Meetra woke to T3's sharp chirps, and she stretched, allowing herself one last moment of lingering nostalgia before opening her eyes. For the first time in… well, she wasn't entirely sure, but her sleep had been completely dreamless. No memories, not nightmares.
The sun was just creeping above the horizon, but she could already feel the spike in temperature. Dantooine was more or less temperate, but her time on snowy Belsavis and the climate-controlled Citadel Station had evidently made her more sensitive to the heat. Meetra stretched again and pushed herself upright, dusting golden blades from her tunic. T3 burbled again, and she patted his head. "Thank you, T3. How was your watch?"
He chattered once, interjecting an annoyed buzz toward the end, before rolling over to Atton's still sleeping form and repeating his three note chirp. When Atton didn't stir, T3 increased his pitch and rolled forward to lightly bump the smuggler's arm. Without opening his eyes, Atton open-palm swatted one of the droid's struts, and T3 retreated with a wail, his taser attachment extending from his chassis. Meetra stood quickly and put herself between them. "T3, no. It's not worth wasting the charge." The droid buzzed, then retracted the arm and rolled to the opposite side of their camp, his back resolutely facing them.
Meetra sighed and turned to Atton. His eyes were still closed, but one corner of his mouth curved up in a lop-sided smirk. She rolled her eyes and gestured with two fingers, yanking his jacket from under his head and turning away to hide her own grin at his surprised shout. "We should get moving. Still a bit of a walk to the Enclave." Atton grumbled under his breath, but she ignored it, retrieved her rucksack, lantern, and force pike, and moved to stand by T3. After a moment, Atton joined them, a sour look on his face, but jacket and pack both on his shoulders, and Meetra led the way back out into the golden sea.
A light breeze raced through the blades, and their friction filled the air with a soft whisper, a soothing sound Meetra had missed dearly during her time away, both before and after her exile. When she was a child, she'd imagined the rushes mimicked the sound of an ocean surf, and she'd pretended to swim through the "waves," though careful to hide it from Skye and Alek in fear of their teasing. As an adult, she knew better, but as much as she loved the sound of crashing waves, the rustle of the grasslands would always be near and dear to her heart.
As if summoned by her melancholic thoughts, a low mournful howl sounded in the distance, answered by two others further away. Atton stiffened at her side, one hand falling to a blaster, but Meetra shook her head. "They're moving away from us. Sounds like something spooked them."
"And 'they' are?"
"Kath hounds." Meetra held her hand out at roughly waist height. "About this tall, but the horned ones come up to your shoulder." The alarm on his face pulled a laugh from her. "Don't worry; they're usually pretty calm unless you're in their territory. I thought we'd have seen a few by now…" She trailed off, realizing the answer to her own question. The surface of Dantooine may have recovered, at least enough to conceal the scars with thick golden blades, but Malak's bombing had done damage to more than just the planet. Guilt settled over her again. If she'd stayed, even after her exile, could she have stopped them… or would the person she'd been, betrayed and hollow, have joined them in their conquest of the Republic? Part of her was sure she'd never have agreed to help them; a smaller part was glad she'd never had the chance to find out.
The sun climbed in the sky as they waded through the plains grass, the temperature rising with it. Atton had long since stripped his jacket off again and currently walked with it slung over his shoulder. Even Meetra's tunic and leggings were beginning to cling uncomfortably to her skin, but as they crested a hill and the Enclave came into view, she went cold.
Clearly, Malak had focused his efforts on their home. The wide landing pad, which she'd had to clean as a punishment more often than she cared to remember, was cracked and scorched, golden plains grass visible in the broken spaces. The high cylindrical barrier that separated the top level of the Enclave from the outside was split open, leaving the central courtyard and upper levels exposed to the elements. The fountain in the center was still partially intact, but most of it and the surrounding fixtures had been reduced to dust and rubble. The dormitories were similarly destroyed. The only part of the Enclave that appeared to have survived more or less intact was the entrance to the sublevels, protected by the overhang of the conservatory.
