Episode 4.2 - Taris
Stardate: 4 1 1 6 5.
Earth Standard Date: March 01, 2364.
Galactic Date: 20th Day of the Second Month, 3956 BBY
Location: Housing Complex, Personal Reality
The following morning Tyson emerged from the room in his Housing Complex feeling refreshed and ready to start the new day. Alysia already sat cross-legged in the middle of the living area, deep in meditation. Her presence exuded a sense of calm. Meanwhile, Vicky sat in the kitchen.
Tyson's gaze fell upon the spread of fresh fruit laid out before Vicky. As he approached, he greeted them softly, "Good morning," not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. Gesturing toward the fruit, he added respectfully, "May I?"
Vicky gave a prompt nod and a slight smile. "Of course, Master," she replied.
Tyson seated himself and began to eat. Alysia remained immersed in her meditation, undisturbed by Tyson entering. He ate in silence, observing the Jedi. After finishing his simple meal, he waited patiently for Alysia to conclude her meditation. Finally, she began to stir, gradually emerging from the depths of her meditative state.
"Good morning, Alysia," Tyson began, "Forgive my intrusion into your meditations, but there is something I wish to discuss before we depart this place."
Alysia inclined her head slightly in permission for him to continue.
"On the Endar Spire, after I helped you to the Medical Bay, I encountered another Dark Jedi," Tyson explained. "He introduced himself as Darth Bandon before attacking me. I was able to defeat him in combat." He paused, gathering his thoughts. Alysia waited patiently for him to continue. "We should be returning to the planet's surface soon, and there is no telling what dangers we might face once we leave this sanctuary," he went on. "I hoped to demonstrate my proficiency with the lightsaber, so you would have no reservations about me wielding one in combat or defense, should the need arise. And perhaps offer some tips on my technique. "
Tyson hesitated briefly before voicing his final concern. "Also...I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about etiquette. Is carrying a red blade considered taboo or inappropriate? Also, are there any issues with a non-Jedi such as myself carrying a lightsaber?"
He let the question hang in the air between them, his tone conveying his desire for wisdom and understanding.
Alysia regarded him thoughtfully as the lingering tranquility of her meditation gave way to sharp focus. She weighed his request carefully before responding. "Good morning, Tyson," she finally said, her voice measured and considerate. "I appreciate you bringing these issues to me. First, I'm not sure if you realize it, but Darth Bandon was Malak's Shadow Hand. Bandon was second in command of the Sith forces. Defeating him is a significant victory for the Republic. Besting him in combat speaks not only to your skills but will be a boon to our efforts against the Sith."
She paused, weighing her next words. "The traditions surrounding lightsaber use are complex. It is not the color of the blade that defines its wielder, but the intent and actions behind its use. The taboo around red lightsabers stems from their association with the Sith and the Dark Side. Lightsaber crystals are rarely found in red naturally. That color comes from Dark Jedi and Sith infusing the crystal with their hate and anger, making it 'bleed.' However," she continued reasonably, "under the right circumstances and in capable hands, the use of such a blade could be justified."
Alysia met Tyson's gaze directly. "I would be interested to observe your skill with the lightsaber. Defeating a Sith at Bandon's level is no small task. While I don't doubt your claim, demonstrating that you can handle a lightsaber wisely, would be prudent." Rising smoothly, Alysia signaled her readiness. "Show me what you know, Tyson, and how you intend to wield the lightsaber you inherited."
Tyson stepped into the middle of the living area, while Alysia stepped to the kitchen, to give him space to demonstrate his proficiency with the lightsaber without endangering her or Vicky. The Grey Goo Suit had molded itself to include a pair of simple slings on his belt for carrying the weapons. Tyson retrieved the lightsaber from the sling, feeling the heft of the metal hilt. He positioned himself holding the inactive lightsaber loosely at his side. Tyson gripped the metal hilt of the lightsaber tightly, feeling its familiar weight in his palm. It was the one with the emerald blade that he had been granted when he chose the Force Specialization: Intelligence Perk. His basic knowledge and skills at using the elegant weapon had been directly implanted into his mind.
