It was dinnertime. Which meant the canteen was crowded by all of our sentient crew members. I smiled as I walked into the room—taking in the atmosphere.

Carth and Verena were at the corner table with the Mando. Canderous was making some comments that both Republic war veterans were spitting back at. He was an unwelcome inclusion by the looks of it. Mission and Zaalbar were fighting over the last pastry in the freezer. It was to be won over a game of pazaak. T3 beeped some happy songs occasionally in the corner. I squeezed past Mission and Zaalbar in order to grab something to eat, careful not to eye that pastry.

This camaraderie was exactly what I was missing from my smuggling days.

I pulled up a seat next to Canderous. The Mandalorian's expression brightened.

"I know." He waved at me. "He'll decide."

I raised a brow. Verena narrowed hers. "You only want him to decide because he's one of the Jedi who didn't fight the Mandos. There is no way you defeated an Althiri fleet ten times your size. No one is that incompetent."

"You'd be surprised, Echani. I mean, just look at the state of your fleets." Before Verena could bite back, Canderous raised his scarred brow at me. "Come on, we need you to decide, Wes."

"Decide?" I asked. "On what?"

Carth rubbed his forehead with a sigh. "These idiots are fighting over who had the 'greatest victory.'"

"Oh...um..." I looked down at the floor. "I'm really not qualified to comment. Why don't you ask Carth?"

"I'm not egging on their stupid pissing contest," Carth said, waving his spoon. "And I recommend you do the same."

Verena tilted her head. "How long have you served, Onasi?"

Carth answered after he finished chewing some mush.

"Three years as a pilot, eight years with command."

"Eleven years? If you despise the art of war so much then why stick around for eleven years?" Verena asked. "Unless you secretly like it? Hmm..."

Carth gripped his spoon tight. "I don't need to like war to know that it's my sworn duty to protect the Republic."

"By Mandalore, we get it flyboy. You're boring."

"Boring?" Carth sneered at Canderous. "How does that make me boring —"

"Whatever. Let's settle this," Verena interrupted. Thankfully. "Wes, you decide who had the greatest victory. Whoever loses will clean the fresher. Both freshers. With brushes."

I chuckled nervously. "Uh...are you sure about that? Because really, I don't have the experience or—"

"You go first, Echani," Canderous interrupted.

Verena crossed her arms. "Why, so you can figure out how to fluff up your story?"

"Just get on with it. The pipsqueak is getting impatient."

She narrowed her eyes before turning in her chair to face me. Kriff, I really was screwed here. If I picked either the Echani or the Mando the loser would come after me. So, I guess I had to pick my poison. Echani or Mando torture? Which was worse?

Verena began. "A year into the war, we'd been ordered to secure the Lantillies system while the rest of the fleet defended the Duro shipyards. The Mandos thought they could not only destroy the shipyards but also cut off our supply lines. They'd already started bombing the planets when we arrived. They hadn't expected anyone to try and stop them since the main fleet was otherwise preoccupied. So I used that to my advantage."

I crossed my arms. "How so?"

"We jumped to the furthest point in the system and waited for the Basilisk droids to descend to the surface of the planet. After that, I commanded a small battalion to board their elite warship. We were able to take control and use their own ship against them. After that, General Yusanis gave me full command of a Hammerhead-class cruiser."

"Pah, so you attacked from behind like a coward. How is that a victory?" Canderous said.

"How is my story any different from yours?"

"It's nothing like it." He glanced over at me with a smirk. "I had to go against a larger and stronger force."

The Mando began his story. "My greatest victory was a few years before we attacked the Republic. For five days the Althiri had managed to hold off our forces, keeping us to the outer rings of their world. My task was to assault one of their flanks with a false attack. The Althiri would be drawn out by the units I had sent in. Once they had surrounded those units, the bulk of my forces would attack from the rear and defeat them in detail."

I rubbed my stubble then took a bite of my reheated meal. "And...did it work?"

Verena cut in. "Of course it didn't work. You can only do enough feints before either your troops tire or the defenders get the memo and tighten their formation."

