Part I
Chapter 2

"She has fallen," Master Vandar said, his small green head bowing in sadness.

"Without her Battle Meditation, we are lost," Master Atris replied, the holo of her form glancing around the Council chambers with a decidedly grim air.

"She was always at risk," Master Vrook said, looking at no one in particular. "Too headstrong and unwilling to listen to reason, easily swayed by her emotions. If it weren't for her skill at Battle Meditation, we would never have sent her in such close proximity to Revan in the first place."

"The question isn't what we should have done," Master Tiktaalik said. "It is what we can do now."

All heads in the room, present and holographic alike, swiveled towards Vandar, but it was Kavar who spoke. "We do what we should have done to begin with. We bring in the one person who understands Revan better than we do, the woman who has understood him since they were children together."

"Absolutely not!" Atris shrieked. "All we do then is swell Revan's ranks!"

"She had a chance to join with Revan from the outset, and she refused!" Master Lonna Vash reminded her. "Need I remind you that she was the only one who came back for judgment?"

"She only returned because she had lost her connection to the Force!" Atris snapped.

"And we all know why," Zez Kai-Ell said in his slow, soothing voice. "It was something we should have told her then, but you had your way, for all the good it did."

"There were other reasons," Vrook said. All heads turned to him, but it seemed that was all he planned to say on the matter.

"Enough," Vandar said, stopping the argument before it continued any further. "What has been done to the Exile in the past is no longer the issue. It is her future that we must consider now. It is true that she has known Revan longer and far better than any save Malak himself could ever hope to. If we truly wish to save this Galaxy, it is to her that we must turn now."

"Then let us send for her," Atris said, her tone resigned. "I know that she has sought refuge on Morellia. Let us retrieve her there and be done with it."

A general chorus of assent echoed through the chamber, and Atris volunteered to contact a Republic liaison above Telos with the information.

Deep in the heart of the Unknown Regions, Malak stewed in resentment. Shunted off like a recalcitrant child, overseeing production of the vast fleet of ships with nothing better to do than polish his newly-acquired metal jawpiece, the apprentice to the Dark Lord of the Sith was bored. And impatient. He rubbed the metal of his new jaw, missing the feeling of skin. He should have known that Revan wouldn't have let him off with nothing more than a metaphorical slap on the wrist – more like a lightsaber swipe to the jaw. Traya, that bitch, had laughed and encouraged him the whole time.

But now that he was in charge of the fleet and the recruiting, he would be able to plan things more efficiently. Revan would be busy with his new plaything, leaving Malak free to plot a better attack on him this time, making sure there was nowhere for his old Master to run. This time, Malak wanted no room for mistakes.

"Onasi here," he said, rubbing his face wearily with his hand. He'd woken up to the sound of his communicator blaring at him, and his wife had prodded him in the back until he'd answered it. He smiled down at her as he waited for whoever had called him – and it better be important – to respond.

"Carth, this is Admiral Dodonna." The voice was crisp, feminine and authoritative. He snapped to attention without realizing it. "There's a mission that requires the utmost delicacy, and Saul said you were the man for the job. I know you're on a special leave at the moment, but since you can stay planetside while you do it, I thought you might be interested."

"Admiral, anything I can do for the Republic is yours but to ask," he answered. Morgana shot him a glare.

"Saul is sending the Harbinger to Morellia to pick up a priority passenger. I'm sending her data to you, but she's a former Jedi – they call her The Exile. They're bringing her to Telos. It seems they have some secret base there under the ice caps. They think she can help in this war, and she's become a top priority for all of us. I want you to shuttle back and forth between the base and the fleet, making sure that any secure data about her doesn't fall into the wrong hands. It's vital that no one know she's coming. The Sith will be gunning for her – hard. It's why they aren't sending any Jedi after her."

"Do you think there's a leak on board the Leviathan, sir?" he asked, cautiously. He'd suspected as much for some time, but he was cautious enough not to tell a commanding officer that.

