Up next, a little AU! I tried writing Citadel station the right way, I really did, but couldn't stay awake long enough to make any progress. Peragus is so boring, everyone complains about it. Citadel is SO boring, everyone forgets to complain about it.

Nothing should affect the story later on, and I'll go back to normal after they get ahold of a shuttle.

Until then, I hope you enjoy. This chapter is dedicated to 'The Enigmatic Wormal'. You know who you are.

Atton

Interrogation. At least I know all the tricks, although I doubt the TSF will take it quite as far as my experience stretches.

This will be fun.

Lieutenant Dol Grenn waits for us to sit before speaking. Liran is in the middle, she shouldn't be. Grenn knows who's in charge.

He stands. A traditional control tactic.

Our seats are against the wall, bad move. He can't walk behind us. Half his intimidation is null without any weapons, or cuffs attached to the seats.

Are you complaining?

Just saying. He could have tried harder.

Not that it would work. I know better, Kreia looks bored by all this, and Liran is radiating so much hot anger, I think it's going to set my jacket on fire and melt the flesh off my arm.

"State your business on Citadel." Grenn doesn't start with control questions. Odd.

Liran is probably going to give up our cover story. Can't let her do that, then they'll have us on possession of fake identification. "Just stopping for fuel, Sir. We're trying to make it back to Corellia."

She doesn't even look at me, nods. Good.

Lies are shields. If it's damaged, you still hold on to it as long as you can. And with a good grip, you can hold on for a long time. Lies can take a lot of pounding, if they're built right.

And if there's one thing I'm good at building, it's a lie.

"Your name is 'Ilexe'?" He stares at our papers. They should hold up under a careful examination, don't know if Liran can do the same.

"That's what we said." Liran sounds much more aggressive than I thought she would. "Is there a problem with that?"

Grenn looks at her. "Your ship is registered as the Ebon Hawk. Did you know that ship was in the possession of the Republic? Before being stolen?"

"Sithspit. I knew that huttspawn sold her to us for too little. We should have bought the other freighter." Sigh, put my head in my hands. See Liran frown, from between my fingers.

"Great job, Atton. That was the rest of our savings." The skin at the edge of her mouth and eyes pull tight, make her look older.

It might be one of the first times I've seen her whole face respond to stimuli, and she's faking it. Seems like I should be making a note of this.

Grenn looks at Kreia. "Ma'am, do you have anything to add?"

The hag scowls at him, not even raising her head.

"She doesn't talk much anymore." Look up. I can't believe I'm pretending to be that scow's son.

"I am quite capable of verbal communication, fool...ish boy." She adds on the last two syllables after Liran glances her way.

I wish Liran was pretending to be Kreia's spawn. The witch treats me like a hated in-law anyway.

Grenn steps back, stares at each of us in turn. "Get comfortable. We'll be talking for quite a while."

Liran

"I was just getting used to not sleeping on my feet!"

"I'm sensing a pattern here," can't help but say to him.

"Perhaps he is destined for such a fate." It's the first time I've heard Kreia give him a jab, aside from the occasional death-glare and muttered 'fool'.

"Leave the trash talk to Liran. She does it better."

"Thank you, I try my best. Suggestions?" Cross my arms.

Our stories held, but Lieutenant Grenn is convinced we're from Peragus. After an hour of questioning how we 'procured' the Ebon Hawk, which Atton explained with a creative anecdote involving a Rodian named 'Wormal', a broken speeder, and a bowl of lentil stew.

Then the TSF commander moved on to our relationship with each other, opening another container of industrial strength discomfort, involving another anecdote, this time about what happened to our wedding rings.

Answer? The enigmatic Wormal. Shabuir was a pickpocket as well as a stolen ship dealer.

I think I want to meet this Rodian. Maybe he got me exiled, too, considering how much we're blaming on him. Doubt Grenn bought any of it.

At least we aren't sharing a single cell. I'm between Kreia and Atton, our cylindrical prisons are held by force fields, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow.

