Summary: Vale and Erebus are not the only ones forced to masquerade as someone else as events unfold.
3951 BBY Nespis VIII Spaceport, Jedi Academy
In the moments it took the Echani to cross the archive and approach him again, Erebus drew up what he could remember about the pilot whose ship he stole, dredging up whatever details his mind found worth storing. Despite his usually near-eidetic memory, the images his brain conjured were weak. Though anger often fueled his more brilliant bouts of genius, as a Sith would, it seemed his frustration upon leaving Anchorhead was enough to cloud his recollections.
Smuggler. Thirty-something. Human. Untidy. Broke… like every other smuggler in this damn galaxy. But there were a few things Erebus remembered that stuck out. Wyland Rhel, as he was called, was a fighter pilot during the Mandalorian Wars and had continued working for the Republic until the middle of the Jedi Civil War – Wonder what happened there? Since then, he'd been taking contracts transporting fuel, mostly, but occasionally ran jobs with the Golden Company. A hefty contract, and a risky one. All of this Erebus gleaned from the man's records of payment, which were the only thing he seemed to keep in any kind of order. The data file was easy to break into, so Wyland Rhel was most likely sentimental and all the more stupid for it - after a basic search, Erebus found the date the man had been recruited by the Republic on official record. So despite his current affiliations, Wyland was still sweet on his time as a soldier, it seemed. Either that, or it was the only date in his life, other than maybe his nameday, that meant anything to him and was worth remembering. Among his affects were other IDs, either stolen or forged, undoubtedly used for more delicate operations. That was about all he remembered.
The woman approached the table again, though did not afford Erebus another glance as she nonchalantly flicked through the datapad in her hand.
"So, who are you, another scavenger looking to collect?" she asked almost absently.
Depends on how you define 'scavenger', Erebus thought, because you're not wrong.
"I take it you're Irena," Erebus chimed back. "Charmed."
The Echani's eyes flashed before she calmed, a gloved hand flexing as he circled him, the other cradling her datapad.
"I'm sure one of the others spoke of me, though who we are is none of your concern."
"Yet I seem to be of some importance, I take it."
She scoffed and glanced down at the datapad again.
"We're running a simple background check, is all," she assured him, the calm in her voice wavering as her patience began to wear thin.
"And the Echani have authority in the Nespis System since…?"
"That is none of your concern," she smiled sourly, though she kept her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her this time. "I will be the one asking the questions."
"Alright, so I, a humble Republic citizen, is expected to blindly submit my rights to you because…?"
Normally, Erebus would never be so outwardly snarky, at least not in a position such as this. He was used to speaking with out-of-touch tribes, distant planets far-removed from the Republic or hapless traders who knew nothing of their older wares, and other such ilk. He knew enough to stay away from civilized space when he could, and if he had business here he knew who to avoid and how. But even still, this woman was Echani¸ not a beat cop with something to prove.
At this she smiled, though the pain was clear on her face. She was not trained to deal with the likes of him, at least not in a civil manner.
"It really is none of your concern," she said again, her teeth near gritted. What had her so rattled that Erebus barely had to try to get to a rise out of her? The man across from him let the subtlest of snickers escape his mouth but otherwise betrayed no emotion, looking down, letting his hair mask his face like a veil.
"Alright, alright, just making sure my rights as an honest to Force citizen weren't being taken for granted," Erebus huffed, finding that his voice took on more of a drawl the more he kept going. "How long's this gonna take? I have places to be."
Erebus recalled several military grade crates at the back of the ship when he boarded, his Force Sight granting him view of an array of weapons within. Weapons trade was big money, so however broke this Wyland Rhel was now, he wasn't supposed to be for long. So much for that. Wonder how that sorry smuggler's doing now…
Irena looked him over, seemingly unimpressed but still suspicious. She wasn't buying it.
"And yet, for someone with a busy schedule you still found the time to scope out the sights, I take it?"
"Thought I could score a few extra credits, something to sweeten the deal."
He hoped he sounded convincing.
