Summary: As a secret Jedi agenda catches up with those who remain, the situation on Nespis VIII reaches new heights.


3951 BBY, Nespis VIII, Jedi Academy

Mical had been here for three days. Day one, he scouted the ruins. Day two, he was apprehended. Day three, he was apprehended - again. And now, he was sitting in a room, bound again and more intensely than before, alongside the stranger and his previous captor. The white-haired woman remained silent, her eyes seething. The man at her side, however, was calm, curious if anything. A twinkle in his eye told Mical he was just as surprised by their capture, or re-capture if that meant anything, and appeared to be far more interested in where this was going than in finding a way out of it.

There was something oddly familiar about the man called and not called Wyland Rhell. And Mical wanted to find out what.

Mical knew the man was lying from the moment he arrived, jostled uncouthly as he was ushered to the seat across from him in the remains of the Jedi archive. It wasn't unusual, in this line of work. Mical regularly lied his way into places he may not have otherwise been allowed, but he had his easy smile and pleasant demeanor to thank for that as well. His disposition was always genuine, despite the lies, but it was a necessary measure when it came to recovering what he could of the fast-disappearing Jedi. The man beside him, however, Mical wasn't sure of. At least not when it came to his ultimate goal.

His cover story - an operative working to collect artifacts for the Golden Company - made sense. Interested only in credits and their wealthy connections, the shadowy syndicate of antique dealers often infiltrated places such as these if there was something of interest. With the Jedi all but gone, Jedi artifacts were easier to find and also easier to sell - who doesn't want a part of a recently fallen ancient religious order?

The stranger's story checked out until it didn't, that is, and now Mical was itching for an answer.

It was clear that the Golden Company was holding them hostage now, not bothering with the false formalities the Echani had employed earlier or the man that sat beside them both now. But if Wyland Rhell was working for them, why was he here, bound by Mical's side?

"Alright, now you three stay put, ye hear?" one of the mercs muttered as he fastened the Echani's restraints, smirking as he spoke.

It was easy to tell he was Mandalorian, if not by his accent but by his profession and the means by which he bound them. Classic, Mical thought, trained to the last.

The knots he used, the weapons he brandished, even the armor he wore - none of it was Mandalorian, but it screamed Mandalorian just the same. A huddled mass of other faceless men and women waited beyond the door, ready to scour the area once they were secure, as the maskless merc made his way to each of them once more, testing their restraints and giving each of them a wink. When the man wasn't looking, Mical rolled his eyes.

He didn't flinch, nor did he scowl. Mical kept his face completely expressionless, pleasant if anything, which only seemed to infuriate the mercenary even more. He yanked harder than the others when he tested how tightly Mical's wrists were bound, scowling as he moved away.

"We'll break you yet, ye hear?"

Ye hear, he said it again. Part of Mical's inner linguist began decoding the phrase, trying to see if he could place it with a specific clan, but the Echani spoke before he could reach any conclusions.

"You can't do this," Irena spat, eyes flashing, "You don't have jurisdiction here. We can-"

"We don't need jurisdiction," the merc replied, shoving his rifle into the space between her shoulder blades as he passed, making for the head of the room - all the better to watch them, Mical presumed. "Credits trump everything, cuz. Get used to it."

The Echani's eyes were like fire, only the violet-blue of her irises almost blended in the whites of her eyes, making her look like something else entirely in the dim lighting.

"Didn't the rest of your team already make off with most of the temple already?" Mical heard himself say, hardly realizing he was speaking as he was thinking, adrenaline coursing his veins as his mind worked tenfold to read the situation and stay calm beside it, "What else is there?"

"We haven't found the-" she started, her breath in a rush, but Irena bit her tongue. Her eyes narrowed as her posture changed completely, her anger dissolving into a cool, steely calm as she turned to face the front of the room, holding herself as dignified as she could while still restrained. "It doesn't matter, they'll be coming soon."