With a snap and a hiss, Tyson ignited the blade. The vibrant green plasma beam hummed to life. He held the lightsaber loosely at his side in a ready position, turning his body sideways to present a smaller target.
Slowly at first, then with growing confidence, Tyson moved through the basic sequences of Shii-Cho. It was the only lightsaber form he knew. Shii-Cho, form I, was the first form of lightsaber combat taught to Jedi initiates. It was built off the movements of traditional swordplay. Tyson stepped and turned in the sweeping motions of the ancient martial art, using broad slashes and defensive blocks designed for open combat. The movements flowed smoothly from Tyson, evidence of both his quick aptitude and the effectiveness of the muscle memory imparted by his Perk.
Alysia observed the demonstration intently. The Jedi Knight evaluated more than just the technical competence evident in Tyson's performance. She saw the calm focus in his eyes, the restraint and care in each motion, the respect for the power he now wielded. However unorthodox Tyson's path to this moment, his understanding of the fundamentals of the lightsaber demonstrated his readiness to wield it.
Tyson deactivated the weapon. The emerald light of the lightsaber winked out as he lowered it to his side.
"Technically, your form is acceptable. Your motions are rote, mechanical, it's clear you aren't comfortable with the weapon yet." Alysia began a note of critical approval in her tone, "I also did not sense any strong emotions that would impact your focus. So I have no reservations about you wielding a lightsaber," she admitted, a significant acknowledgment coming from the Jedi. Yet her expression grew serious, her tone cautious, as she added, "However, I would warn against openly carrying it for now." Tyson met her gaze with an inquisitive look, wordlessly prompting her to elaborate. Alysia's eyes took on a distant cast as she painted a picture of the harsh reality awaiting them on Taris. "Undoubtedly, the Sith will be actively hunting any Republic survivors, searching for Bastila, Padawan Shan, in particular," she explained. Her gaze refocused on Tyson, her tone grave. "Igniting a lightsaber would make you an instant target," she said, underscoring the seriousness of their situation. "I was already planning to refrain from openly wielding my own unless faced with no other option."
Tyson absorbed the implications clearly in her words. The presence of an active lightsaber would draw dangerous attention, complicating their mission and putting them at far greater risk of discovery. Alysia's advice was practical and wise. In a place where the Sith's presence was strong, and they were actively hunting for Republic survivors, discretion was undoubtedly the safest path forward. Acknowledging the prudence of her caution, Tyson nodded. "I understand completely. I'll keep the weapon hidden and only draw it if faced with no other choice." He paused, considering their situation, then suggested, "In the same vein, I recommend we acquire some different attire for you as soon as possible. If they're searching for a Jedi, your robes could draw unwanted attention as well." He mentioned to Alysia, "Perhaps it would be safer if you remained here until Vicky and I can find you some less conspicuous attire?" he suggested.
"I would prefer to return with you," Alysia said simply.
Tyson nodded, understanding her desire to stay by their side and leave his strange Personal Reality. He respected her choice. "Are you ready then?" he asked, steeling himself for the uncertainty that lay ahead.
"I am," Alysia affirmed without hesitation.
"Ready, Master," Vicky echoed, her semi-synthesized voice conveying an unwavering devotion. The android's commitment to Tyson was absolute.
Together, the unlikely trio made their way to the door that led to the antechamber. They stepped through the threshold, into the Warehouse. Tyson placed his hand on the pedestal, initiating the sequence that would open the door out of his Personal Reality. It swung open with a soft hiss, revealing an alley between buildings of a bustling plaza. Beyond it, the plaza teemed with life and motion. Towering buildings stretched towards the sky on all sides, their gleaming surfaces catching the warm light of the planet's sun. Walkways and bridges crisscrossed between buildings at dizzying heights, weaving together the soaring urban landscape.