"Wyland Rhel, thirty-six," Irena started, looking over the edge of her datapad at Erebus, "You've grown paler since your photo was last taken."
The woman turned the datapad so Erebus could see, the screen displaying a man with scarred but dark skin, the color of rich mahogany.
"Can never be too careful," he said, not too suddenly, "Dig even further and you'll find the ID where I hail from Ryloth. Record says I had my lekku cut off."
Erebus chuckled to himself, as if impressed, having seen other men do the same at countless cantinas across the galaxy. As much as he loathed the quality of the drink there, they were the best places to get information. In fact, it was how he learned about the site at Anchorhead.
Irena rolled her eyes and kept scrolling, looking nonplussed enough with the uncanny ID photo. To think the smuggler had several IDs in rotation was not unusual, especially given the rap sheet Erebus' own sister sported now, and for all the galaxy to see. It wasn't exactly a red flag that Erebus himself might be lying.
"Not exactly what I'd call a clean record," she said after a moment, reading the remainder of the file in pensive silence, though it seemed she found nothing of note – or at least nothing surprising.
How did these Echani get in good with the Nespis Police Force? If they had access to their files, could bar anyone from the premises of a location, and a Jedi Temple no less…? Erebus knew that there were people other than Nihilus who would be happy to see the Jedi gone, but at least he knew why. The Echani were not on good terms with Revan after the Civil War, but that was just one Jedi, and by then Revan had already turned.
"It says here you worked with the Golden Company."
At this, she smiled wryly.
"Unfortunately, everything on the premises has been turned over to us, so if you were planning on-"
Irena was cut off by a comm at her wrist, static warbling the otherwise unperturbed quiet. Even the man across from Erebus stirred. He stole a glance, before the man could see, taking in his young face and the lone swipe of dust across his brow, marring his otherwise crisp and chiseled appearance. A scholar, perhaps? A civilian?
"Yes?" Irena lowered her datapad with one hand and brought her other wrist to her lips, speaking directly into the device attached to it.
More chirruped warbling – that's when Erebus noticed the glint in the woman's ear, just beneath her cropped white hair. Whoever was speaking to her was speaking in code, their words filtered to sound like gibberish to anyone else within earshot.
Irena's eyes shot to Erebus as she listened, her gaze sharp though her eyes narrowed. He couldn't tell if they were always this bright of violet or if it was just the wealth of datapads gleaming in the room that leant to their almost ghostly glow.
"I'll keep an eye out," she said finally, her eyes never leaving Erebus. Their eyes locked, and she moved towards him, pocketing her datapad and unsheathing a retractable staff from her belt.
"Don't move," Irena warned, "We have eyes on you. Both."
The man across the table looked down again, as if embarrassed by being called out, and Irena began staking out the series of shelves that surrounded them.
A breach of security? Another unwanted guest?
When Irena was far enough, Erebus relaxed a little, letting down his outer guard to unleash the Force within. After a moment, he could see the archives in his inner eye like a blueprint laid out before him. Stacks of datapads and artifacts surrounded them, some pulsing with more uncertain energy than others. Erebus' blood quickened, his skin growing hot, already desiring to peruse the temple's stores or what remained of it – if he could somehow get around the Echani lockdown, that is. At least without seeming too suspicious. Perhaps his vision led him here to find something, to bring something back. Perhaps there was another pyramid, another holocron, another clue.
"The Golden Company, eh? You a scavenger as well?"
Erebus broke out of his reverie, surprised to hear someone other than Irena talking irately.
The man across from him finally spoke, his voice just above a whisper, but pleasant and calm. Erebus gawked for a moment before composing himself, surprised to find a friendly smirk on the young man's face.
A joke. He's joking.
"The lady pretty much spelled it out, didn't she?" he drawled again, almost forgetting his made-up persona.
"Right," the man laughed, his eyes twinkling as he gazed about, almost unbothered by the restraints on his hands, held tightly against his back. "I figure they can't hold us for long. Even the Nespis authorities wouldn't be able to do this. Unless-"
He stopped himself, laughing lightly. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the corners.
