Disclaimer: My AU is dispersed about the net on a strictly non-exclusive, non-profit basis.

VI.

Complications

"I stood at the head of the boarding ramp with Kreia, Teethree, and Atton, looking out at the hangar. This station was the size of a mid-size city, and the entire Telosian Restoration Effort operated out of it. The hangar was clean and efficient, but I could sense a tension in the air, a business stretched just a hair too thin. I looked at my companions.

"Well. Here we are, Kreia. Immediate objectives are to resupply and find us another pilot, huh? We'll look around, too. See if we can't find any trace of the Jedi."

I turned to Atton and extended my hand to shake. "Hey. It's been fun. Thanks for your—"

Just then, a voice sounded over the hangar comm. "Attention: This is Citadel Station Bay Control—Dock Module 126. Please remain where you are. Lieutenant Dol Grenn will arrive shortly to meet with you. That is all."

Atton put down his hand, and I withdrew mine. Atton looked at the window of the maintenance booth. "I don't like the sound of that," he muttered. "If they think we caused that explosion on Peragus…"

The door to the hangar whooshed open, and three armed and uniformed men walked inside.

"Uh oh. Here comes the welcoming party," Atton warned. "They may not know what happened, so don't blow it."

"Don't blow what?" I asked him. "We didn't do anything wrong. We have nothing to hide."

I brushed past Atton and walked down the ramp to meet the leader of the uniformed men. He was a short, sharp-faced man in his mid-fifties. "I'm Lieutenant Grenn," he said. "Telos Security Force. I'm under orders to take you into custody in regards to the destruction of the Peragus Mining Facility."

"I'm Darden Leona," I told him, as Atton and Kreia and Teethree moved down the ramp to join me on the ground. "These are my companions, Atton Rand and Kreia. Are we under arrest?"

Lieutenant Grenn hesitated. "You haven't been formally charged," he admitted. "But you will be placed under house arrest pending the results of our investigation. Due to the nature of the investigation, I have no specific timetable to offer you. In the meantime your ship and any droids will have to be given over for safekeeping."

Teethree beeped inquisitively, and Grenn nodded sternly. "Yes, that includes you," he told Teethree. "You are a droid, so you will have to be detained. In addition," he added to me, Kreia, and Atton, "We will have to take your arms and armor until the completion of our inquiry."

Over the years I've found it's best to cooperate with officials when for some reason I'm in trouble for something. The politer I am, the worse they feel about arresting me. If I'm nice, the consequences are lighter if they decide I'm guilty, and it makes negotiating for favors easier. In addition, if you cooperate all through the investigation, and they do decide I'm guilty, they're always off-guard when I make my escape.

So I drew my blaster out of my waistband, handing it butt first over to one of Grenn's friends. "Naturally. Will we be able to get our things back?" I asked Grenn.

Predictably, Dol Grenn had already dropped his blaster rifle a few degrees. He nodded. "If you are cleared of any involvement, your personal effects will be returned to you. You will be held briefly in the TSF station until living quarters can be arranged, at which point you will be placed under house arrest. Do you understand?"

I shot a glance at Kreia and Atton. Atton looked annoyed, but didn't argue. Kreia was impassive. I looked back at Grenn. "Perfectly, Lieutenant," I told him. "We'll cooperate, and if we can be of any service in the investigation we'd be more than delighted to do so."

"Good," the lieutenant said firmly, though I could see a noticeable release of tension around his eyes. "My men will relieve you of any arms and armor. Please follow me."

Atton groaned. "Tell me I'm not going to jail again," he muttered to me.

"It was always a possibility," I murmured. "Just hand over the pack and follow the guy for now. Sorry about this."

"It's not your fault," Atton replied. I tossed my pack over at the same guy I'd given my blaster to. He caught it, looking a little surprised at its light weight. We'd eaten all of the food that had filled it on the way. Atton tossed his bag to the other guy. I heard him grunt a little. Atton's pack had more than one extra blaster we'd picked up on the Harbinger in it. As Kreia had no arms or armor to hand over, she simply passed between the two guys, her head held majestically high, not looking to either side.

The three of us followed Lieutenant Dol Grenn through Citadel Station, and Teethree beeped sadly behind us. I felt a little bad leaving him, and of course I wasn't happy to be going to jail. But honestly, supplies and credits were both low. Under arrest Kreia and I—and Atton—would at least be assured three meals a day and the best information about what was going on here at Citadel Station.

The last time I had been to Telos, it had been only weeks after my exile. Citadel Station hadn't existed. Millions of people had lived on Telos' surface, which was a year or more away from destruction. This time, I could faintly feel the pain of the planet below, echoes of bombardment and dying men, women, and children. But I could also feel the life around me. Along the shining walkways of the station there were potted trees and grasses of Telos' native species. Shuttles ran to different modules where people lived, worked, played, and rebuilt the world below. I felt the promise of the station, its hope for the future, the refugees of Telos that would soon become its citizens once again, and begin once more.

Lieutenant Grenn led us through the Station to a small, bustling office. A protocol droid dealt with traffic at the front desk. A few officers in the orange and gray that signified that these were localized Republic officials were off duty, joking and laughing. But Grenn led us to the back toward detainment. I stepped into an empty force cage without complaint or prompting. Kreia stepped into the next one over.

Atton sighed. "I know I'm going to regret this," he remarked. But then he stepped into the one opposite me, holding up his hands.

An officer pressed a lever by the door, and the energy walls hummed to life around me and the others. "You will be held here briefly," Lieutenant Grenn explained, looking, however, a little chagrined, seeing as the three of us had made no complaint and made every effort to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Living quarters are being arranged for you and your companions as we speak. Someone will return shortly to escort you to an apartment in Residential Module 082."

"That's very generous of you," I told him.

Grenn opened his mouth as though to apologize for the force cage, then, remembering that he still didn't know if we'd blown up Peragus or not, shut it again. He turned, and followed by his two officers, left the detainee room and closed the door.

Atton gave a huge, fake yawn, and stretched. "Well. We might be here for a while. Might as well get comfortable."

"We will not be here for long," Kreia said.

"At least they'll feed us," I shrugged. "We were about out of water on the Ebon Hawk, and if I'd had to eat one more piece of that jerky I swear my tongue would have resembled nothing so much as a prune."

