bas, did you get me that book on Rim languages?” Bastila hated the nickname. The sour look on the girl’s face was priceless and lightened Serena’s mood considerably.

“Yes, it is in your room, Serena. Please don’t call me—“

“Fine. Bastila, care to go for a coffee later? I found a new place with Alderaanian choklat…”

The girl Jedi relented just a bit and smiled. “Of course.”

With a nod, Serena left the two and made her way back to her room. The books would be cold comfort—but an outing with Bastila, easily labeled as her best friend insofar as the Jedi would allow such a thing—gave her something to which she could look forward. Their conversations were always rewarding, and Serena hoped to learn more of the disturbing man, though she doubted Bastila would readily volunteer the information.

Rummaging around the room, she was pleased to find the Rim language book stacked along with another tome on fragile yellow pages entitled Ancient Languages of the Galaxy. Serena “hmph’d” to herself, curling up on the bed with a stiff, crinkled paper book. It smelled of dust and age and what she imagined were hundreds of hands and fingers passing over its brittle surface in years past. The pages spoke volumes in their stains and creases, and Serena took it all in with a gentle smile.

Bastila was a very good friend, indeed.

~*~

Jedi Council Chambers, Coruscant

It was after one year, nearly to the day, that Mical declared Serena rehabilitated and ready to return to active duty. They celebrated with a nice dinner of exotic fare and called it an early night; apparently, the Council wished to speak with their fully mended recruit in the morning.

As she entered the hall and stood before the Jedi Council, Serena couldn’t help but notice a few were missing. Vima, Solan, and Vash seemed to be off on various missions. It left six stoic masters sitting before her, staring, silent.

Calculating. Plotting? She couldn’t help but be wary. Jedi, Sith; two sides of the same +/- pazaak card. They were always hiding things from her, even now. Serena had caught glimpses of it during her training, and she hoped, finally, that she would be included in the big secret—whatever it might be.

Her hopes fell when Bastila entered the hall to stand beside her.

“Padawan Shan, Operative Kae, welcome. We have been informed of your full recovery, operative. Congratulations are in order.” Serena nearly smirked at Master Vrook. There was no warmth in his words. They were empty and detached. Somehow, she was reminded of the face she had seen some months earlier on the viewscreen. It, too, had radiated an emptiness that shook her to her core.

“You are both to be commended,” Master Vandar broke in, “However, the war continues. If you are ready, we have prepared a mission. Your task is to accompany Bastila as her bodyguard. You will take a place amongst the crew of the Endar Spire and escort Bastila to and from various negotiation proceedings. Understood?”

“If I may ask, where is our final destination?”

“No, you may not. That is highly classified information. For the most part, you will remain in hyperspace until Padawan Shan’s talents are needed.” Serena wondered at the word choice. Negotiation didn’t seem to be a talent Bastila should possess.

Vrook spoke up, his ever-present scowl deepening. “Padawan Shan, you know your part in this?”

“Yes, Master. I have already been briefed.”

“I haven’t, and I’d like to know what—“

“Operative Kae, if you please…The details are not for you to know. It is a standard escort mission, that is all. Until you reach your destination, you will blend in with the Endar Spire crew. There are concerns that a heavy escort will alert our enemies. You are not to bring attention to yourself. Do you understand?”

Of course, she understood. It didn’t mean she had to like it. Something felt wrong about this mission, about everything, but Serena’s mind refused to cooperate and sort out the problem.

Her eyes traced a black mark on the center stone, an odd round hole drilled into the small monument. The edges were smoothed and charred as if melted. She tried to remember seeing it before, as she’d been in the room often enough for briefings in the past.

Feeling another headache approaching as she examined the wound in the rock and thinking she’d likely waited long enough to effectively make her disdain known, she directed a curt nod at the masters and muttered, “Yes, I do.”

Vrook glared at her. “Then, you are dismissed, operative. Meet Padawan Shan at the main hangar in six hours.”

With a shallow bow, Serena turned on her heel and left the room, relieved to be moving away from the Jedi. They always seemed to see through her, to her very soul, and as Bastila had demonstrated regularly over the last year, it was quite possible they did.

Creepy.