"Never mind," he said, "Say, can I- can I ask you something?"
"Can't stop you from asking but that doesn't mean I'll answer," Erebus quipped.
"Have you seen-" the man looked around and lowered his voice, "Have you come across any other artifacts?"
"Other?"
"Other than Jedi."
So, the Golden Company deals with Jedi artifacts.
"You mean, dark artifacts?" Erebus couldn't bring himself to say Sith, as if he would unwittingly out himself.
The man nodded.
Erebus wracked his brain again, recalling a few contracts for ancient scrolls and antique weapons under Wyland Rhel's Golden Company contracts, but nothing that screamed Jedi, or Sith for that matter. He had heard of the organization but only knew that they dealt in rare, high-end goods, often "off the record" and to the highest bidder, whether they be aristocrats or crime lords. If they were after artifacts pertaining to the Jedi or the Sith, things could get… complicated.
Before he could worry, or wonder how he might undermine the group somehow, the man before him spoke again.
"Anything like a holocron? A crystal?"
The hair on the back of Erebus' neck rose. Eden's gift. His work on Tatooine. Grey eyes set in stone.
"Something like that," he answered, "Why, there something here?"
"Perhaps," the man's blue eyes widened, a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit of an enthusiast."
"Well, this would be the place to find one," Erebus answered, though he knew somewhere like Koribban might yield more Sith relics than this place. But the man wasn't wrong, and Erebus hadn't lied, either. The Jedi were known for collecting artifacts pertaining to the Sith, both modern and ancient, in an attempt to prevent such things from falling into the wrong hands. As an historian, Erebus thought he might wait before attempting to break into any one of the remaining Jedi temples, knowing they wouldn't be abandoned, or at least believing the Order wasn't stupid enough not to leave anyone behind. He had visited Coruscant and Lothal, and both locations had sentinels still on watch, but he might have underestimated places like this, forgotten cities like Nespis already on the cusp of oblivion.
"I have it on good authority that something originally from Onderon may be here. I figured if the Golden Company sent a, er, representative, that it might be indicative that I was correct," the young man mused, looking around. Erebus, though curious to find the man trusting a stranger with so much information, followed his gaze and found Irena stalking the perimeter of the archive, looking around corners with her staff held aloft and at the ready. "If only I could-"
Another warbling, the sound of static.
Eyes still fixed on one another, now in an unspoken alliance given their shared circumstances, Erebus and the man across from him fell silent, their ears straining to hear more.
There was someone here.
Erebus' Force Sight surged as his curiosity mounted, and not only was the room laid out before him without obstacle but so was everything, and everyone, in it.
The man before him pulsed with life, like anything else might, and perhaps it was for lack of reference but the young man seemed… brighter somehow, though not quite as vibrant as someone strong with the Force. He tried to look for Irena, but then he saw it – someone else.
A soft thrumming emanated from the darker corner of the archives, directly across from where Irena stood, watching but seeing nothing. Irena, he saw, was full of life, but her light was dimmer, duller. And the figure across from her? It shone like a distant star.
Perhaps not all the Jedi were gone after all.
3951 BBY, The Harbinger, Hyperspace
"I hope your stay here isn't too uncomfortable," Captain Maris uttered unsurely as he ushered Vale into a seat across from him in the Harbinger's version of a dining room, which was really just a slightly nicer and smaller mess hall meant for the higher ranks.
"No worries, Captain," she smiled, already easing into the part, "I understand the situation completely. And the room is just fine."
Captain Maris smiled his usual uneven smile, or at least the only smile Vale knew the man to be capable of so far. His chief officer sat beside him, beaming in a way that told Vale smiling was none too common in the Republic navy.
"I'm only here on business, and since I missed the last transport I'm grateful for any assistance."
The words rolled off her tongue almost too naturally, though Vale was not a stranger to playing a part or answering to a name other than her own. She hoped her smile was more convincing than those of her present companions.
