Disclaimer.
XXV.
Those Left Behind
"Atton had landed us in a very makeshift, recently built port. It looked no more than three years old. There was a ramshackle, disorganized quality about the mechanic grumbling over the machinery to the right and the abandoned heaps of supplies lying here and there, without rhyme or reason. It was decidedly different from the neat, welcoming little port they'd had attached to the Jedi Enclave when I'd grown up. It's a terrible feeling to come home at last, and find it isn't home anymore.
The woman standing a couple meters away seemed to be the port authority. She had a digital record, anyway, that she was busy making notes in. She caught sight of us then, and started to walk to meet us. Then she saw our lightsabers, and she scowled.
"You'll find little welcome here, Jedi," she said coldly. "For your own good, I recommend you speak to Administrator Adare, quickly finish your business in Khoonda, and go!"
Her attitude shocked me. "Whoa, whoa! Could you please answer some questions about this place before you send me packing?"
She softened just a bit. "I will answer your questions."
I glanced at her nametag. "Thank you…Dillan. First, who am I supposed to see? Who's this Administrator Adare?"
"She was the Agricultural Administrator for Dantooine," Dillan said. "After the Sith attack, she kept us together. Without her, the only thing you'd see around here would be mercenaries."
"Why so many?"
"We had problems with Mandalorian mercenaries even before the Jedi Civil War. The Jedi helped clear most of the problem up. But after the war, many soldiers from both side of the conflict became mercenaries. And since we're so far from the Core, some started gathering here."
"I see. Have they caused any problems?"
Dillan had relaxed into speaking with me. Most people like to complain, even if they aren't terribly fond of their conversation partner. "The difference between an out of work mercenary and a raider is a vibroblade's edge. But the only thing we can prove they've done is intimidate a few farmers. The farmers give them goods, money, or food just to stay on their good side. The only one that isn't scared of them is the Administrator. But there have been a lot of disappearances lately. Not all of them can be blamed on kath hounds. But nobody can prove the mercenaries are responsible."
The skepticism in her voice indicated she knew, even though she couldn't prove it. "Who's disappeared?" I asked.
"A farmer here and there, or a family. We lost enough people during the war that keeping the kath hound and kinrath populations under control hasn't been possible. So there are a lot of animal attacks. Some deaths, too. The disappearances might just be coincidence. But a lot of the stubborn folks here seem more accident prone."
It wasn't at all what I'd wanted to find when I'd landed again on Dantooine. "Okay. You wanted me to go to Khoonda. What is it?"
Dillan pointed. "Khoonda is the big building just outside the landing port. It used to be the estate of a man named Matale, but he and his family disappeared around the time of the bombardment."
I used to play with the little kid on the Matale estate. Ahlan Matale had been an unpleasant customer, but he'd been pleased to see his tiny son playing with a Jedi Padawan, especially one with a Master as famous as Kavar.
Dillan continued. "The Administrator rebuilt it and now this is our center of government."
She'd led Bao-Dur, Visas and me to the edge of the landing port. I looked out at the rebuilt mansion. It was good for a house, but it was undeniably compact for a planetary governmental building. But when I looked left and right, I couldn't see anything else for kilometers. "This is your center of government?" I repeated.
Dillan was annoyed. "I know it doesn't look like much, but there aren't many settlers that live on this planet. This building is the start of something new for us. We're very proud of it. Head into the building and you'll find your way to the Administrator. I'll be over by the entrance if you need anything else." She left.
I hesitated. The mechanic was looking darkly out at us from underneath beetled brows. I swung off my pack and stowed my lightsaber in it, and drew out my blaster, instead.
Then I activated the comm. Atton picked up.
"Yeah?"
"Don't bring your lightsabers outside," I told him. "Or conceal them, if you do. I've got a feeling they don't like Jedi here."
"This world was pretty much crushed five years ago because of the Jedi. What did you expect?"
The comm crackled out. Yeah, that was pretty much how it had been since the ill-fated sparring session ten days prior.
Bao-Dur and Visas hid their weapons.
When the three of us marched into Khoonda I knew at once I'd been right to hide the lightsabers. Two women were talking loudly about a rumor of Jedi on Dantooine, and the bounty on them. They weren't bounty hunters, but they wanted to collect, because they wanted the damn Jedi off their planet. How had they dared to come here, they wondered, after what the Jedi had done to Dantooine?
The hostility was like trying to take a bath in acid and gravel, even though they had no idea they were talking about me. I swallowed. "Um…excuse me?" I said. "I couldn't help but overhear. It was the Sith, wasn't it? The Sith that attacked Dantooine, not the Jedi?"
One woman sniffed. "What are you, some idiot salvager? Sith are just Jedi in black robes. They just kill people directly, instead of letting them die." She turned pointedly back to her friend.
It was a slap in the face to realize how the ordinary people don't see the differences between Sith and Jedi, to realize that it didn't matter who was right and who was wrong to them, the Jedi Civil War had still wrecked their homes. I left the women awkwardly.
Bao-Dur, Visas and I made our way through Khoonda. The building was full of hope, but also full of tension. I sensed that Khoonda could provide a new start for the people of Dantooine, but all the dangers that accompany every new start were present. In a way, Khoonda felt very like Telos, only on an even smaller scale.
Khoonda was small enough, in fact, that when I found the Administrator, I discovered I could just walk right in. Adare was sitting at her desk, dressed in plain, utilitarian clothes that suited a formal agricultural administrator better than the leader of an entire colony. Two pins had been thrust carelessly through a knot of graying, dark hair. Her face was pale and worn, ornamented only with a tribal tattoo on her forehead, probably from her homeworld.
She saw Bao-Dur, Visas and I in the doorway. "Visitors?" she asked in a low, sweet voice. "Please, come in. Welcome to Khoonda. I am Administrator Terena Adare."
She gestured at three chairs before her desk, and my friends and I sat down. The Administrator looked all of us over, then decided I was the leader, probably because I'd sat in the center and Bao-Dur and Visas were focused on me. "You're the owner of the…um…ship…that just landed?"
Her stumbling irritated me. "Don't knock it, if you please. It's one of the fastest in the galaxy, and it's certainly been good to me."
Terena Adare smiled gently. "I meant no disrespect at all. It is in fact a remarkable vessel. And unless I'm much mistaken, that's the Ebon Hawk. That vessel has been on Dantooine before, during the war. That was a Jedi vessel."
I was impressed she'd recognized it on sight. "It was Revan's vessel, which is an entirely different thing," I corrected.
Adare inclined her head in acknowledgment of the distinction.
"Whatever you know about it, I'd appreciate it if you kept quiet," I murmured, conscious of the open door behind us. "I've been here all of five minutes, and I'm getting the impression it's a bad idea to be a Jedi here, or related to them in any way."
Adare sighed. "That is an unfortunate truth, and a wise request, which of course I will honor. Most settlers here hold bitter memories of the Sith occupation. Right or wrong, our settlers blame the Jedi and their hidden Enclave for their suffering." She steepled her fingers beneath her chin. "I remember the old Jedi Masters and the considerable help they lent to Dantooine. I still maintain…discreet…connections with the Jedi. I suppose your arrival here is no coincidence."
I leaned forward, excited. "Have you seen them? The others?"
The Administrator was surprised. "Others? No…I was speaking of one friend in particular. Let's just call him Vrook. We've known each other for many years. And our continued friendship could create many problems in the current political climate. He came back to Dantooine not too long ago. He was looking for something quite important. He's gone missing recently. Did he send for you in case something went wrong?"
