3951 BBY, Aboard the Ebon Hawk, Orbiting Telos
Eden
"Where did you say you came by this ship, Kreia?" Eden asked, trying to be casual when she made to leave Kreia's quarters. She'd turned around just as she was about to leave, pausing just-so as if the thought had only occurred to her when it had actually been the entire reason Eden paid the woman a visit.
"I did not say," Kreia said. "But it was leant to me by an old friend, if you must know. It is to remain with me for safekeeping."
"So… which one is it? Did you borrow it or was it given to you?" Eden pressed, "I'm sorry, I just—"
"No matter," Kreia chuckled, though no mirth laced her voice. Kreia adjusted herself on the bed so that her legs now touched the floor, making up for her lack of a hand as if she'd always been built that way. "And both are true. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I was hoping that you might know where I could find some proper clothes. If any existed."
"Ah," Kreia said after a moment, easing into an awkward smile. Eden wasn't sure if Kreia could tell what she wore through the Force or if the woman had just realized the weight of her question since dress didn't often mean anything to a person without physical sight. "I had not accounted for what little attire is medically necessary for being suspended in kolto. Nor do I imagine whatever you found on Peragus to be satisfactory."
"No," Eden sighed. "Not only is it inappropriate but it's also incriminating."
Kreia cocked her head before mouthing another Ah, though this one was silent. "Something that would no doubt link us to Peragus, I take it?"
"Unfortunately," Eden said, biting her lip. "So, any luck I might find something else to wear around here?"
Kreia considered Eden's question a moment before standing slowly and crossing the room. Eden hadn't realized, but opposite the bunk stood a wall of closets, each compartment set into the panels. Kreia pressed her good hand to the corner of one such panel until its door softly popped from its frame, revealing a small collection of linens. After some rummaging, Kreia produced a dark brown and black pile from the shelf before shoving it in Eden's direction.
"These might be your size, if perhaps slightly too long in the leg."
Eden was about to ask Kreia how in the world she might know such a thing but instead she uttered, "Thanks, I appreciate it."
"The sonic shower is just beside the medbay," Kreia continued, walking back to her designated bunk before taking a seat again. "You might want to wash up as well if you wish to make a convincing impression."
Eden nodded, unsure but somehow confident that Kreia knew that she had, and navigated to the center of the ship. She'd spent the better half of their trip wandering the halls, peacefully alone, studying its every nook without prodding too much. Eden wondered how many other hidden compartments this vessel held when she passed the brightly lit medbay and came upon the shower's entrance just beside it, similarly set into the panels as the closet in Kreia's dormitory had been.
Eden moved to press the panel to reveal the door, shifting the bundle of linens in her arms so it was held between one hand and her chin, when she smelled it – You always smell like cotton, Eden had once whispered into the crook of Alek's neck before playfully kissing him there. It's cute.
It's not on purpose, I can't help it, Alek had retorted, laughing as he pushed her away playfully before pulling Eden back in close. The Coruscant Academy has a deal with a local dry cleaner in the city, some ancient business owing the Jedi a debt or so the story goes. All our robes are cleaned there.
Mm, I like it, she had hummed as she eased closer, pressing a kiss to his mouth before continuing. It always makes me think of you.
Eden nearly dropped the clothes just as the door opened, catching them mid-fall as soon as she caught sight of the sonic shower. Eden let out a low whistle, almost blissfully forgetting her reverie as she set her sights on by far the most – and only – lavish part of this ship. Tucked beside the well-kept but outdated medbay was the most modern shower Eden had ever laid eyes on. The room was split into two large parts: a sprawling shower and a deep bath. The shower area was surrounded by jets, the likes of which Eden suspected mimicked waterfalls, and the tub sported similar jets though more likely of the variety that were meant to soothe sore muscles and entice the many lovers of whoever bathed there.
"Yeah," she whispered to no one, "This was definitely the ship of a drug lord, alright."
Set into the far wall was a holoscreen and a panel that allowed the user to access the comm, adjust the water pressure and even alter the color of the recessed lights that lined the bottom of the tub, but all Eden could focus on was the smell of the linens she'd just acquired from Kreia's old friend.
Eden paused, closing her eyes as she breathed in the scent again, letting it send her back in time and truly place the memory. It reminded her of Alek still, but also of Coruscant in general the more she ruminated. Both to her surprise and to her relief. Upon further inspection it reminded her a bit of the locker rooms in the training area there, how fresh and crisp the towels would smell after an afternoon's practice in anticipation of sweaty patrons awaiting a reprieve, or how Aiden's room smelt so bright when she'd visit, clean and sharp as always. Everything on Dantooine had smelled of grass, and Eden preferred it then and still did if she considered it – it reminded her of Serroco, but sweeter – but the plush smell of warm cotton eased an inner part of her she wasn't aware needed soothing.