"Well, Miss Rissian, we're happy to have you aboard," Captain Maris concluded as a group of recruits brought their breakfast out on serving trays. "And as it turns out, you're not the only one. We picked up another diplomat who seems to have missed the same transport as you. A Republic officer, actually."
Vale feigned pleasant surprise, though suspicion took root in her chest.
"Always good to have allies," she said, laughing lightly, making sure the smile met her eyes in earnest. Picking at the food in front of her, Vale tried not to gorge herself on caf too eagerly, having spent most of the night awake, mulling things over and studying the fake profile Mission had given her. Not to mention, catching up on nine years' worth of news.
Hailing from the Anoat Sector, Vale was to be masquerading as Lan Rissian, a diplomat as well as a shareholder in a well-to-do local mining outfit throwing her support behind Queen Talia of Onderon. The crown was a loyal customer, and as a member of the company's board, Lan was repaying that loyalty with support in the form of credits. Lots of credits. Turns out, this was a mission already in-flux, but the original agent meant to head it was currently MIA. While Mission and Zaalbar would continue to help their Republic contact in finding out what happened to the original plant, Vale would go in their stead, killing two mynocks with one stone. At least for now.
"So, ever been to the Telos System?" Chief Officer Emet asked, dunking a triangle of mealbread into a purple yolk.
"Actually no, I haven't," Vale answered, comforted by the fact that both she and Lan shared that in common. "I figure the Citadel isn't much different than any other spaceport, I take it?"
"Not so much, no," Emet continued, wiping her chin gingerly, "But the restoration effort has put a bit of a damper on the-"
"I apologize for being late," a voice interrupted, and a presence appeared at Vale's side. A woman with wiry brown hair and a dark complexion took the seat beside her, her honey-brown eyes comforting as their gazes met.
"Rell Amara," the woman said, extending a hand as she settled into the empty spot at the table, "The time difference still has me a bit-"
"No worries," Captain Maris cut in as Vale tentatively took the woman's hand in greeting, "This is Rell Amara from Republic Intelligence. She's been reassigned to oversee the negotiations on Onderon as well."
"Popular destination," Vale joked, "I take it we'll be working together?"
The woman named Rell nodded and turned to the rest of them.
"I appreciate your quickness to come get us all the way out here. The Hyperion was supposed to remain docked until tomorrow, but some of its officers I hear were needed elsewhere."
Vale wondered just how much of this she had the clearance to hear, or whether this Rell knew that it didn't matter, somehow.
"Any word on who that might have been?" Emet asked, not keen to stop eating amid her questions.
"That's classified."
A silence hung over them before Rell pointed a finger exaggeratedly and laughed. Looking to Maris and Emet, Vale took the cue that she was welcome to laugh along with them.
"I mean, it actually is classified, but nothing to worry about."
Another recruit – young, fresh-faced, and with lekku still not at full maturity – swept past them with another tray. Once the food was placed in front of her, Rell began to eat with relish.
"Helluva week," she began again, not looking up from her plate, "How have things been for you, Miss Rissian? The last-minute change didn't inconvenience you too much, I hope?"
"Oh no, not at all," Vale said, beginning to ease into her own eating etiquette. She was careful. As much as she wanted to get down to business like the officers before her, clearly used to eating as efficiently as possible and letting the conversation weave itself in, Vale remained composed and proper. She was a business woman, after all. "As long as things keep moving along."
"Agreed," Captain Maris raised his cup of caf, and Officer Emet did the same. Rell looked between them both, her eyes glittering, and joined in.
"Agreed," Vale smiled, also hoping so in earnest.
The rest of their conversation was casual at best, and if anything, Vale felt only mildly out of place. She remembered the nature of the talk, how military folk were used to conversing and how naturally it all still came back to her, but she kept her poise. Thankfully, none of the Republic officers asked her many questions, at least ones she couldn't answer off the cuff such as what kind of caf she preferred or if any moons could be seen from Bespin's gas cloud of an atmosphere (she guessed the answer was 'no').