"No interruptions, aruetii." Canderous spat before continuing. "Nope, that wasn't it. I saw an opening. A mistake they had made in the distribution of their forces—and took it. While fending off our main force, they let their fleet split in two. The morons. I turned my forces and assaulted the center, decimating them!"

Carth flinched at Canderous' raised voice. "There's no need to act so satisfied about it…"

"Why not, flyboy? That battle gained me command of an entire sub-sect of my clan."

"I don't know, maybe because people died ."

Canderous waved a hand. "We all die eventually, Onasi. You can either run away from death like a coward or embrace it like an old friend." He met my gaze again. "The Althiri were cowards. It was amusing to watch the surviving ships scatter and flee. Several tried to dive through the planet to escape us. They were shredded by the rings, or crashed into rocks, or were destroyed by our forces as we pursued them. Warriors do not flee from a battle if they are losing. They fight to the end! As we did against Revan on—"

" Xai'chath , you really like the sound of your own voice, Mandalorian." Verena met my gaze. "So? Have you made a decision? Who scrubs?"

I crossed my arms then stared up at the cold ceiling, closing my eyes. Going into a meditative-like state. A lot hinged upon my decision. One poor soul was destined to scrub shit particles. One poor soul would be damned to all hells of soap scum and repugnance. How could one mere mortal make such a decision?

"The way I see it…"

There was a clatter of chairs as both awaited my voiced thoughts. And a defeated sigh from Carth. Maybe the loser would go easy on me if there was some logic to my decision.

"...both of these victories rely heavily on the blunders of the opponent. In that case, shouldn't we judge the opponent then?" I took a long drink. Making them wait, eagerly, in anticipation of my next words. "Who was weaker? The Althiri or the Mandalorians?"

Verena answered first. "Obviously the Althiri. They were stupid enough to let their fleet split in two."

"The Althiri weren't stupid," Canderous spat. "Stupid races don't make thousands of starships and weapons of mass destruction."

Interesting. "But, you had more experience? Then, wouldn't you also concede that the Mandalorians Verena fought were far stronger than the Althiri? You've technically vouched for them with this conversation alone."

Canderous's confident poise jolted. He stared at me in horror before he pounded the table.

"Damnit, pipsqueak, you're supposed to be on my side!"

Verena cawed a laugh. "Exactly! He cannot claim to have the greatest victory if he also has to denounce his own people in the same breath. Which isn't very surprising coming from a Mando!"

"Quiet, woman! If you recall, we were up against Republic fleets up to five if not ten times our size. You probably vastly outnumbered the clan attacking the Lantillies!"

"Did you?" I asked.

Verena pursed her thin lips and her scar creased. "Well... maybe, but if we go by your logic then they should have easily defeated us anyway, right?"

Canderous, in a rare show of doubt, sank back while giving both of us glares sharper than Verena's cortosis blade.

"Bastards…"

Verena smirked. "The words of sweet defeat."

I met her expression. "I think it's obvious who the winner here is."

"No, this isn't over," Canderous growled. "You forget that I was also in that war against the Republic. I decimated countless Republic warships. Countless fleets. Countless—"

"Innocent planets. Countless. Innocent. Planets," Carth finally interrupted.

The room grew silent. Even T3 stopped his joyful beeps.

Eventually, Canderous sighed. "I didn't particularly enjoy wiping out worlds, but the cowardly tactics the Republic defenders used left us little choice."

"Cowardly tactics?" I asked.

Carth stabbed his steak. "Serroco wasn't a cowardly tactic ."

I looked at the veterans. "Serroco?"

"Ah, so you were there, Onasi?" Canderous asked with a grin. "You were at Serroco?"

The Republic pilot glowered. Probably hated that he'd given away one of the battles he'd been at.

"It was my first post as captain. Saul ordered me to set up military camps near strategic positions. We didn't think...the Mandalorians would destroy valuable resources...kill countless civilians in order to get to us."

Verena must have noticed my puzzled expression. "He's talking about the Republic's first battle with the Mandos."

