3951 BBY, Telos

Brianna

"You're getting better," Orenna said through what Brianna could almost call a smile.

"But not quite," Brianna finished for her sister, bowing her head as she caught her breath, willing the sweat gracing her brow to evaporate. Orenna's skin was bright and pristine, blemishless and only dewey enough to betray the fact that she was living. Brianna, on the other hand, could still feel the heat reddening her face. She wondered if her human mother was quick to do the same.

The two sisters stood opposite one another in the training hall, alone save for their reflections in the mirrors that lined the walls. Brianna had done as Atris had asked and requested that Orenna assist her with blocking, pleasantly surprised to find her sister agreeable to the proposal. It had been their little ritual this last week, and to Brianna's surprise she found herself looking forward to their sessions despite how much she'd beat herself up afterwards.

"An improvement from yesterday, to be sure," Orenna replied, bowing in turn. "I think that's enough for this afternoon."

Brianna turned to leave but turned on her heel again instead, a question forming on her face before the words made it past her lips. Orenna cocked her head, as well as an eyebrow, judgment crossing her features while she waited for her sister to speak.

"No assignments for me today, sister?" Brianna asked after an awkward gulp of air. Orenna shook her head.

"Not today," she said. "You did well. I mean it."

Brianna nodded though she almost didn't believe her, containing her emotion and tucking it away, feeling the warmth of her pride somewhere deep in her chest as she bowed at Orenna again and finally left the room. She counted her footfalls as they echoed through the academy's empty halls, finding it oddly comforting to be alone again. It was easier being alone.

Walking the halls without having any sisters to trail behind calmed her, especially since she didn't have any specific orders to follow. For now, she would head to her room and meditate on what she had learned today, practicing once her body had rested enough to train until she tired once more. It was the only way should keep herself busy since returning from Nespis, anxious about what had happened there while trying to ignore the itch her journey had inspired to see more of the galaxy and less of Telos, or at least this very specific corner of it.

The remainder of her sisters tended to the inventory they'd recovered from what remained of Nespis, the news having reached them only yesterday. Atris seemed unperturbed though it was in her nature to mask all emotion if not quell it entirely. Brianna could have sworn that Arianna's eyebrow had twitched, disappointment threatening to overcome her features at the thought of having failed their Mistress, but Atris had assured them that what they managed to recover was more than satisfactory. For now.

But if her other sisters were in storage, why was there a draft coming from the docking bay?

A chill ran through Brianna as she passed the center of the academy, pausing once she reached the facility's command center. She stilled, believing the space to be empty, but even as she stood there and saw nothing - she felt it. A presence. Just as she had on the mountainside.

Brianna's stride broke into a run as she dashed past the command consoles and towards the docking bay door, a massive mechanism that she now realized was left open. A shiver ran through her, chilling her to bones though not from cold.

The Academy has been compromised, her mind echoed, panic rising in her throat. She fell into stance, knowing she could not leave the entrance unmanned now despite her inner desire to run for her sisters' aid. Brianna stalked with measured steps toward the winds wailing just a few meters beyond, Atris' vessel the only thing marring her otherwise unobstructed view of the snowy mountainside. No one was there, save for the Last Handmaiden.

Brianna toed the open edge of the docking bay's threshold, glancing up into the mechanism to see if it had been tampered with. The door jamb was spotless. If anyone had broken in, they had either extracted the passcode or made use of an expert-grade security tunneler. Brianna yearned for a weapon but instead resorted to relying on her fists, white-knuckled at her sides as she counted her steps beyond the door and into the hangar bay.

The hair on the back of Brianna's neck stood on end. There it was again, that presence. Something both unknown yet familiar, the same sensation that plagued her on the mountainside, before she'd left for Tatooine, when she and her sisters had found… what exactly?

"I apologize if I caused any alarm," a voice echoed through the space. Fists still held at the ready, Brianna spun around until she made out the barest silhouette against the horizon, a woman clad in white hardly visible against the falling snow beyond the hangar entrance. "I was just… waiting for something."

"Mistress?" Brianna tried to keep the disbelief from her voice as she approached Atris' form at the edge of the airdock. "What are you doing out here?"

She tried to wrestle with too many thoughts at once - had the mountainside memory been something out of a dream? And why did Atris not sound like herself? Brianna had always found comfort in Atris' presence, ever since the woman had brought her and her sisters here in the wake of their father's death. But now Atris read cold, like the mountain, and while something about her was familiar, it was not the feeling Brianna often gleaned from her caretaker.

"You are stronger than you realize, Brianna. In truth, you are the strongest of your sisters," Atris said instead, ignoring Brianna's query. Mistress' voice was airy but laced with an undercurrent of something darker. Unsure if she was in trouble, Brianna's mind flashing back to the grey robes tucked behind her cot and what they meant, she froze over the threshold. Before she could utter anything in disbelief, Atris continued, her tone even, calculated and sure. "But you are also the most vulnerable, which is why they will always dub you the last of the handmaidens."

With this, Atris turned, a serene smile spiriting over her lips though the expression did not meet her eyes. Atris nodded, beckoning that Brianna join her. Brianna unstuck herself from the open docking bay door and approached her Mistress' side. Atris turned, gesturing her hand forward as if pointing at something, but all Brianna could make out was falling snow.

"Remember that mission I told you about?" Atris said, her voice faraway as her eyes remained somewhere in the distance. Brianna tried to follow her gaze but found nothing, the Telos countryside so swathed in heavy snowfall that anything beyond a few meters was impenetrable to the naked eye. Eventually, Brianna nodded.

