Bastila watched with a fond smile as the last of her class of younglings scampered out of the garden atrium. They were abuzz with excitement – one of them had successfully manifested telekinetic control in today's session, moving a small block of wood several inches in the air. She was additionally pleased that it was Henta who had done so. The small Durosian boy was extremely shy and reticent, and she hoped this would boost his self-confidence.

As the last of the children disappeared from the doorway, Jolee's figure took their place. "Mission and Dustil will be landing within the hour," he announced as he approached.

"Good. We need to hear in detail why their assignment went so wrong."

Jolee harrumphed. "Cuz that kid attracts trouble like Bantha poodoo attracts flies."

Bastila rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, Jolee, I wonder what age you really are."

"A good deal less old than you think, young lady, that's for sure." He placed a gentle arm around her shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, Jolee," Bastila replied with annoyance. "I don't know why you keep asking. I have found peace in his absence; I don't see why his return should change anything."

But it was changing things already, if the inexplicable tears before class were any indication. Or the midnight dream of a child held in her arms. Or the waking nightmare of her torture at the hands of Malak. All things she had not experienced in many years, or ever. Should she tell Jolee that every single day had been an emotional roller-coaster since she had realized Revan was coming back?

"You're a terrible liar," was all the elder Jedi said, and Bastila remembered why she so dearly loved the old man.

For some time they stood shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the sound of birds flitting in through the open windows and the rays of sunshine warming plants and humans alike. Finally, Jolee turned to face her and said more than she wanted, but less than she had expected.

"Wherever he went, he always brought hope, from Taris to Tatooine. Maybe he brings some hope for the two of you."

Bastila took a moment to digest that, but it did nothing to shift her immediate reaction. "I've changed. I'm sure Revan has changed as well. I haven't loved him in a long time, if I ever did. I worry for the galaxy, not for myself."

To Bastila's surprise, Jolee laughed. "Now you truly sound like the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order."

She frowned. "Please, you know how much I hate that title."

Jolee pressed on as if he hadn't heard, though she knew he had. "If there's anything that the Jedi know how to do, it's ignoring what's happening internally by focusing on what's happening externally. And it's funniest," he continued through Bastila's increasing irritation, "coming from you, who started the whole rethink that's been going on for the last 10 years."

"You started it too," was her pathetic retort.

"Sure, but I know how to take my own advice." The smug grin finally disappeared from Jolee's face as he regarded her kindly. "I'll let you be for a while. I've asked docking control to inform you when Mission lands."

Bastila wasn't sure she actually wanted her volunteer guardian to leave, but all she said was "thank you," and then he was gone. She remained standing where she was for how long she didn't know, five minutes or an hour. Only the beeping of her comlink disrupted the stillness of her sun-baked reverie.

"Master Shan? Knight Onasi and Ms. Vao have landed in bay three."

"Acknowledged. I'll be there shortly." Bastila swept from the room, only too happy to find a distraction.

Bastila knew their assignment had ended poorly, but she was not prepared to watch Mission limp down the boarding ramp with Dustil walking slowly behind. Grandmaster decorum fled her thoughts as she raced across the landing bay to embrace the petite Twi'lek in a fierce hug.

"Easy there, Bastila," Mission ground out through clenched teeth. "I've got a few broken ribs."

Bastila jerked back, embarrassed by her overly emotional behavior. "I'm sorry." She held Mission gently at arm's length and appraised her physical condition like a stern mother. "How did this happen? You didn't say that you'd been in battle – what other injuries do you have?" Without pause, she whipped out her comlink. "Knight Omras, please report to the landing bay immediately."

"Calm down, big sis. I'm fine," Mission interjected with an affectionate teasing tone.

"We are not sisters, Mission," she replied out of habit, despite how the moniker warmed her chest.

"Oh, so you do know that. I wasn't sure." Before Bastila could retort, Mission put an arm around the taller woman's waist and started guiding her out of the bay. "Look, we ran into a little trouble. You'll hear all of it in the debriefing. First, can I get these ribs taken care of?"

"Yes, of course." She paused to glance back at the freighter. "What happened to the med bay on your ship?"

"Ion shot took out one of the power distributors. Blew out all the equipment in the med bay and the repair bay," Mission replied, apparently uninterested in elaborating further. Bastila took a deep breath and forced herself to let it slide. She could wait for the debriefing.

"Well, I'm glad you are both back safely," she said with an appreciative nod to Dustil. One didn't have to know Mission well to guess that she had been the one to find trouble and Carth's son had been the one to pull them out of it.

At that moment, Omras burst into the landing bay and Bastila was content to leave them in his capable hands. The Kynachi knight was an exceptional healer. Dustil scooped up Mission on doctor's orders and carried her out of the landing bay. Despite her loud protests, it was obvious how she enjoyed it – her arms were wrapped very tightly around his neck for someone who didn't want to be held. It brought a small smile to her lips.