"And our first victory." The Mando's voice grew deep. "Saul Karath thought Mandalore didn't have the balls to attack the Stereb cities. He underestimated our resolve and what measures are acceptable in war. Those who cannot defend themselves should not be around those who can in battle. If annihilating a city is the kind of power it takes, then that's what we did. Necessary force to destroy all opposition."

Those words caused a shiver to crawl down my spine. Necessary force to destroy all opposition. My hand curled around the steel of my fork. Blood circulation cut off. A fog covered my eyes. Leaves and vines replaced it.

Deralian forests were dark. Cracked blood within the roots. The masks all looked the same. Their laughs—all the same. The prison, the cage, small. Cold. Screams echoed through the trees. The Mandalorians had taken him. He'd managed to escape from the encampment. But they caught him. As punishment, they strung him up. He had no choice but to watch. Watch as they killed them.

Explosions. Bits of flesh. Brains. Screams. The blood flowed. Salty tears. No hope. No escape.

Coward. Kill them. All of them. Necessary force to destroy all opposition.

They deserve it. They deserve it. They deserve it. They—

"Wes! Stop! You're choking him!"

A high-pitched screech pierced the fog of my mind. A heavy body collapsed while heaving. I blinked a few times, the leaves disappeared along with the blood. Objects had no form. Faces had no names. Something grabbed my shoulder.

Mission's blue eyes wavered as she shook me. Carth's worried face was creased. Verena's pale figure mimicked that expression. Canderous half-laughed and half-coughed while gripping his throat.

"Damn...pipsqueak...warn me...next time…you pull a stunt—"

I didn't hear the rest of what he said. I staggered out of the room. And an ever-present numbness followed me like a cursed ghost.

It had been after the betrayal.

Pain, unlike anything I'd felt before. The light from the barred windows blinded me. My head pounded. The smell of kolto overwhelmed my senses. When I moved my head, the pain shot into my brain. It was as if fingers clawed around the inside of my skull.

Shadowy figures. Nurses—I think. They talked to me. Asked me questions about who I was. Why I'd...done it. Done what? They never told me.

But eventually, I remembered. Remembered the stupidest decision of my career

Then, the Republic officers arrived. Interrogations. Drugs. Truth serums. They demanded answers. They thought I was a terrorist or...some Sith agent. But I told them the same thing for weeks. Arbiter. Wouldn't say anything...without an arbiter. Not sure why they didn't let me see one. Wasn't that against Republic law? Though, I wasn't a citizen. Which meant that I was less than dirt.

One day, after I'd recovered enough to walk around my cell, the nurses passed me a red jacket along with my food. My red jacket. Given to me years ago by my mentor. If they were giving me my stuff, did this mean I was finally going to be speaking to an arbiter?

I'd put on my jacket and unconsciously stuck my hands in the pockets. My fingers brushed cold metal. Memories...images of the cold masks came with the sensation of terror. The nightmare of Deralia.

The coin's edges had dulled over the years. I twisted it around again and again as I sat in the Hawk's copilot chair. The blues of hyperspace reflected on the surface of the metal.

Memories of my brief imprisonment caused both anger and fear to flow into my veins.

I jolted when a cold hand brushed my wrist. Bastila knelt down so that our faces were level with each other. Instead of frustration—which I would have expected after our last conversation—I felt sorrow from the bond. Understanding. Compassion.

Somehow, that was enough to make the fear I experienced from the memory disappear like smoke.

I twisted the coin between my fingers again. The action was hypnotizing…occasionally I glanced over at Bastila's soft features.

"Did...did you see that?"

The Jedi released her grip on my wrist. More silence. Detachment. Which meant that, yes, of course, she saw it.

I smirked. "I'm not supposed to react to your emotions, yet here you are. That's a double standard, sunshine."

She frowned.

The false smirk on my face dipped. I sighed. "Sorry. I know. There is no emotion, there is peace. But...I just—"

"What's that?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

She pointed at the coin. I handed it to her. "A Mandalorian coin." She flipped it around once then twice before handing it back to me. "I took it from one of the corpses of my enslavers."

