Trista, for the second time that day, painfully regained consciousness, this time with even less memory of how she'd gotten... wherever she was. She lifted her head to take in the room, wincing when the motion aggravated some pulled muscle in her neck or back.
She was shackled rather firmly to a chair, her wrists to the arms and ankles to the legs. A quick push forward found it bolted to the floor. No, this would be a job for the Force, and breaking out wouldn't endear her to Goto. Her eyes traveled to a window that looked out into space, and she winced again. No, she could tolerate this. She'd need to find a way off whatever station she was on, if she was even in Nar Shaddaa's airspace anymore.
But she swallowed back an unfamiliar, wary nausea as she considered that prospect. The others must be looking for her — if she wasn't over Nar Shaddaa, if she was somewhere else in the galaxy, how would they find her? Could she win Goto's trust until she could determine her location, then send some cryptic message back to the ship?
Eesh, this was problematic.
She didn't realize she'd been staring out the window until the crest of a moon flashed beneath her, and she almost cried. No, she was still over Nar Shaddaa. She could work with this.
The door to her left opened with a hiss and her head jerked over, earning another wince as it pulled at that spot in her neck. She gripped the chair with her hands, fighting her instinct to recoil as an interrogation droid floated through the open frame and to a spot in the center of the room.
That was unexpected.
She wet her lips and opened her mouth, ready to speak, in the hopes that Goto was watching. Instead of moving toward her, it projected the image of a human in his fifties or thereabouts, who regarded her with an impassive and bemused expression. Trista closed her mouth and straightened against the chair.
"Mm," Goto said, almost in greeting. "I was expecting someone taller."
When she didn't answer, he continued. "I hope you are not in too much pain to understand what I am saying?"
"No thanks to you, but I'm fine." She motioned with her hands, pulling at the binders on her wrists. "Is this necessary?"
"A precaution. You have a habit of trailing destruction in your wake — you understand." No, but she inclined her head as if she did. "As you no doubt assumed, I am Goto, an official representing a percentage of non-sanctioned trade here in the Y'Toub—"
"The Exchange," Trista interrupted. "There's no need to be coy."
"Very well."
"And a hologram?" She motioned with her hands, drawing his eye to where her wrists were still resting flat against the arms. "On top of this? Is that fear or paranoia?"
"Neither. It is difficult to be in many places at once. Holotechnology is the most effective — and convenient — way to communicate over vast distances." He paused. "At least, until Aerotech develops the new holotransceiver within two standard months, but by then it will be too late."
He shook himself and continued. "As it stands, I have a question for you." She nodded. "Are you a Jedi?"
Trista frowned, glancing back toward the window. No, she wasn't – but these days, no one was.
"I'm the closest you'll get," she answered finally.
"Then the record that you were exiled is correct?"
She nodded. "And strictly speaking, the Jedi don't exist right now. So, again, I'm your best option."
"That is unfortunate. Still, perhaps you have some value."
Trista frowned, narrowing her eyes. "I'm not a commodity to be traded."
"You insult and misunderstand me. I have gone to considerable expense and effort to bring you here."
"Why?"
"I have a job for you."
This time she arched her brow, studying him for a moment. "You could've called me. The million-credit bounty is a bit, uh, aggressive, don't you think?"
"Your suggestion is too simplistic. There was no guarantee such a call would hold your attention, nor am I in the habit of asking for things. And, you have been difficult to find since that... small incident on Peragus.
"As it is, there is something important to me that requires protection. The Republic — it is... broken. What happened on Peragus has set in motion events I can no longer control. Not to be melodramatic, but I fear it has broken the galaxy. Irrevocably."
You're failing at not being melodramatic, Trista thought.
"This has occupied much of my attention, and there is no predictable way to resolve it."
"So this is why you chased me across the galaxy? This merited putting a bounty on Jedi so high that you weren't getting them brought in alive?"
"It may surprise you," he said, frowning at her interruption. She frowned right back. "But in one standard month, the Republic will collapse. Not because of war, or secession, but because it lacks the infrastructure to support itself. It remains unrealized, but the Sith won the Jedi Civil War even with the Republic's 'victory' at Rakata Prime. It left the Republic on the edge of collapse. And rather than remain and solidify the Republic your compatriot, Revan, left known space. A frustrating turn of events, as a rallying figurehead could have done much to restore order."
"Have you read her arrest warrant? They would've dragged her in front of a firing squad."
"Perhaps. And perhaps she would have remained behind the scenes. We cannot know now."
"Maybe she knew something you didn't."
"That is unlikely."
Trista shifted in her chair, the binders cutting into her wrists. "Then why bring me here, if you've given up on the Republic?"