When they gathered themselves up to leave, Captain Maris promised Vale that he was just a comm away should she need anything and that they were set to arrive on Telos within the next few standard days, asteroids permitting. Vale thanked him, only sticking behind to order one last cup of caf for the road, or perhaps to ask if they could provide a carafe for her room.
"Miss Rissian?"
Rell's voice came from over her shoulder just as Vale thanked one of the recruits on duty, confirming that she could take a thermasteel decanter back to her room.
"You can call me Lan," she said, testing the name even as she said it. Lan. Lan. It was a lot like Lena, a name she had on Nal Hutta. Another identity outed, her dirty laundry out there for all the galaxy to see.
"Lan," Rell repeated, bringing Vale back to the present, "Could we- could we talk? About Onderon."
Before she could freeze up, before she could say no, the recruit reappeared at her side with the caf she asked for. She thanked him again, regained her composure, and turned back to Rell.
"Sure," she heard herself say, though she felt just the opposite. "Absolutely."
3951 BBY, Telos IV, Citadel Station
Atton wasn't used to being a passenger.
As a pilot himself, he couldn't help but internally mutter to no one in particular the entire way to Citadel Station. He couldn't help but grip the arms of his seat as the shuttle veered on both the takeoff and the landing, shaking his head to prevent his eyes from rolling all the way back into his skull as they finally docked. It took all his strength not to peer into the cockpit and spy the person flying the damn thing, if not just to give them a piece of his mind.
But he shouldn't complain, no. He couldn't complain. He needed to keep a low profile. Keep his head down and do the work until his debt was paid.
One year down, four more to go.
Besides, it wasn't as if he expected Peragus' modest mining company to have a skilled pilot on hand. They couldn't afford it, or at least, didn't have to. This place liked to cut corners where possible. They knew their staff was made up of people who didn't want to be there but perhaps had to be, if only for the credits. The job paid well – labor laws saw to that. But anything in the way of comfort or luxury was a loss, so anything other than what was absolutely necessary was excluded for the sake of the budget. How else would they cover the hazard pay?
One of the few things the company did afford each employee was annual leave, usually one week's worth, though more depending on seniority or if there was a family to support on the other end of their check. It was the only time spent off-site, as per their contract. Atton had practically memorized it by now, often finding himself absently thumbing through the rules every other night, hoping there was something he missed, some loophole he could exploit. But he had taken this job willingly. It was an attractive prospect, given the pay, but the place was… lacking when it came to entertainment. Perhaps that was for the best.
Compared to what he was used to, Atton's eyes lit up at the sight of a cantina, its neon lights hailing his attention from across the shuttle bay. He had seen flashier and far more interesting places in his lifetime – or his short-lived smuggling career, even – but this would have to do.
Not only was this hole in the wall a potential refuge, it was also a means to an end. Atton had already done himself dirty and made a deal with someone unsavory on-site, promising to smuggle in stolen goods, because if he wasn't a smuggler than what good was he? If he could score some extra cash, he could get off the explosive rock that was the mining facility sooner than he'd planned, and could finally get back to – well, whatever it was he was doing. Either that or he could at least buy himself something nice to keep in his sorry excuse for a bunk.
"Atton Rand?" a Twi'lek asked at the shuttle gates, "From Peragus, I assume?"
He nodded, looking the young man up and down, trying not to get any bad ideas.
"That'd be me," he muttered, almost unsurely. Atton was who he was masquerading now as anyway, and still it felt odd to hear it sometimes, even though it had been a few years. As if someone was privy to a secret identity he didn't want known.
"If you'll just follow me," the young man smiled shyly. The head officer at the facility told him that someone would meet him here, that they would escort him to his abode for the week. Atton almost felt important.
The place was modest, though relatively stark, barren even, but he couldn't be surprised. He was pleased the company offered this much, given how horrid other outfits were from the stories he'd heard. Most were closer to a labor camp than whatever this was. Atton couldn't come up with a proper analogy, and so stood in his new, temporary apartment speechless, thankful there was at least a holoplant in the foyer and the living room. Fancy. The Twi'lek found this an opportune moment to leave, for the lack of conversation if not for the awkwardness.