"Enslavers?"

I stared out into the blurred lines of hyperspace. Kriff...I hate thinking about Deralia. Hate, hate, hate thinking about it.

Bastila jolted at my thoughts. "Sorry...I didn't mean—"

"When they raided my planet, they slaughtered everyone that resisted. My father…my mother..." Pale, empty faces. "They made me hide in the shed. But I heard everything. Everything they did to them." When she didn't say anything in response, I continued. "In the end, it was pointless. They found me. Put me and many others in chains and dragged us all across Hutt space to be sold. Eventually, my mentor rescued me—she was a bounty hunter before she turned to smuggling. I...grabbed this coin because I wanted to pay her back. Somehow. But...she just laughed at me. Never took it."

I stuffed the metal coin into my pocket. "After all, it's just a coin. A coin that reminds me of the nightmare that pretends to be a memory."

Her hand rested on my arm and my emotions calmed. Bastila's compassion flowed through me like a wave.

"I'm sorry."

I tilted my head. "Don't be. I'm sorry that you saw...that." A smile carved my face. For some reason, it hurt. "It's in the past. We all have to...move on eventually. There is no emotion, there is peace, right?"

Normally, Bastila would have been all for that. Nodding along. Instead, her soft face hardened. And, for some reason, anger bled through the bond. Anger? At who? But she never gave me a chance to ask.

She patted my arm. "Come on, it's getting late."

I gave her a weak nod, but I didn't follow choosing to instead look down at the groves of the Mandalorian coin.

Nightfall.

The steel at the top of my bunk had fourteen screws.

Fortunately, no one other than Bastila approached me about what the hell happened in the canteen. I wasn't sure if I could really give an answer to anyone else. I'd...lost myself back there. Tomorrow, I had to find Canderous to apologize. Not that the Mando would think I'd need to.

Thoughts of today, the future, the present—all of it became too much. I sat up from my bunk. Careful not to wake anyone, I slipped out of the dorm and made for the cargo hold. I searched high and low in the compartments for a bottle—any bottle. Unfortunately, besides a strange looking box (that looked like something Davik Kang left behind), I came up empty-handed

Kriff .

Guess this will be another sleepless night.

I'd survived without a drink before. Weeks at a time, actually. But sometimes, when I couldn't sleep, it was just easier to let the alcohol do the work for me. And when I felt that urge, well...I couldn't sleep until I found something.

I sighed as I staggered towards the main hold. If I couldn't sleep, might as well watch the holodeck lights.

Carth.

The Republic soldier sat with his back to me. A bottle of ale sat on the holodeck along with a half-filled glass. Knew there was one left! A conundrum. Either I could go back to my dorm to avoid the pilot. Or I could suck it up for the sweet release of booze.

I collapsed in the seat beside him. He flinched when I grabbed the bottle. Normally, I would have commented on his lack of an orange jacket, but I was not in the mood. I actually wanted him to go away. Unfortunately, Carth spoke before I could say anything.

"Can't sleep?"

My answer to Carth was by drinking some the ale while staring into the hypnotizing lights of the holodeck. The pilot didn't give me the usual exasperated sigh, however. Instead, by the few glances I sent his way, he stared into the holodeck with me.

"I...used to drink a lot when my wife died."

I held a breath at his words. Then, guilt flooded my chest.

Carth continued. "I told you about my homeworld. Telos. Three years ago, Saul led the Sith fleet there and demanded its surrender. The planet refused and Saul proceeded to devastate its entire surface. Millions died. I had a wife and son on Telos. I thought they would be safe there. But my task force arrived too late to be of much help. We didn't have enough medical supplies. The colony was burning and the dying were everywhere. I remember holding my wife and screaming for the medics. They didn't come in time."

I stared at my reflection in the bottle of ale. I winced after realizing the tone-deaf comment I made to him the other day. While drunk, ironically enough.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know. How could you?" His voice trailed. "I...had nothing left after that, really. For months, I drank in order to forget what happened. But drinking my problems away wasn't enough. It was never enough. So, I devoted myself to the fleet. Hunting Saul was my only purpose."