I almost laughed. "No. He wouldn't send for me. But something has obviously gone wrong. I'm here to find him, but I would have thought there would be others by now. Have you seen them? Long haired guy with earrings called Zez-Kai Ell? Tall man named Kavar?"
"I regret to say I have seen nothing of these men," Adare replied. She studied my face then, as if searching for something. "Though…I recall there was a Kavar here, once, many years ago. In the Enclave, long before both wars. He was very helpful to the people of Dantooine. You…you look very like his young apprentice, you know, a girl that always seemed to cause trouble for my friend Vrook. She went away…"
Adare's eyes widened then, and she seized my hand across the table. "Tell no one here who you are," she whispered urgently. "You were too close to Revan, and the government is not strong enough yet to protect you, should the people discover your identity just now."
I held her gaze, then inclined my head almost imperceptibly. Adare released me.
"Okay," I said, keeping my voice lower than ever. "You haven't seen the others. You have seen Vrook. What's happened to him?"
Adare regained her composure rapidly. She took a small sip out of a cup of tea on her desk. "We had a mutually beneficial arrangement for several weeks. He went to the Jedi Enclave's sublevel recently, and hasn't returned. I know the sublevel is dangerous. I'm starting to fear the worst."
I had been traveling for weeks, Aithne. From Dxun to Telos, then all the way back across the galaxy to Dantooine. In all that time, Kavar had not arrived. And Zez-Kai Ell hadn't either? That was truly worrying. And it seemed Vrook had gone missing, too. "Yeah. So am I."
"Would you be willing to go to the ruins of the Enclave to look for Vrook?" Adare asked me.
"Willing? You couldn't stop me, Administrator."
"We are fortunate that you have come. Don't expect it to be easy, though. Things rarely are with Jedi. I will have one of the militia transmit permissions to the Enclave's security door. Go expecting danger, for you will most certainly find it there."
I had to laugh. "I can find the danger anywhere. Right. Well. If I'm going to be rooting around here on Dantooine, I need to know how things are these days. First of all: will I need to stay incognito the entire time? I mean, I know I shouldn't go shouting my name at the top of my lungs or anything, but I'd rather take out the kinrath and kath hounds with my lightsaber, if I have any choice."
I glanced at Bao-Dur and Visas. Bao-Dur was more than competent with a vibroblade or a blaster, but I honestly had no idea if Visas had any skill at all with either.
Adare caught the looks. Her emotions swirled. Her confidence rose: she thought that if more than one Jedi had come to her aid, the chances of Vrook's location were higher. But she was also worried about the political situation, sad it was the way it was. She was also sympathetic to a warrior's wish to utilize her primary weapon.
She addressed all three of us when she spoke next. "Try and understand: to most people in the galaxy, the distinction between Sith and Jedi is a blurry one. Especially since most Sith were once Jedi. It is complicated by the fact that Malak and Revan were great heroes of the Republic and famed Jedi Knights, but a few years later they were leading an armada which threatened everyone." She took a breath. "Here on Dantooine, the Jedi Enclave provoked a brutal occupation by the Sith. It could've been far worse, but even now the damage has not been fully mended."
Bao-Dur shifted in his chair. "Bad reputations can be mended," he offered. "Like a shorted out circuit. All you have to do is reconnect the right wires. Could we do anything to help?"
"I do not think that everyone hates Jedi," the Administrator qualified. "If just a few people changed their minds or spoke up, it could make a great deal of difference. I think that we need the help of the Jedi. If the Jedi's reputation isn't redeemed, the consequences could be quite regrettable. Until then, I would keep your identity a secret."
"Fine. Tell me about the lay of the land these days. Who are the people here?"
I'll give you the short version. There were basically three groups of inhabitants on Dantooine, only one of which answered directly to the Administrator. The settlers were farmers, for the most part, and there were far fewer of them since the Sith occupation. There were mercs, former soldiers from both sides of both wars that had gathered to Dantooine in search of work, but work was hard to come by. The hired guns were restless, and under the leadership of one Azkul, a former Sith of some standing, they had been causing problems for farmers lately, like Dillan had said, though never enough that Adare or the captain of the militia, Zherron, could prove anything against them. The third group of people on Dantooine were the salvagers, enterprising sentients that Adare had decided after some deliberation to allow to search the ruins of the Jedi Enclave for valuable artifacts. The salvagers were obliged to pay a fee for the privilege of searching the ruins, and another tax for anything of value they removed. Khoonda was using the proceeds to help rebuild. For a while, the salvagers had prospered, but now the ruins were drying up, and the salvagers were starting to leave. Consequently, revenue for Khoonda and the maintenance of the Dantooine colony was decreasing.
Adare feared for the future of the colony. "We need the Republic and we always have. We aren't self-sufficient yet and we need aid. The fate of the Telos project is intimately tied to our own. The most humanitarian elements of the Senate have put their careers at stake in the rebuilding of Telos. If those efforts succeed, their prominence will grow and further aid will be given freely. But if they fail there are colder, more authoritative elements in the Senate that could come to power. They would think nothing of leaving the strategically unimportant worlds to their own devices. That would be a tragic day for Dantooine and many other worlds. The Republic is in flux; its final shape is uncertain."
"Don't be so hard on Dantooine," I encouraged her. "I have a—well, not a friend—say a—no, not an ally, either. A companion. He's made somewhat of an exhaustive study of the Republic, its resources, its economics. He says that Dantooine is vital to the Republic, a beacon on the Rim. If it makes it, then the Republic will expand and grow and thrive."
"Yes, but will we make it?"
"If the General has anything to say about it, you will," Bao-Dur said. "We've done what we can for Telos, already. It's much more likely to succeed now than it was because of what she's done, ma'am."
"This is good news. And you will help us, too?" Adare asked.
"First I'm going to find Vrook," I said. "But if I can do something for Dantooine while I'm here, then I will. You have my word. But I should go. Half the day's gone, and I want to hit the sublevel before dark."
I left Administrator Adare cordially. On the way out of Khoonda, I talked to a few of the other Dantooine inhabitants. I made the acquaintance of the taciturn but efficient captain of the guard Zherron, and his second-in-command Berun. Berun didn't hate the Jedi as much as many other settlers, and I was able to convince him to speak up on behalf of the Jedi, as per Adare's recommendation. There was a settler named Suulru that was having trouble with some thefts and asked me to look into them in lieu of the already overworked militia, and there was a very rude, unpleasant salvager named Geverick that insulted the Ebon Hawk on our way out. Because he was so rude, I ignored him, but Bao-Dur clenched his jaw.
"He's not worth it, Bao-Dur," I murmured to him as we left Khoonda. "Berun said he's trouble. Don't let's get into it. I know and you know that the Ebon Hawk flies faster and better than any ship in the galaxy, mostly because of you and Teethree. That's enough."
"You're right, General," Bao-Dur said. "Thank you. I'll try to control myself in the future."
We'd emerged onto the plains, and I started heading toward where I remembered the Enclave had been. "You did control yourself. You didn't attack him or answer back. You've been doing much better. I've seen it in actions and combat both. Your anger doesn't control you any longer in battle, Bao-Dur, and you aren't a liability, but an asset."
"It's thanks to you I'm doing better, General."
"We both are," Visas added. "All your pupils grow stronger, better. We are more at peace the longer we travel at your side, and more connected to you. Yet…you grow weary. You give more than you can spare, Darden. And though for the most part you remain strong, at times we…at times I wonder if you possess the peace you impart. This last week—"
"—I don't give more than I can spare, Visas," I interrupted her. Visas perceived no more than a disturbance in the order of the crew, a depression in me, but I still didn't want to talk about it. "You worry that I weaken myself by making all of you stronger. But if you think about it, so long as you stand beside me, your strength is my strength, is it not? I am so proud of your growing peace, your growing enjoyment of life. And Bao-Dur: your growing mastery over your anger, your increased connectivity with others. Your every victory is mine, too."