Eden shook her head, ridding her mind of the memory, before shrugging off the mining uniform and its uncomfortable fit before sidling into the shower proper. Eyeing the pile of clothes as she entered, almost all thought exited her brain as soon as the water pressure struck. Like a tidal wave, the water softened her completely, and Eden could swear she felt her eyes nearly roll back in their sockets as the waves eased her muscles into softened dough.
No such thing had existed on Tatooine. Most residents resorted to dry sand baths unless they had enough money for a decent moisture rig, which were few and far between. In fact, a moisture rig had been responsible for bringing Eden to Tatooine in the first place. Has it really been almost two years? The last decent shower she'd had was taken hastily on Nal Hutta, eager to get off-world once a bar patron recognized her from the Dxun campaign, but she was also itching to move the moisture converter she'd salvaged from a downed cargo ship knowing that Nal Hutta was far too damp a place to make use of it. She'd gone to Tatooine in hopes of turning a profit before making her next move, only when she did, Eden had not predicted that she would end up buying the old droid seller's shop out from under him with the money she'd made…
Eden shook her head, eyes still closed to the running water. No. As relieved as she was to recall anything from before the spotty nothingness that preceded Peragus, Eden didn't want to be bogged down by recollection now. She needed to relax. Counting her breaths and adjusting her posture, Eden pushed Tatooine from her mind… only for the Sith from earlier to take its place.
Was he someone she had met and forgotten? Was this walking corpse somehow a missing part of her past? Too much was still hazy, and part of her was afraid to learn of the man's true origins. When she'd kissed Alek all those years ago, relishing in his soothing scent, he'd still had hair. Thick, black and a little coarse when she'd run her fingers through it. The last she'd seen of him his head was completely shorn, gleaming blue tattoos streaking his skull in his hair's place. The man they saw on the Harbinger had no such tattoos, but Eden had shuddered when she first spied the man's bald head, a small, scared part of her expecting – or almost hoping – that it was Alek, back from the dead and eager for a rematch.
But Alek was dead now. And so was the man that he became.
3951 BBY, Aboard the Harbinger, Hyperspace
Darth Sion
It was a warning at best. At worst - a joke.
Sion clutched the severed hand of his old master, withering in the wake of his bristling rage and both wishing it would rot faster but somehow remain preserved and intact forever for him to keep as a talisman. A reminder of yet another failure.
She was so close. So close.
The white-hot rage that seared through him when he had sliced off her hand - Traya then, but Kreia now - thrummed through him still, but the thrill was fast fading. Her fingers had begun to curl the moment he willed the Harbinger into hyperspace, and now they were beckoning that he follow her, wherever she roamed now, taunting him to finish the fight.
No. Not yet.
Sion seethed but stayed the course. He could order his remaining assassins to follow his old master, but he instead ordered that they return to Malachor, to the Trayus Academy. Gnawing his teeth at the name alone, he knew this was the better course of action. The smarter one. She would smirk at that if she knew.
"We're set to arrive in three days' time," an acolyte whispered in his direction as Sion sat there in the center of the death-addled bridge of the Harbinger. "Shall I prepare anything specific for your arrival?"
Sion's gaze remained fixed on Kreia's hand, the skin curling away from the gore innards of her flayed flesh and exposed bone. He turned it over, as if examining a rock or a fossil, fascinated with its inner workings as if it might betray some secret of the galaxy. Though in this case, perhaps it did.
Energy ebbed and flowed from Kreia's fast-decaying fingers, wrinkling like skin held beneath water too long, curling ever inward as if in challenge. Find me if you dare. Finish the job.
"Bring me straight to the archives," Sion said, his voice a husk of itself, faraway, as his mind focused on Kreia's pitted palm, "I wish to do some research."
"Very well, m'lord."
Sion winced but smiled, pleased with the utterance of the title but unsure if he deserved it if all he had to show for it was a severed hand and not a head.
If he could wait long enough until they arrived back at Malachor, he could have had the hand preserved, as if in amber. Forever displayed as a trophy or a bitter reminder, whatever his conscience demanded of the day. But before his acolyte could even leave his presence, their back still facing him as they approached the door, Kreia's hand shriveled, as if disgusted with itself, and atrophied - the skin peeling away in flakes before dissolving completely into dust in the palm of Sion's hand. He closed his fingers, grasping what he could of the debris like trying to catch smoke, but most of the motes were gone by the time his fist closed. When he reopened his hand only a few fragments remained.
If he could not destroy Kreia, if he could not rid his mind of her words, he could at least rid the galaxy of her new protege. He felt her presence here, even in the woman's absence. The Exile Traya had referred to her, years ago. She was just an idea then, a bedtime story, a lesson to spur him on and an obsession that would lead to Nihilus' undoing, seeking out her wounds in the Force and feeding on the entropy left in her wake in order to sustain himself until there was nothing left.
