Mira leaned idly up against the Hawk's hallway by the loading ramp, anxiously awaiting Aneela. At least fifteen minutes passes since Atton left to get some Juma. Like he really was, she thought. He's probably going to go look for her and have her forget all about this so important meeting she was desperate to have.

She stared at the floor for a second; she heard only the speed of traffic outside the docking bay and T3 going about the ship. He was recently put back in to keep the Hawk in tip-top shape. "Come on," she said aloud, as if hoping to make the process speed up. Groaning, the fingered her belt for the comlink and called Aneela.

It beeped a few times before she got a response. "Yeah?" Aneela asked. Her face appeared in a crowded street off to the side. "Where are you?" Mira asked. "I'll come to the Hawk," Aneela said. She cut the connection quickly. What's that about? Mira wondered as she slowly walked off the loading the chew up time. She went over to the door and leaned against the wall near it, waiting for it to open.

Eventually it did and Aneela was walking slowly. She was staring at the floor as she walked and her eyes showed she had been crying. Her face was full of guilt and her stance told Mira she regretted something. Oh great, Mira thought. She's been through hell and I'm the only human female she can talk to. Now I'll get an earful of how she did something or whatever and I knew I shouldn't've mixed work and friends. You start with cronyism and you will kill yourself.

"I'm sorry I came to you," Aneela said. "You don't seem to be one of those heart-to-heart kind of person." She hung her head. "So what's the trouble?" Mira asked. Aneela had yet to point out what she'd done or didn't do.

Aneela looked at Mira with guilt in them. "If this is about Atton…" she stared. The eyes gave her away. "Is it really? Did you guys finally have a moment?" she asked. Aneela did a mild reel of shock at this query. "What do you mean by finally?" Aneela asked. "You've got this bizarre tension between the two of you. It's like in the holovids where the guy and girl are in denial too much and in the end they get together. Trust me, I've seen too many of 'em," Mira said simply. "So now just stop crying and skip off into the sunset together."

"It's not that simple, Mira," Aneela said. "Why not?" Mira replied. "You've killed that weird old woman so what's the big deal? There's no galactic threat anymore so you're in the clear." "No, there's not," Aneela said quietly. "There's more coming, Mira—an armada. A Sith army." Mira laughed—she actually laughed at this. How can she laugh? Aneela wondered. "We've fought the Sith already," she said. "How can they come back?" "They are," Aneela said.

"But how do you know?" Mira asked, realizing that she was being completely and deadly serious. "Revan left to fight them," Aneela responded. "So…? Revan took out the Mandalorians, so I think she's fit to fight off another tyrannical figure without the Republic. Last time I checked, she saved their skins in the Mandalorian Wars," Mira said. "And besides, what does it matter do you? You've done your part. You don't need redemption or anything fancy like that because you were always with the good guys, right? It's not like you were some kind of Sith Lord in a previous life or anything like that. It's not like you didn't do anything you need to answer for."

"I'm leaving to help Revan," Aneela said, unscathed by what Mira just stated. "Did you hear what I just said!" Mira asked, increasing the volume of her normal tone. "Don't you get it? How can you help Revan? She—she was a Sith Lord with basically unstoppable powers! You don't have that." "Are you saying I'm not strong enough to go?" Aneela said, taking this as an insult. "No," Mira defended. "I'm just saying that you don't have enough strength to go. I mean, Revan has to answer for what she did and saving the galaxy three times will pretty much answer for everything she's done. You—you've done nothing wrong." "Besides, we need you here," she quietly added after settling.

"We need you here"? Who is "we"? Aneela thought. "I have to go." "But why?" Mira asked. "It doesn't make sense. You're going to follow Revan? You don't even know where she is—nobody does!" "I've got a good idea," Aneela said.