"And yet you are angry, sorrowful, at times," Visas hazarded, still more timidly. "I do not know what it is…"
"What anger and sorrow I feel does not control me. I master myself. I wait. I act in accordance with reason, with what is permitted to me, considering who I am, and where I stand. Don't worry about me, Visas." I couldn't altogether keep the bitterness out of my voice.
Bao-Dur spoke up, gently. "We all do, General. I don't think you remember that you're more than a veteran and a Jedi and a teacher, sometimes. You have more functionality than that, and until you act upon all of it, I don't think you'll be all that you can be."
Indirectly as he spoke, he did know he was referencing the tension with Atton. "I don't want to talk about that," I snapped. "Bao-Dur…I'm sorry, but you've done an excellent job of staying out of things so far. Please, just keep to that."
"Very well, General," Bao-Dur said, unoffended. We lapsed into silence.
The plains were more or less deserted. The tall, golden grass swayed in the desolate wind. Iriaz flew overhead lazily. Small, stubby trees stood lonely here and there, and kath hounds curled up in their shade. It was summer on the part of the planet where Khoonda was located. A beautiful one, just like the ones where I'd had (and lost) footrace after footrace with Talvon and Nitotsa, listened to Cariana gossip about the settler boys and wonder how much interaction constituted an attachment, and laughed with Xase about all of it under a tree later after sneaking out on a speeder. It was like the summers that I'd walked across the plains with Master Kavar after another disagreement with Vrook, when he would tell me Vrook was interfering and he'd discuss it with him, and then he'd tell me about the Force.
Yet it wasn't like those summers, for the plains were deserted of Jedi and settlers alike, and there was a tension, an anger present in the ground and in the air that hadn't been there years before. I could feel the loss that the planet had sustained. I could also feel the hope its people still held, but the hope was tinged with desperation, too. It made me want to cry.
Bao-Dur, Visas, and I journeyed on through a small white canyon, and at last, saw a camp. As we drew nearer, we found several pitched, weathered tents, populated by an assortment of heavily armed men in their mid-thirties and older. Obviously the mercenaries.
I was surprised to recognize Canderous and Mira coming from the opposite direction. They waved, and we all joined up.
"Canderous was showing me around the place," Mira told me. "Seriously, what gives? Where are all the people? All this space…it's creepy." I rolled my eyes at her.
Mandalore had gone up ahead to a group of maybe half a dozen armored Mandalorians. They had set up their tent a ways away from the other mercs. Their camp was neater, better maintained than the others, and the tattered remnants of a clan banner hung outside of the tent.
The Mandalorian tending the fire caught sight of Mandalore—or more importantly, the helmet. He stood slowly. "Look who's walked into our camp, boys!" he drawled. "Mandalore himself has come to visit us."
The guys behind the first weren't so sure Canderous was somebody to laugh at, though. They hung back. Canderous didn't flinch. "I am the new Mandalore. I have reclaimed Mandalore's helmet, lost after our defeat at Revan's hands. Assemble the rest of your clan. You will return to Dxun. We must fight a new war: a war that will return us to glory."
The Mandalorian in front made a rude gesture. "And if I take that helmet from you," he said, "Guess that makes me the new Mandalore? I've always wanted to be called that." He snorted, and the Mandalorians behind him moved back further, distancing themselves. "I know all about your exploits, 'Mandalore.' We have fallen far in the past years, but I will not stand idly while an usurper claims to be my leader."
Mandalore drew a vibrosword from the sheath on his back. "It is unfortunate that you feel that way. Perhaps I'll be able to change your mind."
Mira's hand went for a weapon. I grabbed her arm. "Don't. This is Mandalore's fight, and these are his people. We stay out."
Mira remained tense, but nodded acknowledgment. The entire merc camp watched silently as Mandalore and the challenger circled one another like firaxa.
The challenger was taller and broader than Canderous, and he sounded and moved like he was at least ten years younger. He'd drawn a vibrosword, too, and he struck first. Mandalore had been waiting for him. Mandalore moved incredibly fast. I'd only ever seen him use that monstrosity of a repeater, but it was immediately apparent that he was an expert melee fighter. He blocked his opponent's stroke and sliced back with a brutal stroke of his own, directly at a weak place in the dissident's armor. The dissident leaped back a picosecond before the blow fell. When he came toward Mandalore again, however, he moved more cautiously.
"He underestimated him," a merc behind me commented. "Who are these people, anyway?"
"I don't care," said another. "If 'Mandalore' wants to take away the competition, so much the better, if you ask me." Someone spat in agreement.
Overall, though, there was only silence as Mandalore blocked another stroke and kicked out, connecting solidly with the gut of his opponent and moving him back. He'd thrown him off balance enough that his next slice up under the arm landed. Mandalore actually dug up under the plating, gouged the arm, and had the strength to pry some of the plating off. I was impressed. Blood spurted, and armor shrieked, and the dissident cried aloud.
Mira and Bao-Dur were disturbed. I wasn't sure whether Mira was fearful of the to-the-death conclusion the fight seemed to be heading toward, or worried for Canderous, but I was pretty sure the sight of a Mandalorian shedding blood was bringing back bad memories for Bao-Dur. I put a hand on his shoulder.
"He's not hurting anyone you'd want to protect."
The dissident was stronger than a bad arm wound, though. He bled freely, but he kept coming. He swung wildly at Mandalore, and Mandalore sidestepped, and leveled another blow at the joint in the neck armor. The challenger's helmeted head fell from his shoulders. The body stood for half a second, then fell to the ground with a sickening thud. There was silence in the camp. The challenger hadn't had a chance, and everyone knew it.
Mandalore stepped over the body, bloody vibrosword still drawn. "Any other takers?" he asked the other Mandalorians.
None of them looked at the body as they knelt. "No, Mandalore. We will follow you."
"Good. I have no desire to spill any more Mandalorian blood today," Mandalore said. I believe that if he hadn't been saving face in front of his people, he might have shown more sadness. "Gather your clan and return to Dxun. You have seen the last of your mercenary days."
"Yes, Mandalore," they said, and immediately began packing up camp.
Canderous sat down on a nearby rock and began cleaning his sword. I went up to him. "I'm going to the Enclave. Come with me?"
"No. I'll go back to the Ebon Hawk. Or just…" he trailed off. "I knew that Enclave well," he said abruptly. "Six weeks we stayed there, and they trained her, like she'd never been a Jedi before."
Visas stepped forward. "If I may, I shall accompany you, Canderous." She bowed to me.
"Go ahead," I said.
"I'll come with you and Bao-Dur," Mira said. She looked to the east. "I can feel this…Darkness, this loss…I can't explain it, exactly."
"You feel that there should be an Enclave, but there isn't. And you hear the echoes of the screams of the Jedi that died." I kept my voice low, so none of the mercs around would hear.
Mira caught my pain. "This was home?"
"Yeah, for a while. Well. Come on, Mira, Bao-Dur. See you back at the ship this evening, guys."
Mandalore waved us off, and Bao-Dur, Mira and I headed east. By now, it was the laziest part of the afternoon. The kath hounds had started to wind down, and for the most part, we were able to avoid them. We followed the curvature of the hills around to where they open up, where Eglend's Creek runs across the plain.