T3 rolled up next to Meetra, a sad burble emanating from his chassis. Atton stood to the side, watching her and feeling helpless. The light had gone out of her, and she stared down at the ruins without seeing them. She looked suddenly older, her shoulders heavy with the weight of time and experience. He hesitated, weighing the cost of broaching her silence, but she spoke first, her voice soft and small. "He wouldn't… I can't believe he…" Her voice caught in her throat, and she trailed off rather than force herself to finish either thought.
"But he did, Meetra." She flinched, and Atton hated his own honesty. "The man who did this —" He gestured to the remnants of the Enclave. "That wasn't your friend, not the way you remember him."
"He loved his place." Meetra's voice broke on the last word, and she took a deep breath to rein in her emotions. When she spoke again, her tone was more confident. "Alek wanted to protect people; he never would have done this. Something… something changed, made them change. I just don't know what yet." Atton kept silent. No one wanted to hear that they'd never truly known the people they considered family; his own experiences had taught him that. Meetra exhaled a long breath and tightened her grip on her pike. "C'mon. The sooner we find Vrook, the sooner we can get out of here."
They picked their way down the hill and into the ruins proper, stopping only once to free T3's treads from a particularly deep crevasse in the tarmac. Entry into the courtyard was impossible from the landing pad; the debris blocked all the old paths. Vrook wasn't likely to have forced his way through when the sublevels were readily accessible, so Meetra led the way around. Just before they reached the door, it slid open to emit a group of four panicked people. They scrambled away from the ruins, taking no notice of two strangers and an astromech in their alarm.
"Jorran's still in there!" an older man blurted in between pants. His companions, two younger men and a woman, exchanged looks. "He got separated in the last room… We can't just leave him!"
The woman, a hardened individual, straightened and leveled a glare at the man. He cowered, establishing her as an authority figure. Well, that and the wicked-looking bowcaster she clutched in one hand. "The kath runt should have stayed closer, then. I'm not risking my neck for any fool who falls behind." She glanced between the three men with narrowed eyes. "Which of you has the salvage?"
They avoided her gaze, and the old man spoke to the ground, his voice barely above a whisper. "Jorran had the bag."
"You karking morons!" the woman shrieked, and the men flinched from her rage. "You gave everything to Jorran, and then let him fall behind?! Our entire haul is in that druk pit!" She turned and spotted Meetra, Atton, and T3, and the fury went out of her, replaced with an unnerving stillness. "Who the hell are you?"
Meetra opened her mouth, but Atton beat her to it. "Salvagers, same as you." He allowed himself a thinly veiled smirk. "Take it you didn't have the best of luck."
"Neither will you if you go in there with that attitude." She sneered. "If you're lucky, you'll die quickly and close to the entrance. That way, we can collect your stuff on our next descent."
Atton raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think the Jedi were one for traps." He glanced at Meetra as he spoke, making it seem nonchalant, but she saw the question in his eyes and gave a minute head shake.
The gruff woman stared at Atton, her companions quietly snickering behind her. "Did you just land here?"
"Well, technically —"
"Look, I'm not usually one to stick my neck out, but since you're probably not going to be around much longer, I'll make an exception." She jerked a thumb at the sublevel door. "We barely made it two rooms in before the laigreks swarmed us. Malak's bombs cracked open a nest down there, and they've been spreading ever since. Jorran's just the latest to get snatched by those things. Along with all our salvage." She glared back at the three men, all of whom refused to meet her eyes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to deliver the news that these incompetents cost me my pay." The woman flashed a cold smile. "Remember: close to the entrance."
"We'll keep it in mind." Meetra followed Atton's lead and stepped out of the salvagers' path, T3 sticking close to her side. As soon as they were out of earshot, Atton turned back to her. "Zherron may have… underestimated the bug threat."
"Unfortunately, we don't have a choice." Meetra walked over to the sublevel access and pressed the pad next to the door. It slid open, stale air wafting from within. Surprisingly, it was far from dark inside; Adare or Vrook must have found a way to restore the emergency power, if the dim blue lighting was any indication. Meetra thumbed the pike's controls, the translucent rod filling with crackling energy. The weapon held enough charge to knock a full-grown adult on their ass and keep them there for a good bit; hopefully, it was enough to deter a laigrek.
She hesitated, caught in the luminal space between then and now. It felt familiar — the same stone walls and ornate floors — but wrong at the same time, like she was trespassing or walking over a grave. In a way, both were true. Steeling herself, Meetra stepped over the threshold and led the way into the ruins.