Sion felt it now, the festering tear in the fabric of the universe surrounding this ship, haunting it like a ghost. He was partially responsible for the death here, yes, but this ship had been cursed before he stepped foot on it. He'd known it then, masquerading as a veritable lifeless corpse instead of the waking one he was in truth. And he felt it there in the Harbinger's dormitory, his gaze meeting the Jedi's for a moment before she fled - chased by death, surrounded by it, and bringing it wherever she went. He would not follow her, not yet.
First, he would retrace the Exile's steps. He would chase the Exile's ghost to the ends of the universe and back again.
And when he returned, he would break her.
3951 BBY, Matale Estate, Dantooine
Mission
"No one can confirm the body?" Erebus asked, arms crossed. Mission still sensed Zayne eyeing daggers in the man's direction, but Erebus seemed too used to it to care. If anything, he might have been relishing in it a bit too much.
"Not so far, no," Administrator Adare sighed. "At least not without arousing suspicion. No one has reported him missing as of yet, but the scavengers have kept to themselves so far, so I feel the theory that this unfortunate man was one of them is likely the correct one."
"And what is your assessment, doctor?" Erebus asked again, this time at Mical. "Cause of death, motive?"
"It's obvious, no?" Mical said, tilting his head this way and that at the exposed wounds of the man laid out before them. "Blunt force trauma to the head, or the face if we want to be specific. Why they were so brutal is the real mystery. These mercenaries shouldn't have any personal stake in this, so my guess is that they've truly teamed up with this resistance force. They would take this personally, and they want Khoonda gone. They want to prove that the Khoonda Initiative cannot protect their own, so this is how they'll achieve it."
Mission positioned herself strategically so all she could see was the white cloth draped over the remainder of the cadaver's body and nothing else. Still groggy with sleep, Big Z would nudge her every so often with a gentle hand, his expression serious and stern. It wasn't that Mission didn't take this seriously. If anything, it scared the hell out of her, and she wished she could return to the safety of sleep. It was one thing when they were dealing with rogue mercenaries, but she wasn't emotionally ready to deal with actual murder and the threat of more carnage to come.
"Hm," Erebus nodded after a moment's consideration, "It can't be a coincidence that Master Vrook is missing and these mercenaries are after Jedi and Jedi artifacts. I think this underground rebellion likely has Master Vrook in their custody, though how they managed that is a true feat… but what other leverage could they have? They ask the Golden Company to take out Khoonda or at least weaken it to the point that their ragtag gang stands a chance at leading a true coup, and in exchange they hand over a seasoned Jedi. It's the only way that relationship makes sense."
"I'm afraid I agree," Mical muttered. Zayne let out an annoyed huff, but Mission found herself siding with Mical on this one. Erebus did have a point. As much as the man made everyone in the room uneasy, there was an odd logic to everything he'd said thus far, despite the derisive tone that undercut everything that escaped his mouth.
"What do we do about the Sandrals then?" Adare asked, her grey gaze steely as she squared on Mission and Zaalbar. "We have just enough manpower to protect this facility, but not enough to send out to an estate as large as the Sandral Farmstead."
From what Mission remembered, the Sandral's estate was as sprawling as the Matale's. With an area so large, manning the main entrance was hardly enough of a buffer should anyone decide to breach the place.
"You could ask them to stay here," Mission offered, "There are plenty of unused rooms upstairs. Why not ask them to lay low here until this blows over? We'd have more luck keeping them safe where there's already protection."
Adare only smiled faintly in response, her face betraying her disappointment enough to fill in the silence. Before Mission could question further, the woman's assistant piped up.
"The Sandrals aren't big fans of the Initiative, and they have a lot of pull around here," Dillan said from the other side of the room, head in her hands as she scanned the day's data pads' worth of logs and requests. The woman looked up after a moment to meet Mission's questing gaze, a lock of black hair falling into her face before she unceremoniously blew it out of the way. "They haven't outright opposed or denounced us yet, but they've sent their youngest to voice their complaints. On many occasions."
"At least they're willing to talk," Zayne said. "It would be far more difficult to warn them of anything if they refused speaking to you at all."
"True," Adare said, "But the fact that they've been so vocally disapproving doesn't give me confidence that they would accept our help even if we were doing them a favor by warning them. If anything, it would only further prove their suspicions about our leadership."
"If that's the case, then they would have a point," Erebus said bluntly. "If you can't protect your own, then what can you offer?"
"We're trying to foster community, genius," Dillan snapped. "But it's difficult to please everyone when each farmstead has their own agenda, based on a reality that no longer exists in this corner of the galaxy, and they're not willing to budge."