I glanced over to Carth who sat attentive—determined. This quest for vengeance gave Carth a purpose. I hadn't thought of it that way before. What did I have after Deralia was destroyed? What reason did I have to fight...at all?

None. No reasons. The Mandalorians who destroyed Deralia were long dead. That war was over. I'd missed my chance.

I sighed. "I'm envious of you, Carth. I don't like to admit it but it's true. You found a purpose with the Republic. Me? A fugitive? A smuggler? A Jedi?" I shrugged. "It's all nothing without a purpose."

Carth nodded as he listened. "For what it's worth...I hope you find a purpose someday, Wes. A true purpose."

I raised an eyebrow at the Republic pilot. Surprised, mostly, that he didn't insist that being a Jedi was now my ultimate purpose (as I would have expected a certain someone to insist).

A small smirk graced my lips. "Besides being a pain in the ass?"

He smiled back. "At least you're self-aware."

I put the bottle onto the holodeck—feeling less thirsty than before. Who knew talking could do that?

Stretching and yawning, I called back to the pilot. "Come on, orange meatbag. Better get some sleep—we have a long day of doing nothing tomorrow."

Carth sighed.

Darth Malak will hunt down and destroy you! The dark side will consume you!

I bit my lip in order to hold back a laugh.

Bastila could sense my humor though.

"That wasn't supposed to be funny!"

"Well, maybe next time don't say it like that. It's hard to take seriously."

The Jedi sighed. She crossed her arms and sat cross-legged in front of me.

"You're impossible, you know that? Are you even trying?"

"Actually, yes , I am." She gave me that look. The look that said she didn't believe me. I pouted. "Why don't you show me how it's done then."

"Oh, no. I'm not falling for that."

And unfortunately, she didn't fall for that. It was too bad—I had been looking forward to passing lewd Twi'lek dancers over into her mind.

The first step in learning how to block the bond and reel in my emotions was to at the very least block others from invading my mind. A thought shield. I'd read about it in a datapad on Dantooine but didn't bother with it. Sure, it wasn't an advanced technique but it took a year to master.

We only had a few days. Or at least until the next time we faced the Sith. Which would be soon going by our track record.

I sighed.

In between caffa breaks, Bastila attacked me with images, emotions, memories. I had to block them. This went on all morning. Feelings of failure from memories she had in the Jedi Enclave. Feelings of pain from her previous battles. All of them I tried to block. I failed each time.

After another round of memories of Vrook Lamar scolding (why?), she growled with frustration.

"I know I said I wouldn't lecture." I tensed, preparing for the worst. "But you cannot create a thought shield if you emotionally react to what I show you. If a dark Jedi knows how to send painful thoughts your way...you need to stay composed."

What she said was true. If I didn't master my emotions—at least temporarily—the Sith could take advantage of me during battle. Yet, saying and doing were two different things.

I crossed my arms. "You think I'm not trying over here?"

Bastila rubbed her forehead after this emotion-control session bore no fruit.

"Perhaps I am making it too difficult..."

I also rubbed my temple—another headache throbbed my skull.

"How do you make it look so easy?"

Bastila pursed her lips. "Part of it is due to my training in Battle Meditation. While I also learned how to intentionally pass along surface-level emotion, I also had to learn how to defend myself from Sith who would invade my meditation..."

A darkness. Claws—like a krayt dragon—gripped her mind. An emotionless red mask—

I blinked—a cold, empty feeling encased my chest.

She nodded. "Good. You were able to block it that time. Perhaps it was because...you weren't expecting it..."

I frowned at the few emotions and images I did see.

"Revan invaded your mind?"

Fear...terror …

I blocked more of these emotions. Yet, it was strained.

Eventually, after a minute of silence, she sank. "Many times. Once the Sith learned of my presence on the battlefield, Revan tried to personally combat me. Not only physically but mentally as well. It was...difficult. Painful. But I succeeded in blocking him every time." She paused—I could tell she was trying to suppress her memories of the battles they had. "Which is why you need to learn how to shield yourself. I do not want you to feel what I felt."