The door slid shut behind them, taking the sunlight with it, and she paused to allow her eyes to adjust. The cool air was welcome; the thick layer of dust and grit covering nearly every surface, less so. She could make out the trail left by the salvagers' hasty retreat, their footsteps leading away from one of the rear halls. Meetra tapped Atton's arm and silently indicated the trail. He grimaced, but nodded and drew a blaster. She knelt in front of T3, a finger pressed to her lips, and he flickered the light of his optical sensor once to show his understanding, his own weapons extending from his chassis.
Atton gestured for Meetra to lead the way and followed her down the corridor, walking slightly to her left to keep his line of fire clear. T3 kept close to her other side, his treads almost silent against the Enclave's stone floor. The entire sublevel was silent, lending itself to the grave-like quality Meetra felt earlier and heightening her paranoia. No part of the Enclave had been silent during her childhood, save periods of meditation — it felt unnatural.
She reached the end of the corridor and started to turn the corner, only to jerk back at the sound of insectoid claws skittering along the floor. Her back collided with Atton's chest, and she pressed them both back against the wall as the laigrek ambled down the adjoining hallway. The low emergency lights reflected off its gleaming black carapace, giving it a metallic sheen. It's blood red compound eyes glowed in the gloom and its six legs, each tipped with a curved scythe-like claw, scraped against the stone. The bug was easily knee-high to Meetra; if it decided to attack, it would no doubt reach her chest at its full height. The creature paused, it antennae twitching, and Meetra froze, pike clutched tightly in one hand. She could feel Atton's pulse against her back, echoing the staccato rhythm of her own. After a moment, the laigrek resumed its shuffle down the corridor, vanishing into the gloom at the far end.
Atton blew out a long breath, ruffling the hair near her ear. "That was so much worse than I imagined." Meetra chuckled, the low sound vibrating against his chest. With the distraction of the laigrek removed, he was suddenly aware of her closeness, of the way she still leaned into him. He could smell the lavender from the plains grass clinging to her clothes and hair, and strands from the latter brushed his chin when she turned her head. It was simultaneously a relief and a disappointment when she moved away to continue down the hall in the opposite direction to where the laigrek had gone.
The trail in the dust disturbed by the salvagers' escape continued down the corridor to another intersection, and as they approached, an unnerving chittering started up, growing louder as they moved. Meetra hesitantly peeked around the corner, and the sight turned her stomach. A group of laigreks were huddled around a pile of what could only be described as meat and rags at this point. Their mandibles and front legs were stained red, thick globs of viscous ooze dripping from their mouths every time they raised their heads from the carcass.
Atton made a soft noise of disgust. "I guess we found Jorran."
"Unfortunate, but at least he'll buy us some time." Meetra gestured to the hall across the intersection. "We can go through there and loop around to get behind them. Then —"
T3's high-pitched wail cut her off, and she and Atton whirled to find the droid backpedaling from an angry laigrek. It advanced on him, emitting a sinister hiss. Behind them, Meetra heard the awful chittering dwindle and cease, replaced by answering hisses. Atton drew his other blaster, glancing back and forth. "Druk."
Meetra spun around and threw out a hand, using the Force to scatter the feeding laigreks as a bolt from one of Atton's blasters whined over her head. It struck a laigrek in the center of its dark red underbelly as it rose up, and the creature toppled back with an ear-piercing shriek. T3's flamethrower activated with a whoosh, eliciting a similar cry from his laigrek. The others, drawn by the commotion, advanced on Meetra, and more of the bugs emerged from the dim corridors. Twirling her pike, Meetra lunged at the nearest insect, sending it flying backward with a sharp snap of energy.
She plunged into the center of the laigreks, wielding the pike and the Force in turn. One of the creatures reared up in front of her and locked its forelegs over her pike, driving her back with its weight. Atton's pistols sounded again, and the laigrek fell back, thick crimson ichor spraying from its thorax. Meetra pushed it away and spun around to slam a laigrek to the floor as it leapt at her. A burst of fire from T3 briefly separated her from the bugs, forcing the laigreks to scurry out of reach. Meetra dropped into a crouch, pike extended, but the insects continued their retreat, huddling at the edges of the corridors. She frowned, but before she could vocalize her confusion, Atton stepped up next to her and fired another shot after the retreating creatures, clipping one along a rear leg.