Just in front of the creek, though, there was another camp. Smaller, shabbier. The people weren't as well-armored as the mercs, and they were thinner. Some of them fought like cannoks over a credits. Overall they were a dirty, shifty looking bunch. "The salvagers," I told Mira. I briefly outlined the situation on Dantooine for her. "Keep an eye to your pack."
Mira sniffed. "A twelve year old kid from Nar Shaddaa could take these losers in five minutes." Nevertheless, she hoisted her pack up on her shoulders.
The salvagers were hostile, but not violent when they found out we were headed for the ruins. An old, sour woman named Deraala was particularly nasty. But they were all still eager to sell Jedi salvage at exorbitant prices. One man tried to trick me into buying a counterfeit holocron. Mira laughed at him. They were a slimy, somewhat depressing crew, obviously not doing too well anymore. The salvage on the main level of the old Enclave had dried up, the sublevel was too dangerous for most of them, and surprisingly, they'd been hit by the thief Suulru from Khoonda had asked me to find, too.
Eventually I was able to extricate the three of us from the merchandising salvagers, and we made our way to the break in the hills and the footbridge over Eglend's Creek.
When I saw the Enclave, I had to stop. The footbridge was still intact, but it was pretty much the only thing that was. The beautiful stone walls where I'd slept, eaten, played, and learned were hardly more than a pile of rubble. The stone of the courtyard was cracked and pitted and carbon-scored. The trees were blackened and blighted. I shook, swallowed, brought my hands to my face and rubbed at my eyes.
Mira put a hand on my shoulder. "Dar, I…"
"It's been this way a long time, General," Bao-Dur said softly. "You have a new home now, and you have a new job."
It wasn't just the ruin, though. I could feel the distress the earth had felt when the fire had rained down from the Sith ships. I could hear the echoes of the screams that had rung out that day. The Force still wept above the Enclave, and the void still gaped.
Kreia, lurking in the back of my mind as ever when I went away from her, made her presence known. Do you feel it? The wound on this world is centered here. If we succeed in gathering the Jedi, they will be drawn to this place. And if those Jedi are slain, then all that remains of the Order shall be drawn here as well.
Are there more? I demanded.
Perhaps, in the shadows of the galaxy. Kreia sounded supremely unconcerned, though heretofore she'd been letting me—encouraging me—to operate under the assumption that the Jedi Masters that had exiled me from the Order and myself were all that remained. We will know when the time comes, and I hope our enemies do not. She retreated into silence again.
"General?" Bao-Dur asked.
I'd been standing still for several long moment, but now I continued on, and Bao-Dur and Mira followed me. We took a right down the broken path in front of the Enclave, now sprouting plains-grass. The sublevel door was still intact. A group of harried-looking salvagers were just emerging from it. The leader, a dark-haired young woman in black armor, was doing a head count.
She swore vividly and yelled something about Jorran being the one with the backpack. Then she caught sight of the three of us, and her blue eyes narrowed. She squared her shoulders and led her buddies past, gripping her blaster rifle with tight, white fingers.
"They left their squad-mate down there?" Mira breathed, horror-struck. "That's just…"
"If he's still alive, we'll help him," I promised her.
Mira muttered something in Mando'a. "Come on."
A camera over the door to the Enclave sublevel focused on me as I came close. A red light on it flashed green, and the door opened.
"Thank you, Administrator Adare," I murmured. We walked into the Enclave sublevel.
Despite the ruin aboveground, the sublevel had hardly been touched. There were some cracks in the walls and ceiling that attested to the stress the building had undergone. I could hear creaking and crumbling. But the halls were still halls. Just dark. The lamps were out, broken. And instead of fountains and the sounds of laughing children, all that could be heard was a scuttling that sounded more bestial than human.
"What's that noise?" Mira whispered, very slowly.
"It'll be laigreks. Or kinrath. Either way, very nasty," I told her. I started north, toward the dorms where the historians had lived. Dorak, and his apprentices. That was when the first laigrek attacked.
I'm of the firm opinion that laigreks should not exist. No one needs giant colony insects with bulbous red eyes, clacking beaks, and three pair of really sharp-clawed legs. And it's just not fair how smart they are, and how Force-resistant.
The first laigrek's five friends weren't far behind, and I yelled back at Mira and Bao-Dur, "Aim for the eyes! Or the joints of the legs!" I tried shooting with my blaster, but it was no good. They were already too close.
I kicked out at a laigrek, gritting my teeth as it dug its sharp little claws into my calf, and struggled with my pack. I threw my blaster back into the top and wrestled out my lightsaber. I activated it and cut the laigrek down. The others scuttled back, catching sight of the bright, burning blade. Bao-Dur took advantage of the respite to sheathe his vibroblade and pull out his own lightsaber. He and I pressed forward as Mira shot out the eyes of the laigreks with her blaster. They hissed and screeched for a while, then they weren't alive to assault our ears.
Mira toed one with distaste. With some reluctance, she then switched out her blaster for her lightsaber, too. "Guess I do need the practice," she muttered. "Ugly little things, aren't they? The laigreks, not the lightsabers."
"Yeah." I winced. I knelt to examine my calf. The laigrek had torn through pants, skin, and muscle alike, and I was bleeding pretty badly. I put my hands on either side of it, stretched out with the Force, and healed myself.
Bao-Dur helped me up afterwards, and handed me his canteen to wash my hands with.
"You alright?" Mira asked.
Just then a cry of grief rang out behind us. I whirled. A figure in the corridor had caught sight of the scene. I activated my lightsaber to make the person out more clearly in the darkness. It was a girl—and she ran right past and through herself down amongst the corpses of the laigreks we'd just exterminated.
"My laigreks! You've killed them!" she accused us. "They're my pets!"
Mira laughed. "Your pets? You're joking, right?"
The weird little intruder was maybe fifteen years old, frighteningly thin and pale, in dirty, dusty, torn men's clothes far too large for her. Her blonde hair hung lank and matted around her shoulders, and in it was a single knotted, snarled thin braid. Tears streamed out of her anguished gray eyes as she glared at Mira.
"I…I don't think she is."
"But these laigreks have been killing people."
"They only attacked the bad people," the girl sobbed. "The salvagers, the thieves. This place is for Jedi. They aren't Jedi. They have to leave."
I switched off my lightsaber to kneel in front of the girl, and Bao-Dur, behind me, switched his on to maintain the light. "Who are you?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"
The girl stroked the shiny exoskeletons of the dead laigreks with shaking, thin fingers corpse white for lack of daylight. "My name is Kaevee. I am a Padawan. And one day, one day I will learn enough to be a Jedi," she said. Tears cut canyons down her filthy cheeks.
Bao-Dur and Mira's emotions changed together, and the two of them knelt with me beside the girl. "How did you get here?" Bao-Dur asked Kaevee.
"I was studying here when Darth Malak and the Sith came," Kaevee told us. She stopped petting the laigreks and sat back on her heels, staring off into the blackness. "I was outside the Enclave, when my Master left me at the Matale estate. Shen protected me. But the Sith came asking questions. All the Matales died. But I hid. Even when the estate was burning, I hid." Her voice grew frantic as she described the scene, like she was witnessing it all over again.
I looked at Mira, and I felt her agreement with me. The girl was half-mad from trauma and years of solitude in the abandoned Enclave. But now that her pet monsters were dead, she didn't strike me as particularly dangerous, and I only felt pity for her, for all her suffering. She had seen the great beast, but she hadn't chosen it as I did. She'd only been a child, an innocent, and it had broken her completely.
I held out my arms to her. "Come here."