"We aren't taking any chances," she said, and Carth knew that was as close to a yes as he would get. He understood the trust that both she and Saul were putting in him with this mission. "You're welcome to stay with your family during the mission, but once the Jedi arrives, you'll be part of her escort to Dantooine. After that, you'll regroup with Saul on the Leviathan."

"Understood, sir," he said. Morgana rubbed lazy circles on his back and he smiled at her in the dimness of their bedroom.

"Take a look at the file before you go up to the base they have tomorrow morning, Commander," she said. "And get some sleep. You'll be busy the next few days."

"Yes, sir," he said. "Onasi out."

The communicator clicked off. He padded softly on bare feet to the wall unit and clicked on the screen, ignoring Morgana's annoyed sigh. When the file opened, he laughed. "I'll be damned," he said softly. His wife came up behind him.

"You know her," she said. There was no question, and he saw his wife absorb the features of the other woman. "You fought with her in the War, didn't you?"

"She was a General then," he said. "Way above my pay grade, Morgan." He laughed. "But she was coming home on the same ship I was – she seemed lost. Makes sense now, if she was coming back to be tried and facing exile from the Jedi for fighting in the War. I've heard some stories from the Jedi on the ship now about her. They call her The Exile, but I never realized it was the same woman."

"You sound sad," she said, dropping a kiss on his bare shoulder as she read the file over his shoulder. "You didn't know her that well."

"No, but the stories they tell are pretty depressing," he admitted. "Makes me glad I'm not a Jedi."

"She's really lovely," Morgana said as he clicked off the screen and lead her back to their bed. She settled against his chest. "Tell me about her. The name they give her – The Exile – it sounds like a lonely life. What was she like?"

"Now you sound sad," he teased, sitting against the headboard and pulling her against his shoulder. He told her about the lost Jedi he'd met on his way home from the War, how he'd told her stories about his wife and son back home on Telos, and how sad she'd looked at not having a family of her own. Morgana smiled at that.

"What do they say about her?" she asked, yawning a bit as she snuggled closer.

"They say that when she returned, the Council stripped her of the Force in punishment for daring to go to war against their orders. That she knew that would be the consequences, but she went anyway because she thought it was the right thing to do. Some Jedi say she fell to the Dark Side and that was why she was stripped of the Force and sent into exile. But I met her, Morgan. If that was a Dark Jedi, then we're doomed. That was one of the nicest people I've ever met. I'd trust her with your life – I'd trust her with Dustil's life. And you know I don't put that in a lot of people's hands."

"You really admire her," Morgana said, and there was something wistful in her voice.

"I've always admired those who do what is right, no matter the personal cost," he said. "And I will always respect those who stand up for those weaker than they are. The Jedi who didn't fight? The Jedi who turned their backs when the Republic needed them? Those are the ones I can't respect. And the ones who turned to the Dark Side with Revan? I can't forgive them."

Morgana tightened her grip on her husband and he smiled into her hair. Her eyes closed and she knew he thought she was sleeping, but as she lay there, she allowed herself just a moment to feel envy. In truth, she had never, once, wanted to go to war, the way he had. There were other soldiers in her class that had come home and become mothers after Malachor, and she could see how much they itched to be back out there now that Revan had turned on them. She could see how much they wanted to fight again, and how their loyalty was split between duty to home and duty to the Republic. She'd never suffered that. Her duty to the Republic had been to give them her husband. Someday she might have to give them her son.