"Stop!"
Meetra felt the surge in the Force seconds before it hit Atton, flinging him forward with a shout. She reacted without thinking, throwing out a hand, fingers curling in toward her palm, and caught him, pulling his momentum to an abrupt halt. Gingerly, she released her hold and let him drop to the floor before turning to face their attacker.
A young girl stood in the hallway, her own arm outstretched and her face slack with surprise. She was dressed in a dirty cream-colored tunic and leggings beneath a light brown robe with matching flat-heeled boots, and a small section of disheveled pale blonde hair near her ear was twisted into a thin braid. A battered lightsaber hung at her hip, and an overly large laigrek prowled at her side. The girl let her arm fall, eyes still wide with awe and disbelief. "You're a Jedi."
Meetra shook her head. "No." Atton moved to her side, blaster still drawn, but she waved him off. "But you are."
"I was to be." The girl's voice was quiet and wavering. "I am… I was a padawan, but now…" Her face hardened, and the laigrek at her feet let out a soft hiss. "Now, I protect this place and the belongings of the Jedi from those filthy thieves." The laigrek purred, and she reached down to stroke its carapace. "My pets help me, so I can't let you hurt them, even if you are a Jedi."
Even through her tenuous Force connection, Meetra felt the girl's fear and pain, an anger shallowly buried and a layer of guilt beneath. There was something else, too: a coldness Meetra hadn't felt before or since Peragus. The padawan was even less trained than she'd been when she left with Skye and Alek, and she had likely been using her anger to sustain her down here. Meetra approached her, movements slow and readable, her pike held down at her side. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Atton reach for her, but she gently turned his hand aside with the Force. "What's your name?"
The girl fidgeted with the hem of her robe. "Kaevee, Master."
Meetra gave her a kind smile. "My name's Meetra; just Meetra. I'm no one's Master." She took another step toward the girl, doing her best to ignore the laigrek coiled around her ankles. "How long have you been down here?"
Kaevee's face scrunched up. "Since the bombs fell. Everyone was shouting, and the sky kept falling…" She shook her head, realizing how childish the description sounded. "My Master brought me to the Matale estate; she said they could keep me safe." Her eyes were wide and haunted. "But the Sith… they burned the house. The whole family was burning, screaming… so I ran, and I hid here. I thought I'd be safe here." She fisted the fabric of her robe again. "I know I should have tried to help, but…"
"It's alright." Meetra reached out and brushed Kaevee's hair back from her face. The girl tensed, but didn't flinch away, and the laigrek remained passive at her feet. "I ran, too." Kaevee's eyes jerked up to hers. "A long time ago. Not a day goes by when I wonder what might have happened if I stayed, if I might have made a difference — I'll never know, but… I doubt it." There was some relief in admitting it. "I did what was best for me, what I had to do. Just like you, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. But you have to forgive yourself; otherwise, it will consume you."
Kaevee's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "But I… I don't know what happened to my friends."
"Me, either. Sometimes it's best you don't find out."
The girl rubbed at her eyes with the heels of both hands. When she met Meetra's gaze again, some of the fire was back in her expression. "If you're not here to 'salvage,' and you say you aren't a Jedi, why are you here?"
"We're looking for someone. You may have seen him: an old Jedi, bald, grumpy expression?"
"You're looking for Master Lamar?"
Meetra raised an eyebrow. "You know Vrook?"
She nodded. "By sight, anyway. He was around often before… He passed through a few days ago. I didn't recognize him at first, so I set my laigreks on him, but he just… walked past them. He made them go still, not matter what I told them." Kaevee's gaze fell. "When I saw his face, I hid again. I was ashamed, both because I ran before and because I sent the laigreks to attack him… I was afraid that if he found me he would turn me away, tell me I was a terrible person because of what I've done."
Meetra's heart lurched; that was a fear they shared. "But none of it was your fault, Kaevee. You have nothing to be ashamed of." She squeezed the girl's shoulder and received a weak smile in return. "Can you tell me where Vrook went?"