Kaevee hesitated a moment, then threw her dirty, emaciated little body at me. I held her as tightly as I could, trying to shut out the ugliness of her world, to press out the horror of what she'd lived through, and Kaevee sobbed for the loss of her ugly, vicious pets, for the loss of the Enclave and all the Jedi in it, for sheer loneliness. I found myself crying, too, for what felt like the first time in years.
"It's hard," I told her. "It leaves wounds: the death, the loneliness. I was a Jedi, too, before the Wars." I rocked her back and forth, instinctively, like the much younger children I'd comforted years and years before, when they'd first come to Dantooine and were homesick for their parents and planets. Kaevee and I were homesick for the Jedi.
"You were?" Kaevee asked, sniffling as she tried to get herself under control. "I—I had no idea. I'm sorry I told my laigreks to attack you. Aren't you a Jedi anymore? Your lightsaber…yours…" she looked at Bao-Dur.
"A lightsaber's just a weapon," I murmured. "We're Padawans, just like you, Kaevee. Maybe one day we'll be wise enough to be Jedi again."
"Aren't there any Jedi anywhere?"
I thought of lost Vrook, of Vash, who had yet to be found. I thought of Kavar and Zez-Kai Ell, who should have already arrived. "I don't know," I confessed. "I lost my connection to the Force. It's only recently started to come back. I've only recently come back. I've been exiled for a long, long time."
"That's horrible!" Kaevee said, starting to cry again. "What happened to your Master? Are there any Masters left to teach us?"
Bao-Dur and Mira looked at me, but I couldn't pretend to be some great Jedi Master with the little half-mad Padawan. I was training others, yes, but teaching them? I just didn't know. My students always claimed I was a better teacher than I felt. I felt woefully ignorant most of the time. "I don't know," I told Kaevee. "I thought my Master would be here, but he's not. But I do know a man named Vrook was here."
Kaevee sat up suddenly, and I let her go. "I remember him. I sent my laigreks to get him to leave, but he just made my pets…stop. I was going to talk to him, but then the mercenaries came for him. They never come down here. I was surprised, and hid. There was a big fight. They said they were going to take him somewhere…I don't know…"She bit her lip and looked at me, like she was scared I was going to be angry with her for being unable to provide more information.
"Where were they when this happened?"
"The other side of the Enclave, in the Archives.
It was indication that Vrook might not be dead, at least. I decided I'd have to take a look around the Archives and see if the mercs had left any clues behind. But first there was Kaevee to deal with. She was so thin, Aithne! But the men's clothes she wore looked like farmer's work clothes.
"Kaevee, you've been taking things from the people around here, haven't you? The farmers and salvagers?" I asked her.
Kaevee started shaking. "It's wrong, isn't it?" she said in a small voice. "I'll stop. I was just trying to get enough credits to eat. But I—I'll think of something else. Something that doesn't hurt anyone."
"Dar…"Mira said sharply, gesturing at the girl.
I knew Kaevee wouldn't last long without food and credits. I had eyes. I nodded at Mira. "Why have you stayed here all this time?" I asked the girl. "You could have left. They've rebuilt the Matale mansion into a building named Khoonda. There are good people there. They could help you."
Mira relaxed, and Bao-Dur smiled at her. He hadn't been worried for a second that I would hurt the kid or leave her like she was.
Kaevee shifted. "I found a holocron," she answered uncomfortably. "It said…terrible things. It told me the Jedi were no more, and I had to survive, do anything to protect my home. It was more and more forceful, the longer I listened. It frightened me."
As we'd conversed, Kaevee's voice had grown more and more assured, stronger and more coherent. I felt that perhaps she wasn't quite lost, that there might be hope yet for the little, lonely Padawan that had survived, when all the others had not.
"I threw the holocron away," she told me. "I…I went back to find it. It was my only teacher. But the salvagers stole it."
"Don't go looking for it, Kaevee. It was teaching you the wrong sorts of lessons. You need to move on, go find people again. You need to stop hiding."
Kaevee looked back at her laigreks, considering. "You're right," she said after a moment. "I've been alone too long. I'll leave this place and try to find a master to teach me. There have to be some left. But I won't use the Force until I find one. So much has gone wrong. I think I need to unlearn the lessons I have learned."
She was quite right, too. Only a person in tune with the Dark Side could have tamed and bonded with laigreks. But she had acted out of ignorance and desperation, in the absence of any other guide other than a Sith holocron.
Kaevee stood, and Bao-Dur, Mira and I stood, too. I opened my pack again, and took out about 1000 credits. Pretty much all the credits we had left. "Take these," I told her. "They might help you, until you find work."
Mira had been rummaging in her pack, too. She brought out one of her only two changes of clothes, an old, faded combat suit, Mandalorian-made. "This, too," she said quietly. "It's not…it's not much, but it's certainly better than those ratty clothes you're wearing. I was about your size, when I was your age."
I think Mira identified with Kaevee especially strongly, to give her that old combat suit. She was about fourteen when her squad died and she was left a refugee after the Mandalorian Wars. A desperate young teenage girl, alone on a war-torn world, had to have resonated deeply with her. I squeezed Mira's shoulder.
Bao-Dur handed Kaevee all the food in his pack. "Eat it all," he instructed her. "Buy some more with the credits."
I was so proud of them both I could have burst. Responding to the need they saw in another made me think that perhaps they might be wise enough one day to be Jedi. Or what the Jedi should be, anyway.
Kaevee took the credits, the clothes, and the food, staring at us. She had a small, tattered pack with her that she placed them in dumbly. She gave one tiny hiccup, then burst out sobbing again and threw herself at me. I hugged her tightly once more, then Mira hugged her. Bao-Dur patted her on the head.
When Kaevee collected herself, she was shaking, frightened, but she was also smiling. "Oh, thank you, thank you!"
"May the Force be with you," I told her, bowing.
Kaevee's eyes brightened. She returned the salute. "And also with you!" She smiled a little wider. Then with one last, shy glance, she darted away.
"Will she be okay?" Mira asked.
"You were, weren't you? We'll get you some more clothes in Khoonda tomorrow."
"Not unless we sell something, we won't," Mira retorted. "You just gave away the last of our credits, Dar. You keep turning down all the rewards for the stuff that we do. And that's okay. It's good. But we don't exactly have cash to go shopping."
"Then we'll sell stuff. We probably have more equipment than we need anyway."
Mira looked at me, and shrugged. She looked back toward the exit to the plains. "I hope she's okay," she murmured.
I bumped shoulders with her fondly, and we all started out through the sublevel corridors toward the old Archives.
Kaevee's laigreks were not the only laigreks. The sublevel was infested with the things. It wasn't as much of a challenge fighting them off with lightsabers, but their hissing and screeching in the dark made for a depressing journey.
About half an hour after Kaevee had left we found the door to the Archives. I opened the door, and blinked at the sudden brightness. The lighting in the room was operational, and what's more, sitting at a table, poring over a datarecord, was a person.
The young man looked up, and for a moment, all we could do was stare at one another. I was surprised to find someone in the pest-infested sublevel. So was he. Honestly, I think I had more right to shock. The man was reading. In a laigrek infested ruin. I'm pretty sure that's why I switched off my lightsaber. Reading just doesn't strike me as very threatening. Which is stupid, really. I'm sure lots of very evil people are extremely well-read. But at any rate, violence did not break out, and Mira and Bao-Dur switched off their sabers, too.
I shut the door behind us, to keep out any laigreks, since it appeared we were going to have a cordial and not an aggressive confrontation with the man in the room.
The young man rose from his chair and bowed in a courtly manner. He was about average height, neatly built, with well-formed, regular features, light blue eyes, and dark blonde hair that would have been much more attractive if it hadn't been slicked back in the manner of a soldier. He looked about twenty-six.