Hate it. Can't even spread my arms out in here without burning my elbows. Don't know how Atton stayed in one of these things for days without going foaming-at-the-mouth, glass-chewing bonkers. I'm almost there from just a few minutes.

"We didn't do anything wrong. The story will hold, as long as they don't make us take genetic tests."

"That facade is heavily flawed," Kreia says disapprovingly. "They will never believe I spawned such a pathetic creature as you, fool."

"Your face looks like it was plowed by crazed Ord Mantell farmers. They won't see anything past your wrinkles, although some Republic archeologists might try to buy you from us."

She gives him a distinctly old-ladyish death glare, like she's going to gouge his eyes out with a tea spoon or smother him with a doily or something.

Knowing Kreia, the 'something' would probably involve Force Lightning.

"He has a point."

"Which part?" he asks.

All of it. "As long as she looks the right age, they won't notice that you don't look like her. How long will they hold us?"

Nothing.

"Atton, you're the prison expert. How long?"

"Er, not that I've had that much experience, but unless they decide you're a hazard, TSF will assign us an apartment and ground us while they waste time going over what happened. I'm sure we can escape then."

"So if we wait and be good little prisoners, we're going to be here when the Sith come calling?"

"Right." He leans against the strip of metal connecting the generators at the top and bottom of his force field. It's just wide enough to not burn his jacket.

Do the same. It's not too uncomfortable. Keep my arms tucked in.

Kreia kneels, meditates. Of course. She never does anything else.

"Spent a lot of time in these things?" Not like I can talk to Kreia. She'd just glare at Atton and say 'we will not speak of this in such company.'

"Define 'a lot'." He closes his eyes. "And think about whether you really want to know, if we're going to be traveling together."

True.

Could use this opportunity to bother him about the information he shouldn't know, but I don't particularly care. If he was a Sith and wanted me dead, he had plenty of chances on Peragus, and the trip here. If he's a wanted criminal, whoever's after him is probably after me too, so it's... immaterial.

Completely immaterial.

Yeah, should get rid of him, soon as possible. Forget the potential usefulness. Just in case. I'm stuck with Kreia, and one mysterious companion is more that enough for this paranoid ex-hermit.

And the faster I can shake off the Sith stalking me, the sooner I can get back to being alone.

"When we leave Telos, I'll drop you off somewhere. Nar Shaddaa. How does that sound?"

He jerks, maybe he was already asleep on his feet. Looks at me.

"What, it's not like you'll offend me by agreeing too enthusiastically. I wish I could run away from me."

Kreia stands. "Someone is coming."

Kreia

"Someone is coming."

The assassin walks in. He is weak enough to bend. He can be our method of escape.

And I know just the way. If it fails, the worst that could happen is the fool's death. This would not be a tragedy. It might even save me the effort of disposing of him myself.

But I doubt it will happen. He is more capable than he appears.

Not that this would be difficult to achieve.

Reach into the assassin's mind, search out the correct thoughts to manipulate. There they are.

He speaks with the Exile, she responds, the fool interferes.

Tug the thought, gently. Feel him respond to it, a puppet on a string.

We will not be here long.

Liran

The prison door opens. A uniformed TSF officer walks in. "So this is the last of the Jedi. Must admit, I'm a little disappointed."

"Come here to gawk?" I ask, not moving. "I'm no Jedi." The TSF don't know who I am.

"You are Liran Ericho?" He smiles, and his voice is so slimy, I need a shower.

"That's me." If he knows enough to ask, he knows enough that my answer doesn't matter.

"Then it doesn't matter what you are, Liran." Hate him using my name. I'll have to scrub it off after he's done sticking his tongue on it. "I'm here to kill you."

Somehow, I'm not surprised.

"Why don't you walk out while you still can?" Atton sounds more irritated than anything else.

"The Sith sent you?" Lets get this over with. Squint at his credentials, hanging off his belt. Batu Rem. Fake, I'm sure. The TSF flunky is probably dead, shoved in a locker minus his uniform.

"No." Slimy smirks. He wants to play twenty questions, apparently.

"Ah, a bounty hunter. The Exchange, or freelance?"