Well-dressed citizens paused in their morning commute to gaze at the strange trio emerging from the alley with caution in their eyes. Hovercars and speeders zipped by overhead, their engines a constant hum underscoring the symphony of urban sounds. Tyson hesitated, adjusting to the sensory onslaught. The peace of his Personal Reality felt suddenly very far away. Beside him, Vicky stood impassive, unaffected by their abrupt transition.
With a tap of his Access Key, Tyson collected the high-security door, reforming it into its card form and closing the way to his Personal Reality. Wordlessly, the trio blended into the flow of foot traffic, one more ripple in the tides of Taris.
Tyson's gaze fell upon a shadowed corner of the plaza. An older man was being accosted by two larger and rougher-looking assailants. One was an alien of a species unfamiliar to Tyson, while the other thug and their cornered man were both human.
"Davik says you missed your last payment," the human brute growled menacingly.
The alien began to speak in a guttural, alien tongue. Tyson's universal translator automatically translated the words into English. "Davik doesn't like you missing payments."
The old man held up his hands pleadingly. "Here, I've got 50 credits. A down payment. That should buy me some time."
The human shook his head. "Sorry, you're out of time. Now it's all or nothing. Davik can't have people not paying his debts."
"But I don't have that much!" the old man protested desperately. "How can I give him credits I don't have?"
"That's too bad," the alien rumbled in its translated speech. "Davik's going to want to make an example out of you. You're coming with us."
The old man's eyes went wide with terror. "No! Help, somebody, help!" he cried out. "They're going to kill me!"
His pleas echoed across the plaza, but the indifferent crowds continued about their business, averting their gazes. It reminded Tyson of how people would ignore the homeless in cities in his previous life. Tyson felt a swell of sympathy for the man's plight. Though getting involved could prove unwise, he knew he could not simply stand by. His feet carried him towards the unfolding confrontation before conscious thought could intervene, his desire to protect the helpless man overriding caution. But Alysia's gentle yet unyielding grip on his arm stopped him short.
Alysia's voice was low but firm, ensuring her words reached his ears alone. "I know you wish to help, but consider the implications before acting. Taris operates by its own rules and hierarchies of power. Interfering in the affairs of its underworld could draw dangerous attention to us, jeopardizing our mission." Tyson assessed the thugs as Alysia continued, "What's more, inserting ourselves in others' business without a full understanding of the situation risks escalation. We are strangers here. Our involvement may not be welcomed. It's the harsh reality across the galaxy. Sometimes, intervention with good intent can worsen the plight of those we try to save." Alysia's hold on Tyson's arm eased, but her stance remained resolute. "Our presence on Taris already walks a delicate line. Earning the enmity of a gang, when we strive to avoid notice, could endanger not just us, but all we're here to protect."
She offered a compromise, "If you wish to help, perhaps there's a subtler way. We could discreetly aid the man without direct confrontation. Or at the very least, alert the authorities in secret."
The discussion between Tyson and Alysia did not go unnoticed by the two thugs accosting the cornered man. The human turned his attention toward them and said in a threatening tone, "Looks like we've got some witnesses here." His alien companion added menacingly, "Davik hates witnesses."
Tyson glanced around with feigned confusion as if searching for the source of the voices addressing them. "Witnesses? Is someone talking to us?" he asked innocently. "I'm sorry, no witnesses here. Just us blind guys."
The human thug scowled, his temper flaring at Tyson's flippant attitude. "Oh a funny guy?" he growled. "I'll teach you a lesson." He reached aggressively for the blaster at his hip.
But Tyson was faster on the draw. The Grey Goo suit allowed him to smoothly draw his own blaster pistol before the thug's hand finished wrapping around his weapon. Thanks to the Master with your Hands perk he didn't even need to aim properly. He rapidly fired off two shots, one for each thug, center mass. The twin blaster bolts hit their targets squarely, dropping the two assailants lifeless to the ground. Startled cries erupted from the gathered crowd as they scattered in a panic, focused only on fleeing the violence rather than identifying the source of the shots.