Much to Bastila's relief, she didn't have to wait long to hear Mission and Dustil's account. Within 45 minutes they had reported to the planning room where Jolee, Vandar, Visas and the Gran Jedi master Torden Tal-Orvo were gathered. The two missing council members were the Sullustan Teth Tonb, who was still off-world on a recruiting assignment, and the Exile's former crewmate Mical Raben, who was leading several of the older Padawans into the Gallo Mountains.

Mission was sporting a kolto patch on one arm but appeared completely unfazed by her injuries as she reported the events surrounding her meeting with Dom Kartok. The indignant anger in her tone reflected frustration with long months searching for a supply of lightsaber crystals that had yielded absolutely zero success. But of much greater concern than their failure to obtain a supply of crystals was Kartok's foreknowledge of Mission's employer.

"Perhaps someone in the Republic leaked Mission's cover identity," Visas suggested.

Bastila couldn't help but bristle at her friend's implication. To her knowledge, only Carth knew that Mission had been working to source crystals for the Order.

"I sincerely doubt that Admiral Onasi could have betrayed Mission's secret," Vandar responded, thankfully before Mission could interject, a hot-headed response easily visible on her face.

Visas nodded. "I would not suggest that the Admiral could betray us," she said calmly, "only that he could have been betrayed." Bastila immediately felt chagrin for jumping to conclusions that Visas had never intended.

"That intelligence could also have come to Kartok through other channels," Torden posited. "The fact that agents of a client were waiting to capture you might indicate that he received his information from that client."

"Mission, did Kartok give any indication whether this client of his was anything more to us than a competing buyer?" Bastila asked.

Her lekku and shoulders twitched in a shrug. "Not really. I suppose they could have wanted me just to get the lowdown on our organization, but they sure had an awful lot of firepower. I think they expected me to be more dangerous than just a Twi'lek girl."

"Perhaps they were expecting us to send a Jedi," Vandar offered, "rather than someone with Ms. Vao's unique skills."

If they were expecting a Jedi, what did that say about the unit this mystery organization had dispatched to Mygeeto? A sudden and unwelcome thought gripped Bastila's heart in icy claws.

"What if they were Sith?"

She suddenly had the complete and undivided attention of everyone in the room. "If they expected a Jedi, who else would dare send a capture team, let alone one armed with swords?"

"Surely the Sith cannot be ready to reveal their presence so soon after Aeryn Venachi nearly destroyed them," Visas said, clearly unsettled by Bastila's hypothesis.

"I agree. They could not possibly have strengthened themselves in five years such that they would risk revealing themselves to us." Torden's skepticism helped lift Bastila's thoughts. She was sincerely hoping that her idea was simply absurd, as he seemed to suggest.

"Or it could be a different group of Sith."

The silence in the room was deafening. Bastila turned her neck almost painfully to gaze with wide eyes at Jolee. He shrugged, a casual movement that was in total disjunction with the serious expression set on his face.

"The Sith have splintered many times over the years," he continued. "Maybe this is another faction that we're unaware of." But Jolee's statement was delivered unconvincingly, and he knew it. Bastila called him out on it.

"The empire of Exar Kun became the empire of Revan and Malak, which became the empire of Darths Traya, Sion, and Nihil." She looked to Visas for support of this highly condensed Sith history. The Miraluka nodded. "Though it descended into civil war between each ruler, it can't have recovered this quickly under a new leader."

"And if the Sith have reunited in secret, then the execution of this operation was incompetent," Vandar concluded, "for we would now know that the Sith continue to flourish, have a significant presence in the Albarrio sector, and are procuring an unprecedented quantity of lightsaber crystals."

"There are other uses for that grade of crystal as well," Bastila said. "There's a reason why the trade is so tightly controlled." She paused, looking at each of her fellow council members in turn. "I know I'm the one who broached the idea but are we jumping at shadows here?"

Vandar, who was standing nearest to Bastila, placed a small and leathery hand atop hers. "We must always be vigilant for a return of the Sith. Your concern does you credit."

Bastila looked down at his hand grasping hers and smiled, appreciative for the reassurance from the wise old Jedi master, the person who she felt was really leading the Order. "Thank you," she replied softly.

"Masters, could it be an entirely new group of Sith?" It was Dustil who spoke for the first time since the retelling of the events on Mygeeto. He was just as effective as Jolee at sucking all the warmth and oxygen out of the room. "They thought they were going to capture a Jedi, and they came with swords. Who would think that would turn out well?"

He paused, as if uncertain of himself, but when he continued Bastila could see his father's steely determination written all over his face. "They behaved like a cohesive military unit. They flew advanced group-chase patterns. I don't think this was any group of mercenaries or fools."

"Even if they were prepared to capture a Jedi, that does not necessarily mean they were Sith," Torden objected. "There have been other paramilitary groups that exhibit no particular fear of us."

Jolee nodded. "Mandalorians come to mind."

Dustil frowned. "If I would've had an opportunity to engage them directly, their fighting style might have given us a clue." A spark appeared in his eyes and he turned suddenly to face Mission. "But you saw them fight."