"Oh, I'm sure," Mical muttered, knowing there were only four, maybe five, other Echani in the wings. As for the Golden Company, he knew they were many, but for the man who was and wasn't Wyland Rhell? Mical couldn't be sure.

"They all secure?" a voice interrupted, a static piercing the momentary quiet. The merc plucked a comm from his belt and held it to his lips.

"Affirmative," he said, keeping an eye on his captives as he spoke, "Send in Del-Nara when you're ready."

"Understood."

"And you may want to keep an eye out for where these Echani have been storing their...bounty," he said, smiling eerily at Irena now, "They may have a cache of goods worth looking into."

So the Echani were looking for something specific, and the Golden Company were as well. It would stand to reason they were both in search of the same thing, given that Irena alluded to a specific object of import and the merc referred to the current Echani inventory as more of a bonus than amain objective. Whatever it was, neither group had honed in on it yet, and apparently Wyland Rhell had the same idea - he watched the two curiously, eyeing each as they spoke, just as Mical was.

But Mical, too, was watching. He eyed the imposter from across the room, waiting for him to notice. He could tell Wyland felt his gaze on him, purposefully avoiding eye contact until the moment was right. And when their eyes met, Mical's blood ran cold.

I know.

Wyland Rhell's face remained emotionless, betraying nothing of the words Mical swore he heard in his head before turning to face the front of the room again. A woman entered, burly and brusque as she nodded at the already-present mercenary and proceeded to gag each of them in turn, swathing their mouths with a rough fabric that made Mical shudder. Irena only glared over the edge of the cloth on her face, the thing hastily tacked to her person and clearly getting in her eyes. But the stranger Wyland Rhell watched Mical as his mouth was bound, not breaking eye contact.

I know you know, Mical heard in his mind, as if the man before him were speaking, though he knew he was not. And I'm going to make you tell me.


3951 BBY, Nespis VIII, Dock Hostel

"You're a lot… taller than I remember," Zayne said, trying to make conversation as Mission led him to the crew's current room. He watched as she ascended the stairs, already dissolving into his usual charmingly awkward self.

"Well, that's what happens when you grow up," Mission joked, stroking one of her head tails, both of which had grown longer with age. "I'm not ten anymore."

"Right, right, so I'm told," Zayne chuckled gruffly. Mission looked at him sidelong and noticed that he still hadn't managed to grow facial hair, or if he did he knew how to hide it well. It made him look younger than she knew he was, more like the version of him she'd remembered from Taris. He was much younger then, of course, but to a kid even teenagers seem like adults. It was odd, but even though she knew Zayne had matured, he still looked like the boyish, idealized version of him she'd had in her mind since she was a kid.

"So, let's get a few things straight before we meet the others," Mission said, changing gears. She couldn't afford to be soft now, especially now that there was so much to keep track of and the news kept changing every damn day, "Who referred you to me, exactly?"

"Well, that's the thing," Zayne started, slowing his pace. Mission slowed to match, knowing they were about to launch into the land of backstory.

"Oh, here we go," she muttered under her breath. Zayne either didn't hear her or decided to continue without comment.

"You were supposed to make a pickup in the Outer Rim Territories, right?"

Mission stopped in full now, pausing on the step ahead of Zayne, gazing down at him unsurely from her new vantage point.

"How do you know about that?" she asked, her question coming out in a breath.

"You see, I was supposed to make the drop off."

"You're heading the recovery operation? With Bastila?"

"The one and only," Zayne confirmed, managing only to roll his eyes in the slightest. Mission laughed heartily despite herself, "But also… not exactly."

Zayne watched her reaction carefully, but Mission was too confused and too self-aware to give him the satisfaction. He'd been waiting for this, knowing it might put a kink in things, or at least encite questions. She let her laugh die naturally on her face, letting it settle over her features as she waited for Zayne to speak, knowing she may not be so amused the more she learned.