In the absence of any immediate prospect of release, I figured Atton was right and I might as well get comfortable. I sat down on the floor of the force cage and drew my knees up to my stomach. Kreia sat down crisscross, and with her arms upon her thighs, seemed to start meditating. Atton was the last to sit, and he looked over at me.

"Looks like we're stuck together a little while longer, huh?" he said, quietly, so as not to disturb Kreia.

"Seems so," I said. "I am sorry about that. I hoped they'd leave us alone. You didn't ask for this."

Atton shrugged. "Nah, it's not so bad. Prison on Peragus, prison on Telos, it's all the same to me. At least the company's better here."

It was an unexpectedly nice thing for him to say, when I knew he wanted nothing more than to hightail it out of my and Kreia's mess with the Sith. Unable to come up with a reply, I dropped my gaze.

Kreia stood then, and I felt her vigilance spike. "Someone is coming," she hissed.

Adrenaline pumped through me, and I clambered to my feet just as the door opened, and a man in the TSF uniform entered, alone. He closed the door behind him, and walked up to my force cage, looking me over like a specimen in a zoo.

"So," he said in a soft, taunting voice. "This is the last of the Jedi. I must admit, I'm a little disappointed. A little short, aren't you?"

"What's going on? Who are you?" I asked him, projecting my voice in the hopes that it would be heard beyond the door.

"The Exchange has a bounty on Jedi, you know," the man said. "You're worth quite a bit of money."

Atton sneered in the cage across from me. "The Exchange, huh? I'm pretty sure some two-bit pistol jockey like yourself isn't one of them," he said contemptuously.

The man rounded on Atton. "I'm more than skilled enough to work for the Exchange," he snapped.

Atton snorted. "You bounty hunters couldn't even win a fair fight. You're the cheapest, most worthless mercenary scum in the galaxy. I'd hire a Mandalorian over your filth in a second."

I wondered what the hell he was playing at. The bounty hunter had a blaster in his hand, and we were still in force cages. I opened my mouth to tell Atton to shut up, but Atton glanced at me warningly over the guy's shoulder, and I rethought.

"No Mandalorian could match my skills!" the man declared. "No Mandalorian could have been cleaver enough to infiltrate this station, taken the identity of one of the guards, then…"

"Then what…" Atton challenged. "Overloaded our force cages and then made it look like an accident? You probably don't even have the guts to fight me. Heh. Pathetic."

I just stared at the bounty hunter's back. He was completely focused on Atton now, infuriated by the pilot's deliberate outrageousness. Did Atton think he could make the guy mad enough to let him out and have it out? Did he think he could take the man unarmed? Why was he even trying? It seemed to contradict every mode of behavior Atton had demonstrated so far, to risk himself like this.

He almost succeeded in diverting the bounty hunter completely. "Don't think overloading your cages had not occurred to me..." he hissed. Then he hesitated, and looked back at me. "You're wanted alive, but I doubt anyone will care so long as I bring them your corpse."

"We're in the middle of the TSF station," I told him. "How do you think you are possibly going to get away with killing me here?"

The man smiled unpleasantly. "The security cameras have mysteriously shorted out," he said coolly. "There will be no witnesses to your escape attempt, during which time I'll have been forced to kill you. By the time the TSF realizes I'm not one of them, I will be far from this place."

That was different, then, I thought. If the bounty hunter—though assassin might be a better word, Aithne, since he didn't want to bring me in alive—planned to deactivate our force cages before killing us, his butt was covered with the TSF, but my companions and I certainly had a shot. His plan was contingent upon him being able to kill me when he let me out of my force cage—kill me before I took him down or made enough noise that someone came running. Overloading the cages would've been a better idea. But I definitely wasn't going to tell him that. "You want to do this?" I asked. "Fine. Let's do this."

The assassin walked over to the force cage release panel. "Come, Jedi, it is time to die."

Atton banged on his force cage and winced as it shocked him. "Hey, leave her alone—you want a fight? Then try me, if you've got the guts."

The assassin gave Atton a disdainful glance. "You have goaded me once, and you shall not do so twice." He considered, then hit two extra keys on the pad. "But I shall dispose of all of you. An old woman, a fool, and a broken Jedi are no match for my skills."

He pulled the lever. I opened my mouth, and screamed. "Help! Murder!" Then I ran, dropped, and rolled.

I didn't neglect my conditioning in the decade I spent out here. Well—you know. You can't. So though I was unarmed, nearly half a meter shorter and several kilograms lighter than the guy attacking us, he got a bit of a surprise. I was next to him and up under his gun and guard before he knew where I'd gone to. I elbowed him quickly, hard, in the stomach, then brought my hand down on the pressure point in the forearm. I seized his blaster from his suddenly conveniently limp fingers, and tore out the power pack. I knew it would be a bad idea to kill this guy when I was supposed to be in jail. Much better if I could give him to the TSF a prisoner.

I brought the gun up to brain him with, but he'd already flown back several feet and thudded into a wall. I whirled to see Kreia with her single hand outstretched, lips tight with concentration. The assassin leapt up almost immediately, clutching his arm, but Atton had crossed from his force cage. He stomped hard on the man's instep, and with swift, decisive brutality, brought the blade of his hand around straight into the assassin's throat. I heard the guy's windpipe crunch, and he crumpled to the floor.

The door behind us opened, and Lieutenant Grenn ran in. "There was a commotion in here. The security cameras ha—what? What's going on here?" he demanded.

Another two TSF officers ran in. "Man down!" one cried, catching sight of the uniformed assassin on the ground. He ran and knelt beside the body. "Quick, call a medic!"

Lieutenant Grenn had whipped out his blaster, and I stared down the barrel at it, motionless. "All right, Jedi—I want you to back up slowly, hands in front of you, into the force cage," Grenn said. The second officer trained her blaster on Atton. "Cooperate, and we won't have to gun you down," Grenn continued.

"C'mon, Lieutenant," said the crouching officer, beside the assassin. He was angry. "They've already killed—who is this? Is this Batu Rem?"