"She is coming," Atris replied, her voice a whisper. "Here, to Telos. I feel it."

Brianna looked to Atris, studying her Mistress' features as if they might be different this time. But Atris was as she always had been, even down to the very strands of her ivory hair pulled taut into the intricate braided knot at the back of her head.

"The Exile?"

"Yes, the Exile."

Atris was not mocking her, instead savoring the sound of the word on her tongue as she echoed it back, glancing at Brianna now. Her silver eyes bore into Brianna's blue - limned with regret, disappointment? - before looking away again, more hollow than Brianna had ever seen them.

"I will need your assistance again," Atris said. "If you are up to the task."

"Of course, Mistress! Always," Brianna answered, almost too quickly. She squared her shoulders and retained her eye contact with Atris, even if the woman was already looking off in the distance again. "I am ready."

"Good," Atris replied. She turned to her again, her eyes crinkled, though there was still something off about the woman. The presence Brianna felt when she entered the room was still there, lingering like a ghost - something familiar but different, not the usual sense she got from Atris, something unknown and buried, deep within her memory. A feeling forgotten, but not entirely. Brianna could not discern what it was though she nodded just the same, trying not to fidget beneath her Mistress' gaze. "Good."


3951 BBY, Hyperspace

Eden

It was strange being on a ship like this - small, cozy, meant for shipping cargo instead of armies. Her room on the Harbinger had been devoid of any home-like comforts, and while this hunk of junk lacked any finesse, something about the ship's exposed parts grounded her, settling her nerves. Eden ran her hand along the vessel's unfinished walls, almost tasting its metal tang in her mind, as she made her way back to the cockpit, comforted by its imperfections.

The ship was modest, boasting only two dormitories and a cramped common area that also shared square footage with the ship's lone refresher. Something about it seemed familiar, lived-in, though Eden knew she had never been on a ship like this. It was as if she had seen it in a dream.

"How's she doing?" Atton's voice crept from the cockpit, sensing Eden's presence as she approached. Eden almost laughed darkly, a shadow of it creeping into her voice as she answered, wondering if her footfalls were really that heavy as she daydreamt.

"Surprisingly well for someone who just lost a hand," Eden said as she entered the cockpit proper, watching her own left hand as she flexed it in and out of a fist.

"What about you, though?"

Eden paused, lifting her gaze from her hand to Atton, surprised to find him watching her with interest – not a hint of malice in his eyes for what she just ordered him to do before hightailing it into hyperspace. Instead, he looked almost concerned.

"Me?"

"Yeah, didn't you, I dunno, feel Kreia lose her hand or something?"

At this, Atton turned, mumbling the words towards the end of his sentence to muffle the fact that he'd been paying attention. Something at the back of Eden's mind felt like smiling, if not out of curiosity, but instead she found herself looking at her hand again, her mouth slacking into a furrowed frown.

"I did," Eden said. "I think it's fine for now, but still… strange."

"More Jedi nonsense, I take it," Atton breathed, a little too casual for someone having just caused the largest explosion this side of the Outer Rim since the Mandalorian Wars. Either that or the man was more exhausted than she realized.

"So, what's the deal with this ship?" Eden said, slapping a hand on the wall, indicating the very vessel that now hopefully shepherded them away from further disaster. "Find out anything interesting?"

"Not really," Atton huffed, "though I did see that it's called the Ebon Hawk if that means anything to you."

Ebon Hawk, Eden echoed silently in her mind, her eyes soaking in the sight of the cockpit and its weathered controls. Something about this ship felt familiar, and the oddness of the name only solidified her unknown intuition. The feeling of wandering a dream or a forgotten memory did not fade with the knowledge but instead grew tenfold, and Eden wasn't sure whether the ship's odd familiarity was a comfort any more than it was a newfound worry.

"Of course the only space-worthy ship on that sorry ball of magma would be twenty years old, and rigged to boot." Atton mumbled through Eden's silence, still fussing with the ship's controls. "This thing is a true relic, you know that?"

"What makes you say that?" Eden asked, thankful for Atton's affinity for hearing himself talk as she sidled up alongside the navigational chart. It glowed white-green, enticing her towards its sprawling celestial map. The display was outdated, she had to give Atton that, but nearly everything she'd met on Tatooine in the last few years would have been considered ancient by industry standards. "Rigged, I mean, not old. Old is obvious."

Atton glanced at Eden over his shoulder, his eyebrows shooting up and disappearing into his hair, as he allowed himself a moment of surprise. Eden smirked. She'd only known the guy for about a day and already she had developed a hobby of catching him off-guard.

"The commands, mostly," he said eventually, turning back to the console, "Most ships have standard commands depending on the make, but this one seems to have been coded in a specific key. It's not impossible to decipher but it's annoying, to say the least."

"Coded?"

"Input commands are less obvious than they would be in a ship right off the assembly line. Like if you have certain phrases set to autofill on your comm, that sort of thing. Pressing button A doesn't necessarily perform function A. Anyone with half a brain can figure out a ship's controls with a manual, but this baby wouldn't line up with a manual if you tried. It's common in drug-running, mostly. A defense tactic, or deterrent is maybe the better word. Instead of an alarm system, it's meant to dissuade anyone from flying it at all by making it complicated and annoying. That, and it's meant to reroute system logs so it's harder for anyone snooping around to access the ship's navigational history. Hey, while you're over there, do you mind-?"