"Please, do go on," she implored, half-sarcastic, half-tired with all of this already. When she took this job, like any other she'd run lately, she was just in it for the credits and for the quick in-and-out, something to do so she and Big Z could feel useful without feeling bad about the law and all. Carth had at least been good about that. She liked knowing she was following Nevarra's last orders, that she was getting something done, but she also didn't like thinking about what that meant exactly, especially when it came to all the Jedi stuff. She knew it'd become important eventually, but she didn't expect it to be now and she honestly didn't want it to be ever. She wanted Nevarra to return in one piece, for the Jedi to be restored or whatever, and for everything to go back to normal… or at least plain stay they way they already were. With Zayne here, now, Mission was instantly brought back to Taris, when everything about life was a right mess - Zayne included. And it seemed not much had changed since then.

"My old master contacted me, asked me for my help," Zayne said sheepishly, as if it meant anything to Mission, though she could tell it was probably something odd for him. "Being a non-Jedi myself and all, I wasn't exactly prepared to get roped back into this mess."

Zayne's shoulders slumped as he went on, his resolve dissolving before her eyes as if he had something to answer for.

"But given what's happened and-" Zayne looked away, swallowing hard, "I kind of have a bit of experience with it, actually."

"With what, exactly?" Mission asked, careful to keep the guarded skepticism from her voice.

"Force-related stuff, objects not meant to be handled lightly."

Mission and Zaalbar had only been trusted with their cargo because Bastila didn't know of anyone else, save for the few Jedi she knew of. With the others in hiding, making any contact was sure to warrant the attention of whoever wanted to see the Jedi die out. Mission rarely ever had to deal with the cargo herself, only with the transport, and she wanted to keep it that way. She wanted to tell Zayne, but part of her knew it was no good. She was already in this mess and she'd have to see it through if she wanted to see herself out of it - if that was even an option, now. After trusting in Nevarra? After knowing Revan? Not likely.

Mission wondered if she really was too trusting for her own good. For a moment, she thought of Griff and how he'd laugh at her, reassuring… but there was nothing reassuring about that image.

"And how exactly did this friend of yours get pulled into the mess? He's Republic, right?"

Now Zayne really looked guilty. His eyes darted around the cramped stairwell, anywhere than straight at Mission, before he nodded soberly.

"We met during the Mandalorian Wars. Mical was with the medic corps, a good guy. Our backgrounds were… similar." Zayne looked as if he might elaborate but quickly thought against it before continuing, "He's always been a bit of a history buff, a nerd if you will. He'd found a few things during the war, either come across by soldiers he was tending to or found on scouting missions. Whenever Mical would find something, he'd comm me and I'd swing by, taking whatever it was and dropping it off with my old master, Lucien Draay. Before I was even a Jedi, he'd been collecting Force-related artifacts, particularly things that were… darker in nature. Things that weren't safe if left out for just anyone to find. And lemme tell you, they found a lot of interesting stuff during the war."

Mission's skin grew cold, thinking of the package that General Valen now carried with her, of the stories that Orex told of where it had come from and where he had seen others like it.

"Mical had a funny feeling that it was more than just a coincidence, so he kept at it. He stayed in contact with Draay, working without me. I went and… did my own thing for a while. I hadn't heard from any of them in so long and then… I get a call, from Master Draay. A relayed message, a warning, from before the conclave at Katarr - he may have even sent the damn thing while it was all happening-"

Zayne ran a nervous hand through his hair, almost shuddering at the thought of the massacre.

"Draay knew it was the end for the Jedi, but he knew their cache of dangerous objects needed to remain hidden, and that whatever else was left out in the galaxy needed to be found. He wasn't sure who else hadn't made it to conclave, save for me, for… obvious reasons, I guess. But he knew someone would need to contact this Bastila of yours, and continue his work, someone to keep up the drop-offs."

"She sure ain't my Bastila, but-" Mission laughed now, the pieces falling into place, "Well, I guess she is."

For all her exasperating behavior, Mission figured she couldn't have been more different than the stiff Jedi-in-hiding, but Bastila had also been a friend, a confidante, and after knowing someone like Revan those were hard to come by.