I snorted, ignoring the tension in Grenn's hand. "If Batu Rem is supposed to be a guard, that's not him. He said he was from the Exchange. Posing as a guard. He tried to assassinate me. It was a good thing we didn't have to rely on you for protection!"

"Rem's no assassin," objected the woman with the blaster on Atton.

"Batu Rem is on leave," Grenn said, lowering his blaster. He walked over to the dead man. "He shouldn't even be on this station." He turned over the corpse. "This man isn't him."

I crossed my arms and glared. "How did he get in here?"

Lieutenant Grenn stood, and holstered his blaster. His officer followed suit. Grenn looked about as angry as I felt now. "That's something we're going to have to look into," he said grimly. "I can tell you that it can't have been easy."

"Do look into it," I said crisply. "Do I still have to go back into the force cage?"

"No," Grenn said. "We've arranged for an apartment in Residential Module 082. You'll stay there under house arrest until our investigation into the Peragus matter is complete. I'll personally clear any visitors to your quarters, and we'll investigate this incident to the best of our ability."

Given that detention areas in the middle of law enforcement offices are supposed to be secure, I wasn't imbued with confidence in the ability of the TSF. I made a small noise of disgust, my reserves of politeness temporarily depleted. "You better. Let's just go."

"Officer, get Lieutenant Yima a report of this incident," Grenn ordered the woman. "She'll look into this. The rest of you, come with me. We'll escort you to that apartment in 082 immediately."

I fell into line behind the Lieutenant once more. Atton and Kreia came up beside me. "Thanks for that, back there."

"It is what I am here for: to teach, and to protect," Kreia said.

"You weren't bad yourself," Atton told me, with something like respect in his face.

I looked at him, then away, trying to make sense of Atton's actions. They didn't add up. He claimed he didn't want to be involved in Kreia and my business, said he wanted to get far away from the people chasing us and leave us to it. Yet the very first bounty hunter we'd run into, and Atton had practically thrown himself in the guy's line of fire, and defended me with deadly force. I couldn't resolve the contradiction, and it made me uncomfortable.

Residential Module 082 was a well-organized, clean block of apartment complexes and small businesses. People quietly went about their business in the corridors. In this section of the space station, beside the plants, there were additional fountains to help take the harshness away from the artificial environment. Lieutenant Grenn led us to the extreme east of the module, to a spacious four-man apartment, though it was barrack-style with just one bedroom. The military regulation bunks were already made up. The kitchenette counters were a comforting shade of yellow. A door to the left led to the fresher.

"Well," I muttered to Kreia. "Whatever you can say for the Telosian Security Force's actual security, they certainly do treat their prisoners well."

"These will serve as your quarters for the duration of your house arrest," Lieutenant Grenn announced unnecessarily. "Two officers will be stationed outside at all times. Again, I'll clear any visitors. There won't be another incident."

"But just to be on the safe side, why don't you leave us a blaster or two?" Atton's request was casual, off-hand.

"Atton."

He shrugged at me. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said.

I looked at the Lieutenant, a little happier with him because of the undeniably nice quarters. "The quarters are lovely, Lieutenant. How long will we be here?"

"I can't say," Grenn told me. "We have a ship examining what's left of the Peragus facility now, so your stay might be brief. We'll keep you informed."

"Well, this is a step up from a force cage, at least," Atton conceded.

"If there are any problems, we'll use the wall terminal to contact you," The Lieutenant told me, pointing at a communications console. He started to leave, but I stepped forward.

"Lieutenant. Before you go. You ought to know—with our gear there are four holo-logs. One belonged to the dock officer on Peragus, one to the administration officer, one to the foreman, and one to a miner named Coorta. The last has been augmented with a log I found on a terminal on the Peragus dormitory level. Your investigation might find the logs informative."

Lieutenant Dol Grenn blinked. "Uh—thank you for your cooperation—er—"

"Darden Leona," I reminded him.

"Yes. We'll look into it." He turned to his officers. "Let's go."

The three of them departed from the apartment. The doors closed behind them, and I heard the click as the mechanism locked. Atton immediately started pacing, as if he'd pent up this energy for hours.

"This isn't good. We've got to get off this station."

His use of the plural threw me for a second. "Uh…why?"

"What do you think the TSF is going to find at Peragus?" Atton demanded. "They could bring the Si—you know what, forget it. As long as we're trapped here, it doesn't matter."

I remembered that Atton Rand had been frightened by the Sith on Peragus. Of course, anyone not Sith with sense was frightened by the Sith. But Atton's fear seemed a little too concrete, a little too focused. It was interesting. But not a problem for the moment. "What do you think, Kreia?" I asked the old woman.

"We cannot stay in any place too long," Kreia conceded. "But our path has brought us here for a reason. I must meditate on this. In the meantime, we should rest."

Atton looked disgusted, and he waved a dismissive hand at Kreia. "Yeah, you go ahead and meditate," he grumbled. "As for me, I could use some sleep."

A couple different times on a couple different planets, I've gotten into some sort of trouble and some form of authority or other has decided that for whatever reason—for standing in the street with a blaster, being human, defending myself, poking my nose around someplace I shouldn't—I ought to be detained. But Telos' Citadel Station was the first time I'd ever been under 'house arrest'. The words have a glamor about them, an exclusivity, a specificity. To be under house arrest is to have caused trouble enough to be confined, but not to be quite bad enough for prison proper. And, Aithne, those quarters were very nice. But after I'd counted the ceiling tiles thirteen times (I still remember there were exactly ninety-six), played solitary pazaak and lost seven times in a row, recited all the poems I knew in my head, and watched Kreia meditate for an hour and a half, I was forced to acknowledge that house arrest is pretty much like normal jail. Boring. And perhaps even more awkward, because instead of being locked in a windowless room by myself, or with several fascinating strangers in varying levels of sobriety, I was locked in a windowless room with two bare acquaintances that hated one another and definitely sober enough to be as miserable as I was about this whole thing.

I was almost really depressed when the communications console rang. I leapt up at the same time Atton did, but my bunk was closer to the console. I beat him to it, and surprised myself by making a face at him to celebrate my victory. Well, I was very bored. I accepted the call.

It was one of the TSF officers outside my room. "Excuse me—"she said, politely and diffidently. "You have a caller, Moza, representing the Ithorian planet restoration efforts on Telos. Lieutenant Grenn's cleared him, if you'd like to speak with him."