Mission quirked an amused eyebrow. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dusty" – Bastila could barely suppress a snort of laughter at that pet name, no doubt selected purely to embarrass him in front of his leaders – "but I don't know the first thing about Sith fighting styles."

At this point, Bastila could anticipate where Dustil was headed and she couldn't imagine Mission agreeing to it. Fortunately, Vandar, the least intimidating member of the council, was the first to speak.

"Mission, what I believe Dustil is suggesting is that you would share your memories with one of us who would be able to identify any such clues."

Mission looked down at her boots, then nervously to Dustil before settling her gaze on Bastila. She nodded her assent. "But Bastila has to do it."

A small smile broke onto Bastila's face, pushed there by Mission's public allusion to their special relationship, a unique bond almost 11 years old. She did think of the younger woman as her little sister, though she would die before admitting it.

Bastila crossed the room to stand in front of Mission. She cupped her face gently in her hands and brought their foreheads to rest together. The shorter girl shut her eyes and placed her hands around Bastila's neck; the gesture of trust warmed her heart, and she decided that she would try to share some of that feeling with Mission while she was probing her memories.

"Think about your meeting with Kartok and the fight afterward. The more you can concentrate on a specific moment, the easier it will be for me to find that moment," Bastila directed. "And the less you'll notice my presence."

Mission was an apt partner in the process, perhaps because of the way Bastila had trained her in defending her mind and using it to send a simple message to a Force user. She quickly found the memories of the attackers and, using the Force, was able to slow the thoughts down so that she could study every detail of their movement. The way they held their swords. The pattern of their swings and the direction of the parries. Their stance on defense and offense. How they responded to Mission's inventive maneuvers.

After a few minutes, Bastila gently withdrew from Mission's mind and let her hands drop to her sides. She smiled quickly at Mission before turning to face the council members with her conclusions.

"I can't tell," she said simply. "There might be traces of Soresu and Shien, but I could be seeing things. They are clearly very advanced in their use of bladed weapons, and they could be using a technique that combines forms we know with something we've never seen before." After a few moments, it was apparent that no one was going to question her judgment. She was once again unnerved at the trust placed in her by her fellow Jedi.

Jolee snorted grumpily. "So we have no choice but to sit around and wait for this group to jump us again?"

"Not exactly, old-timer." Mission's tone dripped self-satisfied smugness. "We think we have a pretty good idea of where to look for them."

"How did you determine this?" Torden wondered.

"We followed them," Mission announced proudly. "After the crash they sent some units on foot through the area, searching for us. Dustil doubled back and tailed them to their ship."

"I watched it for several hours," the young Knight continued. "After things quieted down I was able to tag it with one of Bao-Dur's hyper-beacon tracking devices. They found and disabled it near Kluistar."

"We had to come within normal tracking range after that; they spotted us and smoked us with an ion cannon before tearing out of the system," Mission explained. "But that was after we had followed them all the way down the Hydian to Champala, and from there galactic southeast. If I were looking for high-quality crystals and going that direction, I would definitely want to stop by Arkania."

Bastila smiled broadly. "Excellent work, you two. That gives us something, at least."

"I wonder if Adascorp lied to us when they told us they couldn't supply Bacca Five crystals," Jolee mused.

"Adascorp provides many services besides mining," Torden warned darkly.

"If there is any sort of connection between Arkania and these unknown attackers, we must find it," Vandar added. "It is our only lead."

"We can dispatch Juhani and her apprentice to investigate," Bastila offered as a plan of action. She knew she should have anticipated the subsequent outburst.

"Hang on a karkin' second!" Mission cried, completely unfazed that she was surrounded by the leaders of the Jedi Order. Dustil's eyebrows shot up. "I'm the one who's been trying to source crystals for the last three years! I'm the one with the street-smarts to make contacts and find leads. Juhani is great, but she sticks out in a crowd like a bantha."

"Better not let Juhani hear that," Jolee muttered under his breath.

"Mission," Bastila began with a warning tone, "you're injured. You barely escaped Mygeeto alive. I think you need to recover first, but we can't lose time on investigating this."

"I'm practically healed already – " Mission exclaimed before Vandar calmly interrupted.

"Your skills are invaluable and unique in our Order, Miss Vao. Bastila, I believe Juhani would very much require her assistance on Arkania, in order to make the appropriate contacts and infiltrate this group."

At Vandar's mild rebuke Bastila felt her irritation with Mission immediately deflate, revealing just beneath plain concern for the younger woman's well-being. She just wanted to protect her, but she had aptly demonstrated her survival skills time and time again. She was afraid of losing the girl, she realized. It was not a fear that she could recall feeling for Mission in the past. "Of course, Master Vandar. I apologize, Mission. We will send Juhani with you in case the situation deteriorates."