Bitter disgust burned my tongue. "I'm glad he's dead."

Bastila met my gaze.

"Wes, that isn't—"

"—the Jedi way. I know. Don't care. If Revan made you suffer like that, he got off too easily, I think."

She didn't say anything else about Revan after that. I could sense the thought shield she put up now that I knew what to look for. The numbness. It didn't make me feel any better about it though. No, I only wished that she would open up—not only to me but to the rest of our crew. She didn't deserve to suffer like this alone.

After the "emotion-block" session, Bastila instructed me to skip lunch and meditate next to the hyperdrive. Blocking out the noise and the chaos of my own hunger could stand in for blocking out disturbing thoughts and/or distractions. For once, I agreed with the Jedi. A little part of me wanted to prove to her that I was indeed listening to her advice.

I opened the doors to the engine room and immediately regretted it.

Verena was there. Butt naked with her fists poised.

"Kriff!"

I closed the door and warmth gathered on my face. Would that be considered a "distraction?" Definitely. One I massively failed at blocking.

"What the hell, Verena! Put on some damn clothes!"

I really hope Bastila didn't sense...that.

Verena's laughter was muffled past the engine room doors. "Come on, a little skin won't kill you."

"A little skin?"

A sigh. "You Jedi are all the same."

How dare she insist that I was a prude . There was no way I cared if Verena liked to flaunt her...figure. Okay, maybe I did care. But I hadn't expected it, alright?

I hesitated before I hit the switch to open the door again. Thankfully, Verena had put on a thin robe over her bare shoulders. A few bags of sand hung from the ceiling—tied on one of the support beams. Something smoked in the corner. Was that...was that tea ?

The Echani sent a sly smile my way. I eyed this little setup with weariness.

"Uh...you do realize this is the engine room, right? These aren't your living quarters."

Verena picked up her vibroblade. She began polishing the cortosis with a laser tool. "Of course I realize this is the engine room. But no one ever swings this way. Except for the astromech. I find it doesn't care too much about my state of dress."

Guess I had to wipe T3's memory core now . Or maybe not. Didn't seem like Verena cared about decency.

"And what exactly are you doing?"

The Echani ceased with her polishing and nodded at the sandbags. "Sharpening my weapon."

"You do that...naked? Why?"

Verena muttered something in Thyrsian about Jedi being prudish bores. I narrowed my eyes.

" Hey! It was just a question."

She jolted. "Oh, you understood me?"

"Of course I understood you!"

Before I could insist that I was anything but prudish, Verena leaned Yusanis' blade against the hyperdrive and stood. "To the Echani, our body is our weapon." She faced the sandbag and struck with fast jabs. "And our weapons are our voice. One cannot go without speaking before they lose touch with reality."

"Riveting." But why naked? Really? "So, are you technically talking to yourself right now? You do realize that people who do that are labeled crazy, right?"

She twisted to the side in order to send a humorous smirk at me.

"You think you are so funny, Jedi."

"Oh, was that a joke?"

The Echani turned away and began slapping the sandbag again. "Why are you bothering me? Shouldn't you be hanging out with the other Jedi?"

"Needed somewhere with a lot of distractions. Didn't realize there would be more than just the hyperdrive to keep me preoccupied." I staggered to the corner that didn't have the bubbling tea and sat down with crossed legs. The chaos surrounding me vanished as I closed my eyes. "Keep talking to yourself. I'm not here."

The gentle hums of the hyperdrive and the occasional thumps from the sandbag condensed until I felt nothing but a silent calm. Sound from the bubbling, hissing tea muted to a faint drip…

"Is this because your Jedi friends noticed that you almost killed the Mandalorian?"

The chaos washed over me again. Kriff. But I was able to resume my meditation. Block it out. Block all emotion—

"The Mando deserved it, you know. Not to die, of course, but to be humbled. It is a virtue to know when to admit defeat. And you are supposed to revere those who have defeated you."