Kaevee pointed past her, toward the sublevel's depths. "He was headed for the archives… do you know where that is? I can take you, if you don't."
Her eagerness was heartbreakingly familiar. After Skye and Alek's departure, Meetra had acted similarly, attaching herself to Atris in their absence. "I know where it is, but I can't leave you here. This is no place for you."
"If I'm not here, the salvagers will take everything." Kaevee shook her head. "I have to protect it, for when the Jedi return."
"Kaevee…" She signed, a weariness settling over her. This girl had already been through so much, and all Meetra could do was crush her further. "The Jedi are… they are few now, and nothing here will bring them back. Staying here will only pain you further."
"But… where can I go?" For the first time, Kaevee truly sounded her age; her voice was small and lost. "I don't have a Master… how am I supposed to complete my training?"
"I… I'm sorry; I don't have those answers for you." The laigrek at Kaevee's feet hissed, a flicker of fire playing about its mandibles. Meetra ignored it and concentrated on getting through to the girl. "But this is a grave, Kaevee; don't let it be yours, too." She knelt in front of the girl and Kaevee met her gaze through a veil of tears. "You should go back to the Matale Estate. It's been rebuilt, and the people there are working to make it a place of safety. Ask to speak with Administrator Adare, and tell her Meetra Surik sent you. She'll keep you safe." Meetra glances at Kaevee's lightsaber. "I'd keep that hidden, though. The Jedi no longer have the reputation they once did."
Kaevee looked down at the laigrek around her feet. It tipped its head to the side and clacked its mandibles, its compound eyes staring at her. "But… what about my laigreks?"
Atton glances over at Jorran's remains and grimaced. "Kid, I'd be more worried about anybody dumb enough to set foot in this place."
Meetra nodded. "As far as I'm concerned, they can have it. Once we find Vrook, we'll rerun and figure out a place for you."
The girl nodded, then she reached down and patted the laigrek once. It purred and scuttled away, the others vanishing into the dim corridors after it. "I've told the laigreks you're friends, so they won't bother you anymore… I'll wait at the estate." Meetra stood and gently squeezed her shoulder as she passed, but Kaevee stopped abruptly and dug inside her robes for a moment. "This is what the salvagers were trying to take. I was just going to put everything back, but you might be able to use it, or maybe Master Lamar will." She held out a small canvas bag, and Meetra took it, studiously ignoring the not quite dried spatter of blood on one side.
Inside was one fully assembled lightsaber and a handful of components, perhaps enough to build another. Meetra turned the lightsaber over in her hand, but ultimately left it in the bag; it was single-bladed, anyway. She paused as her fingers brushed something cold, and she pulled it out, stiffening at the sight of the small red and gold metal triangle in her palm. "Kaevee… where did you find this?"
She shrugged. "It was down here before I arrived. I heard it calling to me one night, so I went to find it… it sounded lonely, too." Kaevee looked away, fingers tangled in the hem of her robe again. "It taught me how to control the laigreks… and it told me a lot of things, some I never wanted to know. The things it was saying recently… they scared me, so I gave it to one of the laigreks to take far away. The salvagers must have found it." The girl refused to even look at the artifact. "You can keep it; I don't want it anymore."
Meetra closed her fingers around the object, its surface cold enough to sting her skin. Faintly, she heard soft whispers coming from; indistinct words and voices that hovered just beyond her understanding. They tugged at her, invited her to listen closer, to hear and comprehend their secrets. Instead, Meetra shoved the artifact back into the bag and tied it at the neck. "I'll take care of it. Stick to the fields on the way to the estate; you don't want the salvagers to spot you."
"I will." Kaevee managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Meetra." She ducked away down an adjacent corridor and vanished into the gloom.
Meetra slipped her rucksack off her shoulders and stuffed the bag inside, and Atton noticed she took care to push it all the way to the bottom. "What is that thing? Haven't seen you so shaken since that Sith Lord on Peragus."
"It's Sith, too." Meetra pulled the pack back on, situating it so she could no longer feel the object's presence. "It's just a holocron, but that doesn't mean it's not dangerous."