The other council members nodded their agreement and Mission's scowl was replaced with a twinkle in her eye that Bastila recognized from every other possibly dangerous assignment she had been given. As the group dispersed she could overhear her speaking excitedly to Dustil. "I hear there's an underground resistance on Arkania. Maybe we could make contact with them and see if they'll help us spy on Adascorp…"

Once the doors to the planning room had closed and all was quiet, Bastila let out a puff of breath. Where had her unreasonableness come from? Mission was a big girl, after all. She had on several occasions even trusted Mission to cover her back in combat situations, without the slightest hesitation.

"You worry too much, Bastila. You feel as if you must carry the entire responsibility for the Jedi Order on your shoulders." She turned to face the room's other remaining occupant.

"I apologize, Master Vandar," Bastila said, feeling once again a neophyte Padawan. "I let my emotions cloud my judgment at the end of the meeting." She dropped to one knee so she was level with the wiser Jedi and waited for his rebuke. Instead, his wizened small hand grasped her own.

"You quickly saw reason," Vandar replied, "and there was no harm in your words. We have all been working hard to understand the proper balance of emotion in a Jedi's life. The last several years have seen much change within all of us, and despite all the suffering you have experienced and the changes you have made, you have remained my steady and trusted friend."

Bastila blinked slowly, humbled as always that Vandar would consider her a peer. "Thank you, Master." She stood and a wry smile slid uninvited onto her face. "Shall we go see just how much damage Mission did to our ship?"

A soft chime at the door pulled Bastila from restive sleep. She left her bed and quickly pulled a robe over her pajama shorts before moving to the door. Through her open window, distant lightning flickered across the green plains, spilling faintly over the soft wrinkles of her sheets and the padded lounge chair that was her one piece of luxury in otherwise spartan quarters.

Before she opened the door she could already feel who was on the other side, but that didn't dull her worry.

"Mission?" The young woman was looking up at her with anxious but hopeful blue eyes. In her hands, she clutched a datapad. "Come in, please."

The Twi'lek entered confidently, having been into Bastila's room many times before, and plotted a course straight for the plush chair. This time she made no snarky remarks about the size of the space or the lack of a wet bar, but instead tucked her feet up under her legs and extended the pad at Bastila. The Jedi noticed that her dear friend was also in pajamas. She took the pad and sat on the edge of her bed, but continued to look at Mission for an explanation.

"This message came through a holonet dead-drop that I set up a long time ago. It's from – " she paused like something was stuck in her throat " – it's from Revan."

Bastila's gaze immediately snapped down to the pad. She was holding in her hands an actual communication from him? From the man she had loved and then lost and then finally moved past? She knew he was returning, but this was proof. Suddenly the datapad felt like a Talravin rock crab that could come to life and sting her at any moment.

"You're sure? That it's from him?"

Mission nodded. "It's got the authentication codes we set up right after the Star Forge mission. Read it," she urged.

Bastila keyed the datapad to life and a brief string of words appeared on its screen.

Mish – home soon. Need intel from navy. Details attached. Love, Rev.

That was it?

Yet it was so much more than her previous mere intuition. Even when the Force spoke, it was hard to trust where Revan was concerned. But this…

"So this is really happening," she whispered.

Mission caught the implication of that statement, or sensed it. She knew Bastila well. She had been her big sister's intercessor in the weeks and months after Revan's departure, expressing all the anger and grief and betrayal and abandonment that Bastila, as a Jedi, just couldn't bring herself to release. "You knew he was coming back!?"

Bastila was surprised by the strength of Mission's reaction. "I did not know – I mean, I sensed it – suspected it rather…"

"And you didn't tell me!?"

Bastila's gaze sharpened upon the other woman. "I have only known for a few days! You were gone, if you recall? Risking your life and racking up thousands of credits of damage on our ship?"

Mission shrugged. "Cost of doing business." She was quiet for a moment and the silence was filled with the low rumble of distant thunder. "So this must be really messing with your head."

"I am fine."

Mission rolled her eyes. "Please, Bas. I know you way too good for that. I was there when he left, remember? Don't lie to me, Miss High-And-Mighty."

"I'm fine."

The Twi'lek scoffed, but then stood and closed the distance between them and pulled the seated Bastila into a tight hug. As she unwillingly melted against the younger woman's chest, she reflected on that which her heart firmly knew but her brain was reluctant to admit – she loved Mission Vao.

She wrapped her own arms more tightly around the girl.

After a couple of minutes soaking in the comfort, Bastila pulled back. "What will you do next?"

Mission shrugged. "I'm still decrypting the attachment file. There's no way Rev encrypted it himself – he must've had help. Maybe from T3?"

"Yes, that is possible." Bastila was filled with fondness for the remarkable courageous and capable droid. She admitted some resentment that Revan had taken him with. "Do you know what intel he has asked for?"

Mission cast her eyes down, and that was where the conversation became complicated. It was apparent that Mission had already decided on a course of action that would give Revan what he asked for as well and provide plausible deniability to those most likely to be suspected of leaking the intel.

But it cruelly split the poor girl's loyalties.