Tyson calmly re-holstered his weapon, ensuring that he, Vicky, and Alysia remained undetected as the shooters. Alysia let out a resigned sigh, the sound spoke volumes. Tyson's decisive action was not the subtle approach she would have preferred.
Seemingly unperturbed by her disapproval, Tyson quipped lightly, "You have to know that once we were noticed there was going to be a fight. But look on the bright side Alysia, I found you some clothes…" He said in an attempt to lighten the tense mood.
The man they had just rescued stared at Tyson, his eyes conveying a mixture of shock and gratitude. Though the intervention had been violent, it had undoubtedly just saved his life, a fact he clearly recognized despite the unexpected nature of the rescue. Relief and gratitude mingled with the lingering panic from his near-death experience. "Thank you," he gasped, still catching his breath. "Those bounty hunters were going to drag me away and kill me. My wife warned me I shouldn't have taken a loan from Davik Kang. Now I can't pay him back." He shook his head ruefully. "It's not good to owe a crime lord money. He'll just keep sending bounty hunters after me until I'm dead."
Tyson's mouth quirked into a lopsided grin, his nonchalant attitude seeming out of place after the violent encounter. "You probably should've listened to your wife," he remarked lightly, repeating the old adage, "Happy wife, happy life."
Alysia shot him a withering look, unimpressed by his flippant response. "You're one to talk," she said sharply. "You didn't listen to me just before you shot them."
"I did listen to you," Tyson countered, an impish glint in his eyes. "I heard everything you said... But, I needed to choose a different route as the situation called for." He paused then added, "Plus you're not my wife."
The rescued man's head swiveled back and forth between them as they bickered, urgency creeping back into his posture. "I'm getting out of here before any more of Davik's goons show up," he said hastily, "and you should do the same!" With that, he turned and hurried away, disappearing into the shadows of the alley.
Tyson's eyes darted around settling on the wall of the building beside them. Seizing the opportunity, he strode over and grabbed the corpses on his way. His Augment strength allowed him to easily drag the limp forms. He hauled the bodies to the wall, used his High-Security Inter-Reality Connecting Door card, and dragged them into his Personal Reality. Alysia and Vicky followed close behind. Once they were all inside, Tyson closed the door.
He turned to face Alysia, "Look, I know that was reckless," he began, "but everyone on this planet is searching for a female Jedi. You're too conspicuous." He gestured emphatically with his hands as he spoke. Alysia's Jedi robes were obvious. "If anyone should be drawing attention here, it's me. Vicky looks more human than any droid I've ever seen, and you...well, you're clearly a Jedi." He paused, meeting her gaze. "I'm just a big guy with a blaster. We needed to get you clothes, and I didn't have any credits." His eyes flicked downward briefly. "Now we've got options for you to choose from. I got twenty credits off those guys and extra blasters too." Excitement entered his voice as he continued. "And we know the local crime lord's name, Davik Kang."
Tyson's statement hung in the air between them as Alysia considered his actions in the plaza. Her expression shifted from understanding to concern and finally settled into resignation. Tyson's bold actions, while morally questionable, had been driven by an instinct to protect those he now traveled with, especially Alysia, a Jedi in hiding, a particularly precarious position given the state of Taris.
"While brash, your actions were not entirely without reason," Alysia finally said, meeting Tyson's gaze. "The galaxy, darkened as it is by the pall of the Sith, is often unkind to those unable to defend themselves. Your desire to shield Vicky and me from harm, even at risk to yourself, speaks well of your character." She paused, considering the pragmatic necessities of their current situation. "As a Jedi, I have little need for credits, as my path requires a life of simplicity. Your resourcefulness in obtaining what we require, while regrettable in method, is appreciated." A shadow crossed her face. "I'm familiar with the name, Davik Kang. He holds much power in Taris' underworld. Our encounter with his men may have unforeseen repercussions, but we will face them as they come."