"I have not 'given up.' There is something moving in the galaxy that lies beyond my instruments' ability to detect or predict. I believe it is a legacy of the Sith, but I could not determine the source. Whatever this presence is, it is staging strikes at key figures throughout the Republic and, through some unknown means, destroying worlds."
Trista nodded. "You mean Katarr."
"Yes. I have reason to suspect there was a gathering of Jedi on that world when it was rendered lifeless. And yet, I can find no pattern in these attacks, and that is endlessly frustrating. Either the Jedi are linked to these attacks... or, perhaps, the targets are significant in some other way. I have yet to uncover what that may be."
"Look," Trista said. "I'll do what I can — I'm doing what I can. I have no allegiance to the Jedi, but I don't want to see them wiped out either."
"Ah, no." The hologram shook his head. "You misunderstand me again. I do not wish to stop the Sith any more than I wish to stop the Jedi." At her confused blink, he continued. "It is important that the infighting between these Jedi religious branches be resolved, so that the galaxy may be put back together."
"You're... you're joking, right? The Sith will destroy—"
"That is not my point. While this pointless squabbling continues, the galaxy suffers. I do not care who triumphs if the galaxy settles down for a while to catch its breath. These constant crises are getting repetitive."
"You don't care which side wins," Trista said, "as long as the Republic remains intact?"
"You could say I am a patriot. Though I could not serve in the Mandalorian campaign, or against the aggressors known as Revan and Malak, I am able and willing to serve now.
"However, I can find no side to choose. Both are as hidden from me as they seem to be from one another. Irritating. It is like a dejarik board, where neither player can see the other — nor all the pieces. It is not an equitable game."
The corner of her mouth twitched, almost unbidden. "Perhaps you should try pazaak."
"Pazaak bores me, as I often suspect my opponent of cheating. I prefer predictable games, like galactic economics."
She blinked hard, then shook her head. "Look... whatever. I'll do what I can to help. That's been my intention this entire time."
"Excellent. It is in your best interests, you know. There is no margin for error when I say that these Sith intend to murder you, and all remaining Jedi. They have been quite efficient. And when they dispose of you, the galaxy will fall under their influence."
"I thought you said you didn't care."
"I simply want the infighting to cease. I would not trust the Sith with the Republic, though the Jedi have been similarly untrustworthy as of late."
"Sure, as I said, I'll help." She looked down at her arms. "But you have to let me go."
"Ah, yes, there we are at cross-purposes. I cannot set you free."
"Then I'm... not sure what your plan is."
"You see," he continued, ignoring her. "You have a tendency to cause catastrophic damage wherever you go, and I would like to keep such events to a minimum. The galaxy is a fragile place. It needs time to rebuild, to grow. Whether it is led by the Sith, or supported by the Jedi, is of little consequence to me."
Trista had opened her mouth to argue — okay, so one planet blew up, what gives? — when an alarm interrupted her as it blared through the ship. She looked up. Goto barely reacted.
"If this is a bad time, I can come back later."
If he had to see what was happening, this could be her chance to escape—
"That is the proximity alarm. We are under attack." He paused, a frown deepening across his face. "Your allies seem to have found you... that is unexpected. I must see to the defense of my ship. But... I cannot have you join them."
He nodded to something behind her, and Trista strained to turn. But before she could something heavy and cold clamped around her ears, and she had less than a second of recognition before the neural scrambler did its job.
#
The room right outside the Hawk's docking tube had only a couple droids in it, and Bao-Dur immediately blasted their shields. Atton jogged out after him, making his way to a console and slicing in. T3 interfaced with a droid behind him, and he glanced back.
"Don't you go making friends with the enemy." The droid answered with a foul note.
"Can you access cameras, or a map?"
"Look," Atton snapped, shoving his shoulder into Blondie's arm and forcing him to take a step back. "I'm trying. And stop ordering me around, I was the only person who had any ideas. So back off, golden boy."
"Oh, stuff it, Atton." Mira leaned against the wall behind the terminal. "You weren't the only person with ideas. The droid got us the codes."
He glared at her before returning his focus to the terminal, glancing down as T3 plugged in. "I don't need your help."
T3 didn't respond, but nothing in the terminal seemed to change either. Atton found the cameras and accessed them.
"Okay, let's see what we have," he mumbled as everyone but Kreia stepped off the Hawk. "Audience chamber's got eight turrets guarding the doors and a bunch of droids. Oh, that looks fun. Interrogation... doesn't look like she's there. Exterior defense... interior defense... I'm not seeing her."
T3 responded with a series of chirps, and he looked at Bao-Dur. "He says that these terminals are only marginally linked to one another. If we go further, there should be more connections."
"Makes sense." Atton stepped back. "He knows where there're more terminals?" T3 chirped affirmatively. "Okay, who all wants to go? I'm going."
"I will stay and keep the ship clear," Zez-Kai Ell said. "At least one other should stay with me."