Bastila tried to persuade her of finding another way, though she really wanted to tell her to ignore the damned message. Regrettably, they both knew it had to be important, that he wouldn't have asked unless it mattered.

In the end, she felt foolish for being unable to displace her trust in Revan's intentions. He was ten years gone – what did she really know of who he was now?

"Why is it that wherever we go, we spend most of our time sitting on our asses?" Atton complained loudly.

His copilot just rolled her eyes. Of course, calling Mira a copilot was pretty generous considering she hadn't touched the controls in three days. They'd just floated in space, their modified freighter hovering at the coordinates that had been discovered on Thrack's body. Unfortunately, the piece of flimsiplast had not included a date and time.

They were in deep space, light-years from the nearest star system let alone habited planet. There was nothing nearby to hold their attention – not even a comet or nebula. Not that there was an absence of distant stars to gaze upon, only that when you had spent most of your life traveling amongst them, an ability to appreciate their beauty was mostly lost.

Their heavily modified light freighter was nearly silent, with most of the non-essential systems shut down to reduce their electromagnetic profile. The comforting thrum of sublight engines was absent, and in the quiet Atton could feel himself going slowly insane. Patience was not one of his strong suits.

He was a terrible Jedi, he reflected wryly.

"You wanna spar again?" Mira asked.

"Nah. I'll just win again."

Mira couldn't say anything to that. She had never cared for lightsabers and her skill with one was merely adequate. She still preferred a good old-fashioned blaster. Or grenade. Or wrist-mounted rocket launcher.

They sat in silence for some time more and Atton struggled to keep at bay the ghosts that always haunted his boredom – introspection only brought trouble, in his opinion. He was grateful to his life as a Jedi for the way it usually kept him busy if nothing else.

But today there were no immediate dangers to distract him, no obvious challenges set before him, and he was as lousy at meditation as he had ever been. Today he was forced to fight off memories of raven hair that fell just below a delicate chin and smelled of wild jebwa flowers.

A cacophony of sirens erupted in the cockpit – the new object detector, the unknown vessel detector, the proximity alert, the hyperspace sensor and the weapons lock alarms. The large freighter that suddenly occupied the majority of their view might once have been a product of the Corellian Engineering Corporation; now it was so heavily modified with weapons that to attach a label to it would have been meaningless.

What really mattered was that most of them were pointed at Atton and Mira.

The last alarm was hurriedly silenced and Mira activated the comms. "You're late," she bit out with a level of icy irritation that Atton could only admire, given the circumstances. Whoever this was, they were cowed by her tone – the weapon systems went into standby after a few moments.

"Stand by for docking," was the only verbal response from the strange ship. Mira killed the comms and after a few seconds, a decrepit-looking docking arm began to extend from the ship's forward section.

Atton and Mira didn't speak as he maneuvered their ship to mate against the docking arm. They had been over every scenario they could imagine numerous times in the last three days, and the week of hyperspace travel before that. There was nothing left to say, and only by boarding the other vessel would they learn more.

As they left the cockpit for the docking hatch Mira checked her assortment of weapons discretely attached to her clothing; Atton felt for his blaster, worn obviously on his right hip, and for his lightsaber, tucked safely out of sight under his jacket. Only an intrusive search would reveal it, and he had the feeling that the crew they were about to meet was more about having the bigger gun than making sure you didn't have yours.

Atton grimaced as he opened their hatch portal in the floor of the cargo bay and a blast of the other ship's atmosphere rushed in.

"Oh Force!" Mira exclaimed as the rancid air reached her. "Ugh. This is off to a great start." She nevertheless climbed down through the docking collar without much hesitation. Atton followed.

When he dropped off the ladder and onto the metal grate floor of the other ship Mira was standing completely still, though not looking particularly concerned. They were surrounded by the crew, an eclectic mix of species with an equally diverse selection of weapons, all pointed at them. A tall and obese Devaronian stepped forward; his weapon was still in its holster and he yanked an abused-looking Iktotchi child forward with him.

"Ya got credentials?" he asked gruffly. Inwardly Atton winced. He and Mira had been hoping that the sheer incalculable odds of anyone arriving at this location by mistake would be all the verification needed. As his mind started to race with their options he saw Mira shift and reach into a small pouch on her belt. After a moment she presented the crystal shard they had taken off Thrack's body, grasped carefully between her thumb and forefinger.

The freighter captain extended an outstretched hand to receive the crystal. Mira dropped it in his palm and he immediately turned and roughly pressed it against the bare forehead of the child. The small Iktotchi was still for a moment before she started to shiver violently.

The captain turned back to face them with a grin on his face. Mira noticed that the girl stopped shivering as soon as the crystal was withdrawn.

"I don't know how that trick of yers works, but these little frell-nits freak out every time. I suppose it means you can't counterfeit it, eh?" He laughed and extended a calloused hand to Atton. "Captain Ingossa, at yer service."