~*~

Endar Spire, Republic Capital Ship

Aboard the Endar Spire, Serena tried everything not to be separated from her friend. She argued, whined, smiled, charmed. Nothing would change the arrangements and, finally, she stalked to her assigned room, smashed a hand into the opening mechanism, and stormed into the foyer.

“What the hell?! Who are you?”

A tall, blond man stood before her. He was grinning, a gesture decidedly at odd with his square jaw and military haircut. “Welcome. May I call you ‘Serena?’ Ensign Kae seems so formal.”

She was thrown for a moment before remembering her cover story that she was a transfer from another Republic ship. Taking control of her own expression, she stood up straight and tried not to look threatening. “Who…are…you? I wasn’t told I would have a roommate—particularly a male roommate.”

Something flashed behind the man’s eyes, but if anything, his grin brightened. “My apologies. I’m Trask, Trask Ulgo. I thought they would have mentioned it.”

Scowling, Serena crossed the room to drop her belongings beside the empty bunk. “No. No mention of any grinning fools, sorry.”

When she turned back to him, the grin was still plastered across his face. “Oh, come on. I’m told this smile can melt even the coldest heart. Must be loosin’ my touch.”

What the…? “You’re…odd.”

“Heh, makes two of us. Welcome to 2812. Make yourself at home.”

“O…kay…” The man’s smile was kind of nice, but something bugged her about him. He seemed almost too nice.

“Grub’s in a few hours. Better get you a shower if you want, ‘cause you’re up for guard duty after that.”

“Um, thanks.” She threw a glance at the room—closet—that apparently held the refresher. “It’s…”

“Oh, don’t worry. Why do you think they stuck a woman in my room?” He arched a brow watching the realization sink in. “I won’t peek, promise.” He saluted sloppily in a way that somehow put her mind at ease. With a glance over her shoulder, Serena slid into the smaller room, and the door closed behind her.

The warm water was just what she needed, washing away the hours of travel and tension. When she emerged in her towel, Trask looked away until she’d managed to don her new uniform.

When he turned back around, the look he gave her was neutral. “Looks good. Like a regular soldier, even.”

She started at that. He…

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows why you’re really here.” He clapped her on the back and winked. “Let’s get some dinner before shift, okay?”

Trask, as it turned out, was an excellent roommate. In time, they came to nurture a mutual deep-seated respect for one another. In the course of daily life aboard the Endar Spire, Serena would even have ventured to say he had become an excellent friend, as well.

Still, she missed Bastila, whom she rarely encountered onboard. Her even rarer visits to the Jedi quarters were discouraged, nearly forbidden, and she had been advised that they should not be seen together. Serena was a professional. She mostly obeyed.

“Trask, you gone yet?”

“No, I’m just on my way out.” He wandered into the room wearing one boot and carrying the other. “You look gorgeous! When I get off my shift, should I knock before entering?”

She watched him struggle into his boot and frowned slightly. “You know I don’t bring men here.” After a pause, she added, “You might try to steal them, after all.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she forced a laugh and then a smile, poking him in the arm. “I’ll be back before your shift ends, Trask. If not, come looking.” It was his rule, established not long after her arrival. On a ship full of hormonal young men and women, Trask had insisted on protecting her. Disregarding, of course, the fact that she could certainly protect herself.

“Fair enough. Have a good time.” The door slid closed behind him with a slow whoosh.

As she watched her reflection wearing the black sleeveless nothing Trask had called “gorgeous,” Serena smiled a genuine smile. It has been forever, and it’s not like Trask is of any use in that department, either. He might not be her type, but in her current mood, Serena certainly wished he preferred women.

Sighing and making a final check in the mirror, she brushed a hand through her wavy, black hair and decided, “Enough preening. Time to go.” She crossed her fingers against meeting Bastila while striding down the long corridor to the cantina. When it came to leisure, in particular, Bastila could be too Jedi for her own good.

It was smoky in the cantina. The din of second- and third-shifters rumbled at a dull roar, and everyone was drunk. Falling on their asses drunk, she sighed. Sidling up to the bar, she ordered water. Drunk wasn’t her goal; it never was.