"Gir's a character," Zayne laughed, "We'd never have gotten along at the Academy, I'll tell you that. But I'm not sure she knows who I am just yet…"

Mission cocked her head, curious, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

"Thing is, I've been following Draay's orders, but I haven't exactly… outed myself, you see? I have a feeling she knows I'm not Draay but that I can somehow be trusted. I'm not sure, exactly, but… does any of this make sense?"

Zayne sighed, suddenly out of breath, as his posture slumped against the railing beside them. Not much had changed, Mission was sure of that. Zayne was still the same old troublemaker, always explaining himself out of or into something.

"Well, sort of," Mission said, crossing her arms over chest, "I get it though. Things are weird."

Zayne looked relieved, though none too energetic about it, looking as if he might soon collapse into the nearest piece of furniture out of pure exhaustion once given the chance. Mission had a feeling more of the story would come out later, but there were still a few details she wanted to hammer out first.

"So this friend of yours, Mical?"

Zayne nodded and laughed, his voice hollow.

"Yeah, about that," he began, adjusting his posture so he stood up straight again, "Turns out he's working for another friend of mine. A veteran, you might've heard of him."

Mission waited a beat, even though she knew what was coming next.

"Lemme guess, Admiral Carth Onasi," she drawled once Zayne failed to respond. His eyes widened, suddenly alert now, but Mission waved him off.

"I'm no Jedi, but I see where this is going, just- just tell me about this friend of yours and why he needs our help so badly."

"I said Mical'd been looking for stuff, right? He'd been working in intelligence since the war, got news of a rogue Jedi or something. So he came here. And he - well… my friend found something. So he called, and I came. Only… I was a bit too late."

"I see," Mission said, sighing again as she took to the stairs, climbing towards the room where the others were waiting, "Best get to it then."

She could feel Zayne bubble with questions as he caught up beside her, taking two steps to her every one just to keep up now. Mission shook her head, knowing she'd have to call Bastila, knowing she'd have to sort this mess out, and knowing there'd probably be a firefight by the end of the day to show for it.

"We've got a long day ahead of us."


3951 BBY, Coruscant

Carth hated Coruscant. Always had.

It wasn't much different from many other places he'd been, Telos least of all. At least before the war.

He used to think it was because of that - the memories, the familiarity. But other planets, similar in their makeup and overall volume, had hardly irked him as much as this one had. No, it wasn't that. Perhaps it was the new memories he had here and the mere fact that he associated the damn place and the now empty apartment he seemed to haunt rather than live in. Yeah, that was most likely it.

Carth thumbed through his personal datapad as the lift kept bringing him up and up and even further up, absently rereading reports as if new words might appear between the ones he'd already memorized - anything to keep his mind off the anxiety mounting in his chest. If the Republic didn't have problems worth solving about every nanosecond, Carth was sure he would have already driven himself insane with worry and second-guessing, though his preoccupation with work probably wasn't much healthier.

He was already at the end of his message log when the lift stopped, perching gracefully at the level he had keyed into the console what now felt like ages ago. Rain greeted him and his unsuspecting face. Blinking his damp welcome away, Carth pocketed his datapad and blended into the crowd as best he could. Hood drawn, as anyone with a desire to remain anonymous might, Carth was glad the rain masked any appearance of "trying too hard". Carth was a soldier, he wasn't trained to blend in and he had been told often enough that he didn't know when to make himself quiet, small, and unnoticed – though he knew what they really meant was that he was incapable of keeping his opinions to himself. Well, that much was true, and any grumblings about the weather would at least go unnoticed for now and dismissed as "small talk", thank the Maker.

As discussed, Carth made eye contact with no one, shuffled along with traffic, and ducked under the awning of a storefront, nodded at the cashier, and disappeared behind its many aisles. Once at the back of the store, he slipped through the service door and into a room full of other doors, each duller and more indiscriminate than the last. One of these doors was a closet, and within that closet was another, smaller, closet, and within that closet was another door, and beyond that door there was a lift. And waiting at the lift was Bastila Shan.

