Zira Darkstar

Chapter 19

Bastila awoke with a jolt. Her entire body ached in such a way she had never experienced before. She tried to calm her thoughts and center her mind, but every time she started to feel herself entering mediation, she would wander back into the present. Her mind and memories of the last couple of days was a tangled blur.

Even now, as she looked upon herself, she saw that she was bound. Naked and on display for the Vulkars who thought her some sort of prize. Her gray blue eyes began to look across the shabby apartment she was in a dull slow state, thanks to her neural disruptor. She took in a half dozen of the scaly, reptilian-skinned Niktos that wandered around.

Bastila’s eyes locked upon one of these reptilian-skinned aliens in particular, Redros. He had introduced himself as the best rider among the Vulkars, as if that meant anything to Bastila. Apparently, his reputation spread through the gang, however. He’d been a particular source of torment for Bastila in the last few days.

She offered him a hateful, viscous that brought a cold sneer to his hard, reptilian face. “Now, now… Is that any way to greet me, after you begged me so much last night?”

Bastila felt as if she was grasping at straws for the previous night. The neural disrupter around her neck kept her from forming cohesive thoughts, but she could still remember Redros’ naked form pinning her down. The vague sound of pleas filtered through her mind. She knew it to be herself, begging for release. Not from captivity, but from the need she had accumulated. The need to orgasm, and feel her body rocked with blissful waves of ecstasy.

She suddenly felt the urge to vomit, as she remembered Redros using a stun baton upon her. The long, cool metal shaft of the baton having been shoved into her, and then ignited with electricity. The sensation had caused her to lose control of her bladder and wet herself. The cold stabbing in the pit of her stomach and the burning of her cheeks returned, even now. She remembered having her legs spread wide, and the Vulkars, including Brejik, all laughing raucously at her humiliation. The cloudy memories all pushed away her control, and grasp of the Force. She wanted to slay this man. Crush his throat underfoot, or shove her lightsaber blade up his ass, twist, and make HIM beg.

Finally, she tried to speak. To coerce her voice into action, but as she opened her mouth to, a cold, painful, and somehow wonderful sensation shot through her body. She felt her legs quaking as the sensation grew from her center. Her defiant words melted away into nothing more than a pleasure induced bay. She tried to curl herself inwards, realizing that her legs were still spread wide, so that her womanhood was visible for all to see, but she felt her quivering legs pull against shackles. Her hands were likewise bound behind her back, keeping her from covering herself.

Redros’ cold laughter echoed across her ears as he dangled a small remote in front of her face, tauntingly. Thumbing another button on it, Bastila felt the sensation from inside stop, and she gasped for breath. She could still feel herself aching below, as her body overwrought her mind, begging for more.

The reptilian leaned down to Bastila’s opening, and she felt his long, forked tongue run up her. She was helpless to stop the gasp that came from her at the feel, and she felt her mind begin to swim again. As she felt the tongue snake its way inside her, she lost almost all control over herself, and her thoughts. The last, coherent thought she could remember thinking was that she would kill this man, no matter what it took.

There, bound atop some table that had been turned into a pedestal, Bastila felt the other Vulkars begin to close on her, and her anxious, excited body.

***

Carth gently pat Mission on the shoulder as he watched Esala and Zira let themselves out of the hut. “Come on kiddo, we should get moving.”

Mission stood up shakily, looking up to Carth. Her knees started to give and Carth reached out to catch her before she could fall. For a moment, his eyes lock onto her beautiful auburn depths. Her soft blue cheeks dusted over with a soft shade of pink as their eyes locked. “Thanks Carth.” She breathed up at him.

He smiled down at her, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but admire her smooth feminine curves. She was definitely a credit to her race. Her flawless, smooth blue skin only accentuated by the tight clothes she wore. Her black, skintight shirt, her tight tan pants, and thigh high black boots all left very little to the imagination. Only the true definition of her breasts was concealed, behind an open tan vest. Carth gulped at a lump in his throat and started for the door, suddenly realizing just how small the hut had become.

Carth breathed a sigh of relief as he walked out into the dull, artificially lit Undercity, but that relief didn’t last long. No sooner, had his eyes fallen across Zira and Esala then Zira began to clutch her head, dropping to her knees and then her side.

A sensation of dread washed over him, and he rushed to her side. He looked incredulously upon Esala, “What happened!?”

The gaunt woman shook her head, “I… I don’t know. She just collapsed.”

Carth didn’t trust her, but whether she was telling the truth or not didn’t matter just yet. He grabbed hold of Zira and began to shake her lightly, almost desperately. “Zira! Zira wake up!”