"And a holocron is…"
"It's… a repository of knowledge, used by both the Jedi and Sith. They hold histories, messages… and can be used to teach lessons." Her grip tightened on the rucksack's straps. "They require influence from the Force, Light or Dark side respectively, to open… it couldn't have wished for better prey than a scared and angry padawan."
Atton eyed her pack nervously. "So what is a Sith holocron doing in a Jedi Academy?"
"That is a very good question. Most would assume it was dropped during Malak's attack."
"But you don't think so?"
"I know firsthand how hypocritical the Jedi can be." For a moment, Meetra thought she heard the holocron's whispers again; when she listened closer, however, there was nothing. Shaking her head, she led the way deeper into the sublevel, Atton and T3 close behind.
The laigreks continued to skitter about the shadows in the corridors, but true to Kaevee's word, they did not attack or approach, instead sidling away when the group walked by. It made the place feel even more like a tomb; with Kaevee gone, Atton and T3 were the only other sentient beings besides Meetra, a stark contrast to the Enclave of her childhood. It was a lonely realization — the Jedi had seemed so powerful when she was young, even when she didn't agree with them. It was hard to believe only ten years separated their glory from their demise.
Meetra was so lost in thought that the door to the Archives almost took her by surprise. It loomed out of the dimness, a wide slab of thick stone inset with ornate symbols in the language of the ancient Jedi. Despite her lessons, Meetra had never been able to make out more than a few words, but Kavar had told her the writing spoke of knowledge, and the power and burder that came with it. Something she hadn't understood at the time, but it was all too real now. Between herself and the Council members, few remained to carry the teachings of the Jedi.
She reached for the access panel, but found it damaged, the surface scorched from blaster fire. "This doesn't bode well. T3, think you can fix this?" He rolled forward with a chirp and extended his scomp link for a diagnostic. After a moment, he gave an affirmative been and began the repairs.
"I'm grateful the little scrap heap is making itself useful," Atton said, rolling his eyes at T3's offended hiss, "but couldn't you just…" He wiggled his fingers and mimed lifting something.
"I'm flattered, but you overestimate me; that door weighs as much as a small ship." She left out that before Malachor, the action would have been trivial; she'd lacked Skye's talent and Alek's control, but brute strength was something she'd had in spades. For all the pushing and pulling done to the shipping containers on Peragus, it was nothing compared to her former ability. "Catching you was hard enough."
"What are you trying to say?" Meetra rolled her eyes at his mock offense, but she appreciated the joke. Adjusting to her weakened state was hard, but humor helped the transition. In that way, Atton reminded her a little of Skye; when things were at their bleakest, she'd always had a joke or quip at the ready, without fail.
T3 interrupted, tweeting his success, and rolled back to give Meetra access. She depressed the pad, and the heavy Archive door groaned before lurching into motion. It rose slowly, and Meetra moved to one side for cover, Atton taking the other. T3 scuttled behind her, taser extended, but as the door completed its ponderous journey, no blaster fire came from within. Meetra exchanged a look with Atton, and then slipped around the corner into the room.
The Archives were just as she remembered them, minus the thick coat of dust on every surface. A bank of terminals flanked the room on either side, and tall bookshelves lined the curved walls, save five panels directly across from the door. Murals covered each section; some depicted scenes of ancient Jedi, others simply ornate designs. The center panel was the most intricate: a white-haired man with a lined face stood in the center, flanked by a young woman with long green hair on his right and a sinister man with pale skin and red eyes at his left. All three were depicted with an ethereal glow about them, and the faint suggestion of avian wings was etched around the woman's shoulders. The younger man bore a matching set, though his were more bat-like than feathery. A slightly larger than life statue was set at the front of the room. Its features were androgynous, but it was dressed in Jedi robes, a lightsaber clutched in one hand.
The nostalgia was so strong it nearly blinded Meetra to a flicker of movement among the terminals to her left. A tall blonde man rose slowly from among the desks, a blaster rifle clutched in one hand. He wore a loose-fitting blue and brown uniform, one she didn't recognize. The man was young, several years her junior, and what most would call classically handsome: blonde locks swept back from his face, a squared jaw, high cheekbones, and a statuesque nose. His eyes were a bright clear blue, the edges crinkled with fear and anxiety. He dropped the rifle on a desk and held his hands up, palms out. "Please, don't shoot! I'm not a mercenary."