"We can't keep meeting like this," she sighed as he approached.

Carth paused, briefly considering making a joke but thinking the better of it.

"You're telling me, sister," he muttered, a smirk teasing his mouth though he chewed his lip to hide it.

Bastila watched him for a moment, her eyes rolling once the turn-of-phrase dawned on her. The lift doors opened and Bastila ushered him inside.

"So, what news?" she asked, staring straight ahead as she stood beside Carth.

Carth fidgeted with his datapad again, choosing to start from the beginning, to buy himself time.

"With another one of our ships missing, the closest Republic vessel we had was the Harbinger. We can't afford to reroute it, not unless we want to garner suspicion. They're set to arrive at Telos in a few days, five tops."

"Five days?" Bastila reaffirmed sternly.

"It's the closest Republic ship we have in the Outer Rim. We've already come up with a cover, and it isn't even a ship for diplomatic transport, but it should all check out. It has so far."

Carth had practically rehearsed this line all day, as if he needed to convince not only Bastila but himself as well.

"And with whom, exactly? The Republic?" Bastila snapped.

If Carth wasn't already on edge, her shortness with him would have done it, and it took a lot for him to reign his own temperament in at the thought even now.

"Yes, with the Republic," he replied, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep his cool, "As we discussed, we don't know who may be watching us, but someone certainly is. We need to take every precaution we can. I'm practically lying to my own men. To myself, even."

If he had any other choice, Carth would have been the one to extract the Exile from Tatooine. Hell, the mess there may not have even happened if he had. With news of her records' release, he could have been there before the woman knew anything was amiss - or anyone else on that backwater planet, for that matter. But it wasn't worth regretting now. Carth had faith in Mission and Zaalbar. He had no reason not to trust them. He knew they would not only understand his instructions but his position, as well. There was only so much he could tell them, and there was only so much they could work with. The pair had done well so far. The General was given new clothes, a backstory, and Republic clearance, and according to Mission her boarding had gone off without a hitch, its commanding officers none the wiser. Now, as long as the Harbinger made it to Telos without issue…

"I know, I know," Bastila sighed after a few tense moments, the pair of them still waiting in complete darkness as the lift brought them down, down, down after Carth had already travelled what felt like the length of Coruscant to get up to their pre-arranged meeting place. "This mess has made liars out of all of us. Even I don't technically exist."

"I know," Carth said, "We don't know what Jedi are left, but for all we know whatever wiped them out at that conclave is also responsible for our missing ships. That's two now, and several others delayed. They say the equipment's faulty, and there's talk of a black hole edging into the Outer Rim."

Carth watched Bastila mull this information over silently, though he had a feeling what ran through her mind. Was there really a black hole in the far reaches of Republic space? Or was there something darker out there? Waiting?

Bastila sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It's just, just-"

"Everything?" Carth finished. It was inarticulate, but enough for the Jedi beside him to understand, apparently. She nodded, exasperated.

"There's so much going on, so much I didn't realize at first."

"None of us realized. We got too comfortable," Carth said, thinking of his empty apartment, his empty bed, and how full everything had felt before Nevarra left and became Revan again, or at least left to follow in the footsteps of her former self.

The lift doors opened, revealing another maze of halls and doors, a tangled web of old, abandoned offices Carth still hadn't asked Bastila how she managed to hide. He was almost familiar with the route now, following the young Jedi to her personal workplace.

"Too comfortable," Bastila said after a while, considering the words as she said them, slowly. "Too comfortable, indeed."

An unsure look crossed her face as she opened the door, letting Carth inside before using the Force to close it at his back. Carth swung around, mildly surprised, and watched as the doors swiftly met in the center of the frame, sealing shut. Bastila wasn't one to use her powers for frivolous things, closing perfectly functional doors being one of them.

When Carth turned back around, the office was lit but the walls were dark, hiding the academy beyond from view of the transparent glass that surrounded them. Bastila was already seated at the console on the far side of the room.