Mira gave a laugh again—but it was the kind of laugh you do when you know someone is doing something stupid after working hard for something else, they sacrifice their hard work for something else. "You don't get it, do you?" she asked Aneela. "Are you that oblivious?" Aneela gave her a quizzical look. "Do you have any idea what you'll do to him if you leave?" Mira said. "Do you know how long it will take him to recover from this?"

Aneela sighed. "And that's why I wanted to talk to you…I brought it upon him and myself." "Just stay," Mira said. "Revan is strong enough to fight off whatever's coming." Stop this friend stuff, Mira's mind told her. She's ditching you too. "So—so just do whatever you want," she concluded. "Bao-Dur was smart to leave when he did. He was spared this overly dramatic leave of yours. Just tell the crew you're going tomorrow and then leave at noon." She shrugged. "Hell, maybe you could even leave a week later. Just…just don't kill them all too much. Truth is, we're all kinda indebted to you for this whole Jedi thing. Just don't make us regret this, okay?" Aneela nodded. "Okay." Mira turned to go but added a final addendum: "When you're fighting off, well, whatever you're fighting off, remember us here—fighting for what you taught us."

You've achieved emotional enlightenment, Mira thought as she proceeded up the boarding ramp for the Ebon Hawk. Aneela stood where she was, Mira's words echoing inside her brain: …remember us here—fighting for what you taught us. What did she teach them? Love, peace, and the Force? Patience, compassion, and mercy? Puzzled, she proceeded out of the docking bay's doors.

Aneela proceeded out of the docking bay after Mira had disappeared onto the Ebon Hawk. She shook her head. Why did I walk to talk to Mira of all people? She thought. Maybe I should talk to Atton again… She was amazed she didn't discard this thought, but actually think that it might be a good solution to whatever was bugging her.

"So just stop crying and skip off into the sunset together." Would she ever do that? Can I stop this thing before my head explodes? She wondered. Aneela rounded the corner to get out of the Republic embassy and outside into the bright sunlight.

She squinted as she walked onwards, not having any idea what she was doing or where she was going at all. You will regret this, her head told her. Talk to him, tell him something—anything. This tension, in denial thing is getting a bit tiresome. Either you love him or you don't. She stopped and sighed. The only question is if the answer is yes or no.

She spun round and set herself at a face paced walk, weaving through knots of people. She had a destination. It was the cantina.

Thoughts bombarded her brain as she made her way to the cantina door. What are you afraid of? He didn't reject your kiss—you pulled away, she thought. As she pushed opened the door, she came to no realizations but that she was afraid of something she shouldn't be. The cantina was a dingy and packed.

She made her way over to the bar and looked for the characteristic robes Atton was wearing. They made him stand out. She scanned each man; they had the same stance: hunched over their shots of Juma, taking one after the next. They were there to wash their problems down their throat. The problems would be things like wives, children, jobs, credit shortage, wars, and the like. Each man had a different depression vibe coming from him which was a bit interesting to Aneela.

She saw Atton among sulkers. He was leaning over his Juma, and she saw him take another shot and slap the cup down on the table. He reached onto his belt and pulled a few credits for another shot. Don't they get sick of Juma after awhile? She wondered as she walked over to the line of men.

She stopped about a half a meter behind him. Courage is something you've got; you've defeated Kreia! Not just kill this unrest inside of you. She studied him for a second and decided a surprise attack would be the best to wake him from his Juma sickness. It seemed the men, with Juma, went into a dreamy stage of mind that women could not achieve. Women were always busy, too busy to sulk and drink Juma. The only women were sipping Juma with friends, or sitting alone with a shot but not sulking like the men were. There were many men with friends and girlfriends and wives also, but the depressed men at the bar made Aneela feel saddened.

She calmed her mind by remembering what Mira had told her. Aneela extended a shaking hand to put on Atton's shoulder. When she laid it there, he almost jumped out of his skin. He turned to look at her. "Hey," she said.

"Hey…" he said, not out of the Juma hypnosis. "Come with me," she said as she guided him. Aneela took his hand for reassurance. She led him out of the bar area to an area of the cantina where a crowd was.