Esala knelt down beside them and put a hand to Zira’s forehead. “Perhaps we should take her back inside?” She suggested tentatively.

Carth felt himself frown as he weighed the options. We’re never going to get anywhere at this rate. “Alright… Are you sure you don’t know what happened.”

The healer dismally shook her head, not doing anything to ease Carth’s suspicions of her. He lifted Zira up into his arms and started back for the hut. The all too small hut with those big, pleading auburn eyes… Carth tried to shake the thoughts from his mind as he moved back into the hut he’d just abandoned, and laid Zira upon the bed Mission had barely gotten off of.

Mission’s young, curious eyes widened with fright and she quickly asked, “Is she going to be alright?”

Carth shrugged. He wanted to comfort Mission, and tell her that everything would be okay, but honestly, he wasn’t sure himself.

They spent the next few hours waiting in the small hovel, as Esala looked over Zira, checking her pulse and breathing regularly. Carth was starting to feel like an eternity had passed when a lithe, soft form settled in next to him. “Hey, Carth. You’re a pilot for the Republic, right? You’ve been all over the galaxy I bet, right? So tell me, how would you rate Taris compared to other worlds you’ve seen?”

Carth let out a soft sigh. Somehow, saying ‘worst planet, ever’ doesn’t seem appropriate… “I’ll be honest, Mission, Taris would rate pretty low. The prejudice, the rich spoiling themselves while the poor are crushed beneath them - not a pretty picture.” He explained carefully, hoping this wasn’t going to offend her.

Mission didn’t seem offended at all, in fact, she laid her head on his shoulder, “Yeah, but that’s only since the Sith occupation. Before that… well, I guess it wasn’t all that different, really. Hmm… maybe Taris ain’t as great as I thought, you know?”

Carth felt strangely uncomfortable and furrowed his brow, “Trust me, Mission. There are a lot of worlds better than Taris. There are worse too, but Taris is no place for a kid to live on her own. Even a kid who’s got a Wookiee to look out for her.” He put particular inflection upon the word ‘kid’ both times he said it, trying to remind himself that’s exactly what she was. She’s just a kid Carth, a confused little girl with a crush. Don’t do anything stupid. He mentally chastised himself.

Mission sat up from his shoulder and glared up at him. Oops. Was all he had time to think before she lit into him, “Hey, I ain’t no kid! And I look out for Zaalbar as much as he looks out for me. Big Z’s my friend, not my baby-sitter! Geez, I come ask you a question and you give me a lecture!”

Carth shook his head and snapped back at her, “Don’t you snap at me, missy! You want a lecture? How’s this: only bratty little children fly off the handle because of a simple comment.”

Mission stood up, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t have to listen to you, Carth! You ain’t my father, though you’re sure old enough to be! So keep your lectures inside your withered old head, ‘cause I don’t need’em!”

What the hell is her problem!? She came to ME to have this conversation! Why am I getting yelled at? “And I sure as hell don’t need this. Let’s just drop it and get back to what we were doing.” He barked at her back, watching her lekku angrily bounce as she stalked out of the hut. Kids…

“What’s everyone yelling about?” Came a groggy, quiet voice.

Carth spun to look at Zira, who was now sitting up and rubbing her head. His anger was almost instantly forgotten as he felt a sense of solace wash over him. He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he looked down upon Zira. “You’re awake… What happened?”

Zira shrugged, “I’m not sure. Just a random headache, and then the world began to spin. The last thing I remember was watching the ground come up really quickly, and then you and Mission shouting at one another.”

Carth felt a sudden bit of panic wash over him. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bare the thought of Zira thinking poorly of him, “It’s nothing, just a difference of opinion!” He quipped quickly, trying to make it sound like no big deal.

Zira shrugged and eased her perfect, athletically build form off the bed. The Echani armor that they’d found fit her perfectly, and the dark fabric hugged her every curve. “C’mon. We should catch up to her before she gets too far.”

Carth nodded, and everything in him wanted to offer to help Zira. To offer her support, but he didn’t know how well it would be received. Instead, he slipped out of the hut and looked back to her, watching her closely.

Carth once again felt himself fall dumbstruck, as he watched Zira. She moved of a supernatural grace and precision. Every step measured and smooth, and Carth couldn’t help but revel in the majesty of it. He’d seen her fight a dozen times now, and yet he still wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the fluidity and poise.

“What?” She asked, arching an eyebrow his way.