"Prob'ly for the best anyway," Atton sighed, sinking into an almost ancient couch facing the far window, granting him a breathtaking vista of the backside of a restaurant.
One year down, four more to go.
3951 BBY, The Harbinger, Hyperspace
"Looks like we'll be cruising for a while," Rell smiled at Vale as they rounded on her quarters.
Vale felt the ship jolt slightly, and slow. Outside the window of her appointed room, she saw that the streaked stars of hyperspace had vanished, the view outside marked by unmoving stars in their natural state of ever-present stillness. They were either saving fuel or they were on patrol. She heard that might be the case, and was assured it was nothing to worry about.
"Nice droid," Rell spoke again upon entering the small room, "Selling him for scraps?"
"Something like that," she muttered, tucking the remains of the HK droid that came to life in her shop, calling her Master what already felt like ages ago. "Caf?"
Rell's eyes widened as she nodded appreciatively.
"Please."
The woman was unusual, but not unpleasant. For an intelligence officer, she was oddly personable, and open. She joked readily, the ghost of a smile always clear on her face. Maybe the girl was just nervous.
"Long day, I take it," Vale said, pouring them each a cup and downing her first.
"Tell me about it," Rell agreed, taking her cup, hardly caring whether the liquid was too hot.
"So, you missed your transport as well?"
Rell swallowed the last dregs of her cup, just as eager for caffeine as Vale, and bit her lip.
"Okay, here's the thing," she started, hazarding a glance at Vale's closed quarter doors, lowering her voice, "I didn't miss my transport, but my colleague did... I'm just taking his place."
Two Republic officers MIA. Not good.
Vale poured them both second glasses, intent on Rell's next words.
"I'm here to escort you to Telos, General Valen," she whispered, all mirth disappearing from her face, her stance straightening.
"An escort?" was all Vale could muster, "That's… certainly surprising."
"Surprising?"
"I guess… given the bounty, no, but I'm just-" Not used to this, she wanted to say, but the words couldn't make it passed her lips. "Surprised, is all."
"If it's the secrecy you're worried about, don't," Rell assured her, "You were plenty convincing back there."
"But what about you?" Vale asked. "I thought no one was supposed to know."
"Well, yes, but I was sent by-" Rell stopped herself short, biting her lip again. "Sorry, I am a bit new to this."
"Me too, kid. No worries," Vale sighed, sinking into her couch as Rell lowered herself into the small kitchenette against the far wall facing her.
"I was the one who found your records," Rell admitted, examining the texture of the cup in her hands, "I was the one who brought them to-"
She stopped herself again.
"Nevermind, but listen – as I'm sure you know, the Republic has been looking for you. Revan's orders."
"Revan?"
Rell nodded, solemn. Mission failed to mention that, or perhaps she didn't know.
Revan, of course. Vale shivered. Things didn't feel any better, and the more Revan cropped up the more the ominous, lingering, bad feeling she felt on Tatooine mounted in her chest. Nothing's changed, she thought, suddenly feeling young and vulnerable again, prying Alek for answers and getting none. Just like Malachor.
"Since when did Revan-?"
"She doesn't have clearance to give orders, exactly- didn't, either." Rell answered before Vale could even finish her thought, "But I have it on good authority that the man in charge has been acting on instructions left by her. A failsafe of sorts. At least, somewhat."
"The… man in charge?" Vale raised a brow, though she couldn't say the mounting mystery wasn't more of a surprise.
Rell shook her head, almost laughing, "They really should have briefed me more thoroughly. I'm not sure we're there yet, but you'll meet him soon. He'll tell you everything."
There yet must mean they weren't yet ready to disclose that information, or at least Rell wasn't sure what was classified and what wasn't. She sounded an awful lot like Mission, clear on her orders but fuzzy on the details.
"Okay, okay, so what now? Do we just… wait? Arrive at Telos?" Vale asked, suddenly tense.