Alysia stepped closer, her eyes moving from the still forms now lying within Tyson's Personal Reality to the items he had managed to procure. "The clothes, credits, and extra blasters will aid us for the moment, but let us not forget how dearly they were bought. We walk a fine line, Tyson. Your actions, if you are to remain true to yourself, must be weighed against who you strive to be." Her words were gentle, meant not to rebuke but to remind.
Alysia gathered up the clothes that were in the best condition, tucking them under one arm before retreating to the Housing Complex to change out of her Jedi robes. The plainclothes would help her blend in better among Taris's upper city residents. Meanwhile, Tyson placed the blasters on a shelf in the warehouse for later use. Though hidden from view, his Lightsaber and Laser Sword remained a reassuring weight at the small of Tyson's back, tucked away hidden by the Grey Goo Suit.
When Alysia returned, she was dressed in mixed attire from the two defeated thugs. To any observer, she would appear as just another citizen going about her business. This disguise was baggy on her smaller frame but would allow her to go unnoticed through the urban landscape without drawing undue attention.
Exiting the Personal Reality, Tyson retrieved the card symbolizing the door, and the group stepped out among the busy streets, Tyson, Vicky, and Alysia blending in without a second glance. Amid the throngs of diverse sentient species and the constant buzz of activity, they now seemed like ordinary denizens. The cacophony of urban life continued unabated around the pair as they set off, just more faces in the crowd.
The trio walked closely together through the crowded streets, their eyes constantly scanning the masses for any sign of Bastila, Avner, or the others. Alysia leaned in murmuring, "Where exactly are we headed?"
Tyson pursed his lips thoughtfully as they maneuvered around a lumbering Ithorian. "Anyone who survived the Endar Spire is likely laying low or searching for Bastila as well," he reasoned. "Our chances of stumbling across them in this endless sea of people are slim at best. We should remain focused on locating Bastila first and foremost." He gestured broadly to indicate the sprawling city surrounding them. "With so many people crammed into this urban maze, pinpointing her location won't be easy. But considering the Sith are also hunting Bastila, I see two potential approaches we could take."
Alysia curious at his reasoning arched an eyebrow. "And they are?"
"Option one. We infiltrate the Sith by whatever means necessary. Get close enough to monitor their intelligence, and sabotage their efforts if possible. It's risky but it could yield results."
"I don't love the sound of that plan," Alysia muttered, "Let's hear option two."
Tyson shrugged, narrowly avoiding collision with a scurrying alien. "We find a lively cantina and listen for any whispers regarding a Jedi fugitive. Might get lucky and pick up a lead or two. Not the most proactive strategy, but better than wandering aimlessly."
Alysia huffed in exasperation, quickening her pace to keep up with Tyson's long strides. "That's it? Those are our only options for finding one woman on this entire wretched planet?"
"Not exactly brimming with alternatives here," Tyson said breezily. He flashed her a lopsided grin. "Unless you can sense Bastila's presence within the Force? Because I've got nothing on that front."
Alysia grimaced and shook her head. As much as she wished otherwise, Bastila's presence remained obscured to her. Tyson led Alysia into a side street, away from the crush of pedestrians. Tyson's Gray Goo Suit had absorbed the radio and sensors from his Spacesuit. The nanotech interfaced seamlessly and connected the local networks with his HUD. Allowing Tyson to delve into Taris' digital landscape. The city's data streams unfolded before him, an invaluable asset providing more than just maps and locations. Finding the nearest cantina was simple. Cantinas served as bars and entertainment, but also as hubs of information. Rumors flowed as freely as the drinks, with individuals from all walks of life crossing paths. In a city as complex as Taris, they could be crucial for gathering intelligence, making contacts, or finding unexpected allies.
Tyson finally turned to Alysia and Vicky. "I've located the nearest cantina. Follow me,"
Alysia nodded, her steady gaze conveying understanding. She knew such locations held the potential for overhearing something useful or for discreet inquiries that could lead them closer to Bastila. Vicky followed without question, sensors processing every detail around them.