"On it," Eden confirmed, already keying in a sequence. But the map before her only jolted, as if glitching momentarily. She tried again. "Hm, nothing."

"Nothing?" Atton affirmed, turning full in his chair this time. "Have you tried-?"

Eden typed in another sequence and looked at Atton again, shrugging more emphatically.

"Like I said, nothing."

Atton slumped in his chair, looking at the screen from his vantage point, baffled. "Weird."

Turning around again, Atton began typing furiously away at the pilot's console, muttering to himself as he made quick calculations and tested other sequencing commands, inputting codes and apparently coming up empty judging by the unintelligible syllables that escaped his mouth in response.

"I thought you said it wasn't weird for drug-running vessels to do that?"

"It isn't, it's just… the system would have given you an error code or rerouted you to a different command or something. The fact that nothing happened is weird. It means this ship was more than just customized, it was likely rewired from the ground-up. We'll have to try some back-end codes if we have any chance of unlocking the nav chart, but we can worry about that later. Or not at all, since I plan on taking the next transport off Telos as soon as we land. If that's even an option."

"You and me both," Eden said, still playing with the galaxy map, marveling at the expanse of it all. It had been a while since she'd traveled, and longer since she considered how big the galaxy even was. "Any idea where you'd want to disappear?"

"Disappear?" Atton tensed at that, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he adjusted his ribbed jacket. Eden expected Atton would want to leave as many lightyears between him and whatever had landed him on Peragus as he could manage, but maybe there was more to the story.

"Yeah, I guess," he said after a few beats, trying to act cavalier. "I have a few places in mind, though sharing them with you kind of defeats the purpose of vanishing without a trace."

Atton glanced back at Eden, his eyes wide before he snapped his attention back to the console computer again, muttering, "No offense, or anything."

Eden laughed lightly, the feeling almost alien given everything that had happened of late. Quickly quieting, she bit her lip and allowed herself a breath before picking up the conversation again, oddly at ease.

"None taken," she said, "No witness, no crime, right?"

"Something like that," Atton laughed, though a clear sense of uncertainty laced his voice. "Though I'd argue all three of us are just as guilty of blowing up the entire economy of this sector. I flew the ship, sure, but it was only to save all our skins."

"I appreciate that," Eden said, "Though I'd counter and say that Kreia's assailant is to blame more than the three of us."

"Hah, right. Try telling that to the Republic officers that eventually arrest us at the ends of the universe for the impending fuel crisis of the century." At this Atton truly laughed, the weight of what had just happened finally sinking in. "Shit."

"Well, it's not the first time I was responsible for something that would affect the entire galaxy for decades to come," Eden sighed, her finger lingering over the green dot the chart labeled as Dxun - moon, quickly changing the subject before Atton could question whether she was being earnest or not. "So, what do you think this ship was used for before we hijacked it?"

"Drug-running, I'm guessing, but I doubt Kreia had anything to do with that. Though I am curious…"

"Curious about what?"

"How someone like her would acquire a ship like this?"

"I don't think it's that weird," Eden shrugged as she finally abandoned the navigational chart and sunk into the co-pilot's chair. "An old woman looking for any means of solo transport with little money? You see the way she dresses; I doubt she has a fortune at her disposal. I'm sure a spice runner with a price on their head would part with as few credits as they could if it meant an easy way to dispose of their crime-history-addled ship."

Atton made a face at this, considering her logic, but did not tear his eyes away from the pilot's console as he continued to type away.

"So if we don't get arrested for what happened on Peragus, we'll likely get jailed for posing as whatever drug runners once owned this ship. Wonderful." Atton huffed a hollow laugh. "I guess the only thing I'm left wondering is whether Sleeps-With-Vibroblades was on her tail before or after this ship's acquisition. Speaking of which… what happened?"

Atton only gestured to her vaguely, his eyes still glued to the pilot's screen. Eden paused, looking down at herself, confused, and back up at Atton again.

"To what?"

Atton tsked.

"Don't give me that. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been helpful. So - where's yours?"

Eden narrowed her eyes, shaking her head in utter confusion as she wondered how Atton went from how Kreia came into possession of this ship to lightsabers. The fact that Atton couldn't see her facial journey to better understand her bafflement didn't help, either.

"Let's leave my lightsaber out of this," Eden sighed. Not only was her old saber the last thing she wanted to dredge up from her memory, but the bodies Kreia let out of the airlock were evidence enough that Eden didn't need one to cause further injury. "It's a long story."

"Oh? I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber. Guess I heard wrong," he quipped, acting coy.

Eden rolled her eyes.

"So, were you a single-hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?"

Now Eden knew that Atton wasn't just preoccupying himself with the ship's unique code language for the sake of deciphering it. He was also using it as an excuse to avoid her gaze while he asked the usual questions other spacers did upon suspecting her affiliation with the Order. Typical.

"Double," she answered dishonestly after a beat, watching Atton side-long for his reaction.

"Hm," he said, unexcitingly, "I hear the twin blades are harder to master, but they can make enemies stampede over each other running for cover."

Eden crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes now as she watched Atton do his best to appear nonchalant, truly annoyed with him now.

"You know quite a bit about Jedi for being so averse to them," Eden accused, but Atton only snorted in response.

"I fought in the war, remember? It was hard not to notice," Atton said, "I saw a lot of Jedi use double-bladed sabers first-hand, gave them more slaughter per swing."