Meetra glanced over her shoulder to find Atton with both blasters drawn. She waved him off, and he holstered the weapons with reluctance. "Well, that makes four of us. Who are you, and why are you here?"
"My name is Mical; I'm an archivist for the Republic, a researcher." He gestured to the room around them, a sheepish smile forming on his lips. "This place… well, it's irresistible for someone like me. So much uncataloged history, left behind after the Jedi fled…" He cleared his throat, realizing he was straying off topic. "I came here to meet with Master Vrook Lamar; I'd heard rumors he'd returned to Dantooine. His knowledge would be invaluable to the Republic's records, and... " He shrugged, his cheeks darkening a little. "I thought he might need help protecting what the Jedi left behind. I'd hoped I could convince him to let the Republic establish a presence here, to keep the ruins safe."
"If the Republic knows he's here, the Sith definitely do," Atton said, and Meetra nodded. He shifted his attention back to Mical. "So, how did that occupation suggestion go?"
"It's not an occupation, it's — nevermind. I never got the chance to ask." His blush deepened. "You see, I hired some of the local… 'color' to guide me through the ruins; they found a path that avoided the laigreks. I had no idea they were looking for Master Lamar."
A cold weight settled in Meetra's stomach. "Where is Vrook now?"
"He managed to cut several of them down, but they took him." Mical pointed behind him, and Meetra noticed three or four bodies partially hidden by the statue's base. "Everything happened so fast… I couldn't — I wasn't able to stop them. They trapped me in here and disabled the panel… which I now realize you must have repaired."
"When did this happen?"
"Perhaps two hours ago? I don't know where the mercenaries took Master Lamar, but I can show you how they…" He trailed off, suddenly suspicious. "Forgive me, but how do you know Master Lamar? Who are you, and what do you want with him?"
Meetra Surik, Atton Rand, and T3-M4." Meetra pointed to herself and the others in turn. "Vrook is an old… acquaintance of mine."
Mical's eyes widened. "You're a Jedi, too, then?"
Atton stalked past Meetra, saving her from answering, and crouched next to the bodies of the mercenaries. "You searched these guys yet?"
Mical grimaced. "Of course not. I'm not ghoul."
"Not too bright, either." Atton rifled through one of the mercenaries' pockets and pulled out a cracked datapad. "And neither are these guys. This pad is still receiving communications. They've been hired by the Exchange, and they took the old man to some place called the kinrath caves." He handed the datapad over to Meetra, a crude map displayed on the screen. "Recognize it?"
Meetra nodded. "Different name, but I know it. The mercenaries have probably already contacted the Exchange. Let's go."
"Wait!" Mical scooped up his rifle and hurried after them. "Please, let me help. I failed to stop them before, but I can't let you go alone."
"She's not alone," Atton growled.
"I just meant —"
"It's fine." Meetra ignored the glare Atton shot her way. "I'll take any help I can get, but we have to go now. Where did the mercenaries get in."
"I'll show you." Mical headed down a corridor, and Meetra hurried after him, Atton grumbling behind her. Mical guided them out of the sublevel through a damaged corridor, where one of Malak's bombs had split a weak spot and created a deep crevasse from the surface to the sublevel at the back of the Enclave. Somewhat convenient, at least; Meetra knew a shortcut that would take them to the cave quickly.
She knelt in front of T3. "How do you feel about getting back to Khoonda on your own? Someone has to tell Adare." The little droid hedged for a moment, but eventually answered in the affirmative. "Thank you, T3. Don't take any chances; avoid anyone until you reach Khoonda." He tweeted his understanding and rolled back in the direction they'd come.
Meetra led the way in the opposite direction, parting the golden sea for Mical and Atton behind her. The latter seemed determined to separate the former from her, keeping close behind her as a result. She chalked it up to his natural paranoia as a smuggler; Mical was a stranger, but there was something familiar about him, an eagerness that could only be genuine.
The sun reached its peak as they arrived at the cave. The mouth was deserted, but Meetra kept her guard up. She reached out through the Force, probing the darkness as they approached. Further in, she sensed life, a tight cluster of individuals near the center. Motioning for Atton and Mical to stay close, she led the way into the cave.