For some reason, the Echani's words caused all the sensations to flow back again. If I couldn't concentrate on keeping the hyperdrive silent, then how could I block out Verena?

"If that's true then why don't you revere Revan for defeating Yusanis?"

Verena's slaps ceased. Despite my eyes being closed, I could sense disgust in her general direction.

"All of my brothers and sisters would agree with that sentiment. It is why our armies stood down when the war started." She punched the bag again. "Yusanis...he respected Revan even with his last breath."

"Then why do you disagree?"

"Because the Sith Lord manipulated our traditions for his war. He used our rites to force Yusanis into an honorable confrontation. He conquered the Echani as soon as he defeated our greatest general. But that...that manipulation was anything but honorable. And part of that is...my fault."

That caused me to open my eyes.

"Your fault?"

Verena was no longer hitting, talking, to the sandbag. Her once strong shoulders dipped. Her proud expression sank. She gave up on beating up the sandbag and marched to the corner with the tea. She sat.

A moment passed as she sipped on some tea and stared off into the nethers of the ship. Eventually...

"That hammerhead-class...wasn't all that I was rewarded. Yusanis...ordered me to join Revan during the Mandalorian Wars as a liaison between our fleets."

So, I was right then.

"You were Sith."

She sneered. "It was a mistake. The worst mistake I ever made. My part in Yusanis' death is what made me open my eyes to Revan's treachery. When the General's body hit the floor, I took Yusanis' blade and ran to the furthest corners of the galaxy. Plotting revenge—something we Echani are never supposed to do." She sighed. "But my dishonor...my desertion...it was all for nothing."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Verena's scar twitched. "After all of that just... okay ? I—I just told you that I was a Sith and you don't care?"

"Jedi are supposed to be forgiving." I shrugged. "If you think it was a mistake, that's good enough for me."

That somehow shut the Echani up. Finally. I closed my eyes in meditation once more. Unfortunately, the silence didn't last long.

"I also...lied about why I wanted to restore HK-47's memory."

I raised a brow. "Oh?"

"While I was Sith, I spoke with the Echani senators. I was going to convince them to join Revan's side." She shook her head. "That all fell apart after it was discovered that the Dark Lord assassinated one of the senators. To this day, I don't know why he...broke our trust. Broke my trust. HK may have the answer."

I nodded. "Then I'll do my best to help you find answers."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

A chuckle escaped Verena's lips. "You really are the strangest Jedi I've ever spoken to."

"Was that a compliment?"

Verena shook her head then stood in order to approach the sandbag once more. The chaos numbed once more, but this time only the quiet slaps from Verena's fists broke the calm of meditation.

That night, after hours of living in a numb blob of emotionless meditation, I decided I needed a break. Or else I would go insane. Literally.

The canteen was half-filled. Mission and Zaalbar were playing pazaak at one of the tables. Canderous was the reluctant dealer. I was surprised to be seeing them getting along—I'd have thought the rough and tough Mandalorian would have stayed clear from the two. But he sat there regaling his war exploits to the duo.

The last person in the room—Juhani—sat in the corner with a freshly cooked gizka. Alone.

I approached Mission, Zaalbar, and Canderous. Mission shot me a concerned look. Zaalbar growled his soft concerns as well. And the Mandalorian smirked up at me.

"Haven't seen you all day, pipsqueak," he said. "The princess lock you away?"

I sat next to him. "Deal me in."

Mission frowned. "Are you alright, Wessy? Yesterday—"

"I'm fine." I took one of the random decks and addressed Canderous. "Sorry about that."

The Mando shrugged. "I don't hold grudges."

And, thankfully, that was all we needed to say before everything returned to normal between us. Canderous dealt me a card first. Seven. Then dealt Mission a card. Five. We played a few games in silence. Odd, really. Mission would have burst out about something or other by now.

After the third game, I glanced at the corner. Juhani picked at her gizka leg mindlessly. Still alone. I pursed my lips.

"Juhani, why don't you join us? I can deal you in," I said, pushing an empty chair out with my foot.