Dustil's birth had been difficult; she would never have another child. Her husband treated her like she was a delicate piece of machinery after that, always careful. She didn't mind, really. She liked being home, with her gardens and her little family. But she envied the respect he had in his voice for this unknown woman. It wasn't the first time. He spoke of Saul like a father; given how fractious his relationship with his own father had been, he'd needed that. He admired Admiral Dodonna, naturally; she was a high-ranking superior who had years of battle experience. There had been others, male and female, that he'd spoken of with high regard and esteem, but very few that he'd truly seemed fond of. It was strange that he'd formed such a close bond with the woman in such a short time. She smiled. Others would suspect their husbands of carrying on illicitly, but Morgana knew Carth simply wasn't that way. He wore his loyalty like a badge of honor. If he'd so much as looked at another woman in the wrong way, he'd have beaten himself up over it for months, and she'd have known about it immediately; it was just who he was.

Her brave, stalwart soldier. She would miss him when he had to leave again, but she understood why he had to do it. Dustil, on the other hand, was being difficult again. He didn't understand that as much as his father wanted to be home with them, he couldn't be. And Carth was never home long enough to see how delicate and weak she truly was, so he didn't understand their son's resentment.

His soft snores broke into her thoughts. "Forgive him, my love," she whispered. "Someday soon, you will understand each other. When I am gone and he's grown into manhood, and left his childish ideas behind."

She slipped out of his arms and pulled on her thin white gown, wrapping a matching kimono over it and stepping out into her flower garden. The night was lit only by stars, and she wished for a moon to guide her steps. She sat on the bench she and Dustil had built while Carth had been away in the last war and looked up to the heavens, trying to spot the constellations she and Carth had teasingly named one night as they lay upon the beach when they were teenagers. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

The familiar pain came upon her, and she clenched her teeth and bore through it. "Soon," she whispered to the night.

Tana Shol knew that medical facilities on Morellia hadn't been up to Republic standards – not that she really could have afforded them, anyway. So it really wasn't a surprise to her when she got the report on her datapad that she was needed in the medbay for some routine medical treatment for some antibacterials and some boosters. She just didn't want to have to spend any time in a kolto tank. She hated those kriffing things. They always gave her the surreal feeling that she was watching the world through the watery lenses of a Selkath.

She smiled at the medical officer who was performing her treatments. "Hi, Jaq, how've you been?"

"Pretty good, though I've heard some rumors that we're changing course from Telos today," he said, looking at her as though to gauge her reaction.

"Really? Wonder why," she said, not really caring how quickly it came. The 'invitation' to reconvene with the Council on Telos hadn't come with any kind of information, but Tana figured they'd finally decided what to do with her, and it probably involved a long stay in a Force Cage. A delay in arrival could only mean good things for her.

"We-ell," Jaq said, drawing it out, as though he didn't want to tell her, when she knew he was dying to. Her many visits to medical over the past three days had given her a chance to get to know the staffer pretty well, and she knew he loved gossip. "From what I heard in the mess, seems there's a ship claiming to be attacked by some Sith vessel and Admiral Karath wants us to check it out. Could be something, could be nothing. You know how those things go."

She nodded her head wisely, though really, having spent so many years out in the back of beyond, she hadn't a clue. "So what's on my agenda for today?" she asked the man.

"Well, as much as I know you hate it, honey, we gotta put you in the tank for a little while," he said. "That cut on your leg isn't getting any better, and all the antis aren't working."

"Ah, you gotta be kriffing kidding me?" she swore. "How long?"

"Only an hour. Then you're home free. You might have to come back in a day or two for some pain meds, but that's about it."

She shook her head. Jaq really was the best of the med team they had on this ship. From what she'd heard, he'd only been transferred over right before they'd left to come get her, so she was lucky. Anyone else would have been sick of her whining already, but he was patient and understanding. It made going in the tank a little more tolerable.

After an hour of the hellish tank, Tana was finally free to return to her quarters. In truth, she was amazed that she was allowed the freedom she had now. The quarters she'd been given on the Harbinger were large and comfortable, meant for high-level dignitaries; that much she remembered from her time with the Republic before her exile. News had been scarce out on Morellia, but she knew that the war effort was going poorly. She had only to look at the faces of the soldiers on the ship to see that. Too well she recalled that look of hopelessness; it haunted her dreams. It was what had driven her against the Mandalorians seven years before, and what had caused her exile two years later.