"Here?" he asked, studying his surroundings. She looks scared, Atton thought. She looks like hell—and this is partially your fault. "Yeah, here," Aneela said. There was a brief silence where both were thinking and both were afraid.

"What happened between us," Aneela started. "Was a mistake?" Atton said, almost as if he knew the answer. She stared at him. "Why would you think that?" she asked. "Well, maybe because you pulled away," he said. "I…didn't know what I was doing—what we were doing," Aneela said, her eyes full of guilt. "I knew that I wanted to. It's just…I remembered that I had to leave and I didn't want to break your heart so much you'd be just the shell of a broken man, only upheld by the promise I gave you of a return. I wanted you to be more than that—and I felt feelings of love and regret at the same time when I kissed you." She looked into his eyes. Say it. Say what you feel. "And I still want to."

She was helpless. She looks so—so much like you used to: lost and alone. She's taken that and thrown it away. It's your debt now, so pay up, he thought. She looked expectant. Will you say what you feel like she did, or gloss over this with a cynical joke? Will you tell the truth, or will you hide behind yourself—again? His brain exploded that moment. He couldn't take it. "Me…" he stammered. He was whispering now; it was as if his reputation could be soiled if anyone heard him talk now. "Me too." Was that so hard? His mind asked. "Me too," he repeated, still in a whispery voice.

He loves you too, was the immediate thought Aneela had in her head. She forgot about Mical, the journey ahead of her, and everything else except what Mira said:

"…skip off into the sunset together."

Their eyes locked for a second. As if something in her awakened, Aneela put her hands on Atton's face. As she slowly pulled him towards her, she said only one thing: "I love you too."

Mical poked at the meat with his fork. He was in the Republic mess hall, eating with the soldier. Aneela wasn't at the Ebon Hawk and he was worried about her. He'd wanted to tell her of all the new things he'd learned. Much of this new knowledge consisted of planets and the paths of the old wars from the past. Mical was planning to start a project on the Jedi Civil War and try to analyze its events and get past rumor and find truth; that was his favorite thing to do.

He always loved making new discoveries and finding out new things based on his own intellect. He always loved sharing the new discoveries even more. He didn't attempt to try to explain his findings to Mira or Atton, for they didn't understand anything but their own lives. He didn't bother explaining it to Visas because she always scared Mical. He never knew what to say to her. He did once explain how Tatooine was a thriving planet by the moisture vaporizer farming. Mandalore disagreed by saying he'd seen it once already: it was full of nothing but Sand People, dunes, and a few krayt dragons.

Mical was always fascinated by krayt dragons. He once held a krayt dragon pearl, and even felt how precious it was just by touch. It was a smooth spherical wonder that he wanted to call his own, but it belonged to a rich Republic sponsor for whom he was studying crops.

He loved being part of the Republic and analyzing its data. He always tried to remain humble, but being referred to as the man you came to when you needed something studied or sorted out inflated his small ego. He didn't want to have one, but he knew all people had one buried deep inside of them. Too bad some people's are bigger than others, he thought as he picked up the meat and chewed it a bit.

He swallowed the meat and reached in his bag for his notebook. He pulled out a pen and began to organize his thoughts. He had scribbles, sketches, and notes everywhere on the page around the regular notes in the center of the page. The pages were filled up to maximum capacity and looked like he'd taken a long time to figure things out. He opened in his notebook to a tab labeled "Twi'lek". He surveyed the double-spaced notes taken from a book written in the Twi'lek tongue. He read a few words and then wrote the English translation.

The book was about the Twi'lek culture and way of life on various planets. He was busy translating several notes when a soldier approached him. "Excuse me, are you Mical?" the Republic soldier asked Mical.

Mical looked up. "Yes." "One of the doctors in the medbay said to come get you," the soldier said. "We've got a problem." Mical looked stern. "What is exactly the problem?" he asked. "I don't know, sir," the soldier said. "Dr. Ganda said to come and fetch you." "Alright," he said as he packed up his things. "I'll be coming."