"So, what's this other news you needed to tell me?" she said in a rushed almost-whisper, clearly as anxious as he was.

"Well, it's not good," Carth started, already apprehensive, still unbelieving.

"I gathered as much," Bastila snapped.

Carth inhaled slowly and exhaled, commanding his body to release all the tension it held. His shoulders slumped slightly, but his body did not seem to want to take orders.

"They found her ship," he said, his voice catching, chest tight. "Our ship."

Bastila blanched and turned towards him, her face going white.

"The Ebon Hawk?"

Carth nodded, collapsing into a couch on the opposite side of the room. Saying the words seemed to release everything. He dropped his datapad on the table in front of him, his hands rushing to nurse his temples.

"Where?" Bastila pressed, waiting patiently now. Her voice was softer, but she remained stern, trying to be strong for the both of them. Carth glanced up at her, thinking he could almost laugh. She was trying. She really was. Little did she know it only made him feel worse. He was a grown man for kriffing sake. And it's not like he hadn't lost someone before.

"In the Outer Rim. Peragus System."

"Peragus?" Bastila asked, voice flat.

Carth nodded, "Not far from Telos."

"Do you think she was on her way back? That she had found something? That maybe someone-?"

Bastila couldn't bear to finish her thought, a concerned hand reaching for her mouth, as if to massage the words out of her but none came.

Carth shook his head.

"She wasn't on board."

"Not on-?" Bastila started, stopping herself, already too wrought with questions to continue.

"They found an old woman in the med bay and a malfunctioning T3 unit in the cockpit."

"T3," Bastila repeated, hollow, almost wistful. "But this woman, was she Revan's Master? The one Nevarra had gone looking for?"

Carth noticed how she distinguished the two – Revan and Nevarra – perhaps still guilty for what she and the Jedi had done. Or uncertain as to what repercussions their actions had, even now.

"Who knows, nothing came up on her. She seems to be in bad shape," Carth answered, watching the young woman as he spoke.

Bastila did not make eye contact. Instead her gaze turned inward, her eyes fixating on a thought as she stood and began to pace the room.

"I forget how old Kae was when she was still at the Academy. I was still so young, but she could not have been that old," she mused.

"You forget how unforgiving people can be when it comes to women and their age," Carth reminded her, thinking of all the senior female officers still on the receiving end of undeserved flak and underestimation.

Bastila nodded, agreeing, but didn't look at him.

"Where is the ship now?"

"I told the Harbinger crew to salvage it, to take in anyone on board," Carth answered evenly despite the empty feeling in his chest.

"And they aren't set to arrive at Telos for another five days at the most, I think I know the rest," Bastila finished in a huff. She stopped pacing and fell back into the chair poised by her personal console, a hand still cradling her chin.

"She must have been returning, otherwise why would the Ebon Hawk be way out there?" she said after a minute's pause and a moment's thinking, "The last coordinates sent by T3 were from Tatooine, that's a completely different sector."

"Maybe that was the last time Nevarra was on the ship," Carth offered, "Maybe she found her Master, maybe she-"

His ideas ended there, dissolving into a slew of endless what ifs he didn't want to speak truth to.

"Perhaps," Bastila sighed, "Where was the ship exactly?"

"That's the other thing," Carth said, leaning forward and watching Bastila for a moment before continuing. She locked eyes with him this time, unsure of what was about to escape his mouth, "It was found in a dead lock with a ghost ship. A Sith ship. From the Star Forge."

"Sith," Bastila echoed, her eyes going wide, "Sith."

Carth could only nod. Neither of them spoke, but he had a feeling that the thoughts rushing through Bastila's mind were not unlike the ones he'd already turned over in his head a thousand times. What if Nevarra had fallen back into Revan again? What if her old students found her after fleeing Republic Space?

"There's no point in worrying," Bastila said suddenly, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush, "We're already doing all that we can, we're being careful. There's nothing we can do but wait."