I wondered how Moza had known I'd be here to visit. "What does he want?"

"He says he wishes to speak with you on behalf of Chodo Habat," said the officer. "That's all he will say."

I tapped my finger on the console. Strangers were all looking shifty just then, what with assassins after me and being under suspicion for the destruction of Peragus II. On the other hand, I was very, very bored. And Ithorians are generally known as pacifists. I looked over at Kreia, motionless and silent on the floor, and figured that if she wasn't alarmed, I shouldn't be, either. "Sure, send him in," I told the officer.

"Very well. I'll let him in now."

The door opened. Kreia opened her eyes. Atton stopped wearing a hole in the floor with his feet. The Ithorian entered. He was young-looking, for an Ithorian, dressed simply, as is their wont. He bowed. /Thank you for seeing me,/ he said. /I am Moza, and I have come to see you on behalf of Chodo Habat, our leader here./

I bowed in acknowledgment. "Can I get you something to drink?" Without waiting for an answer, I moved toward the kitchenette, grateful for something to do.

/I would appreciate water. My thanks./

I found a glass in an overhead cabinet, and filled it with water from the tap. Crossing the floor again, I handed it to Moza the Ithorian. "Please, sit down."

Okay, no, Aithne—I never did take things to your extreme of learning to actually speak every language under the sun. Can't believe that craziness carried over. Don't look at me like that, it's time consuming. I can speak Huttese, Mandalorian, and Basic, and understand about twelve other languages. For my purposes, that's enough.

I swung myself up onto the bunk I'd claimed for myself and Moza, for want of better seating, sat down on the end of the bunk opposite. "I'm Darden, that's Kreia, that's Atton," I said, indicating each of my companions in turn. "But I guess you know that, if you came to visit. Why are you here on behalf of your leader? Why didn't Chodo Habat come himself?"

/As our leader he has many tasks before him, and regrets that he could not come himself,/ Moza said. His long, rounded fingers twiddled, and I knew I'd made him nervous. /The healing of the planet consumes all his time. He means no offense by sending me, his chief assistant./

"Sure. But what does he want with me?"

Moza took a sip of his water. /Are you familiar with the restoration project on Telos?/ he asked after a long moment.

Of course, I hadn't, and I was forced to say so. Moza looked much happier, and I recalled that Ithorians are by nature an indirect species, and that my forthrightness might have been setting Moza on edge. It's a long climb uphill, learning to relate to others again after years of avoiding them.

/The surface of Telos was destroyed during the Jedi Civil War a few years ago,/ he explained. /This-Citadel Station—is a part of the Republic's planetary restoration initiative. Citadel Station uses energy fields to seal off portions of the planet's surface, then generates and controls the weather patterns over each area. Once the weather in a zone is stabilized, new animal and plant life is introduced to restore the ecosystem. Recently, however, we have run into contention with the corporation known as Czerka. Perhaps you have heard of our recent troubles?/

I started to see where this was going. "No," I answered. "Tell me."

/Ithorians are well known as ecologists and agricultural engineers,/ Moza continued. /The Telosian government asked those of my herd to help restore their planet. Things went smoothly at first. The Republic funded us generously, hoping Telos would be a model for the restoration of planets damaged by the war. The funding enabled us to purchase flora and fauna from Onderon. Upgrades to Citadel Station's shield network have allowed us to purify and reseed small portions of the surface."

Moza paused, and I gestured for him to continue.

/Then the troubles began,/ he said. /Republic relations with Onderon began to deteriorate, increasing the purchase and transport costs of our biological materials, and as the station grew, the Telosian Security Force was no longer large enough to police the entire station./

An overstretched TSF made sense considering what I had witnessed since landing. Moza had caught my attention. He went on, /Czerka approached the Republic and offered supply and security contracts. Their paramilitary security division now polices two-thirds of Citadel Station. Czerka has integrated themselves into the Telosian political system and economy. They are currently pressing to be awarded our planetary restoration contracts. Their efforts hinder our cause greatly, and will have terrible consequences for the planet's restoration./

Moza took another drink. I stared at the floor, thinking hard. Wariness of Czerka I understood. Out here, you can't avoid developing a healthy suspicion of the company. As a business, Czerka exists first and foremost for its own profit. I've had run-ins with their slave trade out here once or twice, and I knew they aren't fussy who they sell to or who they aid. So therefore, I could understand how it might be a bad idea for Czerka to police two-thirds of Citadel Station. On the other hand, Czerka undoubtedly had a lot of resources that could be invaluable to the restoration effort. As Moza set it out, it was tantamount to understand exactly what Czerka was threatening. "I see," I said slowly. "How exactly is Czerka harming the restoration project?"

/Czerka recently wrested control of a number of Restoration Zones on the planet's surface from us,/ Moza answered. /These zone began to deteriorate in weeks. If this continues, the restoration process will be brought to a halt, and the Republic will not be willing to continue the funding to resurrect it. Telos will remain dead forever./

I tapped my fingers on the bedframe. "How is Czerka acquiring the Restoration Zones?"

/Through a combination of legal loopholes, purchased political favors, strong-arm tactics and sabotage,/ Moza reported. I frowned. The report wasn't encouraging; it sounded like Czerka was working mostly through corrupt channels, but legally nonetheless. Moza was obviously here to solicit my help on the Ithorians' behalf, but if Czerka was as big on Citadel Station as he represented, dealing with them could be problematic.

Moza spread his arms. /We Ithorians are simply not prepared to deal with such. We are a passive people…we wish only to help restore the natural beauty of Telos./

The implication was troubling. I folded my arms. Moza was basically saying that the Ithorians could not, or would not, deal with Czerka's bullying and profit-minded policies on Citadel that would harm the restoration project in the long run, but I could deal with them. He was saying that the Ithorians were a passive people, and implying that I could fight their battles. "How exactly does Chodo Habat expect me to help?" I asked.