Their journey was uneventful until the lively backdrop of the cantina greeted them. As Tyson, Alysia, and Vicky entered, the lively sounds and scents enveloped them immediately. The interior was an eclectic blend of traditional and futuristic design; curved metallic surfaces merging seamlessly with faux stone walls chiseled in a rough-hewn style. Overhead, the vaulted ceiling hung an assortment of light fixtures that filled the space with rhythmic flashes in sync with the music. Tables and booths were scattered across the floor with no discernible order. Each table presented a microcosm of Tarisian society. Rugged mercenaries bartered contracts with dapper businessmen, roguish smugglers shared drinks with stoic bounty hunters, and groups of off-duty soldiers bantered loudly, camaraderie enduring despite simmering tensions below the surface.
At the far end, the bar stretched along the entire wall, its counter lined with bottles. The bartender, a droid with a polished chrome finish, mixed drinks and conversed with ease, its movements efficient and programming personable.
Throughout the room, holoscreens and live entertainment stages offered constant distraction and diversion. In one corner, an alien band played strangely harmonious and rhythmic melodies. News feeds, racing results, dueling contests, and ads played on screens displayed the planet's information and amusement stream. The aroma of spiced cuisine mingled with the tang of alien drinks, the air thick with scents. Conversations in hundreds of languages created a constant hum, punctuated by bursts of laughter, surprise, or the occasional argument.
Tyson wove through the crowded cantina, his eyes scanning the diverse mix of patrons as he made his way to the droid bartender. The angular metal form stood motionless behind the bar, optical sensors observing the room with an air of quiet attentiveness. Tyson slid onto a stool before the droid and asked, "What can I get for 1 credit a drink?" His question was a subtle probe, an attempt to open the door for casual conversation with the metallic bartender.
The droid exuded a charismatic presence that seemed to draw patrons in, making it an ideal source for taking the pulse of the cantina and, by extension, the city. "Nothing worth drinking for the taste," the droid quipped in response to Tyson's inquiry. The programmed humor lent it a measure of authenticity.
Tyson laughed appreciatively and said, "Three please." With a whir of servos, the droid produced three glasses, the amber liquid within glowing under the cantina's dim lights. Tyson gathered the drinks and passed a glass to Alysia and Vicky, he steered the conversation toward the event that had brought them to Taris; the arrival of the escape pods.
"Crazy what happened with those pods coming down, huh?" he ventured lightly, keeping his tone casual. The comment was a subtle prompt, a way of guiding the discussion toward information without arousing suspicion.
"I have yet to see one myself, but many are talking about them," the droid responded, optical sensors meeting Tyson's gaze. "Seems most landed in the Lower City."
Sensing an opening, Tyson leaned forward. "The Lower City?" he asked, infusing his voice with interest.
The droid's programming compelled it to elaborate, providing Tyson with valuable intelligence. "Usually it's easy to go down to the lower city, where there are more gambling options and live entertainment," it explained, "but certain black and silver armored troopers have barred the way."
Tyson nodded slowly as if in understanding, though inwardly he absorbed this critical detail. The presence of Sith troopers and their efforts to restrict access implied not only the Sith's presence on Taris but also their active interest in controlling the lower city. It seemed likely this was connected to the escape pods or something, or someone, related to them.
"I get you," Tyson replied after a moment. He left a few extra credits on the bar for the droid. The brief exchange provided a glimpse into the complexity of their mission here and the challenges they would face navigating the city's stratified society and the Sith's involvement.
Tyson's thoughts swirled with the weight of the droid's revelations. The Lower City. It had been so long since he'd considered the Knights of the Old Republic story that the finer details had faded from his memory. But fragments were beginning to resurface. Bastila's escape pod had crashed deeper into Taris. She ended up in the Lower City, captured by some gang. The Sith's interest in controlling access to the Lower City was an effort to find Bastila. If there was any hope of finding the Jedi, he would need to descend into the Lower City, which was easier said than done with the Sith restricting passage. He furrowed his brow, considering the options. Perhaps he could ambush a Sith patrol and wear their armor as a disguise, or forge the proper authorizations.