He must have let his feelings show, as he could now feel the corners of his mouth pulled upwards into a charmed smile. “Just glad you’re okay. We can’t afford any more delays.” He wanted to smack himself in the face for that. Why is it so hard to just talk to her? I’ve been shot at by Mandalorians, Sith, rebellious punks, and desperate smugglers, so why is it when those dark blue eyes hit me that all I can do is stammer and act like a love struck schoolboy!?

Zira’s smile stifled the rampant thoughts of reprimand inside him. “There’s Mission, over there by that old man.” She commented and walked past him.

Carth fell into step behind her, once again admiring her form and elegance. He was so entranced by her that he barely heard the old kook babbling something of prophecy, and he watched as Mission leaned in to whisper to the pair of them, “Watch yourself: this guy’s star chart is missing a few galaxies, if you know what I mean.”

The old man continued to watch Zira with a venerate stare, and Carth couldn’t help but curl his upper lip in disgust. What’s this kook so intent about Zira for? he jealously thought. Carth was so wrapped up in his distaste for the man that he didn’t take much heed to the conversation at hand. Something about his name being Rukil, and that he was looking for his wayward apprentice, wanting Zira to help locate her.

Carth folded his arms across his chest indignantly, and to his amazement, Zira accepted to help this man. He marveled for a moment at how she could volunteer to help so many people as readily as she did. Carth had thought that kind of mentality had vanished from the galaxy. Even the Jedi didn’t seem to be that way any longer. He bitterly remembered how it was that he’d felt during the Mandalorian War, and how it was that he had all but given up on the order for any kind of support.

Revan, Malak, and the Jedi that followed them had changed his mind. They were the last truly benevolent people he’d seen. And now one of them is dead, and the ones that are still alive are holding a blade to the throat of the Republic. Yeah, truly benevolent my ass.

They bid the man farewell, and he made note of the name ‘Malya,’ which was apparently the name of his apprentice. Carth couldn’t help but fear the worst for this girl, and the trio made their way for the exit to the little encampment.

The field that stretched out on the other side of the old metal gate was vast, and open with multiple directions to go, but Mission seemed quite content to start bouncing out front and leading them. Carth tried to tune out her whimsical prattling about the first time she’d come down here, the first time Zaalbar and her fought a rakghoul, the first time she’d gone the way they were headed, the people she’d met…. Please…. Please run out of things to talk about. For the love of all that’s good. Just. Stop. Talking.

Now that they were out in the open, the fog kept everything at the edge of his perceptions. Carth slowly pulled the blasters from his hips, and the other two got the hint. Zira drew the blades off her hips, and Mission pulled a heavy blaster pistol from it’s holster. Carth tried to keep a careful eye out, for any kind of movement, as he’d seen just how dangerous these rakghouls could be. He began to walk backwards, trailing his blasters at the edges of where he could see, when suddenly a voice came from behind him, and just ahead of Mission.

“Don’t…. don’t move! I’m…. I’m not afraid to use this blaster if I have to!” The voice was scared, and shaky. The barrel was quivering as he aimed it shakily at Mission. Carth frowned, knowing there was no way he could spin completely around and get a shot off before he burned a hole in Mission, even a shaky aim at this range would more than likely be fatal.

Before anyone could make any rash or sudden moves, a gravely, older voice spoke up from the mist, “Settle down, kid. We’ve already lost enough men to those damn rakghouls! The last thing we need now is more casualties from a needless firefight.“ A group of four moved out into view from the fog, and Carth’s nerves didn’t settle. The man that had issued the order was a tall, older man with the stature of a trained and seasoned soldier. The man was thick with militaristic training, and Carth could tell that he was a cut above the younger crew he led. “Hmm…. By looks of you, I’d say you’re down here for the same reason we are: to salvage something from those downed Republic space pods.” He spoke matter-of-factly, “Let me give you some advice: forget about it. Do yourself a favor and just head back the way you came.”

Now he remembered. This man was called Canderous, and they’d seen him cause a couple Vulkars to nearly piss themselves and run away, like kath hounds with tails tucked between their legs. Carth couldn’t help but feel a sense of resentment bubble up inside him. They’d referred to him being a Mandalorian, and Carth still hadn’t forgotten the horrors that his people had spread across the galaxy. It was the Mandalorians’ fault that the Republic was in the state it was anyway. The reason his forces were even around Revan and Malak, and the reason that he had been betrayed by Saul Karath, and the others.

As Carth felt his face curl into disgust for the man, and for all that he stood for, Zira tried to sound diplomatic, getting the younger crewman to lower his blaster from Mission.