"Name's Darton," Atton replied with no hint of warmth or sincerity. This captain was making himself subservient – he must think they were representing the buyer, and that put them in a lucky position of power. He did not introduce Mira, who simply gave the captain a slight nod of her head.

"I tell ya, ya never see the same faces twice on these runs," Ingossa commented while he harshly shoved the Iktotchi into the arms of one of his crew. "Come on, main hold's this way."

"Anonymity is important to our organization," Atton remarked seriously as he and Mira followed him up a ladder and around what seemed to be a block of crew quarters, then down a level and past a storage area before going back up another ladder that was squeezed between two engineering consoles. The ship reflected the circuitous layout of a vessel that had undergone extensive and improvised modifications – probably to pack in all the firepower they had seen from the outside.

They reached what appeared to be an internal loading door to the main cargo hold. Ingossa stopped at a keypad and fiddled with the controls.

"I dunno how yer gonna fit all the livestock in yer boat," he said over his shoulder. "Can't stuff 'em in much tighter'n we already got 'em."

Mira and Atton exchanged a look of confusion. "We'll be refining the selection before we transfer the cargo to our ship," he replied, taking a guess.

Ingossa turned and regarded them with narrowed eyes. "But you'll be payin' for the entire lot, am I right?" There was a slight edge to his voice. However much he might fear the mystery organization that Atton and Mira were falsely representing, he would not allow his profit margin to be slighted.

"You'll be paid in full for the entire shipment, captain," Mira reassured him with just the right amount of patronization in her tone. Satisfied, the captain punched in one last command and stepped back as the cargo bay doors began to open.

In a hundred lifetimes, Atton and Mira would never have been prepared for what they saw. They would certainly never forget.

The "livestock" were children.

Hundreds of younglings from dozens of species, ranging from a meter-and-a-half to only half a meter in height, from ages that appeared to start at three or four and progress into perhaps thirteen or fourteen. They stood or sat elbow to elbow in a space of only 200 square meters. Many were bleeding from open sores or wounds; all wore the signs of severe physical abuse, malnourishment, and terrible despair.

The smell matched the horror assaulting their eyes – the children had obviously been given no opportunity to bathe and no access to a fresher. But worse was the emotional torment roiling off the crowd of victims; it permeated the immediate vicinity with a rank of terror and desperation that struck Atton's Jedi senses with a force that set him back on his heels. Rage began to build within him.

Ingossa gestured with a sweep of his arm to the group and the nearest children shrank back from the harmless movement. "Well, take yer pick. They're a fine lot – best we've hauled in so far."

Mira took a step towards Atton and away from the captain. "We can't fit all of them on our ship," she whispered to him, pointing to a particular child and pretending to throw an appraising eye over the selection.

He nodded, while the furious beast snarling in his chest was glad Mira had come to the same conclusion. He stepped towards the slaver captain, glancing over his shoulder to receive a final nod from his partner.

"This is a fine lot, captain," he said, failing to keep a sneer out of his voice. "And I have your payment." With a slight tug of the Force, his lightsaber fell out of his jacket and into a waiting hand. Ingossa looked down in astonishment, no doubt needing a moment to process what he was really seeing. Atton's yellow blade emerged through the back of his stomach a second later.

Bastila might have had a thing or two to say about Jedi performing a summary execution, but Atton didn't care. She would never know.

Several children gasped; they were watching with wide eyes as Ignossa's carcass slumped to the floor. Atton was sorry they had seen but didn't doubt it was a more pleasant sight to behold than anything else they'd seen recently.

Mira turned to face the captives as she keyed the door shut. "We'll be back to let you out, I promi-" Her reassurance was cut short as she instinctively rolled to the side to dodge a blaster shot that would have penetrated her shoulder. Atton immediately positioned himself between her and the group of ship's crew that had entered the area. His lightsaber formed a blurred golden wall as he deflected shot after shot.

Mira dropped to a crouch and raised her left arm while gripping her wrist with her right hand. A heartbeat later a tiny rocket erupted from her gauntlet and streaked into the group, exploding into a cloud of noxious gas. It dropped each one of them almost instantly before rapidly dissipating into nothingness.

Atton waited for Mira to go first before he approached the group. He had no idea what she packed in those minuscule projectiles.

Shouting could be heard coming from a few different areas within the ship – no doubt the weapons fire had been heard echoing throughout the metal walls – so he kept his saber drawn as they advanced past the bodies. Mira fell behind so any laser blasts could skitter off his blade.

They carefully threaded their way through the ship in a pattern that they hoped would flush out the remaining slavers. Neither spoke until they reached a junction they had passed through on their way to the children.

"Right," Mira whispered.

"That leads to a laser battery!" Atton protested quietly. "It's a dead end."

"The laser batteries are a deck above us," she snapped back. "Nerf brain."

He was about to retort again when a pinch at the back of his neck caused him to activate his blade barely in time to deflect a smattering of blaster bolts that raced down the corridor from where they'd just come. Mira rolled into the passageway to the right, landed in a crouch, and peered back around the corner, but was unable to see their shooter around the litter of storage containers.