She was sipping on her drink when she caught him watching her from two seats down. He was some Republic big-shot, no doubt. A good-looking Republic big-shot. Still, another guy who isn’t my type. Honestly, Serena had yet to find “her type” and, contrary to what Trask thought, she never went with any of the men she met in the cantina. They just weren’t the one she was looking for. The hole in her heart, in her memories, well…they’re just never the right one. The Jedi said her memories would return in time, but this one was persistent in staying lost.

Republic-big-shot scooted down two seats, sliding his own drink closer. “Hello, there.”

She gave him a warm, yet decidedly uninviting smile. “Hi.”

“Could I ask, is that water you’re drinking? Plain water?”

“Plain water.”

He grinned at her. “Would you believe you’re the only other person in here who isn’t drunk? I don’t know why I come down here, really.”

“I was just starting to wonder the same thing. I’m Serena, by the way, Serena Kae.”

“Carth Onasi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You mean—” She pulled his flight jacket toward her, examining his badges. “—Commander Carth Onasi. That puts you in charge around here, doesn’t it?” She couldn’t tell, but she thought he might have blushed in the dim light. He certainly didn’t say anything, so she kept talking. “I’m with Bastila’s group,” and before he could ask, she added, “I’m no Jedi.”

He visibly relaxed, and they continued talking, mostly inconsequential comments about the other patrons and life aboard the ship . Eventually, Serena jokingly pointed out that their conversation had been nothing but inane chatter, and his eyes turned distant. The sudden change took her completely by surprise, and she barely made out his response.

“Maybe we need small talk…” Drawing back for a moment, examining her eyes, he held out a hand. “I need to go, Serena, but it was nice meeting you. Can we get together again for more ‘inane chatter,’ maybe?”

Shaking the hand gently, she noted many calluses. He’d definitely seen some action with a blaster in his time. “I’m in Sector 5, 2812. Shouldn’t be too hard to pick up the holo, right?”

He managed a half-smile before backing away into the crowd and disappearing. After waiting a moment, gathering her wits, Serena, too, made her way through the throng of cantina patrons and back into the wide corridors of the Endar Spire. I must get some sleep. Maybe Bastila can help me again, use one of her mind tricks on me. I just need to get through a whole night without any nightmares. Instead of heading straight for her bunk, she turned abruptly, navigating toward the Jedi sector.

~*~

Sector 5, 2812; Kae/Ulgo Quarters

“More wine?” He tipped the bottle in her direction, and Serena smiled, nodding at the blond man and holding out her cup. With a little effort and maneuvering on both their parts, the glass was eventually refilled, and Trask sat down across from her.

“So. Ready? I’ll start” He moved his first piece, then folded his hands on the table in front of him and began their ritual. “I know you said you’re from Deralia. Where did you go after that?”

“Moved a lot. Mostly, Rim. Nar Shaddaa, Tatooine.” She advanced a piece from her own side of the dejarik board and grinned at Trask. “How is it you can drink like this, then go on-shift and not get thrown in a cell?”

It was Trask’s turn to smile. “These.” He held his hand out to her. On closer inspection, she saw three tan capsules nestled in the palm of his hand. “Immediately neutralize the effects of alcohol in the bloodstream.”

“Really? Can I have one?”

“Nope.” He closed his palm, snatching it back with an uncanny speed to which Serena had grown accustomed.

He shoulda been a kriffing Jedi!

“Besides, it’s not your turn to ask another question.” He glanced down at the board and nudged a piece forward, removed one of her pieces, and took a long swig of wine. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched, seemingly trying to move every muscle in his body one at a time. It was a languid, graceful movement, like the large cats she’d once seen once in the zoological center on Alderaan.

Tapping her finger on the edge of the table, she complained, “Quit stalling! It makes me nervous. What are you going to ask?”

“Um…hm…” The mischievous glint in his eye was unmistakable.

“Trask!”

“Fine. Which of the boys are you pining over lately? Seen anything you like?”

“Wh-what?! I don’t—I mean, there’s a few who—but they’re just nice to look at…I can’t…Persquez.” She thought the first hint of a blush must be rising on her cheeks. Damn Trask. “The dark-haired one from the armory…”

“Good one! He does have a sort of flare to him, doesn’t he?”

With a sigh, she moaned, “You mean, he’s…?”

He raised his hands innocently. “’Fraid so.”

“Have you—?”

“Unfortunately, he’s not really my type, but like you said, nice to look at.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Who else?”