As annoyed as he wanted to be with her change of tone, Carth knew this was Bastila's way of comforting herself, of comforting him. In her own way, at least.

They sat in silence, soaking it in, feeling the weight of it. Carth almost felt calmer, and he wondered if Bastila were somehow harnessing her Battle Meditation to ease their worry. It wouldn't do to think irrationally, not now, not when they needed to be careful, not when they still knew nothing of the threat that loomed on the horizon if there even was one, not while they still didn't know why Nevarra left or what happened to her.

"Bastila, I-"

"Carth, there's something else."

He blinked.

"Something… else?"

Bastila nodded, waiting for his reaction, though it never really came. Carth felt a bit numb already, not ready for more bad news.

"I only just heard of this an hour ago," Bastila lead with, turning around now, giving Carth little confidence in what was to follow, "I think we might have a situation."

"A situation?" Carth repeated. "You mean, other than what's already going on?"

Bastila hastily tucked a temperamental lock of hair behind her ear several times as her console booted up, images forming on the screen as Carth stood up and watched on over her shoulder. A report manifested, complete with images and notes, detailing a Jedi academy on Nespis VIII.

"As you know, I had been keeping tabs on all the old academies, temples, and other Jedi headquarters since Katarr. Part of the Housekeeping Initiative-" she said, glancing at him momentarily before looking away, referring to Revan's last orders, as if all of this already wasn't a result of Nevarra's final correspondence with the both of them, "There are other Jedi stationed all over the galaxy as you know, keeping watch, in hiding."

"There's an academy there?" Carth pointed to the screen, thinking it was no coincidence the Exile had just been there, and Mission and Zaalbar were still awaiting orders not too far away.

Bastila nodded.

"And it now appears to be under Echani jurisdiction. Their credentials check out."

"Credentials?"

Bastila opened another file, a document of authorization appearing before them.

"It's not so much a sanction, but they were granted rights by the station," Bastila said, her voice stiff with dissatisfaction, "Without any formal Jedi to say otherwise, and with us all in hiding, they have the right to turn over the building to anyone with a claim to it."

"And who would that be?"

Bastila shrugged, defeated.

"Does the Force tell you anything?"

Bastila rolled her eyes.

"That's not how the Force works, Carth."

"I know, I know, I was just - I don't know - hoping it might be," he admitted, turning away as he felt his face reddening. "I'll have my people look into it. We should be able to recover any records at least, find out where this claim comes from."

"I contacted what other Jedi I could, but there's no knowing what others might be in hiding, ones we don't know about," Bastila continued, composing herself again, "And to be honest, I don't blame them. With all that's happened, anyone left may not know that others still remain, and looking for them could lead to trouble."

"And I'm assuming the situation wouldn't be much better if we did the same," Carth mused, beginning to pace the area behind Bastila's chair.

"Well, that's precisely the thing…" Bastila began.

"That thing being?" he said, trying to coax an answer out of her.

"I've heard from one," Bastila answered finally.

"What do you mean?"

"Mission contacted me," she said, "Her message was coded-"

"Smart girl," Carth muttered under his breath, still listening.

"She said a Jedi contacted her. A Jedi that knew you."

"Me? Since when have I-?"

Carth almost caught himself saying Since when have I had Jedi friends?, but saw the impatient look on Bastila's face and thought the better of it.

"I take it you know this Zayne Carrick?"

Zayne Carrick.

The hair on Carth's neck stood on end.

"Yes," he said, the memories rushing back – a plucky stow away, just a boy, begging that Carth bring him to Admiral Saul Karath, who only wanted him for the murder of his fellow Jedi students. Carth had believed Zayne. There was something about the kid that made Carth think he wasn't a murderer, no, couldn't be. Then again, he had had similar thoughts about Karath as well as the man Carrick requested they contact, a Jedi named Squint, a man Carth would later come to know as Darth Malak.

"Carth?"

Bastila's voice brought him out of the past. He shook his head and steadied himself, focusing on her slate grey eyes as they watched him intently.