/Chodo Habat is a powerful priest,/ Moza told me. /Our spiritual leader. He sensed something upon your arrival. A disturbance, an echo in the Force. Chodo felt you might be able to aid us. He bid me tell you that if you could help heal Telos, it might be possible for him to heal you./

Kreia, listening, suddenly frowned. But all of a sudden I was incredibly intrigued. If Chodo Habat was a Force adept, and could sense my disconnection to the Force—if he was offering to heal me, perhaps I was one step closer to severing whatever bond held me to Kreia and endangered us both. "What do you mean?" I asked Moza.

/I am unclear as to what Chodo means by this,/ Moza admitted. /He says the echo he felt upon your arrival suggest that you yourself are damaged. He can feel the pain through the Force./

"Perhaps Chodo Habat should turn his eyes to his own people, if they truly suffer so," Kreia interjected icily. I turned, taken aback by her coldness. Weren't we both looking for someone to heal my connection to the Force? Or was Kreia only on board for healing me if she herself did the healing?

/Forgive me,/ Moza said, bowing to the old woman. /I am unclear as to Chodo's message, and may have related it incorrectly./ He turned back to me. /If this offer of mutual aid interests you, please go to the Ithorian compound here in Residential 082. Chodo Habat would be most happy to see you./

I couldn't get Kreia's hostility out of my head. I glanced back at Moza, and bowed without rising from my seat. "I—I will consider it," I said, slowly, watching Kreia from the corner of my eye. There was an iron wall in the back of my head blocking my connection to her emotions, and she was scowling.

Moza rose. /I hope so,/ he said, bowing again. /Farewell./

He left, and the door closed, and locked behind him again. We were left again to our boredom, but with a little more to think about. I scooted around so I faced Kreia's bunk, about to ask her why she seemed so averse to the idea of Chodo Habat helping me if I helped him, but Kreia wasn't having it. "Now perhaps we will be able to rest uninterrupted," she said stonily.

Atton had been about to say something, too, but Kreia's tone shut him down as quickly as it shut me down. He looked hard at me, though, and I could see the curiosity in his gaze. Then I was just as happy Kreia didn't want to talk. I didn't want to field Atton's questions about why I might be damaged and require healing, on why I hadn't felt the Force for years until three days ago.

We didn't get to rest uninterrupted as Kreia hoped. About seventeen hundred hours, not two hours after Moza's visit, the communications console rang again. The sound woke me from a light doze, and I went over.

I'd expected to see the TSF on the display, calling to communicate about the investigation, or to ask me if I wanted to see another random 'caller'. Instead, however, the display read: 'Czerka Corporation: Accept? Deny?'

I frowned. Lieutenant Grenn had promised he would screen all callers. I'd been under the impression that he'd been referring to all communications, not merely physical visitors. That Czerka could obtain my contact information and get access to call without first going through the TSF was another hole in security. Nevertheless, I accepted the call.

A droid came up on the display. It was a protocol droid. Not a fake-protocol-but-really-assassin droid like HK-50, but a real, honest-to-goodness and annoying as hell protocol droid. "I am B-4D4," it said in that ridiculously prim tenor so many protocol droids are programmed with. "Administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch. I am attempting to connect you with Executive Officer Jana Lorso. May I put you through?"

"You may."

"Thank you, I will connect you now," the droid said. "Good day."

The screen switched to a visual of a dark-haired human woman with a tattooed coronet on her forehead. She smiled at me, but her eyes had the permanently hard, evaluative stare of the cutthroat businessperson. "Thank you for accepting my call," she said in a crisp, professional voice. "As my assistant no doubt informed you, I am Jana Lorso."

"Yeah, we did that," I told her, waving my hand. "I'm Darden Leona, but you know that, too. Why are you calling?" Atton, off to the side, smiled a bit at my abruptness.

"I understand that you were approached by an Ithorian earlier," Jana Lorso said. "Doubtless he tried to obtain your help attempting to purchase it with imposed guilt and veiled threats."

I paused. Czerka was worried. That was interesting. It meant that whatever their operations were, they were fragile enough that they thought I could tip them. They didn't want me allied against them. "I was approached by an Ithorian," I replied neutrally.

"I believe you're a person of influence," Ms. Lorso said directly. "Someone I'd like on my side, rather than aiding the Ithorians whose quasi-mysticism and bumbling foolishness is standing in the way of progress, and profit. I'm not asking for your help, though. I'm offering you a job. Work for Czerka, and be handsomely rewarded. You'd be helping yourself. If you're interested, please visit our offices here in Residential 082. B-4D4 will know what to do when you arrive."

I was unimpressed. "What sort of work did you have in mind?"

"I'd rather discuss that in person," Jana Lorso told me. "I'll be more than happy to answer any and all questions when you visit our offices."

I'd been uncertain of Moza's assertions of the illegality of Czerka's operations on Telos, but this call was supporting the Ithorian's representation of the situation, I thought as I contemplated how to answer. The Ithorian-bashing, the reluctance to discuss the business proposal over the console, calling our room when all communications were supposed to be screened by the TSF—it all indicated that Czerka was into something shady, or at least that they were more out for profit than they were out for Telos. However, I was well aware that the Lorso woman's protocol-jargon and my past experiences might be coloring my reactions. I decided on the spot that it'd be better to go and hear Lorso out, at least. If Czerka was up to something that would jeopardize what the Republic was trying to do to heal Telos it'd be the only way I could find out. If they were genuinely trying to help, however, I was obligated as a person whose aid had been sought by both conflicting parties to consider both sides of the question.

"I'll come by when I can," I told Ms. Lorso.

Jana Lorso smiled widely. "Excellent! Good luck with that messy investigation, and I hope to see you shortly."

The line went dead, and I crossed back to my bunk. Atton was playing solitary pazaak on his bunk catty-corner from mine. He raised a single eyebrow at me, but he didn't comment on my decision to hear out two different people groups that wanted to get me involved on Telos, when I was supposed to be trying to leave. He only said, "You should eat something and get back to bed. Whenever they decide to release us, we should get going immediately."

He didn't qualify as to where we'd go, which I appreciated. I waved him off, but went to the kitchenette anyway. I cooked up some synthesized pasta—at least, it looked like pasta and tasted something like pasta—more like pasta than this stuff, anyway. I ate it and drank some water, but I couldn't go to sleep like Atton had suggested.