Canderous looked around, and explained calmly, “This isn’t a good place to stand around chatting. The Undercity is crawling with rakghouls. I’ve already lost half a dozen men to those monsters.”

As if on cue, the rifle carrying man behind Canderous spun around and pointed his blaster out beyond where Carth could see. “Canderous, I heard something! Over there, in the shadows! Sounded like a rakghoul!”

Canderous hefted a huge repeater rifle up from his side and grasped it in both hands. He turned to level the weapon in the same direction as the rifle wielding man with a steadiness that Carth found unnerving. “Looks like we’ve got company! Get those blasters ready boys!” He ordered in a commanding tone, and Carth could instantly tell why it was people feared and respected this man. Not since his days in boot did he ever feel as compelled to follow an order from someone, and he spun to level his blasters in the same direction.

A familiar gargled roar split the air, and Carth aimed his blasters towards the sound, firing off a few blind shots.

Out of his peripheral vision, Carth watched Zira break into a sprint, and before he could even call to her, she was disappearing into the fog.

He started to try and follow, but one of the grey monsters came flying through the air. It’s jagged, gnarled teeth snapping shut onto one of the mercenaries’ head, and the wet crunch of bone caving resounded in the air.

Carth began to squeeze round after round into the creature as it toppled onto the man, and he could hear the scream of the other three mercenaries. Even Mission shrieked in fright.

The combined firepower of the remaining mercenaries as well as his own well placed shot at the rakghoul insured the creature never had the chance to stand up from the man it had killed. It’s slick, gray form collapsed atop the dead mercenary.

From the right, Carth barely caught sight of another rakghoul as it burst from the mist. Carth spun on his toes, trying to aim at the creature, but he didn’t have a clear shot. “Look out!” He called, but it too was too late.

The creature’s long claws raked down another mercenary’s back, tearing through flesh and bone alike. The man crumpled forward and hit the ground.
Carth raised his blaster again, only to find that Canderous had moved between himself and the rakghoul.

Canderous’ massive booted foot lashed out and hit the creature in the chest and lifted it into the air. As it was flying backwards, the repeater leveled on the creature, and he began to open fire. The rapid fire weapon burned through the rakghoul, and out the back of the thick-hided creature. It made a few choking sounds, but it was dead before it even hit the ground.

Carth’s mind raced as he scanned the fog layden horizon. Where is she? Where is she…? Where is SHE!? Carth started in the direction he’d seen Zira disappear into, but he only made it a couple of steps before he could see her silhouette in the fog. She was walking towards them with her swords resting in her hands. Carth felt as if a wave washed over him and he called out, “What were you thinking!?”

Zira responded calmly as she came fully into view, and completely unharmed. “I had to get close to use my swords, didn’t I?”

Carth gave her a flat, even stare. He had so much that he wanted to stay, but a booming voice caught his attention. “Damn! I told Davik this salvage mission was a bad idea! His men aren’t trained for this sort of thing, and I can’t baby-sit them all! Okay, we’re getting out of here before I lose anyone else. I can’t carry all this salvage back by myself! You’d be smart to get out of here as well. Even if you can handle the rakghouls, I doubt there’s anything worth finding anymore.”

Zira walked past Carth, towards Canderous and jealousy reared it’s ugly head inside Carth.

“What do you mean by that?” Zira asked him in a curious tone.

Canderous laughed quietly and began to move over and check the two men that’d fallen prey to the rakghouls. “Davik sent me down here with this motley crew to scavenge whatever we could from the Republic escape pods that crashed during the recent battle overhead. But the Lower City gangs got here first. Anything worthwhile in those Republic pods is probably in their hands now.” He explained, picking through one of the men’s packs.

Zira sheathed one of her blades and crouched beside Canderous. Carth suddenly felt the urge to consider Canderous as one of the rakghouls, and open fire upon the man’s back. He glared coldly as the two spoke of the Lower City gangs and of Davik.

Carth cleared his throat loudly as Mission moved up beside him, and Zira looked back, obviously getting the hint.

She turned a smile to Canderous which caused Carth to once again want to shoot the Mandalorian. “I better get going now.”

Canderous stood up and shoved more of the salvage into an already overfilled bag. He looked to the only survivor from his crew and barked at him, “Come on, lets move out.”

Mission walked away from Carth as he watched the pair disappear into the fog, and over to Zira. “Come on, the entrance to the sewers is still a ways away.”

The dark haired woman gave a nod to Mission, and looked to Carth. “Coming? Or thinking of following him back to the Lower City?” She challenged him playfully.

Carth turned and smirked, “Right behind you,” he informed her as they began to move on again.