"I've been up here before, I'll help." Mira straightened off the wall.
"Master Ell and I can protect the ship," the Handmaiden said. "I will also stay behind. If there are droids, Bao-Dur will be more effective."
Bao-Dur adjusted a setting on his arm. "One can hope."
T3 unplugged and rolled toward the next door, and they followed.
Several rooms and many deactivated droids later, they reached another terminal. T3 plugged into it, getting past the defenses until Atton could access it. "We've got more cameras. Let's see..." This time, he ignored them clumping around him as he scrolled through the settings. "I still don't see her in either of the cell blocks. Or in interrogation. He has to be keeping her somewhere."
"Check the audience chamber if you have a camera on the interior. I've been there — if she's not in the cells, that's the only other option."
Atton flipped through menus until the audience chamber presented itself as an option. "Oh. Yeah, there she is. She's—"
"It appears Goto is worried about security," Blondie muttered, more to himself. Atton frowned.
"Still a bunch of turrets and droids between us and her. We'll have a tough fight in."
"But we at least know where we're going. C'mon, it's this way."
This time T3 was the last to leave, plugged into the terminal until they were done clearing the next room of droids. As they reached the last room between them and the audience chamber, Atton readied himself for a fight before tapping the door open—
—to reveal a hallway littered with exploded turrets and deactivated droids.
"What in hell—" Mira said. "It wasn't like this earlier."
"No, these were all active," the Disciple said. "I don't know what happened to them."
T3 rolled past them into the hallway with an innocent whistle. Atton rolled his eyes, giving the droid a nudge with his foot. "Isn't that against your programming somewhere?"
He responded with a rude trill. Atton jogged after him, followed by the others, until they reached the next door. He reached out for the lock, but it beeped angrily at him.
"Locked," he mumbled, pulling out a tunneler. "Give me a second and I'll get into this."
It took less than a minute for him to break into the door, popping the lock off. It slid open.
The large, circular audience chamber stood behind it, one large viewport open to a wide vista of Nar Shaddaa below. Trista was in the middle, shackled to a chair with her head lolled back against the back, facing the window. A pair of large, round droids opened fire as they drifted forward, sending them scattering back against the walls. Bao-Dur took a deep breath and stepped out, raising a hand.
Both droids sparked, their systems sending spats of electric sparking across their chassis. Then the left one dropped, followed by the right, smoking, to the durasteel deck. Atton stared at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes.
"How long have you been able to do that?"
Bao-Dur looked from his hand back to him, then shrugged and started forward. "It isn't important."
Atton shoved his guns into their holsters and broke into a sprint past him. "It's just a little important!"
Halfway across the room, the familiar glint and steady red flash of a neural scrambler flickered through her fallen blond hair, and he released an unconscious, thankful sigh before skidding to a stop. His hands found a familiar lever and flipped it, and he pried it off her ears as it released.
"Tris, hey," he said, cupping her head. Her eyelids flickered. "You all right?"
She responded with a very graceless groan. "Atton?" She blinked as the scrambler's effects wore off, shaking her head as if to clear it. "What... where—"
"Don't worry about it. Hey, you two, watch the door."
Visas nodded and drifted back toward the door. Blondie frowned, but followed. Atton studied the binders, then pulled out his spanner.
"How're you feeling, sweetheart?"
"Been better," she replied. He cut through the first, and, before he could stop himself, trailed his fingers across her wrist as he moved to the other. He reassured himself that it was simply to see if she'd been wounded. She hadn't.
"Blondie's got your lightsaber," he explained. Already she looked more present and nodded. "We just have to get to the bridge, disable the docking tube, and get back to the ship. You feel up to it, or do you want to go back? We can handle it if you do."
She laughed, almost tonelessly. "Don't think anyone's ever given me that option before."
"Well, you've got it now. What do you want?"
"I'll come with you. Goto pissed me off." He helped her stand, steadying her when she wobbled. "Let's get moving. I'll figure out how you managed this later."
Trista drew her hand out of Atton's with a small smile and started toward the hallway, killing his protest, unvoiced, back in his throat. Mira snickered, and Atton glared at her.
"Somethin' funny?"
"We on the same side?" Trista interrupted as she passed Mira, almost ignoring her laugh. Mira turned with another look at Atton, walking next to her as they headed for the doors.
"We were always on the same side, I just wanted a million credits."
"I guess I can't fault you for that."
#
It took nearly an hour to reach what looked like a central security room. Droids got thicker the further they went, and Goto must have raised minefields given how many they had to deactivate. Atton and Mira always went ahead, disarming and pocketing the mines before they could blow. After a good ten minutes they found themselves in a circular room, the gray steel bathed in the flickering orange and purple of screens, terminals, and a forcefield that blocked any further progress.