“Well, there is…um…” She mumbled the rest under her breath, definitely aware that she was blushing.

“What was that? Speak up?” He was laughing at her, and Serena knew he’d never let it go if she didn’t just say it.

“It’s not like I have that kind of interest in him or anything, but…what about the Commander? He’s not bad, a bit quiet maybe, but—“

“No.”

The flat reply threw her. Trask was a man who loved to talk and took every opportunity to do so. Such a short answer begged the question, “What’s wrong with him? We’ve only spoken once, in the cantina, but I was hoping we might meet again.” When Trask failed to respond immediately, she added, “I did get a good look at him, and he didn’t appear to have three heads…”

Trask chuckled, but his expression remained stern. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just...stay away from his kind—“

“Kind?”

The blond’s brows rose, wrinkling his forehead and tightening his features. Trask was serious. “You know, tragic past, dark mood. He’s a good commander, but there’s a lot of baggage weighing him down.” He stood, slipping on his belt and threading a vibroblade into its holster. With a flourish, he gulped some more wine and popped a pill into his mouth.

“You just took it…with wine? The effects of which it’s about to negate?”

“Invaluable stuff.” He winked and headed toward the door. “We’ll continue later. I’m on shift.” With a wave, he disappeared into the corridor.

Trask… She shook her head at the man even though he wasn’t there to see.

With a stretch and a yawn, Serena pushed away from the table. Half-way to her bed, she stopped and slid the nearest window cover open. The pale blue streaks of hyperspace sped by, stars and planets completely unaware of the ship’s passing. We’re nothing compared to this. Serena felt a nostalgic tug in her chest. Her long confinement in the Jedi temple had done nothing to temper her craving to see more of the universe, to explore, learn, and understand.

“Hn.” She wasn’t really tired. Letting the shade slide back into place, Serena changed directions, and knelt by her footlocker, pulling out her pack and retrieving the book on ancient languages, picture codes, and deciphering techniques. She flopped onto the bed and stretched out on her stomach. “In an effort to quickly interpret the base pattern of a new dialect, it is vital to focus on the more common syllables. For example…”

~*~

Awakening to sirens and flashes of light was definitely not the ideal morning. When she realized the lights and sirens were partly in her head and corresponded to a throbbing pain in the back of her skull, Serena groaned and sat up.

Or, at least, she tried.

“Of all the fracking…” she muttered when the unfamiliar room began to spin and she slumped backward again. Where am I?

~*~

Jedi Quarters, Endar Spire

“Bastila, is everything okay?”

She wrung her hands in silence for long moments before finally answering with questions of her own. “Is she okay? She hasn’t exhibited any unusual behaviors?”

“No. I just finished testing her; if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was exactly what she believes she is.” He came to sit beside the padawan on the couch. “What’s going on? Trouble?”

“Yes…no…” She sighed, snorting derisively at own indecision. “Perhaps. It seems Malak may have become aware of our presence. My presence. It is reasonable to believe she has gone undetected.”

“If he sees her, he’ll—“

“—recognize her immediately. Yes, I know. It could be disastrous.” Her lips thinned as they pressed together in frustration. Trask was reminded of how young she was.

“Bastila, if Vrook trusted you to do the job, believe that you can do it. He may not be the most charismatic man, but he is a good judge of ability. Besides, I didn’t reach knight-status by sitting around in the temple; you’re not alone in this.” He smiled and stood, Bastila rising as well.

“I suppose you’re correct.” She bowed, worry still creasing her brow. “Thank you for coming by, Knight Ulgo.”

“Certainly. Keep me informed. Between the two of us, we’ll work something out.” With his own abbreviated bow, Trask hurried out and made his way toward his post, taking on the barest burst of speed to ensure his usual timely arrival.

It was during his shift that all hell broke loose. With a sudden lurch, the Endar Spire was pulled violently out of hyperspace and brought to a stop. Most of the crew found themselves tossed haphazardly to the floor, wondering what had happened. Then, the commander’s voice broke over the bridge comm system. “This is Commander Onasi. What’s going on?”

One of the officers near Trask found the comm on his damaged control panel and managed to get it working. “Looks like…interdictor field, sir. We’re dead in the water.”