"Look at the guy. Freelance, obviously." Atton points at him. "The Exchange only hires the best."

"I am more than skilled enough to work for the Exchange." The bounty hunter's face turns an unflattering blotchy color.

"Definitely freelance scum." He leans against the metal back of his force cage.

"No 'Freelance scum' would be clever enough to take the identity of one of the TSF officers, then temporarily short out the security cameras in this room, leaving me the perfect opportunity to-"

"Overload our force cages and make it look like an accident?" Atton looks at the ceiling of his cage, still unconcerned.

Uncomfortable silence from our brilliant assassin.

"Atton, did he just tell us his entire plan?"

"Yes, I believe he did. I've changed my mind. He's a prodigy. The Exchange would beg for a chance to employ him."

Slimy glares at him, then walks to the cage controls.

Atton makes an unmistakably offensive hand gesture in his direction.

"The Genoharadan has assessed your potential impact on the Republic," Slimy presses a few buttons. "They have deemed you a threat."

I don't know what he's talking about, and I don't care. "Maybe the Gay-no-whoever needs to run the numbers again. I'm heading for the 'Rim as soon as I can, and I don't plan on coming back. Ever. The Republic will be free of my insidious scheming."

"You want us to let you go? You've been in Republic space for less than a standard month and you're already back to destroying planets." His fingers hover over the console. "It will be free of you. Today."

"Who are the Gay-"

"Genoharadan! We are elite assassins. Much more competent that the Exchange." He spits the last word.

"Elite? Oh, now I understand. A family business. That's how you got in." Atton puts on a thick accent, don't know the origin, "'My seestor's son. I'a had to give'a da boy ah chance.'"

Now Slimy's eye is twitching, and he looks like he stood in the twin suns of Tatooine for a day and forgot to put zinc on his face.

"I bet you couldn't take me in a straight fight." Atton. Trying to get himself killed.

Out of the corner of my eye, Kreia waves her fingers in a familiar way.

Slimy sways a little on his feet, shakes his head. "A broken Jedi, an old woman, and a fool are no match for me." He looks at me. "Maybe I should test you out, Liran. Have a little fun before you 'become one with the Force'."

Suddenly, Atton has that cold look again. "Leave her alone." Okay, now I'm a little surprised. Chivalry is not a quality my cell mate possesses.

"Or what?" Slimy steps right up to Atton's cage. Whatever Kreia's doing is working. Sort of.

"I'll kill you." For once, he looks like he's telling the truth.

"I'd like to see you try." Slimy turns to me again. "Would you like to see him try, Liran?"

Kreia's hand glides across the air.

"I'd rather do it myself."

He pokes my force field with a little crack. "As tempting as that sounds, you have an unfair advantage, my dear."

I might have to kill him for calling me 'Dear.' If Atton doesn't beat me to it.

"He'll just have to settle for me then." Atton smiles.

Kreia's fingers move again.

Slimy smiles back, and it's pretty creepy, both men standing there, grinning like kath hounds about to tear into each other.

Actually, that's a good description of the situation.

Slimy holsters the blaster he's been cradling the whole time and goes back to the console.

"Don't blink, Angel. You might miss the aortal spray." Atton leans back again, not concerned in the least.

This will be interesting.

Beep. His force cage powers down.

Slimy takes a defensive position, hands guarding his torso and face.

Atton moves forward, still grinning like a psycho in a knife shop.

Crunch.

Slimy hits the deck without so much as a farewell groan to this plane of existance, neck twisted at an angle I've never seen before.

It was... efficient.

"Amateur." Atton dusts off his hands, steps over the body, to the console. My cage and Kreia's shut down.

I can't really think of anything to say except, "You promised me a blood fountain." Well actually, I can think of something else to say, but I'm not going to shout 'Force-infused kek nuggets! How long would it take for you to teach me that?' His ego needs nothing from me to sustain itself.

Kreia taps one foot testily. "Exile, now is not the time to gape. We should leave this place."

"Got it. Atton, would that uniform fit you?"