Eden winced, unhappy to have the memory revived in her mind's eye at the mention of it.

"You didn't go red, did you?"

Eden wanted to roll her eyes again, but instead she paused, a wicked smile taking over her face.

"Oh, yeah," she said, doing her best to sound sincere. "Redder than a laigrek's eye."

Atton jolted out of whatever he was doing to avoid her gaze and actually jumped in his seat, but Eden couldn't hold her serious expression long enough to relish in the longer con she'd planned the moment the words passed her lips.

"Maker, you're pathetic," she laughed, "What color saber do you think I had? I'm curious if you can guess correctly, Mr. 'I Drink and I Know Things'"

Atton smiled unsurely, trying to appear in on the joke even though Eden had managed to startle him.

"Lemme see," he said, affording her an honest glance after gathering his wits. Atton looked her up and down, assessing what he could of her upper half that was visible to him from the pilot's chair with an expression of mock intrigue, an idle hand stroking his non-existent beard in thought. "I'd say green, but that might just be because your eyes are green, so I'm gonna nix that guess and say… blue."

"Got a good look at my eyes, huh, flyboy?" Eden asked, but Atton ignored her, his face turning ever-so-slightly pink.

"No - yellow."

Eden only raised her eyebrows in response, crossing her arms even tighter over her chest.

"Purple, violet? I dunno, those colors are the same, right?" Atton asked, shaking his head. "Are there… more colors? Sith are easy to guess, but Jedi-"

It was cerulean, she thought with an internal laugh, realizing the inanity of it. Neither blue nor green, but pale and somewhere in between. Single hilt but dual wielded. She'd studied the double-blade under Kavar but quickly changed once he chose the Council over continuing to tutor her. It helped that Revan dual-wielded as well but that was a coincidence she wasn't about to unpack within the confines of her still-tenuous memory. Both her long and her short sword were the same shade of pale seafoam, wanting to emulate Kavar's blue saber, truest blue as the Guardian he was, but also green in honor of her brother and her then-Master, Atris, the only Master willing to teach her then, even if it was as an Historian, a role that wholly did not suit her.

"Wouldn't you know? I thought you fought alongside the Jedi." Eden was calling him out now, but Atton only laughed, trying to buy himself time while he thought of another witty comeback, ultimately failing.

"Well, whatever color it was, sure would be nice to have it now. Might make those Sith think twice before coming after us."

Eden shook her head, even if she understood where a spacer like Atton was coming from.

"A lightsaber wouldn't make a difference, trust me," Eden relented, "Sure it's better than a blaster, but it would only put more of a target on our backs."

Atton paused, really considering Eden now as he soaked in her words, perhaps surprised by her response.

"Fine, forget I said anything." Atton turned away from her after a moment, shaking his head. "Better get comfortable, though. It's about a day's ride to Telos. We're not out of this just yet."

Eden nodded, turning the co-pilot's seat all the way around to view the hallway behind her. Her eyes traced the piping on the walls as they led into the dark, where the passage turned slightly before opening up to the security room, wondering what Kreia was doing now in the dormitory she had claimed.

"No, we're not," Eden affirmed, her eyes still fixed on the shadow of the hall, but her mind far away, stuck somewhere between the past and present. She wondered what had become of her twin saber and if either one remained. One, she'd left at Alek's feet. The other she'd staked into the hideous statue at the center of the Coruscant Council chamber. Part of her wondered, but another part of her longed to forget. "Not by a long shot."


3951 BBY, Coruscant

Carth

"What I don't understand is why no one seems to be taking this threat seriously," Carth nearly seethed, trying to at least appear level-headed via comm despite the urgency in his voice. "We have evidence that the Sith have struck twice. I just got the reports back from Nespis – there's nothing left!"

"What evidence? And what Sith, Admiral?" was all Commander Needa could say, the old man's face unwavering. "The last known Sith was slain at the Star Forge per your report, Onasi. Or has your wife had another change of heart?"

"Commander Needa, that's enough," Supreme Chancellor Irulan cut in. Her voice was calm but it sliced through Needa's sneer like a knife. The Chancellor's beaded headdress ruffled slightly, either that or the static passed over her face just as she readjusted her usual veneer of utter poise. "Admiral Onasi, you know we don't have the manpower to continue investigating an event out in the Rim when the conflict on Onderon is worsening by the day, and soured exponentially now that we hear the Peragus fuel depot has been destroyed. I know you want to find out what's at the bottom of this, and all I can promise now is that we will eventually, but at the moment our focus should be on finding an alternate fuel source and tracking down what happened to the Harbinger."

"Yes, ma'am," Carth croaked. As hot as his blood ran at the thought of Needa accusing Nevarra of going rogue, it was the memory of Morgana that had him truly riled up – a planet decimated with no one to answer for it? It was despicable.

"I'm afraid to say that Commander Needa is correct on one thing, though," Chancellor Irulan interjected again, "And that is the lack of evidence surrounding the attacks at Nespis and Katarr. I admit, the incidents bear an uncanny similarity, but unfortunately much like the tragedy at Katarr, there just isn't anything left of Nespis to point us in the right direction."

"And who do you think has that sort of power?" Carth asked, his voice steady now, sure. "I believe it's a mistake to let it fall by the wayside. If we do, then the next time they strike, it'll be too late."

"I agree with Admiral Onasi," General Uful chimed in, his dark eyes glistening as he nodded sagely via comm, "I fear we may be setting ourselves up for a future disaster. We need to be prepared."