She'd spent the first year wandering aimlessly, living a sort of half-existence on various planets, doing odd jobs for credits so that she could eat and keep a roof over her head until she'd saved up enough for passage to Morellia. It was such an out-of-the-way little planet, of no real significance, with such a backward sense of technology, that she felt comfortable there. She'd worked in a small droid repair shop and lived in a tiny apartment above the shop until the day the Republic ship had come.

She'd known that someone was asking around the small town about her before the officer had even reached her shop. One of her employer's friends had slipped out of the cantina as soon as he'd seen her face on the datapad and let her know that if she wanted to run, the time was now. They hadn't questioned her on what she might have done to earn it, they'd just warned her. But she was so tired of running, really, and she knew if she left it would be only a matter of time before they tracked her down, so she'd shaken her head and waited for the officer to get her.

She'd been allowed to pack her belongings and give her thanks to her employer for all the years they'd worked together, but she knew that she wouldn't be returning. If the Jedi wanted her now, there must be some purpose.

She picked up the datapad. The officer had given it to her when they'd shown her to her room on the Harbinger, and she'd read the brief message so many times she had it memorized, but it gave her something to do besides practice old meditation techniques that no longer worked now that she wasn't able to commune with the Force.

She tossed it aside and headed for the mess. Perhaps she could find out something about those rumors that Jaq had mentioned. If they were truly going to rescue a ship from the Sith, she'd like to know about it.

Outside her door, she was stopped by a familiar-looking droid.

"QUERY: Is there anything I can get for you?" it asked.

"No, thank you," she said, staring at it. "I'm just going to get some dinner. What happened to the other droid that was on this deck?"

"INTRODUCTION: I am HK-50, protocol droid. The other unit appeared to suffer an electrical short to its chassis, rendering it useless. I was activated to serve this afternoon."

Tana nodded and walked away from the droid, feeling uncomfortably as though it were watching her as she left. She knew she'd seen a droid like that somewhere before, and the designation was oddly familiar, too, but she pushed it aside as she got in the elevator that would lead to the mess.

Once there, she sat closer than was her wont to a group of off-duty soldiers and tried to listen inconspicuously to their conversation, but they weren't talking about anything of interest to her.

The next day the droid passed her a datapad with information on another check-up for medical. By then the word was all over the ship, and even she couldn't help but know that it was true – outside her window was a gleaming Sith vessel and a much abused freighter. The freighter had clearly seen battle of some kind, but whatever had happened to it, there was surprisingly nothing going on now. In fact, everyone seemed to be rather on edge about it.

Apparently the whole ship was abandoned, save for one body in what was supposedly horrible shape. And the freighter that had put out the call was empty of human life as well. There was nothing on board but a small droid, who was apparently doing its best to repair the ship. Tana felt a prickle of unease settle over her as she walked into the medical bay and stopped uncertainly.

There it was. The body. It was ravaged in a way she'd never even begun to imagine. How in the name of all that was holy had he managed to survive in such a state, she wondered. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. There was no one in the medbay, which was more than a little peculiar, but she knew well enough what to do. Jaq had told her it would just be some pain meds, and maybe another anti for her leg. She pushed the datapad into the receptacle and listened to the comforting hum of the machinery.

A few moments later a medical droid armed with an injector tube came towards her and she braced herself for the sting. After the prick of pain passed, she tried to take a step, but her feet were unsteady, and she wondered when the ship had started rocking like that. Another step, and she stumbled to the ground.

Damn, what was in those pain killers, Jaq? She wondered.

As she lay there on the durasteel plating, she decided that maybe she'd just stay there until Jaq was done with his lunch break. He'd help her to her quarters and she could sleep off this weird side effect. She closed her eyes and slipped away from consciousness.