He nudges Slimy with one boot. "Might be a little short, but yeah. What's the plan, Fearless Leader?"

Atton

Despite her squeamishness on Peragus, Liran strips the TSF uniform off the creepy bounty hunter in a flash, with an only slightly disgusted expression.

She tosses it to me. "Hurry up. Don't know how long he knocked out the security cameras."

Is this revenge for me seeing her in her skivvies? I think it is.

"Uh..." Suddenly the lightsaber scars on my chest and arms are all itchy. I think explaining those away would stretch even my creative genius. "Turn around."

She turns her back to me.

"Actually, I was talking to Kreia. I don't care if you look."

"What makes you think I want to see you in your underwear?"

"Fine. You don't know what you're missing."

Liran snorts in a very un-Jedi-like way. "Get over yourself, Jailbird."

"Stop speaking, fool." The crone is already facing the opposite wall. "You are wasting time."

Jaq mutters insults at her while I get dressed.

"Do I have to wear the helmet?"

Liran turns around, hands it to me.

"You owe me for this." Put on the huge, round helmet. "Force, I must look ridiculous."

"That is definitely your color." Sarcastic little...

She holds out the bounty hunter's blaster and holster, then goes back in her cage. I dump the inept assassin in my cage, make sure Kreia is in hers.

Turn them back on. "Don't get in trouble while I'm gone."

Liran just leans against the back of her cage, arms crossed. "Don't get arrested in that getup. It would be an embarrassing holopic on your criminal file."

She has a point.

Walk out of the prison. The TSF office is almost empty, Lieutenant Grenn is nowhere to be seen, there's one female officer at the main console, holding down the fort.

She'll do.

"I've got a problem with the prisoners," I say, just out of her view. "Can you give me a hand? The woman won't calm down. Maybe you can help her."

She stands, walks over with a sigh. "What did you do? She was pretty cooperative when we brought her in."

Turn my back to her, wouldn't want her to recognize me as that guy who complained about the thorough weapons search they gave him after finding Jaq's hidden knife. "Well she's not calm now. I think she's going to burn herself on the force field."

The officer opens the door to the prison. Follow her in and shut it. Yank her blaster out of it's hip holster. "Hands up."

To her credit, the officer considered taking out my knee with a backward kick. Put an end to her considering with a rap to the base of her skull, right under the edge of her hideous, and useless, helmet.

That's the problem with most people. It's not that they don't know what to do, it's that they take too long thinking about it.

Turn off the cages again.

"Is she okay?" Liran starts yanking the TSF's uniform off before I answer, so it's not bothering her much.

"Yeah. A little headache might be down the road, though."

Liran drags the undressed officer into her cage. "Your turn to look away."

"Why? It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Don't make me shoot you so soon after you saved our shebse, Atton."

Jaq laughs. I think he's starting to like Liran. Or maybe just her habit of threatening me. That could be it.

Liran takes a little more time than I did changing. "What were they thinking when they designed these?"

"I don't think they were." Liran looks even more sickly in the TSF colors, didn't know that was possible.

"Get in the system and find out where the Hawk is. I'll find our gear." She walks away.

Would it kill you to say 'please'?

The TSF's security system is about as competent as the TSF itself.

Yeah, only took me 30 seconds to hack in. Find the docking bay where they put the freighter, the astromech is deactivated on board, that should save some time. Doubt Liran would leave the trash compacter.

"Ready?" She tosses me my blasters and a backpack, slings the double-blade over her shoulder. Kreia lurks behind her.

"I'll have to break into the impounding dock when we get there."

"T3?"

"He's there."

Liran leads the way out, marching like she owns the place, the TSF officer's badge and ID on her old battered belt.

The best of liars know it's more about body language than words. Liran has the walk down pat.

She's a good liar.

Yes, I am trying to restore the Genoharadan plot. Nar Shaddaa is going to be so fun.

I apologize to all Italians everywhere. I am awful at accents.

Well, you already know that.

And the person who figures out where I got the surname 'Ilexe' wins a gentlemanly bow from Mical. See? Now it's interactive!