Despite sitting in a virtual meeting, as he often did, Carth felt General Uful's camaraderie in full, hoping the man saw his subtle nod in an earnest gesture of thank you.

"Find the Harbinger first, Admiral Onasi," Supreme Chancellor Irulan ordered, "And bolster our forces in Onderon's orbit by week's end."

Carth wanted to protest – he'd promised the Khoonda Initiative reinforcements, and he'd hoped to drop in on Telos should the Jedi Exile still appear there per their original plan. All he could do was nod.

"I will make it so, Supreme Chancellor."

Carth nodded – holding General Uful's gaze a moment longer than the others in a silent plea for future assistance should he need it – and logged off, gritting his teeth until everyone else had said their goodbyes, a heavy breath lodged in his throat. He wanted to throw his comm across the room, hungry to hear the ricochet of metal-on-metal, but he kept the comm firm in his grip. White-knuckled, he turned the contraption over in his hands, wondering what Morgana felt when the surface of Telos had been bombed and whether it had triggered a memory for Nevarra when Malak ordered the decimation of Dantooine. Without exploring the thought further, his chest aching, Carth placed the comm on his desk with a practiced calm and opened his console. Within two clicks and he was already at his destination – the Republic scout scanner.

"XS Stock Light freighter spotted circling the Moddell Subsector," a garbled voice announced. "Clearance code checks out."

Carth sighed, opening another window on his console. It was the only thing that kept him sane these days if only for the routine of it. It drove him mad to resort to it, but he had to know. With the disappearance of the Harbinger and the Ebon Hawk in its possession, Carth was about to lose his Maker-forsaken mind. He breathed in, feeling the weight of his own disappointment before he even began typing what was to be a letter to Mission, because he hadn't the heart to tell her face-to-face.

No dice on the Republic backup, kid, he started, backspacing before rewriting what he'd already typed verbatim several times before muttering a crude word in Huttese and continuing. I'm working on it though, don't worry. Might just take a while.

"D5-Mantis requesting clearance to Corellia", another Republic officer reported in the background. "No code though. Orders not to pursue further until landing."

Carth sighed, eyes fixed on the blinking cursor tormenting him from his screen. He couldn't send a message; Mission would be furious. And mostly because she'd likely read it in three days' time, max. That girl never checked her messages. She'd ignored time-sensitive notes from him before claiming she didn't realize that the bright blinking exclamation point accompanying his messages was a sign of urgency and not a simple indication of not bad news! Carth cursed under his breath again and deleted the entire drafted note, slamming his fist on the keyboard as another distorted message filled the empty din of the room.

"Dynamic-class freighter approaching Citadel Station", the voice said. "Clearance code is a-go, but orders are to apprehend the freighter immediately after docking. Something about the Peragus incident."

Dynamic-class freighter. Carth scrambled across his desk to grab the scanner, his fingers fumbling over the controls as he locked onto the frequency and hailed it with a shaking breath.

"This is Admiral Onasi requesting Alpha-Two clearance regarding all activity of said freighter," he ordered. Static answered him for a beat before an uncertain voice responded.

"Authorization?" it asked tentatively.

"Onasi-Seven-One-Green-Alpha," he uttered in a single rushed breath.

Carth held his breath. There was still a chance this was any old freighter, but Carth wasn't about to chalk anything up to coincidence. Not yet.

"Confirmed, Admiral. Will report as soon as we have intel, sir," the responding voice affirmed, confusion lacing the recruit's voice, no doubt surprised to hear someone of Carth's rank chime in on a routine call, let alone the head of the Republic Navy.

"Much appreciated," Carth sighed, "Over."

"Over."

Carth set down the scanner, his heart racing.

In a perfect world, Carth might allow himself to rest easy now, or at least allow himself to catch his breath. The Exile was still missing in action, but if he had any luck the Ebon Hawk would at least turn up again sooner rather than later. If finding the Exile had done anything to soothe Carth's nerves, it was bringing him closer to the ship Nevarra had disappeared on. Whether he wanted to find Nevarra on the Hawk was another question he wasn't willing to face yet, and the uncertainty of it killed him.

As much as Nevarra's sudden disappearance dogged him, Carth's feelings about her return – or more rather, the potential state of her return – scared him more.


3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Telos

Atton

Atton never expected there to be a day he'd be excited to see the sorry sight of Telos. It's patchwork landscape greeted him through the viewscreen of the pilot's computer before he caught a glimpse of it through the front of the cockpit and it was already feeling more like a haven compared to the pathetic excuse of a vacation it was to him merely a week ago.

Upon the first sight of green after a day's view of the white-blue of hyperspace, Atton almost considered rushing out of the cockpit to tell Eden. But he stopped himself. Part of him felt he owed it to her – the woman had not only thought to feed him back on Peragus but had waltzed into the cockpit, unannounced, to give him a dinner rasher and a half, plus a brimming glass of water from the refresher once she found the ship was fully stocked with at least a month's worth of food. She hadn't asked for an update or anything in return. In fact, the woman had barely looked at him as she shoved the food in his direction, already helping herself to a heaping serving of veg-loaf as she both entered and exited the room without so much as a half-uttered word.

Like a civilized person, now properly fed and rested, Atton waited until they were about ready to land until he made any ceremonious announcements. He came upon Kreia first, awkwardly, after having hoped he'd run into Eden and let the woman tell the witch the news in typical grapevine fashion. Instead, he'd run into the old woman just as she was entering the common area.