"What's this?" Atton asked as Trista stepped in. "Looks like a control center?"
"I don't think it's just a control center." Bao-Dur stepped to a bank of screens opposite her.
"No... that's too simple." Trista tapped a screen. "These aren't controlling the ship. They're tracking signals on a planetary scale." Like the one Bothan researcher was tracking. "This must be what's making the droids go haywire."
"I'm not sure it's just planetary," Bao-Dur mused. "This is a galaxy map. It looks like he's tracking signals galactically."
"For—" Trista started to ask "for what," before her thoughts turned elsewhere. "How far back? Can we download the data?"
T3 chirped and plugged in. If he was tracking across the galaxy... depending on just what he was tracking, and how far back it went, that information could be invaluable.
"We could perhaps use that data to track..." Mical trailed off, and they glanced at each other.
"Exactly what I'm thinking."
"I suggest you surrender." Goto's voice echoed from above them, and Mira responded with an eye roll and a near-silent "ugh." "Your chances for escaping this vessel are near zero — and your chance of survival is rapidly approaching that number. Your ship, and your lives, are mine. The only question is how many resources you want me to spend in subduing you."
"Given you've got a million credits lying around for a bounty, I don't care about your resources," Trista responded. She waved to T3, ordering him to keep going. Bao-Dur continued to tap on the screen behind her without stopping.
"I assure you, a million credits is little more than a drop for this operation. I am equipped to deal with one troublesome Jedi."
But not more than one, Trista thought. Her eyes caught movement behind the forcefield, and she squinted. More of the large, combat droids they'd been coming across deeper in the yacht.
"Yeah," she drawled, "if you really wanted to work together, you should have skipped the neural scrambler."
"A pity. I will try to avoid causing too much damage."
"We'll see about that." Trista turned on her heel and stepped past Atton. "Watch the field."
"Already on it. Minefield past it too."
She nodded and joined Bao-Dur by the terminal. "See anything?" she whispered, just enough for him to hear. He nodded.
"Reprogrammed the mines to damage Goto's droids instead of us. And I've isolated the force field. I can bring it down whenever you want." He glanced at her. "Or beat it with my arm, if you want to intimidate him."
She half-grinned. "I think we can be more subtle today. Visas, Mira, Atton, be ready." Trista looked down at T3. "You good?"
The droid chirped and whistled, pulling his data plug out of the socket with a pop. "/computer = rude :(/"
"I'm sorry it's being mean to you. Okay. Go ahead, Bao-Dur."
"Dropping the field now."
An alarm chimed once before the purplish glow disappeared, replaced by the sound of stomping metallic feet. Then the explosion of mines, followed by a peal of blasterfire and sparks as a few droids not taken out in the minefield stumbled into the control center.
"Good job." Trista picked her way through the detritus, nudging aside a few sparking wires as she went. "Keep moving."
More minefields blocked their way to the bridge, where the doors opened into a wide, panoramic view of Nar Shaddaa and Nal Hutta below them. She'd expected to find Goto here, waiting to make a last stand, but the bridge was empty. No personnel — not even droids. Just a bridge cloaked in silence, and the whirs and beeps of machinery and systems.
"We've been moving everything onto the secondary power source," Atton said, passing her as she paused in the doorway. "So all we need to do is plug in the shutdown command, and that'll take everything offline. Except, y'know, life support."
"One downside is," Mira said as she followed him, and Trista followed her, "Goto hasn't earned himself a lot of favors with this stunt." She motioned at Trista to emphasize what, exactly, stunt she was referencing. "So if they get a whiff of the cloaking on his ship going down, we're fighting our way out."
"Why? If the bounty hunters want the bounty, wouldn't they want us alive?"
Mira tutted and opened a datapad, passing it over to her. "Please, there's at least seven other bounties that popped up on you, specifically, since we've been on board this ship. Sure, they're not a million credits, but they'll do. 'Specially if they take different parts of you to everyone."
Trista handed the datapad back with more force than it needed. "Charming."
"I was only gonna do the Goto one! Not a big fan of killing my marks. And given the GenoHaradan's got about 500k on you now—"
"What the hell did I do to them?"
"They're just middlemen, but—"
"Can we have this discussion after we're off this stupid yacht?" Atton asked, turning back from the console. "Let me know when, I'm all set up to burn this joint."
"Burn it and let's go." Trista turned on her heel. "Surprised Goto hasn't thrown more at us."
The console behind her chimed, and Atton joined them in their brisk jog toward the door.
"If he's smart, he's getting onto an escape pod," Mira said, "a cloaked one."
Proximity alarms rang out across the bridge as they reached the door, and Trista glanced back once to see several small ships zip across the viewports.
"Company incoming." She pulled her lightsaber off her belt. "Make sure we're ready."