"I knew him, yes," he affirmed, "What did he want? Was he in some sort of trouble?"

"He was looking for someone of yours, actually. A Republic Scout named Mical."

Carth nodded, then shook his head.

"Part of Rell's team, the girl we sent to pick up the Exile."

Bastila's eyes went wide for a moment, shaking her head along with Carth, not liking the sound of any of this the more each of them spoke. She swallowed slowly, watching for his reaction.

"Apparently this Zayne had been working with a colleague of mine, the very one whose artifacts Mission and Zaalbar have been transporting. One we lost at Katarr, I now realize. I'd hoped-"

Bastila paused, bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle whatever involuntary sound threatened to erupt at the thought of the incident. She shook her head again, willing the feeling away and looked Carth square in the eye again, keen on continuing.

"Odd, isn't it?" Carth said after a moment, his voice betraying his suspicion, almost on purpose.

"That wasn't all," Bastila continued, darkly, ignoring Carth's near-sarcasm but mirroring his thoughts in her expression, eyebrows raised as if to say of course this would happen, despite the uncertainty clearly blooming in both of their chests. "Aside from this Zayne's connection to one of yours as well as one of mine, the last he'd heard of your Republic Scout, he was at this precise academy."

"The… academy currently overrun by Echani?"

"The very one," Bastila answered, "Now, what I can't figure out is why the Echani of all people would be interested in the Jedi."

"From what I remember the Echani don't have a high regard for Jedi," Carth said darkly, "Didn't Revan ki-"

He stopped himself. Didn't Revan kill one of their decorated generals? She had, and he knew it. But it still felt strange – remembering who Nevarra had been, what she had done, and wondering why.

Bastila watched him, aware of his inner dilemma, and Carth was sure she was thinking the same of her missing friend and mentor.

"His name was Yusanis," she began, her eyes darting about as she mentally fit pieces of an unseen puzzle together, "Master Atris was to send our regards after the incident. I believe she was well-received, but again that was some time ago."

"Atris is the woman who tracked the Exile, right?" Carth said, goosebumps spreading over his skin as the coincidences piled up.

"Indeed, and she was a renowned Jedi Historian."

"And… dead, as I recall," Carth tried to find a better word for it, but instead resorted to softening his voice as if it might sound more respectful despite his vocabulary failing him. Bastila glanced at him sidelong but didn't press further on the issue, continuing only with the matter at hand.

"This is true, but," Bastila paused, "The coincidences are certainly strange."

"I don't like this," Carth said, "If you ask me there are too many of these damn coincidences."

Bastila thought for a moment, her eyes faraway, before an uncharacteristic laugh erupted from her throat. Carth balked.

"Bastila, I don't see-"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, lowering herself into her chair again, "But perhaps you were right, for once."

"Right? About what?"

"About the Force," she continued, her laugh dissolving as she took a few measured breaths, "There are no such things as coincidences, there is only the Force."


Notes: It's been more than a while since I last updated. I was working on another fic in the meanwhile (now finished) but what kept this in hiatus for so long was mostly a mixture of a move, lots of weddings and travel, a new job, and not knowing what to do with Erebus in the library, plus I had made the mistake of spending too much time on it and spreading it out when it all could have really been split into two chapters. The other fic I worked on in the interim was clear-cut and therefore easier to write despite all this life stuff, and once I was done with it I still had to come back and re-read what I'd recently written for this fic and basically reacquaint myself with what I had planned. I've finally settled on a course of action, though (there were several options, which was the main problem, and I kept flip-flopping...) so the next chapter will focus mainly on tying up that plotline (finally!). Otherwise, as long as it's taken me to get to Peragus, I realize a lot of this other stuff needed to happen in order to build up for the post-game events that I have planned, so while a lot of this feels like a total retcon of kotor 2, trust me, it will all make sense. I hope *fingers crossed* Thanks to everyone who's stuck it out with me so far - it really means a lot :)