"I was just about to check on Eden," Kreia muttered, just as displeased to see Atton as he was her. "I believe she is in the garage tinkering with that droid."

Atton only shot his eyebrows up in response, noting the apprehension in Kreia's voice as she made her exit. Kreia gleaned everything she needed to know from Atton's expectant expression followed by his visible disappointment at seeing her, knowing his head was full of numbers otherwise. She mumbled a half-hearted something about seeing where Telos would lead them and disappeared into her dormitory, abandoning her similar quest to find Eden. Atton sighed.

As soon as he exited the main hold, he heard it.

"…Still examining the survivors of the damaged freighter – looks like it goes by the name of the Ebon Hawk…" a recorded female voice echoed throughout the lofty space, "Only one survivor, placed in the kolto tank for recovery. The carbon scoring on the vessel suggests it was in a battle, but no indication of who fired on it…"

Eden sat on the floor of the garage, her eyes glazed over as she watched a holofeed emitting from T3's projector. A jolt of grey-blue set the shadows in the immediate area on edge as static flickered through the image, like lightning striking outside a window in a dark room.

"What's this?" Atton asked.

"Logs from Peragus," Eden answered, her voice monotone, eyes unblinking.

"…couldn't get much from the navicomputer. I'm surprised that ship was able to make it inside the Peragus asteroid field without the drift charts."

T3 bleeped at this, his head nodding up and down proudly to which Atton grumbled, "What is this garbage? I think this droid is just getting off on itself."

An inane anger ate at him from the inside, momentarily pausing his internal coupling count just as Eden tsked and leaned forward, typing in a command so that T3 played a different log instead.

"…finished my examination of the droids from the Ebon Hawk freighter. The T3 unit looked like it had shut itself down. The protocol droid, however, made up for it. It talked my ear off for most of the hour, asking questions about the facility, the personnel, and so on."

Atton's annoyance dissipated as he recognized the man who'd fed him back in security, his goggles propped on his head in the holofeed just as they had been back in the detention center before Atton had blacked out and awoken to a half-naked Eden.

"Finding any patterns?" Eden hissed, brows furrowed. Before Atton could answer she played another clip.

"Something's wrong. Ever since we picked up that Sith firefight in the region, crewmen haven't been reporting for their shifts, and I can't reach people on the comm." The woman who spoke this time was clearly a Republic officer her badge glinting white in the static of the feed.

"This is from the Harbinger?" he asked unsurely, crossing his arms now.

Eden only nodded.

"The strange thing is, I keep feeling like someone's watching us, here in the ship, but I can't see anyone. I don't like this."

A shiver ran through Atton. He couldn't help but eye Eden, her eyes fixed on the feed from her vantage point on the floor.

"Checking the survivor from the Sith vessel – I'm not sure whether he's alive or dead, or what's even keeping him together. His flesh is cracked and scarred, and I'm registering several thousand fractures in his skeleton, as if each bone was splintered repeatedly over time… and then put back together. Judging from the scar tissue, I believe these wounds took place before his death. If so, he must have been in constant pain, since many of them show signs of having healed over before reinjury. I have no idea what's keeping him together. "

"Sleeps-With-Vibroblades," Atton muttered, to which Eden nodded. Atton's senses about the Sith had been correct, no surprise, but part of him was bothered by the fact that he'd never heard of someone like this before. Atton wondered if he'd crossed paths with someone like the undead man they'd glimpsed during his time on Korriban or if he'd blocked it from his memory for reasons Atton believed must have been good if he forgot so easily. It didn't seem likely, especially considering Sleeps-With-Vibroblades was the thing of nightmares.

The text EMERGENCY BROADCAST flashed within the garage space before the feed continued, as if Atton weren't already on edge.

"This is the medical officer," the same woman began again, though this time she was doubled over, hand aching over what was clearly an open wound. Atton tensed despite knowing everything he saw was in the past tense, "The soldiers sent to medical bay have just… died. I don't know where the subject went – I think he's gone to find more of the crew. With him are Sith… they just appeared right out of thin air, like they were wearing stealth generators, but… I think they were always on board. When we stopped to pick up that freighter, they must have come aboard the Harbinger. I have no idea how many are on the ship, there could be only a few, or as many as a hundred. And with communications cut off, we can't call for help. I think that… thing… in the tank… was a Sith Lord… alive this whole time, waiting for something to wake him up."

Eden stopped the recording and Atton did not know what to say to fill the silence that followed. He swallowed, the awkward sound of it filling the garage, but Eden barely blinked at him before she eventually spoke.

"It all comes down to me," Eden said, her voice a husk. "The Sith on the Harbinger, the HK on Peragus, and then the Sith following us again out of Peragus… They're after me. For the price on my head or whatever the case may be, but everyone on that Republic Cruiser? And Peragus? They're all dead because of me."

Atton could only stare, a vague memory of what he imagined was Eden suspended in kolto back on Peragus rushing into his mind, unaware to the world around her and how Atton unfortunately factored into it. A kaleidoscope of his half-memory folded over his image of Eden now, harrowed and angry on the floor of the Hawk's garage.

"I don't expect you to stay," she said as she rose to her feet, her eyes steely and her expression stone. "But I intend to see this through. I'll take you as far as I can before you're clear of this."

"Clear of what?" Atton said, not expecting his voice to come out in a whisper. But it did. Eden only squared with him, nearing until their faces were mere inches apart. She did not blink and Atton was afraid to.