I got out my own pazaak deck. Having already lost solitary pazaak more times than I had patience with, I decided to try to build a house with the cards instead of play a game. However, this proved just as fruitless of an endeavor, as I kept fidgeting and knocking over all the cards every forty-five seconds.

I didn't really understand why I wanted to help with the Telosian Restoration Project. It probably would be smarter, I reflected, to merely resupply and get gone the second after they let us out of lockdown, especially with the Sith after me. But despite myself, I found that my desire to help this rebuilding world was strong. As I stacked and restacked cards, I caught myself making plans to stay a few days. Maybe a few weeks. I left more than one world in ruins behind me, in the Mandalorian Wars. I ripped one planet entirely apart. But sitting there on the bunk in the apartment on Telos, I couldn't recall ever having helped rebuild a world before. I knocked my fifth construction attempt down irritably and fell to my side amidst the card wreckage. Why hadn't I helped rebuild before?

Of course, with the Sith and the Exchange after me, Kreia and I were both in danger. I didn't know if the two of us were on a journey to outrun the Sith, or on a journey to find the Jedi when I was supposed to be the last one, but either way, I couldn't get caught in a fight when both of us were still so vulnerable, and the longer I stayed, the greater the chances were that a fight would find me. I couldn't stay long, no matter how much I wanted to. And I knew whatever I ended up doing, I'd have to be acquitted of the destruction of Peragus before I did it. Restlessly, I rolled to face the ceiling and started counting the ninety-six tiles a seventeenth time.

"There are seventy-two in here," Aithne said. "I can't tell you how many times I've been stuck when the only thing I've wanted to do is move—either across planet or off-world."

"Sometimes the harder thing—the braver thing—is to stay," Darden remarked, curiously avoiding looking at Aithne. "I didn't have to go into Exile, you know. I mean, Exile from the Order, sure. I had to turn in my lightsaber and all that. But the Jedi let me go to go wherever I wanted. I didn't have to run away from the Republic and keep running. That was all on me."

"I wonder what would've happened if you'd stayed," Aithne said, a little sadly. "If you could've maybe—"

"No," Darden cut her off brutally. "I tried reasoning with you and Alek both. It didn't work, and it wouldn't have, either. Malachor V destroyed any strength I might have had to oppose you, and you were always far stronger than me, anyway."

"But you could've stayed. Would you have fought?" Aithne asked.

"No," Darden answered. "I couldn't have opposed you and the others, but I wouldn't have borne arms against the Republic and the Jedi, either. Truthfully, it's probably for the best that I left the Republic."

"I would've hounded you until you chose a side, and you would've been destroyed," Aithne said, her face lined with guilt and regret. "Assassinated or fallen, it made no difference to me then, so I've heard."

The smaller woman looked over at the taller. "It's not quite true, you know," she said. "I told you I wouldn't join you, I defied you to your face, even though I wouldn't—couldn't—fight you at that point. You let me go. You even stopped Alek—well, Malak—from attacking me. He said that if I wasn't with you, I was an enemy. You disagreed. You said it didn't matter if I left, that I couldn't pose a threat to you after—after what happened. But lately I've wondered if you weren't showing me mercy."

Aithne looked pensive. "I don't know," she said. "I really don't. I wish I did. I'd love to believe it, but I'm just not sure. What would you have done, if you didn't fight?"

Darden shifted. "I've learned to stop asking that question," she said. "'What could I have done differently?' The fact is, I didn't. You didn't. We made the choices we made, and they made us who we are now. We have to live with that, but we can change the way we act in the future. If I have learned that sometimes it's good to take time to clean up the mess I make, then in the future, I can choose to do so. If I learn—if I learn a different kind of bravery than leading battles is required of me—a different kind—I can choose to exercise it." Darden's voice tapered off, and she looked away again. "Shall I continue?"

Aithne nodded.

We were shut up for that night and most of the next day, but at about 1600 hours the day after our arrest, Lieutenant Grenn came back to the apartment. The doors opened and I turned from where I'd been standing on the floor, contemplating running head-on as fast as I could into the wall. I bowed. He bowed back, and smiled. "I've come to inform you that the Telosian government has completed its inspection of what's left of the Peragus facility. It appears another Republic vessel—the Harbinger—had been present, though it was gone when our ships arrived. It was responsible for the station's destruction. Logs from the mining station recovered from your gear indicated that the miner's perished as a result of sabotage, which began while you and your companions were either incapacitated or incarcerated. As such, you are to be released from house arrest."

Honestly, I was so relieved to be let out I could have wrung the man's hand right off, but before I could thank Grenn he held his hand up. "However—the Republic is sending its own ship," he added. "They have insisted you remain on-station for the duration of their search."

Suddenly feeling much less like celebrating, I stopped halfway to Grenn. I reflected that I really ought to have expected this. "And how long will that be?"

"The Sojourn is already en route," Grenn said. "Likely not more than a few standard days. Feel free to use these quarters during your stay."

"Thank you," I responded appropriately. I hesitated, then asked. "Is the Ebon Hawk still impounded?" I kept my face carefully neutral. Grenn looked suspicious anyway.

But he answered, "The vessel's I&D is complete. You may visit the TSF station in Entertainment Module 081 to complete the necessary paperwork at the front desk. The Ebon Hawk should be transferred from the impound docks by the time you're free to leave."

If they were giving me my ship back, then it wasn't necessarily expected for me to leave with the Republic when they arrived. That was promising. It indicated that the Republic might leave me to my own devices. I assimilated the information. "And my T3 droid?"

"After filling out the paperwork, it'll be transferred with your ship, along with your confiscated weapons and armor," Lieutenant Grenn promised. He bowed again, and left. The guards went with him. And this time, when the door shut behind the TSF, it didn't lock.

Atton had been lounging on his bunk. Now he stood, and stretched like a malraas after a nap. He folded his arms and looked at me. "Well, now what?" he prompted. "We can't just stick around. We need to find a way off this station, whether it's the Ebon Hawk or some other ship. We could hit Nar Shaddaa, maybe." He looked thoughtful. "If you've got people coming after you, it's where you go to get lost in a crowd."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "And you would know?"

He raised his hands. "Hey, everyone needs to get lost once in a while. Get away from something, you know? It's no big deal."

I glanced over at Kreia. "Well?" I asked her.