The Republic soldier waited for Mical to get his things in his pack, take another bite of meat before returning the plate to the dish pile, and leave with him.

As they neared the medbay, Mical wondered what the problem was. He was called only twice. The first time it was for a repair job of the diagnosis system and the second it was to help in a surgery because they were short a man.

They neared the medbay doors and Mical pushed past a crowd of civilians. What are they doing here? He wondered as he neared the front desk. "Good," the receptionist said. "You're here. Room 27." She gave him clearance into the rooms and he proceeded to the door.

He opened it to see a woman with blonde hair lying on a bed. She was about twenty-five or so and was cut everywhere. Mical wanted to sprint away in horror—she was an airspeeder victim. His training classes flashes in his mind as he automatically reached for the consoles and began typing to see her diagnosis. It was an almost replicated situation.

He sighed as he put on the gloves and began to quickly do a visual inspection. Her ribs appeared broken, she had a concussion, and her legs appeared broken. Her arms appeared to be at least sprained or fractured, and one shoulder dislocated. He couldn't image her pain if they hadn't injected her with about six meds.

He looked at the door for a second and then suggested actions that needed to be taken to assure her recovery. He took her hand and said, "You're going to make it." But I'm still not sure you will, he thought as he let her hand to go recollect himself mentally outside.

Mandalore admired the Ordo blaster as he saw Coruscant disappear into a subtle tan dot. He was going back to Dxun. He didn't bother with goodbyes—he just left a message with Mira.

He told her, since she was with the Hawk, to tell Aneela that if she ever needed something, just to call on him. Mira seemed a bit sad to see him leave, but he brushed it off. Parting ways again, aren't you? A voice said to him. His helmet was on, and the passengers on the transport gave him stares every so often.

The transport went into hyperspace and Mandalore felt his right arm beginning to feel arthritis when he flexed it. He opened up his large bag full of syringes again and took off his helmet. He injected himself in the artery, which grossed out a few secret spectators. He didn't bother to put the helmet back on; he just closed his eyes and began to think.

The transport would be at least five hours and there was nothing to do to cure the boredom except battle plans. Mandalore pulled out an old leather bound book that brought memories back.

It was a gift from no one other than Mission Vao. It was her departing present to him, since she gave everyone else one. She said that he could write down all of his war stories in there. He pushed those times away and focused on what he was writing:

Operation Focus: Training New Recruits

Location: Dxun

Procedure/Notes: Release recruits in Dxun jungle with a map, compass, and virbroblade. Whoever returns first will gain the highest honor, second the higher honor, and so forth. This will establish a system that will make the recruits not only compete, but gain some common sense that many lack. Battle ring will be an option to the top five, and there will be a "novice battle ring" and the champion of that will be the lowest of the battle ring. Title of higher battle ring is Prestige Class Battle Circle. Competition builds. Have stimulants for all recruits and record performance then take them off stimulants and record performance. Set Kex to this assignment.

Accomplish: Get scanner systems back up, train recruits with vibroblades, strategize battle tactics and aims for galactic domination again.

He continued to write down a to-do list of things like assigning someone to a new post or getting rid of the shop that was run there at the base. He would just have the troops come to him for supplies. He wanted to fix up the basilisk war droid so he could use again. He enjoyed giving Aneela the chance to experience the ride.

He continued to write until his hand hurt and he was out of things to put on the paper. He stared round the ship: children were on their parent's laps, couples sat closer together, strangers were silent to each other. The scene was good for no observing, and Mandalore got bored with the lack of conversation. At least on Coruscant there was always the cantina, he mused as he rummaged through the stimulant bag again to find a tranquilizer. He loaded enough to make him sleep for five hours and injected it in his neck. He put on his helmet and attached the stims back onto his waist. Mandalore's eyes began to get heavy under his helmet and he slept.