"Whatever comes down on us once we reach Telos," she said huskily. "I have a… feeling."

She almost laughed, a maddened look overcoming her face before she quelled it with a purposeful cough and a shake of the head. "Just… just trust me on this."

"Sure," Atton agreed though he was unsure of what exactly he was agreeing to, yet he knew without a doubt that he would believe almost anything that exited Eden's mouth. "Sure, yeah."

Eden nodded, finally blinking until her olive eyes were nearly watering. Atton felt hot, remembering how she'd called him out for noting her eye color earlier, yet it didn't stop him from admiring the orange corona lining her pupils just before her irises burst in a half-molten bloom of a comforting mossy green, nonetheless.

"Good," she said. "Good."

Eden moved passed him, her hand briefly touching his arm as she went. Atton shuddered.

"We're almost there, by the way," Atton finally said just as Eden's silhouette disappeared from the garage. "To Telos. But… you already knew that didn't you?" he muttered, the second part to himself, feeling the fool all the while knowing Eden could no longer hear him. Or could she?

Despite how used to the view he was getting, at least of Eden, Atton knew he needed to be rid of these Jedi.

Sooner rather than later.


3951 BBY, Matale Estate, Dantooine

Mission

Mission often fell asleep to the calming sounds of a rumbling engine beneath her and the thunderous tones of Zaalbar's snoring beside her. Even though Zaalbar now slept in a cot about the same distance as his bunk was from hers on their old ship, something about the otherwise silent Matale farmstead unsettled her. After her untired eyes adjusted to the gloom in the guest wing of the Khoonda-reclaimed building, Mission snuck out of the room she and Zaalbar were assigned to wander the corridors.

It was almost dawn. A cool creeping glow lined the dark of the horizon outside, barely competing with the dimmed lights lining the hallway. Both spaces were oddly similar: enveloped in shadow but haloed by soft light. Mission wrapped her arms around herself, watching the blue of her knuckles fade to white as her hands clasped each opposite arm, grounding her to the waking moment. Despite her lack of sleep all evening, this felt more like a dream than any of her time feigning rest. She briefly wondered if she was dreaming. At least since before fate brought them to Tatooine…

She paused at the end of the second-floor hall. A line of windows spread out before her, overlooking the front entrance to the estate. Just beyond the paved entry path now long overgrown were Dantooine's notoriously endless grass meadows swathed in varying shades of green and beige, now all colored grey by the dawn-threatened darkness. She remembered her first thoughts upon landing here, how she'd never imagined a place could be so wet. Now Mission knew that the dampness she'd once equated to being sodden was only dew, and having since been to Manaan as well as many rain-heavy planets, Dantooine was arid in comparison. She'd seen so little of the galaxy then and it was hard to believe that Taris had been her entire world once, an existence in miniature that at the time felt so large and sprawling.

Eyes fixed on the swaying grass, Mission suddenly craved the feeling of the wind on her skin, part of her willing to reconfigure what morning dew felt like in her memory, and padded down the hall and to the front entrance, sharing a half-nod with the guards outside once she slipped into the open.

For a moment, the air was bitingly cold and utterly refreshing, filling her lungs with a burst of feeling unmistakably awake and alive. But before the sensation had enough time to seep in, several silhouettes materialized on the still-brightening horizon. Mission braced herself despite knowing full well who approached.

"How'd the first pass go?" she ventured into the half dark, walking towards the silhouettes until they were shadows no longer. The figure closest to her materialized into Zayne, messy brown hair and all, followed by a harrowed looking Asra and Darek, with the man named Mical taking up the rear.

"Interesting… ly," Zayne answered, a light laugh lacing his voice, though Mission could tell from his expression alone that it was out of anxiety and not mirth. She looked from Zayne to the others, finding similar expressions set on each of their faces.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"Nothing good, kid," Asra grunted, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Nothing good."

Darek shook his head and Mical avoided Mission's gaze entirely. Most of the search party moved passed her and into the estate, except for Zayne.

"What?" Mission asked, growing uneasy under Zayne's unsure gaze. He was watching her, as if searching for something to say but coming up empty. He laughed again though this time the undercurrent of unease wasn't so clear on his face.

"Weird, isn't it?" he began, "I manage to meet both you and Carth during the wars, separately, only later to find you not only know each other but travelled with –"

He paused. Mission knew he meant to say Revan, stopping himself as if uttering her name might summon the version of her the galaxy still felt unsure about.

"And now this?" he laughed again, his voice hollow. "Lousy as far as reunions go."

At this, Zayne looked at her dead on, his brow squinting under the rising sun now cresting behind her, its heat already spreading across her back.

"Shit way to learn we're colleagues now, huh?" Mission rejoined, "I didn't realize we were in the same line of work."

"Yeah, me neither," Zayne said. "Coincidences have an odd way of manifesting in my life so I can't say I'm surprised, but still…"

Zayne shook his head before looking off into the distance, letting his sentence go unfinished.

"How bad is the situation out here?" Mission asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer. Judging by Zayne's reaction, she didn't, but she did not get to hear why because just as Zayne opened his mouth to elaborate, his comm chimed. Zayne paused, mouth opening and closing before saying nothing and fishing the comm from his pocket. His face went slack as soon as he looked at the screen.

"Give me a minute?" he asked before turning abruptly and answering. "Hey! Sorry I missed you."