"Well. You're not a salvager," I observed, having got over my surprise to the point of coherency. "Or a merc. You're certainly not a laigrek. Who are you, then?"
"I confess myself surprised, as well," the young man said in a cultured baritone. "I had thought that the laigreks that trapped me here would keep anyone else out. I was beginning to fear my food would expire before I could devise some means of escape. But forgive me. I am an historian and scientist working for the Republic, although I am certain my contemporaries would judge me more a historian than scientist."
"I didn't ask you what you are. I asked you who you are. What's your name?"
"Forgive me," he repeated. "My name is Mical, gentle lady."
Mira snorted. "Gentle lady, my ass. You should see her after her bedtime, sunshine."
Mical frowned, and waited politely for me to complete the round of introductions. I pressed my lips together, mindful of the Administrator's warnings, and wishing very much that the three of us hadn't been carrying lightsabers when we'd walked into the room. "I'm…Darla Leovic."
"I am an historian working for the Republic," Mical repeated gently. "I have spent my life looking through Republic records—even the closed ones. I understand why you would wish to conceal your name, especially upon this world, but I have seen your face in far too many holorecords not to know who you are."
I was unnerved. Though due to the still-unexplained leak, my name was more or less widely known, I rarely ran into people who recognized me on sight, and when I did, they were never, ever as calm and courteous about it as Mical was being. "Uh…fine, then. Sorry. This is Mira, that's Bao-Dur. What are you doing here, Mical? It's dangerous down here."
"I am presumably doing the same thing you are," Mical replied easily. "I have been looking for some trace of the Jedi. I had heard mention that one of the Jedi Masters had come here, but I found no trace of him."
I walked past him. At the foot of the statue in the center of the Archives, there were three bodies. Mical was carrying two Republic standard-issue blasters, but these men had been killed by lightsabers. There was a datapad on one of them. I picked it up and read it.
It was an order from the leader of the mercs, that ex-Sith Azkul guy, for the capture of Master Vrook. There was a reference to the Nar Shaddaa bounty on it.
I walked back across the Archive floor to Mical's table and put the datapad down in front of him.
"Did you just happen to miss this?" I asked him, folding my arms. "I know the room is big and all, but three corpses are kind of hard to ignore. Try again. Why are you down here?"
Mira turned her lightsaber over in her hand, waiting for my signal. "There you have it. Not gentle in the least," she muttered.
Mical held his hands up. "You are quite correct. I did not come merely for the Jedi Master." He looked at the closed door and frowned. Quietly, he added, "At any rate, the mercenaries had been and gone by the time I arrived, and when the laigreks started swarming…it was foolish to enter here on my own. But I felt it necessary to come. Look around."
He gestured at the shelves and shelves of datarecords, undisturbed in the sublevel. "Much has been taken from the Enclave. Both by raiders, and…others. I felt I had to come here, protect what is left, and preserve what I could. More so than the loss of the Jedi themselves, I fear the loss of their history."
I sensed the sincerity in Mical's voice. I looked at Mira and Bao-Dur, and the two of them relaxed. I pulled out the chair opposite to the one Mical had been sitting in when we'd entered. Bao-Dur and Mira came and sat on either side of me, and Mical sat down across from us.
I took some jerky out of my pack and shared it out between the four of us. Mira did the same with some dried fruit. Mical thanked us, and brought two biscuits out from his own pack by the table which he proceeded to break in half and share out, too.
"Why are you worried about Jedi history?" I asked, swallowing some fruit.
"Much has been forgotten in recent wars," Mical replied. "I fear that greater troubles shall stem from that loss of knowledge in the future. The destruction of the Academy on Ossus near the Cron Drift in the Sith War…the teachings of Master Arca, the adventures of Jolee Bindo on the Rimward Missions…all these are in danger of being lost, forever."
I took a swallow of water from my canteen and handed it over to Bao-Dur, because I'd used the water in his to wash my hands after healing the carnage of our first laigrek fight. He took the canteen gratefully.
"How much do you know about what's been going on, Mical?" I asked.
He looked down at his datarecord. "Not nearly enough. It is beyond me why the Jedi would exile themselves as they have, when the galaxy needs them so. It is not their way. But, perhaps they are hiding simply because so many people hate them these days."
"Huh," Mira said, chewing thoughtfully. "I'd noticed that. The Jedi haven't done me any favors, but I still can't understand why everybody hates their guts."
Mical was confused. "But…are you not a Jedi? Your lightsaber…"
"The old Order's pretty much dead," Mira said. "At least, we think so. Maybe one day we'll be 'wise enough to be Jedi,' but it'll be a long time coming, and I'm pretty sure we'll be different, anyway."
"Perhaps that is a good thing," Mical remarked. "The Jedi, as they were, were often removed from the events of daily life, insulated. But the reason the Jedi Civil War was named such was because few in the galaxy can recognize the difference between the Sith and the Jedi. To them, they are both Jedi, with different philosophies."
I kept hearing that. "But you don't hate the Jedi," I hazarded.
He smiled oddly. "No. I do not hate them. They only raise questions without answers. Jedi are not supposed to be like the rest of us. They are supposed to see a higher purpose in all things. And they are supposed to train students responsibly and well, so mistakes of the past are not repeated. Yet all I have seen is ignorance and arrogance, and what those seeds created in the Republic. It is difficult to follow the Jedi Code, when so few others have. But you know this."
I finished up my dinner. He sounded a bit like Zez-Kai Ell. "What are you talking about?"
"Many Jedi defied the Order during the Mandalorian Wars," Mical explained. "And it paved the way for the Jedi Civil War."
Bao-Dur tensed. The analysis could be interpreted as a criticism of me and the other Jedi that had fought, but I wasn't so certain. "You know who I am, so you know I was one. Do you blame me, or the Council?" I asked Mical.
"There is no blame," Mical said gently. "All must accept what has happened. But at its core, one must wonder whether it was the failure of the Jedi teachings, or of the teachers themselves. Many of the Jedi Council trained Exar Kun, Ulic…Revan and Malak. How could they not see the danger they posed? And if they could not, perhaps there was some essential part of their teachings that was flawed. Something beyond the Jedi Code that was missing."
I was impressed. My thoughts wandered to Kreia, to my suspicions that she'd trained you, Aithne. I began playing pazaak in my head. Mira's strength isn't mental defense, but she did sense the change in my presence through the Force, how I seemed to fade away, and she looked sharply at me. "You're pretty well-informed," I told Mical casually. "Do you know who trained Revan?"
Mira was on high-alert now. She gripped the table.
Mical didn't notice her tension, or didn't acknowledge it. "Revan had many Masters. Zhar, Dorak, Master Kae before Kae left for the Wars. Towards the end of her training, she sought out many to learn techniques. It is said that she returned to her first Master at the end of her training, in order to learn how she might best leave the Order."
I kept playing pazaak for thirty seconds as I processed this. Then I let go, focused on something else. I felt Mira's confusion spike, but it was irrelevant.
"So. You work for the Republic. Why?"
Mical smiled a bit self-consciously. "I'm trying to save the Republic. Dantooine and the Jedi Order are instrumental to that effort. Despite the troubles of the Jedi Civil War, there are those among the Republic who still favor the Jedi and wish them to return. And there are Admirals within the Fleet who recognize that the Jedi must be found if the Republic is to hold together. Yet as long as Onderon remains within the Republic, and the efforts on Telos succeed, that is all that matters."
"We've been working on that," Bao-Dur spoke up. He jerked his head at me. "She's made sure Onderon will remain in the Republic, and done a lot for Telos. More than she had to."