The rain of hostile fire had become a torrent and Atton was hard-pressed to keep up with it. After a few moments more he stepped backward and out of sight of their foe. "Heavy repeater," he muttered to Mira.

"Yeah, and the idiot ran it continuously," Mira replied. "Those power packs have got to be overheating right now." As if on cue they heard the harsh metallic clatter of a dropped weapon ringing out, followed by a curiously high-pitched, childish sounding curse. Mira shot him a puzzled glance then gripped her blaster in one hand, her lightsaber in the other, and leaned her head around the corner. Atton raised his saber to a position from which he could defend both of them but was not prepared for her to take a full step clear into the corridor.

"Hands in the air, kid!"

Atton wasn't sure what he had been expecting Mira to do, but it certainly wasn't that. He took a moment to reach out his senses, making sure the shouting wasn't drawing others to their area. Satisfied, he stepped around the corner to find that Mira had her blaster trained on an angry-looking Togrutan child who couldn't have been older than fourteen. A heavy repeating blaster lay at her bare feet, smoke still rising from the power cell, and blood trickled down one sleeve of her tattered sackcloth clothing.

The girl looked longingly down at the blaster. "We're Jedi, kid." Mira's statement was both warning and reassurance. "We're here to help… and you're not gonna win a fight."

After another moment, she kicked the weapon away and looked up at them with an uncertain and expectant gaze. Atton used the Force to move the rifle away from the girl, lest she change her mind. The unexpected movement startled her and caused Mira to shoot him a reproving look, but by the time the blaster was safely out of sight, he could see the truth of their Jedi status was solidified in her mind.

The girl said something in what must have been her native tongue – it sounded like a question.

"Do you speak Basic?" Atton asked.

"Why are you here?" she said with only a mild accent. He got the impression she was not repeating her original question.

"We're here to help," he replied. He pointedly returned his lightsaber to the clip inside his jacket, then uncertainly extended his right hand. Mira looked at him questioningly until he nodded and she lowered her weapon. He stepped slowly towards the girl, not even certain that she would recognize the gesture of greeting.

"My name's Atton. This is Mira. We're Jedi, and we're here to help." He tried to speak in as comforting a voice as he could, but it was an unfamiliar tone to project.

"No one helps," the Togrutan replied with a scowl.

"You've heard of Jedi?" Atton inquired, taking another cautious step towards her and projecting steadiness and trust through the Force. It was very much like calming the wild animals of the Dxun jungle, as Aeryn had shown him to do.

Reluctantly, the girl nodded.

"Our mission is to help. It's what we spend our entire lives doing." Well, his entire life of the last five years, and all the rest yet to come.

"You're still armed," the child pointed out suddenly. Atton hesitated for a moment, then used the Force to release his lightsaber and let it drop to the ground before kicking it several meters behind him. Similarly, he dropped his blaster and kicked it away.

"No tricks," he assured her as he finally closed within reach. "I just want to know your name." He reemphasized his outstretched hand but made no motion to close the final gap between them. She stared at it intently for a moment before slowly raising a bruised hand to grip his. He clasped it firmly but softly, not wanting to worsen her injuries.

"My name is Varia Lor Ondo."

Atton looked her squarely in the eye. "Varia, we're going to get you and everyone else to safety. First, we need to clear this ship. Will you wait for us with the others?"

"I can help," she stated firmly. "Give me a gun."

Mira snorted. "I think we've got this."

The girl's eyes flared and Atton shot a reproachful look over his shoulder towards his companion.

"I'm sure you could, kid," he soothed her. "But Mira and I have been working as a team for a long time. It'll go smoother if it's just the two of us. A third person might disrupt our methods."

"I won't get in the way! I snuck out behind you – I'm fast," Varia argued.

"Incoming!" Mira hissed suddenly. She positioned herself against a bulkhead, blaster drawn and pointed down the corridor.

There was no time to argue. "Look, kid, you know I can overpower you if I need to?" Varia watched mutely as Atton's lightsaber zipped back into his hand, then nodded. "Alright. Go to the cargo hold – we'll be back soon. This won't take long."

The girl turned and left and Atton took up position beside Mira. He split his attention between the approaching footsteps of a badly executed ambush while also following Varia's presence in the Force to make sure she actually rejoined the other captives. He lost Varia in the crowd of miserable lifeforms just as a gas grenade came bouncing toward their position. With a flick of her wrist, Mira sent it skidding back up the passageway where it exploded several meters from its origin.

Atton took a deep breath and erupted into action under the cover of the thick, noxious cloud. His golden blade was a blur as he raced up the corridor, deflecting the blind fire before cleaving through one, then two, then three of the ship's crew. Mira was shortly behind him; she turned to the right up a hallway to dispatch a flanking group with lethally aimed shots.

Atton killed the last slaver from the first group and then spun to face another squad descending a stairway behind Mira. He flipped his saber to the left hand and drew his blaster with the right. Bolts skittered off his blade while he gunned down the group.