A muttered, “Dammit,” escaped the comm before Onasi started issuing orders, finally assuring them, “I’ll be there in three.”

When the link fell dead, the officer turned to Trask and the pair started the delicate task of reassembling the damaged navigational computers.

~*~

Commander Carth Onasi’s Private Apartments

Carth didn’t like being woken half-way through the night. He didn’t particularly enjoy being nearly flung from his bed. And he sure as hell didn’t like waking up to find a ship like the Leviathan staring back at him from outside his window.

It was Saul’s ship, the replacement for Courageous. It was the ship that killed Morgana. It was probably the ship that killed Dustil, as well, or took him away from Telos. It was definitely the ship responsible for everything wrong in his life at the moment. For his even being there at all, instead of at home with his family. And the man—his mentor, his hero, hell, his surrogate father—responsible for all of it was somewhere on that vessel.

He shoved his sluggish body into the refresher for a cold thirty-second shower to shake the last remnants of sleep and emotional shock, strategies and contingency plans already playing out in his head. Saul wouldn’t let them get away. He’d board, take prisoners. The man had always seemed happiest with a brig full of enemies. True, at the time, they’d been Mandas and even Carth had rejoiced in their capture, but he didn’t doubt that some things never changed. For instance, the glint in Saul’s eye when he explained the necessity for yet another round of interrogations. Carth had always mistaken it for patriotism, pride in doing good work for the Republic, but in retrospect, he saw it for what it was: innate cruelty. With a disgusted growl, he headed out at a jog to toward the flight deck.

On the bridge, he discovered the full extent of the damage. The ship was held suspended immobile in the Leviathan’s tractor beam. The Leviathan was the pinnacle of pre-war Interdictor-class capital ships. There was no way to get free. It also meant there was no way to fight back.

“Status?! Where the hell are we?”

“Taris, and we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, Commander. Damage reported all over. Some kind of targeted ion-sonic mix, maybe—“

“Doesn’t matter how. We need to—“

“Commander! Computer indicates intruders at multiple points. They’re…they’re boarding already!”

“I didn’t think it’d end like this,” Carth mumbled under his breath before turning to address the flight crew. “We can’t do anything else here. I want this ship evac’d as fast as humanly possible. Got that?” The evacuation order filtered through the comm system immediately as members of the crew started dispersing. “You! Trask! You’re the liaison to the Jedi, right?” The blond man nodded. “Get them—Shan—off the ship. They’re priority, per Dodonna.”

“Yes, sir!” Trask made a smart salute and jogged out the door as Carth turned to continue issuing orders.

When the bridge was clear, the commander ran his hands over one of the last undamaged computers. “Access administrative level systems.”

The computer chimed back, “Identification?”

“Onasi, Carth. Commander. ID eleven-nineteen-o-three.”

“Passcode?”

“Dustil five two.”

“Identification confirmed.” The screen faded black, then lit up with the administrative input menu.

He typed quickly, gritting his teeth and ignoring the guilt that threatened to overtake him. At least half of his crew would die when the Spire self-destructed, but Admiral Dodonna’s orders were explicit: protect the Jedi entourage at all cost and keep the ship out of Sith hands.

With a growl of frustration, he entered the last codes and the self-destruct sequence activated. Saul’s so close… Carth was sure he could feel the man’s presence just across the empty space that separated their battleships. And yet, now was not the time. The voice repeated her orders in his head and he knew what had to be done.

Carth turned his back on the viewport, Karath, and revenge, and made a run for the escape pods.

~*~

Endar Spire, Jedi Quarters

Trask was flying down the corridors at a speed that defied the imaginations of those he passed. Luckily, they were mostly too focused on their own efforts to escape to pay attention to a fool who was going in the wrong direction.

He was worried. Bastila wasn’t answering her personal communicator, but—as if on cue—he turned a corner and nearly barreled into the girl and her comrades.

“Trask, where is Serena?”

“You’re top priority, Bastila, you know that.”

“Go, find her. We will continue to the escape pods. Find Serena and get her off of this ship. She’s—“

He was already running back the way he came. Over his shoulder, he called, “—invaluable. Yeah, I know!” Trask chuckled when he thought he heard Bastila’s sigh even though he was already outside normal hearing range. She liked to complain that he insisted on having the last word.