"But that is wonderful news! The Republic is so fragile right now. Telos is important because its success will determine whether or not the dead worlds receive the same reconstruction efforts. If Telos is rebuilt and made habitable again, it will affect a string of worlds along the Rim."
"I know," Bao-Dur replied. "I've spent most of the last three years working to help Telos."
"Why do you think the Jedi are important?" I asked Mical.
He shifted. "The Jedi are a symbol. As much damage as their reputation took during the Sith War and the Jedi Civil War, there are still many to whom they serve as an example. Plus…there have been times in the past where a single Jedi has been enough to change the face of a world…or a galaxy."
He looked hard at me, and smiled oddly. "I suppose I still believe that might be possible. Despite the betrayal of many Jedi against the Republic, I must concede that as figureheads, they serve a vital role."
I felt there was a deeper meaning in Mical's words, and it made me uncomfortable. I had been turning worlds upside-down and reorganizing political-economic structures for months, but I hardly felt I could be a figurehead that would change the galaxy. I looked at my chrono, and blinked. Outside, the sun would be setting over Dantooine. "I'm sorry. Here we are, sitting around in a ruined, laigrek-infested Enclave, shooting the breeze and talking history. This must seem incredibly weird to you. You don't know us…"
Mical smiled. "On the contrary. I have been here some time with no conversation. I apologize if I have taken too much of your time. I am sure you have many things to do."
The words struck a chord, like someone fiddling with a dusty old stringed instrument of the memory. I looked again around the room. I had spent many autumn and winter afternoons there, in my Padawan days when not on assignment with Kavar. Remember how I said the Younglings always ditched Vrook to come play with me? There had been one little boy in particular: a little blue-eyed boy with sandy hair that flopped down over his forehead and always had his nose glued to a datapad. And Mical's words reminded me of something the boy had always used to say. 'I have to go back to Master Vrook, Darden. I am certain you have better things to do with your Master. Thanks for the stories. Will I see you tomorrow?'
I couldn't remember his name, though. My head had gone all fuzzy, and I blinked to clear it. I stared at Mical. "Just now, you reminded me of…you seem familiar. The way you talk, your face…have I met you before?"
Mical stood abruptly. He picked up the datarecord he'd been examining and walked over to a shelf. "I imagine that in your travels of the galaxy, Darden Leona, you have seen many people," he called back to me. "Faces tend to blend together after a time."
It wasn't an answer. "Yeah, I guess," I said slowly. "But I really should be going." Bao-Dur, Mira, and I stood.
Mical returned to the table. "You must find where the mercenaries have taken Vrook Lamar. I understand. I shall follow you out, if you don't mind, and return here another day, preferably with support."
"Of course."
Mical grabbed his pack and swung it over his shoulder. "If I might ask, why do you seek the Jedi?" he asked.
"Well, the Sith are back. I'm trying to stop them. But I can't really do it all on my own."
I opened the door, activating my lightsaber. I sliced open two laigreks that had been trying to get in. Mical shot out another's eye with perfect precision. For a few moments, there was no conversation.
Then it was over, and we were moving again through the dim halls of the sublevel. "If the Sith are rising in the galaxy again, then it is strange the Jedi would not be there to meet them," Mical remarked. "And that I have not seen more evidence of the Sith."
I laughed grimly. "Trust me, they're out there. They've been chasing me for months."
"No, I believe you," Mical assured me. "I merely find such subtleties among the Sith to be strange. Though they have been known to practice deception, in the histories since the time of the Dark Lords Kun and Qel-Droma, and Revan and Malak, such subtleties have been rare."
Mira laughed at him. "So basically, subtlety isn't rare at all among the Sith."
Mical was hurt. There was a short, awkward pause. "In any case," he said at last. "It seems to me our goals are compatible. If you would have me, I can apply my knowledge and skills to helping you find the answers you seek."
A much bigger colony of laigreks attacked. As we fought them, I thought. Mical really did seem familiar to me. Mira fought close beside me. "He wants to come with us now?" she asked in a low voice. She concentrated fiercely on her Shii-Cho form, the only one she'd really gotten down at that point. "I mean, he's easy on the eyes, but he talks like a roomful of Jedi."
The last laigrek fell, and the four of us stood in the corridor. Mical watched me with hopeful eyes, but Bao-Dur looked doubtful. "Our ship already has a lot of people on it, General."
I hesitated. "I know. But…" As I sensed Mical's presence through the Force, I had a presentiment that I should not, could not say no. The Force pressed upon me that Mical's path lay with us. "He's supposed to come, Bao-Dur," I said, certain of it. "You're supposed to come with us, Mical." I repeated, directly to him this time.
I shrugged off the weirdness. I don't usually get presentiments like that. It's actually more Mira's thing, believe it or not. "He certainly does know a lot," I added, trying to return to rationality. "Besides, in our little republic we've got a representative for almost every galactic interest except the Republic Senate and armada."
"My thanks," Mical said.
We all headed for the exit. In a room off the western hall we found Jorran the salvager, locked up like Mical had been from the laigreks. We let him out and he thanked us, before running away from the dangerous Jedi with lightsabers like the plague.
Jorran had gotten away by the time we made it to the door. But someone else was waiting for us. Geverick, that unpleasant salvager from Khoonda, was waiting with four lackeys. He hadn't been fooled by the stranger act we'd pulled there, and he certainly wasn't now Mira, Bao-Dur and I all had our lightsabers out. He knew we were Jedi, and he wanted the bounty.
I tried to convince Geverick that the bounty wasn't live anymore, but he wouldn't listen. There was a brief, very unequal battle. After it was done, I stripped the corpses of their credits. They wouldn't need them anymore. I handed them to Mira.
"There. Couple hundred. Knock yourself out clothes shopping tomorrow."
Emotions swirled around the red-headed former bounty hunter. She stared down at the bodies. "I don't like this, Dar," she muttered.
"They would have killed us all, Mira," Mical said gently.
"No, I know," Mira said. "I still don't like it. I mean, couldn't we have knocked them out or tied them up or—I guess they just would've gotten loose and come after us again, though, wouldn't they?"
She thrust the credits in her pack, but she was still very bothered by the killing. I could tell. I gripped her shoulder. "When it's them or us, it's not wrong to choose us," I reminded her softly.
Her jaw firmed up, and the four of us left the Enclave.
It was twilight on Dantooine. Little insects sang in the grass. Small amphibians croaked from the banks and rushes of Egbert's Creek. It was a much more peaceful walk back to the Ebon Hawk, now the kath hounds were sleeping in their dens. The Ebon Hawk, however, was not peaceful.
Mira went right for the showers and Bao-Dur went straight to the garage. After hours with people, he needed to chill with his remote and tools for a while. Mical looked around the main hold. "This is your vessel?" he asked, strained. "May I ask how you came by the Ebon Hawk? It has quite a history."
I sank down on a bench. "You can ask. I don't quite know the answer, except that our utility droid had something to do with it. Men's dorm's portside. You're lucky. We have exactly one bunk left. Women's dorm's full up, even with someone sleeping in the cargo hold."
"Thank you," Mical said politely. "I am sure I will be quite comfortable."
"Who'll be quite comfortable?" Atton asked, coming around the corner. He saw Mical, saw the soldier bag, and took it all in in a moment.
Damn right, I did. Another kid following Darden home like a lost puppy, only this one was looking at her with big blue eyes like she was some sort of goddess, and not the war kind.
"Oh, no. Don't you think we have enough people crawling around here, Darden? Who the hell is this, anyway?"