The Cathar responded with a sneer. "I'm not going anywhere near the Mandalorian."

Canderous sighed. "What did I ever do to you, Jedi?"

"You—it is too much for me to even begin to—"

"Juhani." I crossed my arms and frowned. She met my gaze with intensity. "Whatever Canderous did, you need to put it behind you. There is no emotion, there is peace."

The Cathar gripped the gizka leg tight before her entire body slackened. She stood and sat to my left. I smiled at her while dealing a card. Sure, she was still shooting glares at Canderous, but at least now the young Jedi wasn't doing so while being left all alone.

Mission finally smiled. "Hey, Big Z, remember when those duelists asked you to join their tournament that one time?"

The Wookiee growled. "Ugh...I don't want to talk about it."

"What's the furball saying?" Canderous asked.

Mission ignored him. "Oh, come on, Big Z, it's pretty funny!" Zaalbar growled a quiet "it's not funny" but Mission faced us with a grin. "They dragged Big Z before the Hutt leading the dueling ring. Poor Big Z—since they couldn't understand him, they had no idea he didn't want to join in the fights."

"You could have said something, Mission!" Big Z protested.

"Do you realize how many credits duelists earn? We could've been rich!"

I smirked. "It's not like you would've been a poor contestant, Zaalbar. I mean...you did beat up a lot of those Vulkars that one time."

Juhani twiched. "Vulkars?"

Zaalbar met my gaze. "I don't fight if I don't have to."

Mission continued her story. " Anyway , they gave Big Z a huge stick and sent him into the arena. The announcer gave this huge speech about how the terrifying Wookiee known as Blood Claw was challenging the reigns of Dead Eye Duncan! "

Poor Zaalbar lowered his trunk arms. "Blood Claw! The stupidest name I ever—"

"And do you know what happened? The guy didn't even shoot! Well, he did shoot but missed Big Z by twenty feet. When Big Z started protesting the whole situation, the poor guy threw his pistols to the ground and surrendered! That was probably the easiest one hundred credits we ever earned."

Canderous snorted. "I'm not surprised that even the duelists on Taris had no backbone."

" Taris? "

I raised a brow at the Cathar. "Yeah...Taris...you know, the planet Malak destroyed in order to get his hands on Bastila? That Taris. Didn't the Jedi Council tell you what happened—"

Juhani jumped from her seat and slammed her fists onto the table.

"The Jedi Council told me you escaped a destroyed world. They never told me it was Taris!"

"Okay..." I trailed off. "Should it matter?"

"Should it matter? Should it matter! Of course it matters! How dare you act like the destruction of a world means nothing to you!"

"What? That is not what I—"

Her ears curled back. "After all, what does it matter if my homeworld was wiped out! Who cares if it is because of Bastila and you that everyone I knew as a child is dead!"

I was speechless.

"What—?"

"Taris! Taris was my homeworld!"

Mission stood. She grabbed her lekku. "Juhani...I'm sorry. I didn't know that—"

"Shut it!"

Mission frowned—her eyes teary after Juhani's callous words. Before I could say anything to make the Twi'lek feel better, she ran out of the room. Zaalbar followed her.

I ground my teeth. "Was that really necessary?"

"If it were not for you and Bastila, the Sith would have never had reason to destroy that world! It was your fault for being there, and your fault for rescuing Bastila! Without your intervention, the Sith would have had no cause to lay waste to my childhood!"

I sneered. "I thought you hated your homeworld."

"I hated that world, yet everything I learned as a child I learned there. It is as much a part of me as the air I breathe. If it was not for you, that world would still exist!"

I finally stood. "It was Darth Malak who destroyed your world."

"Yes...I know that. But if you hadn't been there..." The Cathar sighed. "It is so hard to lose your entire past. You would not understand."

"But—"

Juhani stormed out without another word. Force...I've just about had enough of all this unnecessary drama. In a way, I can kind of understand why the Jedi preached about controlling emotions now. They were starting to be a bit overrated.

Canderous raised a scarred brow up at me while picking up the pazaak deck.

"Deal in?"