It was over in less than a minute. They carefully continued their sweep of the ship for another half hour, but it was readily apparent that the entire crew had converged on their location where they had met Varia. From the bridge, they secured the ship's weapons and navigation systems and laid in a course before returning to the cargo hold.

Atton could feel the anxiety radiating outwards before they were even within sight of the children's prison. A quick glance at Mira confirmed that she sensed it as well. They had already agreed that they would abandon their ship here and return with the slaver's freighter to Naboo.

No ordinary refuge would suffice for hundreds of Force-sensitive captives.

He couldn't help but wonder how so many had been found – the Jedi Order had been struggling to identify those with the ability to sense the Force, especially younglings. Whoever had taken these children was very proficient at finding Force talent. Neither he nor Mira had yet voiced the obvious suspicion.

As Mira keyed open the doors they were once again overwhelmed with the awful stench of sweat and blood and feces and urine and fear. Atton stepped forward and incredibly the huddled crowd managed to find space to shrink away. Only Varia remained within two strides of him.

"You're safe," Atton announced. "We've gotten rid of the slavers and we're taking you to get help."

"Where?" Varia asked, apparently now the spokesperson for the group.

"To the Jedi academy," Mira said.

"There are no Jedi left!" an older boy, a human, shouted.

"We're here, aren't we?" Atton replied, trying to inject some humor into his tone.

A Devaronian boy to his right struggled to his feet despite a heavily bleeding leg and shackled wrists. "You… are not Jedi!" He charged Atton with a shiv clenched in his hands but only made it a few paces before Mira had him floating in the air. There were gasps of amazement.

"Yeah we are, kid," she said wryly. He vainly struggled for a few moments before calming; she levitated him to the floor used the Force to remove his shackles. He staggered forward before steadying himself; it was obvious he had lost a lot of blood. Atton cautiously approached.

"I can help you heal," he explained. "I can make the pain go away while you sleep." The boy glanced nervously to Varia, who returned a steady gaze, then nodded to Atton and remained in a subdued posture as he stepped close enough to place his hand on the Devaronian's forehead. His eyes closed and after a few moments he went limp; Atton quickly caught him and laid him gently on the deck and wondered at the strange sense of the boy, almost as if his Force signature was an echo.

"What did you do to him?" Varia screamed. She lunged at Atton but Mira had the girl safely restrained in her arms before she could make a second step. She struggled vainly against her for only a few moments. Mira turned the girl to face her and allowed her typical glare to be softened by pity. "He just put him into a healing trance. It's a Jedi trick – we can do it to others or ourselves. He'll get better faster this way. See?" She gestured to the rising and falling of his chest. "He's breathing."

Varia's anger softened and she relaxed in Mira's arms. "We'll probably have to put a lot of the people here into healing trances," she explained as she released the girl. "Try to take it easy, kid."

About an hour later over a third of the children were resting in a deep, Force-induced sleep. Many of them wore peaceful expressions, and Atton guessed that owed to the dreamless state of a healing trance. Still, there were many more children who refused, especially the older ones; Atton and Mira tended their wounds as best they were able, but the medical supplies on their ship were exhausted quickly. If the slaver's ship had any, they couldn't find them.

There were no further outbursts as the two Jedi administered care; in fact, the entire group was eerily quiet, like they were too abused to hope and too toughened to cry. They found empty bunks or padded surfaces for those who thought they could sleep, and emptied their own ship of all food and blankets. Varia was their constant silent shadow, helping wherever possible and never communicating with words when a gesture would suffice.

It was nearly eight hours from when they had originally boarded the ship that they were finally able to set course for Naboo. They had scrubbed the data stores and disabled the engines of their smaller vessel because they could find no way to slave its navicomp to the systems of the chop-job freighter. It had also been emptied of everything of even the smallest value, not for fear that the ship would be discovered and looted in the middle of unfathomable emptiness, but because sthey could only guess what might be needed for the children.

Atton was feeling drained as he slumped into the pilot's chair, which was mercifully comfortable. Mira took a position at the console beside him and several children quietly filed into the cockpit after them. They had spoken to most of them at one point or another, but again only Varia would ask a direct question.

"How long until we get to a Jedi?" she asked. Atton shared an amused glance with Mira. They hadn't performed enough magic to make the cut?

"Could be a week. Could be a couple of weeks," Mira stated matter-of-factly. "We don't know how fast this scrap-heap will fly. We'll have to stop somewhere to get food for everyone because our ship only had enough to feed two of us. And we'll have to avoid the big hyperlanes as much as possible because eventually someone will be looking for us."

"So you don't know."

"No kid," Mira replied irritably. "So you better find someplace comfy to sit, because this is going to be a while."

Atton took that as his cue. "Everybody grab hold of something," he announced over the ship's loudspeakers. He pulled back the appropriate levers and the ship began to shudder violently, as he had expected. The stars in front of them blurred into long streaks of light and then the two Jedi and the hundreds of slave children were gone.