"My name is Mical," said the same. He eyed Atton's dirty hands and messy hair with distaste. I saw at a glance that Atton had obviously been working in the engine room, but I knew Mical couldn't know that. "And what are you called?"
"Atton. What are you doing here?"
"I am interested in the fate of the Jedi. I do not wish to see them disappear from the galaxy, nor does the Republic."
"He's Republic! Darden!" Atton rounded on me, demanding an explanation.
I held up my hands. "Hey, the Sith, the Mandalorians, and the Exchange all have reps on the Ebon Hawk," I said defensively. "Personally, I like the Republic as an institution much better."
Everybody likes the Republic better as an institution, even the Sith, the Mandalorians, and the Exchange. They're the good guys. That doesn't mean they don't try to regulate everything and generally screw everything up.
"That's not the point! Darden! Do you really want this guy interfering with our business?"
"Atton," Mical interrupted, alarmed now. "I am not here to interfere, but to help, if I may. I assure you, I intend your cause no harm and I will be no hindrance."
"Yeah, you better not," Atton growled. He sighed then, and waved Mical away. "Ugh, whatever. Go grab a bunk."
Mical looked at me with uncertainty. I nodded encouragingly, and he made his way portside.
I folded my arms and looked up at Atton. "You could've been a little friendlier. Seriously, you haven't been this upset about a new crew member since the Handmaiden."
"We don't need anyone else, Darden!" Atton argued. "We didn't then, but all the others, except the two crazy droids, have been helpful, so fine. But it's hard enough to feed everyone as is, you never sleep, don't have time enough for anybody, everybody's on edge…" he paused, awkward. "I know we haven't been talking, but I see you in the med bay, more and more. You think I don't know you go there when it's bad? When you can't sleep 'cause of the nightmares? They're getting worse and worse, Darden, and now this guy comes in—"
I wasn't buying it. I knew exactly why Atton was reacting so strongly to Mical's introduction to the crew, and I wasn't impressed. I stood, interrupting him brutally. "With his courtesy, clean face, clean past, and Republic affiliation. One more won't change the stress level that much, Atton. At least be honest about your objections."
Okay, so maybe I could have been a little nicer to the kid. But that was harsh. My face wasn't that dirty, and it was only dirty 'cause I'd been trying to keep that fussy hyperdrive from dying on us. And I was worried about her!
Atton dragged his shirt sleeve across his forehead, all greasy with engine oil, and glared. I sighed. Hardly knowing why I was doing it, except I'd missed him so much, I reached up a hand and touched his face, then tried to make some order out of the mynock's nest his hair had become after a day of work in the engine room. "Don't be afraid, Atton. And don't be angry, please. These last ten days, Atton—I need your support. I've come to depend on it."
Atton grabbed my wrist in an iron grip, and lowered my hand away from him. "Don't mess with me, sweetheart," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "I've had about enough of it."
Now Darden was clueless. I knew that. But as far as I was concerned, it was time and past she wised up. She knew the way I felt about her. She'd seen it in my head, she'd used it on Dxun to get me to lead the attack on the Sith, she was basically calling me on it that day, implying I was threatened by the kid. She knew the way I felt about her, and she'd decided on the way to Dantooine that she wasn't going to let it come to anything. She wanted to play it captain and Jedi Master, that was fine, but she couldn't have things both ways, and she had to know that.
It wasn't something I planned, Atton! I told him so that day. "I never mean to."
Atton laughed harshly, unconvinced.
"If you won't play nice for me, do it for yourself. You should be better than this. You can be better than this, and you know it."
I hated her right then. Mostly because she was right, and I loved her for it, even though I was trying like hell to stop. I let her go just as Mical walked back in. I grit my teeth and decided I'd best get it over with. I wiped my hand on my shirt and held out my hand to the guy.
Mical hesitated, then he shook Atton's hand.
"You took me by surprise—Mical, is it?" Atton said. "Things are pretty crowded around here, but Force knows there are still thousands more Sith than there are of us. I'll show you around."
"I am grateful, Atton," Mical replied. But he looked from Atton's somewhat cleaner face and hair to my greasy hand, and frowned, and I turned away, realizing Atton was right, and Mical could cause much more stress.
"I'm assuming things worked out in the end, if he's still calling you across the galaxy to get the full story of what happened for the records, and Atton's making sure he gets it," Aithne said, amused.
Darden smiled wearily. "Well, yes. Mical only caused trouble for the crew at large for another three weeks or so—we'll talk about it. At some point Mical and Atton even became friends, even though they are very different—I never did figure out exactly how that happened—"
"Korriban," Atton said shortly.
Darden froze for half a second. "Ah."
"We'll talk about it," Atton said, in his turn. "It's weird—I think in the end, Mical put himself through a lot more than he put the rest of us through. I mean, you heard it. He was pretty solid about the Jedi during the Wars. But he wanted them up on their pedestal, and he hadn't taken Darden down."
"Shattered idols can shake the foundation of a person," Aithne murmured. "And idols seen up close are much more likely to shatter than if they're kept in a shrine far away."
"D'you know much about it, then?"
"I do—Juhani, the Guardian that traveled with me—there was a point when she had to realize that I had actually fallen and could fall again. I'd known her and helped her before. I was the reason she became a Jedi, and her pattern for what one should be. She had all the trouble you might expect because of it. Eventually I had to flat out tell her that the one thing that drew her closest to the Dark Side was her reliance on me, and the reverence she had for Revan. Things were strained between us for a long time after that."
"She had to lay her vision of who you were to rest before she could face the real you," Darden said. "It was the same for Mical. Atton just…aggravated things."
"Because the Jedi do not form attachments."
"Especially to ex-Sith assassins," Atton added. "Mical's the nicest guy you'll ever meet—part of the reason I had a problem with him at first—but he did take some time adjusting to actually living by all his nice, shiny principles of forgiveness and acceptance when Jedi turn out to be just as sentient and capable of making mistakes as everybody else. He did adjust, though. I'll give him that."
Aithne recollected Darden's strange Force presentiment in the Enclave sublevel, and wondered if Mical had turned out to be perhaps the most important crew member to the reestablishment of the Jedi. She kept quiet about her Order-questions, though, and asked instead, "Did you find Master Vrook?"
"Yeah. He was the first Jedi I'd met since Atris that wasn't happy to see me, about like I expected, but not at all in the way I'd expected. I'd taken Mira to the caves where the merc datapad had indicated the mercenaries were keeping him. Mical, too. I try to take out new crew members more often right after they join up to get them used to things. Except HK-47 and G0-T0, because, well…"
"Because the pair of them are amoral, put a damper on diplomatic relations, creepy, and in HK-47's case outright sociopathic," Aithne said. She grinned. "No, I understand."
"Meanwhile I was back at the Hawk again, wishing I hadn't fixed everything I could without better parts the day before, and halfway to taking a crack at that damned navicomputer again. Thanks, again, Aithne."
"You want to start this one out?" Darden asked in some surprise.
"Yeah," Atton confirmed. "Think Aithne might be interested in a conversation I had with Canderous that day."
Coming Next Time I Get the Chance: Aithne actually remembers Dantooine and Vrook. With the memories closer to hand, Darden and Atton's stories of the colony's degeneration and the interactions that happened there are closer to hand, and more painful.
And Later When I Get the Chance: Aithne's decided she wants to return with Darden and Atton, but she knows she'll need a purpose if she does. She thinks she might want to work with Darden's Jedi, in a way she never wanted to work with the Jedi before, but before she decides, she has to know exactly what Darden's been teaching them. Conveniently, one of them is close at hand. Revan puts Atton Rand to the test.