With a knowing grin to mask his growing unease, Trask smacked the door opening mechanism and burst into the apartment he shared with Serena. She lay sprawled on the ground. A groan signaled she was both alive and conscious, two things for which he thanked the Force.

“Hey, sunshine, get up!”

She groaned again, rising up on her elbows and shooting him a perplexed look. “Wh-what?”

“Serena, let’s go! Evac!”

He pulled her shakily to her feet only to find her eyes glazed and dilated, unfocused. Yanking her into position in front of him, Trask brought his face close to hers and stared directly into her eyes. He placed a hand on the back of her head and cringed at the large lump he found there. “Concussion?” he mumbled and applied what healing he knew, watching as her expression cleared just a bit. “Come on! Get dressed; let’s get out of here!”

“Who are you?”

The question threw him for a moment, and he stared at his friend in confusion. “Who am I? What kind of question is that?”

“I mean, who are you? Wh…what’s going on?” A second alarm joined the evacuation order, warning of the ship’s imminent self-destruction.

“Dammit, Onasi…Look, I’ll explain everything once we’re off this ship and out of harm’s way. Here—“ He grabbed her gear from the footlocker at the end of her bed, spreading weapons, clothing, and books haphazardly across the disheveled sheets. “Take what you need. We’re under attack and evacuating the ship. Do you know your name?”

“I’m…Serena…Serena…Kae…”

Trask allowed himself a brief moment of relief, reassured that the implanted background personality was at least still intact. “You’ve had a nasty bump on the head. You’ll be okay, but we don’t have time to wait. You’re going to have to trust me.”

She remained looking puzzled for a moment before nodding once and grabbing her vibroblade and uniform. With noticeable hesitation, she left the books and followed Trask through the door, dressing as she ran.

When they neared a blind corner, Trask signaled a stop. “Finish getting dressed and get that blade ready.”

The sounds of gun battle floated down the hall, and with a nod from Serena, they entered the fray. The thrill of battle coursed through Trask’s veins as he slashed and dodged his opponents’ attacks, closing the gap and forcing them to switch to melee combat. He longed for the grace and finesse of his lightsaber, but made due, arcing his blade into the bodies of the Sith before him. A glance to the side found Serena doing the same, the very illustration of Master Kavar’s legendary training, and Trask felt a surge of confidence bolster his defense as she was transformed in his mind. It wasn’t just his friend beside him; he was suddenly moving in-sync with the Serena Revan, even if she didn’t know it.

When the last Sith fell and the sounds of battle faded, their ragged panting blended into the litany of alarms and sirens. Trask took Serena’s arm to pull her toward the next corridor, but both jumped when a new, shrill sound echoed around them.

ching-ching-ching

Serena cringed. “What the hell is that?”

“Your comm. It’s right here.”He pressed a button on the side of the wrist device and a face appeared on Serena’s communicator.

“This is Commander Onasi. There’s only one pod left, and you’re priority. I need to you to get to pod bay three now!”

Trask leaned over, yanking Serena’s wrist up to his face. “Commander, this is Trask. I have her and we’re nearly there. How long?”

“A little over ten minutes, and there are Sith forces in between.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”

“Right, Onasi out.”

“Come on, Serena. Orders.” Dragging her along, Trask moved them ever closer to their destination. However, much to his surprise and mounting confusion, they encountered little resistance.

At the end of yet another winding corridor, they were abruptly blown back by a ringing explosion. The hall filled with smoke and dust, and when it cleared, it was evident there had been a battle.

“What kind of weapon made that?” Serena was pointing to a long gash in the bulkhead. The melted metal was singed black and curled in on itself. It reminded her of the hole she’d seen in the stone in the Jedi Council chambers. Strange…

“Lightsaber. There must be Sith Force-users aboard. This…complicates things.”

“Force-users? You mean, like Jedi?”

“How much of your memory’d you lose? Yeah, like Jedi…bad Jedi, I suppose. Either way, we only have about eight minutes left, and then it won’t matter anymore!” Trask stooped beside the body of a fallen Sith and retrieved an odd looking lightsaber. Just in case.

Again, they were running, storming through a longer hallway, up a service ladder, and past the cantina. They hurried through the bridge, and Serena nearly waylaid Trask as he came to a halt with a curse.