"Something like that," Rell replied, "Keep a low profile, play the part. Breakfast went just as planned, I don't think Maris or Emet will have a second thought about you or the mining company you're supposed to represent. We just… need to get to Telos."
"Telos," Vale mused, looking at the remains of her HK droid, the only thing left of her shop.
"Telos." Rell repeated.
"So, tell me something…" Vale suddenly stood again, looking at Rell in a new light. "What- what exactly did you find out about me?"
Rell blanched, her eyes widening.
"W-what?"
"Sorry, I mean to say-" Vale paused, looking for the right words, "I have reason to believe that the Jedi thought I was dead. How did they find me? Who's left?"
Rell appeared to choke on her caf, coughing into her cup as she asked "Dead?"
Vale watched her regain her composure. Rell was trying hard to remain professional, but everything told her she wasn't aware of this information.
"How much are the Jedi in contact with the Republic, exactly?" Vale pressed, hoping this was something Rell could answer.
"It's hard to say how many are left, but there are a few. Not all of them died at that conclave," Rell said after clearing her throat, "I know one keeps in contact with the man you're about to meet."
The man in charge, huh?
"His Jedi contact doesn't happen to be Master Atris, does it?"
Rell shook her head.
"No, I-I think she died. At Katarr."
Atris… dead? She could have sworn the only Jedi vindictive enough to even want to keep tabs on her would be Atris, but perhaps she was wrong. Vale searched her feelings, on instinct, but knew that the Force couldn't tell her anything. She shook her head.
"Bastila Shan?" Vale tried again, venturing another guess. Mission had mentioned her earlier and it seemed like a logical assumption.
Rell nodded into her cup, drawing another long sip.
"I think so," she affirmed. "Her name sounds familiar."
Rell drank the last dregs of her second cup of caf before looking at Vale again.
"I'm not sure if or why the Jedi thought you were dead, necessarily, but all I know is that they were looking for you. You fell off the radar and-"
Rell stopped short, her brows furrowing as she searched her memory.
"They were tracking you, I think. The Jedi, I mean," she continued, "Revan went looking for you and she-"
"Vanished," Vale finished.
Rell nodded, locking eyes with her, her expression solemn but serious.
"That's all I know."
According to the Jawa, Revan had been on Tatooine after she had gone looking for the Star Forge. Perhaps she had been looking for her. But they had also mentioned a dark one. She had originally thought the Jawa referred to Malak, but now? Maybe they were talking about the time she returned with Mission, with Bastila Shan. But perhaps there was another time, too.
Rell looked at the bottom of her cup sorrowfully, as if either hoping there was more caf or more detailed instructions as to what she could or couldn't say.
Rell's chrono watch blipped, drawing both Vale and Rell's attention to her wrist. Rell placed her cup gently on the kitchenette table as she read a message, reading across her display as she rose from her seat.
"A distress signal-" she started.
"A- a what?"
"It's a message from Captain Maris," Rell explained, looking up at Vale briefly before her eyes retreated to her wrist again, scanning the minute readout. "He doesn't know I'm escorting you, or who you are, but he is under orders to alert me if there's a change in plans. If-"
Rell paused again, reading and rereading the report as it scrolled over her chrono's screen.
"I guess I can't blame them for answering, but still-"
Rell rushed over to the small porthole of a window Vale's room allowed, peering out of the comically small oval.
"There- there it is," she said, almost unbelieving.
Vale rushed to her side, and Rell afforded her space to see, too.
In the star-filled barrenness beyond the Harbinger, two ships stood in stalemate in the distance.
"Looks like we won't get to Telos just yet."
Notes: I'm finally getting there! As the beginning of the game plot is fast approaching, I will say I have some new things planned so this still won't be a straight game-to-fic translation but will be a mixture of my own spin on things (especially with characters like Erebus) and more elaboration/exploration in terms of what the Exile experiences throughout TSL. Any and all thoughts, comments, criticisms etc. are welcome! Thanks for reading :)