She stood more easily than you'd expect a woman with a recently cut-off hand could. "It is difficult to say," Kreia answered. "I feel we came to Telos for a reason, but we may have spent too much time here already. Even if the Harbinger was destroyed at Peragus, more Sith could already be on their way." She spread her single hand, however, indicating her openness to the options. "Still, there is a chance we might learn of other Jedi here, on the planet's surface. Jedi who might help us restore your abilities or sever the link between us."

Chodo Habat, of course, had offered to do something that might amount to that, if we helped him, too, but Kreia said nothing of him.

Atton was still watching me. "Well? What do you think?"

Apparently because I was the one the Sith were after and the one's whose abilities were in need of restoration, it was my call. I didn't really like that. I'd avoided responsibility for anyone and anything after the Mandalorian Wars, and it felt too much like I'd just been handed it again. I looked at the floor. "I think—whether we find something here or not, I don't want to be stuck here. We need a ship. Let's go get the Ebon Hawk," I said finally.

Kreia nodded. Atton shrugged. "Makes sense. I'll follow your lead."

I frowned. Since the house arrest had been lifted there was really nothing keeping Atton from doing whatever the hell he wanted, and it struck me as odd that he didn't seem to realize it yet. I shrugged, however, and went to open the apartment.

We left the apartment block and headed west, along the tree-beds, benches and fountains of Residential 082, between the neat and labeled entrances to different apartment complexes and sets of offices. Telosians and off-world traders walked the thoroughfare in pairs and trios, chatting to one another. The high ceiling was glass-plated, so if you looked up, you could see the stars, and the lights of incoming and outgoing ships.

As we headed toward the shuttle line to Entertainment 081, I looked a little ways down the thoroughfare, and saw a teal green sign reading 'Czerka Enterprises'. I fell back next to Kreia. "It's too late today to do much more than fill out the paperwork to retrieve the ship, Teethree, and our equipment," I told her. "But tomorrow I want to go see Czerka. And the Ithorians."

"Why have you chosen this path?" Kreia asked.

"I don't want to leave the second we're let out and risk setting the Republic after us, too, along with the Sith and the Exchange," I explained. "If we can spare the time, I think it'd be a good idea to see what's going on here. If we go places and talk to people it'll be easier to hear about any Jedi, and, anyway, I think Chodo Habat meant he sensed my disconnection to the Force when he talked about damage to Moza. Ithorians aren't Jedi, but some of them can feel and use the Force. If he can help…"

"His help will not come without fee," Kreia warned me.

"I know."

"Have a care how you entangle yourselves in the operations of this world," she persisted. "We cannot stay. Your guilt hampers you, imprisons you more surely than our quarters did these two days past."

"Maybe so," I admitted quietly. "Maybe helping Telos is the key to the prison."

Kreia sniffed. "You know so little. Yet, there is some truth to what you say. We cannot hope to find if we do not first look. Tonight I shall meditate on our course."

"That's all I ask. Thanks for thinking about it."

Without the TSF escort, it was easier to get a feel for Citadel Station. My perceptions in the Force were still fuzzy at best, but my eyes still told me a great deal. As the shuttle to Entertainment 081 zipped down the line, I could see over 100 modules spanning over a vast, curved disc that was the station. The station was neat, efficient. The people here were excited, hopeful about their future. But there was also tension. Even on the shuttle car, there were too many people in armor around, people carrying Czerka-issue weaponry and walking with the hard faces and swaggering gait of hired mercs. More than once in the corridors and lanes back in 082, too, I had heard reference to troubles on Onderon, skyrocketing prices, and the destruction of the Peragus fuel station.

Frowning, I leaned over to Atton, sitting beside me on the shuttle. "Atton—Peragus. They provided the fuel for this station to run, didn't they?"

Atton glanced at me sidewise. "Yeah—why did you think I didn't want to come here after what went down there?" he asked me. "If they'd decided we had blown up that station—"he let out a low whistle. "Well. Let's just say I'm glad they didn't."

"But how are they going to keep running?" I asked, looking around at the breadth, the complexity of the station. "The Restoration, the people here. What are they going to do?"

He shrugged. "They'll have to find a new fuel source, won't they? At a good price, too. Don't think they have a lot of credits to spare around here, or they'd ratchet up security. If they don't find a new fuel source, though, eventually they'll have to shut down."

The shuttle stopped, and we stepped off into the bustling and brightly lit Entertainment 082. I looked around at several smiling citizens, on their way to chill out for a few hours in the cantina after work, and felt a sudden rush of guilt. If I hadn't been on Peragus, the Sith would never have had occasion to blow it up, It wasn't my fault, but it was indisputable that if I hadn't been there Citadel Station would be much better off now.

Atton seemed to pick up on my anxiety as we traced the path Grenn had taken us down before back to the TSF office. "Hey—don't worry about them, okay?" he said, a little uncomfortably. "You've got your own problems."

"Yeah, problems that caused their problems," I muttered, as we entered the TSF office.

There was another standard protocol droid at the desk. "Welcome to Entertainment Module 081's TSF station," it said. "How may I be of assistance?"

"My name is Darden Leona," I said clearly. "I was told I could get my ship and possessions out of impound here?"

"I will call up the appropriate information now," the droid said. "One moment…" Its visual sensors went dark as it accessed the TSF database. I could hear the motivators clicking along. "Searching…one moment." The clicking stopped. The droid's sensors came back on. Its central processor moved first to one side, then the other. Its wrist rotated all the way around three times. It looked about as nervous as a droid can, and a nasty, horrible feeling dropped like a stone into my stomach.

"I regret to inform you that the Ebon Hawk is gone," the droid said. "The TSF believes it was stolen and is currently investigating."

For a moment, all I could do was gape. "Stolen," I managed at last. "Just how could that have happened?"

The answer was discouraging. "It seems the Ebon Hawk was transferred to Telos' surface instead of an impound dock. However, both the requester and the point of delivery are unknown. In addition, the vessel is not showing up at any government sanctioned landing site. I would conjecture that it has been stolen and that the TSF records have been illegally accessed and modified."

The droid said all this very fast. Kreia came up beside me. Atton, however, brought his hand down hard on the desk, thumping it loudly. "I knew it!" he cried. "That stupid Teethree unit stole our ship! It's probably joyriding through the system right now, laughing at us…laughing at me!"