Before them stood a stout man dressed in black; his bald head shone under the corridor lighting, and he swung a red lightsaber lazily in hand, his posture reminding Trask of a predator lazily gauging its much weaker prey. He’s Sith; it’s a fitting comparison.

“What do we have here? A Jedi and his bitch? Come here, girl—“ The bald man waved his hand as he said the words, and Trask grabbed Serena’s arm as she took a step forward.

“Serena, hey!” He pushed his own influence against her mind, holding her gaze. “Get out of here. You aren’t far from Onasi. Take that hall, a right, and a left. I…it’s been good. An honor, in its way. Don’t worry about me.” With a prayer to the Force that his efforts wouldn’t be in vain, that she would make it to Onasi in time, Trask ignited his pillaged saber and stepped through the door.

~*~

Serena stood watching in shock as Trask advanced on the lone Sith. The doors slipped closed behind him. And then the world snapped back into place.

She surged forward, banging on the opening mechanism, calling for him to let her in, let her help. She didn’t remember him, but surely they were friends. He was willing to die to protect her, but…a Jedi? I don’t know any Jedi, do I? Not as friends, anyway.

Trask’s triumphant yell of "For the Republic!" filtered out into the corridor. It struck a note within Serena that couldn’t be denied. With a resolute grunt, she stepped away from the door and the sounds of struggle beyond. If the man was willing to die, the least she could do was follow his directions and find Onasi. By his calculations, she was quickly running out of time.

ching-ching-ching

Serena jumped when the unfamiliar sound of the communicator broke through the hum and crackle of wiring and explosions from deep within the ship.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Almost there. It’s…just me. I’m in—“ She glanced at the numbers painted on the corridor wall. “—Sector 2, headed toward you.”

There was a pause, and then, “I got you. Follow that hallway and take a right at the end. The door there is being guarded on the inside; I’ll try to have it open when you get there. Get a move on!” The communicator went black, and Serena kept moving. When she turned cautiously around the last corner, her senses were assaulted by the smell of burnt hair and electronics.

“Let’s go!” The man from her comm, Onasi, was standing amongst the wreckage. As she drew near, he yanked her arm and roughly shoved her forward into the last pod. “This is it. Move over!” And suddenly they were at much closer quarters: Serena pressed between his thighs, his arms around her waist. The pod closed and…

And they were surrounded by open space, falling through the vacuum, descending rapidly toward a looming gray planet.

Clenching her stomach and turning her head away from the sight, Serena asked, “Where are we?” The words were sticky in her mouth, and she wondered if every sentence she’d spoken since waking had been a question. What was going on?

“That’s Taris.” He leaned to the side as if to get a good look at her face. “You’re the girl from the other night.”

“I…what? I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”

“I’m sure of it…” He rubbed his chin in thought, peering through narrowed eyes.

“I hit my head. I might know you. I mean, I think I knew that man—“

“Trask. His name was Trask. He was a good soldier.”

“Soldier? He was a Jedi! I saw him use one of those laser swords…lightsabers.”

“A Jedi? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Got their hands in everything it seems. You really don’t remember?”

“No, sorry.”

“You drink plain water.”

“Obviously, you do remember me…”

He smiled, and for a moment both were able to ignore the vertigo in their bellies and heads, the dangerous landing fast approaching, and even the dire circumstances of the departure. Serena smiled back, on the verge of something, if only she could remember.

A final, silent explosion rocked the tiny pod, the shock wave propelled them even faster toward the growing planet below. Serena clung to Carth’s arm, suddenly very much aware that there was only one harness and neither of them had thought to strap in. There was no time. As they entered the atmosphere, their velocity increased under the planet’s native gravity, sucking them down to the surface. The mounting pressure closed in, and Serena sank into the icy embrace of unconsciousness before the tiny craft made impact. She dreamed of space battles and dead soldiers, a young girl, a baby…and a man. He beckoned to her, dark eyes shining in the wan light of her dreams.

The escape pod made contact with a wide pedestrian causeway on the surface of Taris, and Serena Kae dreamed no more.

A/N: Thank you to my betas, VengaFett and TascaLumina! :) A few one-shots to come and then the final chapter. ^_^

Also, a note on Trask: He's a faker. He was an obedient, asexual knight and a very good actor.