Mission bit her lip and turned away as well as if it might muffle the sound of Zayne's conversation. She ambled forward into the tall grass, wading until the field's tendrils reached neck-height. Hand outstretched, she felt the dew, trying to commit the feeling of it to memory without eavesdropping on Zayne's conversation but finding it nearly impossible not to perceive every word.

"Looks like we'll be here for a while, but I get why you had to leave," Zayne said softly behind her. Mission knew he meant his crew. They were the entire reason Zayne redirected them here in the first place. But as to who specifically he was talking to…

"I'm being careful, Jarael," he continued, to which the comm hissed loud enough for Mission to hear That means nothing coming from you!

Mission stifled a snicker, but despite her laugh felt a strange sort of longing overcome her. She and Big Z had never once separated, save for that one time on Taris just before they left the planet for good, and if she was honest? She probably never would be again. At least not electively. Mission had crushes here and there, and Big Z had a family once, but neither one of them craved for anything outside of what they had in each other. And being away from her best friend, even if momentarily and not by plan, left her feeling empty at Zayne's hurried apology.

"As careful as I can be! I promise." he assured. The woman called Jarael's voice didn't test the strength of the comm's speakers again, so Mission did not hear her utter another complaint from the distance she stood. Mission smiled, feeling the quiet embarrassment radiating off Zayne even as they stood facing away from one another. "It doesn't look good out here, though, so it might be a while before we can regroup."

At this, Mission shuddered. The calm quiet of the morning, and the soothing presence of Zayne at her back, an old friend long forgotten but not entirely, eclipsed what bad news just greeted her moments ago. And now it all came crashing back.

Zayne continued talking behind her, now in even quieter tones, but Mission was no longer listening. Instead, she was thinking back to the last time she'd been here, with Nevarra at her side. The woman had been just as new to this place as Mission was, at least in the moment. As much as Mission knew that was not true, not really, she knew that the truth did not discount whatever she'd experienced alongside Revan while she was Nevarra, traveling a galaxy Mission only thought she'd see with her brother but instead traipsed about with an amnesiac Sith Lord aboard the Ebon Hawk. She missed that ship. It was the whole reason she'd bought the one she had now – or did, before it blew up. If she was lucky, maybe the Hawk was still out there somewhere, for Carth's sake as well as hers.

As Mission ruminated, her thoughts focused on the past even as she watched the tall grasses sway in real-time, Zayne wandered a ways, becoming a silhouette again as his voice grew softer, quieter, calming Jarael with his usual charm, trying to convince her that everything was going to be alright just as much as he was trying to convince himself. But just as Zayne retreated, someone else approached. Mission did not turn at first, though part of her knew she should, and it wasn't until a voice greeted her that she finally did.

"I'm afraid we haven't been formally introduced yet," the voice said, "Though I understand if you wish that to remain the case."

Mission didn't expect to be so calm as she adjusted her footing, her eyes falling almost sleepily upon the notorious Sith in their midst. At least, that's what the rumor claimed he was.

"You were on Tatooine," she said calmly, cooler than she felt. The morning chill tore through her thin jacket, but she betrayed no inner disquiet to the man standing before her. "What was that all about?"

"I was looking for something," he said evenly after half a moment's contemplation, his green eyes glinting in the dawn light. Mission could see the resemblance – between him and General Valen – though their similarities stopped at their vaguely similar appearance. Same dark hair, almond eyes tinted green highlighted by their high cheekbones – but where General Valen's chin ended in a soft peak, the man before her bore a jaw hewn from stone, the muscles flexing visibly even in the low light. He had fewer freckles than the General, and his hair was loose though about the same length, shorn at the collarbone but black all the way through, not dyed a haphazard blonde like his sister's.

"You didn't expect to find her there, did you?" Mission said, suddenly thinking of Griff. She'd found him unexpectedly at Anchorhead, too, half a galaxy away from where he promised he'd one day return for her. Part of Mission wished she also had the opportunity to brawl her brother in the back alley of the Czerka outpost and regretted not knowing the option was on the table. "Your sister?"

"I think you already know the answer to that," the man said, smirking. His face almost softened but his jaw remained tense.

"Mission," she said, extending a hand. The man looked at it before looking at her, his eyes diminishing into suspicious slits as he surveyed her, reading her intentions before carefully taking her hand and shaking her palm once with more vigor than Mission expected from a man as wiry as him. "The name's Mission, I mean. Not the word mission, the noun. People get confused by that sometimes."

"Erebus," he said, cocking his head. No title, no preamble. Just Erebus.

Before he could ask his next question, Mission answered for him, as drunk on non-sleep as if she'd been sipping juma all night.

"I've met Sith before," she said coolly, "Twice, actually."

Erebus said nothing. His only response was his eyebrows darting upward, his forehead growing wrinkled with momentary interest and surprise.

"I wonder which one you'll be more like," she said before turning on her heel and heading back to her room, uninterested in the man's response or what Zayne might have to say about the encounter.

Mission felt oddly at ease leaving Erebus there, and found that nothing bad happened when her back was turned as she walked the entire length of the path back up to the Matale entrance. Somehow her unusual calm only ensured that Mission slept all the more soundly once she returned to her bunk. Despite Zaalbar's eventual protests that it was morning and they had work to do.

And when she slept, she dreamt of Revan and Nevarra aboard the Ebon Hawk – both the same person and separate people, all at once. It made sense, in the moment, and Mission would try to hold onto that memory, tenuous as it was, for as long as she could.