The accusation that a droid had committed the theft broke right through the protocol droid's nerves, and its tone changed to one of annoyance. "That is unlikely. While your utility droid is not accounted for, numerous satellites track all incoming and outgoing vessels. There is no record of the Ebon Hawk leaving the system."

Before the droid had been spouting vagaries, but this was concrete solid information, and Atton's tone changed so completely, so fast, that I was almost certain that however much he disliked droids, the accusation against T3-M4 had been made expressly to get it. "Wait. You're saying the ship's actually somewhere on Telos' surface?" he demanded. "I don't understand. Telos' atmosphere is highly corrosive outside the shielded Restoration Zones. Where else could somebody land safely?"

The droid started to look nervous again, realizing it had been tricked into giving more information than it intended to an unofficial and ununiformed party that hadn't submitted a request in writing. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's all the information I have for you. Of course, the quarters in Residential Module 082 will remain yours until the situation is resolved."

I spread my hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Was there anything else in the system about our ship?" I practically begged.

"There was a query regarding the Ebon Hawk's ID signature sent from the Peragus mining facility," the droid told me. "However, all data collected in response to the request has been deleted. It is likely that this information was removed when the vessel's transfer request was modified."

I looked at Kreia and Atton, composing myself with difficulty. "Right. Complications. More of them. Look, can we at least get our stuff back?" I asked the droid.

The droid brightened then. "Fortunately, your possessions were kept in the armory and were uncompromised," it reported happily. "I will open the door for you so that you may retrieve them. You will find them in the security lockers."

"And what are we supposed to do then?"

"I am not qualified to answer that question," the droid said. "However, it is unlikely that someone could steal a starship from under TSF observation without considerable backing. If your vessel has been stolen, there is a fair chance that the Exchange possesses relevant information. I do not know what else to suggest, beyond waiting in your quarters for further word."

The word 'Exchange' had sent a chill over me. Kreia, beside me, was very still. Atton looked at me apprehensively. "The Exchange," I repeated. "They're here?"

"They are trying to gain a foothold in the Citadel," the droid related, seemingly happy to be helpful. "Most likely seeking to integrate themselves as fully as possible with the new Telos. It is rumored that the Bumani Exchange Corporation, located in Residential Module 082, is the front for the Exchange on Citadel Station."

So not only were the Exchange a real and present threat, they were our neighbors. "Force, we really do need to get out of here," I said under my breath. "Look, isn't there anything more the TSF can do?" I asked the droid.

"Not beyond investigating the matter and extending our offer of free room and board," it replied regretfully.

"Well that's something at least," I said, a little bitterly. "Thank you for the information."

The door off to the side opened, and we were permitted to pass into the armory. The first two lockers in the bank were unsecured. Atton and I retrieved our packs with all our weapons, food, and credits. I noticed that the holo-logs from Peragus were no longer in my pack, however.

"So," Atton said, swinging his bag over his shoulders. "What're we going to do?"

"It could be a stall," I answered him, quietly so the TSF officer working late in the next room didn't hear me. "I think Grenn knew when I asked about the ship that I wasn't all for waiting in my quarters like a good girl for the Republic to get here."

"What, like they fed the droid bad information and have really got the Hawk hidden away someplace until the Republic gets here? I don't think so," Atton said. "These guys are way too on the level for that, especially Grenn."

"No," Kreia agreed. "This interference comes from a different source."

"It could be the Exchange," I speculated. "Cutting me off from escape and stealing a good freighter into the bargain."

Atton shrugged dismissively. "I still think it was that trash compactor of yours. Never trust a droid." He started out of the station, back toward the shuttle.

"Teethree's all right," I objected. "I hope he's okay. I don't really think it was the Exchange, either, though. I think that guy from the other day—the one that pretended to be Batu Rem? I think he was working alone. There'll be further attempts, but stealing the Ebon Hawk isn't one of them. No," I said, making up my mind. "You're right, Kreia, this is something else."

"But what are we going to do?" Atton asked again. "We can't be stuck here."

I decided I needed to have a one-on-one talk with Atton about how he had suddenly decided he was okay with the word 'we', when he so definitively hadn't been before. But for now I just said, "There's always a way out, remember? It'll just be…more complicated, is all."

"You really didn't see it, did you?" Aithne asked, amused. "Darden Leona, you are a complete stranger to Aithne Morrigan, and yet I will be up all night listening to this story and might get on your ship with the crew you still haven't completely told me about tomorrow to go Force knows where. People follow you. I bet that's why I promoted you in the Mandalorian Wars. Anyone with a soldier's background or training would have trouble not following your lead and moving to help you if they were thrown together in close proximity with you. It's the way you carry yourself; who you are to lead, whether you liked it just then or not."

Aithne looked thoughtful then. "You've described Atton as an ace pilot with a good working knowledge of the galaxy at large. Our age, or just a year or two younger. He has his freak outs in freaky situations, but he's no coward, either. Given all that, it wouldn't surprise me if Atton had fought in one or both wars in some capacity or other, even on a freelance basis for some crime-lord seeking to profit. But there was more going on than an ex-soldier's response to a natural leader, too." She raised an eyebrow and elbowed Darden a little.

"I wasn't blind," Darden objected, a little defensively. "Yeah—Atton was identifying more and more with me, acting like he expected to continue on with me and Kreia. But he'd been crystal clear before that he wanted out, didn't want anything to do with the Sith chasing us. So sue me if I was a little confused! I decided to talk to him as soon as we got back to the apartment about it…

Coming 5/5: Darden continues her tale. As she tells of her adventures on Telos, of her growing relationships with Atton and Kreia, and how she grew in the Force, Aithne's growing knowledge of Darden begins to trigger buried memories…

Look, I've got most of this story already written. But I am revising as I continue on based on what I hear from you. Except I'm not hearing anything. I just finished collecting all the game data I need to finish the novelization, so the story will be completed. But please, just so I know all the work I've done on this wasn't completely in vain, leave a review on your way out. Even to tell me that I need to change fifty different things or it was a lot better before. Whatever. Just let me know.

May the Force be with you,

LMSharp