"Compromise is the goal, and some have agreed to our collective terms," Adare explained further, and with more patience than her counterpart – though judging by the look she gave Dillan the woman at least agreed with what her assistant relayed with less grace than she could afford. "With how much damage was done to Dantooine, there is only so much we can do to help foster regrowth without aid. That is where cooperation comes in. As well as Republic help."
Adare's gaze hadn't shifted from Mission's, and with her final words the Administrator's stare hardened. Mission only sighed.
"Look, I'm just the messenger," Mission said, raising her hands in hypothetical surrender. "But I stand by my suggestion. Whether the Sandrals trust you or not, we know that they're being targeted. If we don't do something about it, no one will."
"She's right," Zayne said, inching closer to Mission and Zaalbar, the latter grunting in agreement. "Politics aside, an entire family may be dead by tomorrow. Whether it hurts your cause in the long run or not, your priority should still be the safety of your people. It's already dangerous that someone was murdered so brutally right under your nose. What happens when the rest of them find out about it?"
"Nothing nearly as bad if another family pays the price, first," Dillan groaned, completing Zayne's unspoken thought. "They're right, Administrator. We have to say something. We can't afford not to."
Adare nodded, soaking in Zayne's words and Dillan's affirmation of them before finally saying, "Indeed. But how we go about doing so is crucial. Our goals aside, I would not rest if we tried to warn the Sandrals and have them turn us away only to find them dead by morning. How can we warn them without making it about Khoonda?"
"I'll go," Mission said almost immediately, "Or… maybe someone else they know?"
"I met them when I was a child," Erebus said, "I'd helped the family on several occasions."
"As did I, coincidentally," Mical added, turning away from the body now. "Perhaps if we're accompanied by others, our warning may be taken with some credulity."
The barb in Mical's statement wasn't lost in his addendum, but to undercut it he immediately nodded in Mission and Zaalbar's direction.
"You were both here once, correct?" Mical asked. "Did you ever cross paths with the Sandrals?"
Mission nodded and Zaalbar answered in the affirmative with a low growl.
"The Sandrals and the Matales, actually," Mission began, "It wasn't exactly the best of times, what with the family feud and all."
"Feud?" Mical echoed, taking a step closer as if he'd misheard her. "I remember them being rival farmsteads but not much beyond that."
"Well, that might have been the case when you were a kid, but things escalated by the time I met them when I came here with Nevarra."
"Nevarra?" It was Erebus' turn to echo her now. "Nevarra Draal?"
"Y-yes?" Mission wasn't sure how to answer, nor if she should elaborate. Erebus nodded, considering the implications, but said nothing further.
"What happened?" Mical pressed, shooting a furrowed glance the Sith's way before returning his attention to Mission.
"We found Casus Sandral's body in the canyon," Mission started, reimagining the scene in her mind's eye as she spoke – it was otherwise idyllic were it not for the corpse in the valley, picked over and abandoned, not much unlike the body that laid before them now. Mission shuddered but continued, "His father thought it was Ahlan Matale's doing. We went to investigate only to further discover that Nurik Sandral had kidnapped Shen Matale in retaliation for what had happened to Casus, only for his daughter to fall in love with the guy while he was holed up in their house. We sorted it out eventually, but I'm not sure they'd be exactly happy to see us."
"Casus, dead?" Mical asked, descending slowly into a chair as his eyes remained on Mission. Zaalbar reached for him with a steadying grip.
"You had helped them through a difficult time," Adare said. "Perhaps you're exactly who they need to see in order to believe our warnings."
Mission looked from Mical and Zaalbar to Erebus across the room, who was already looking at her – his eyes sharp and livid green. His expression wasn't malicious but it wasn't friendly either. It was calculating, wondering something he did not want to utter out loud. At least not yet.
"It's worth a shot," Mission said, finally pushing herself off the wall she had been leaning against. "We've already talked ourselves in circles and it'll be dark soon. I say we bring Asra or Darek as well if they're up for it, we could use a good sharpshooter or two."
Darek stood at attention, about to accept, when a hand steadied and stilled him.
"I don't like the sound of this," Orex said. It was the first time the man had spoken up since the ride back from the ruins of Nespis. Orex and Glitch had remained on Zayne's small shuttle while the rest of them scoped out the area, choosing to linger behind even when they'd made contact with Khoonda and played nice. Now, Orex's white eye was glinting silver in the fluorescent light of the old Matale med bay, and he did not look happy.
"I know you don't," Darek said, shooting both Orex and Asra a glance. Asra had been on edge since they returned to headquarters, but the otherwise silent Glitch remained motionless, her expression barred entirely by the fringe of her dark hair. "But I think these people deserve whatever help they can get."
Orex looked as if he was about to protest, but instead retracted his arm and crossed both over his chest.
"So be it," he said, "For now."
The room fell silent. Mission's eyes scanned the space, almost dizzy at the realization of just how complicated things had gotten and so quickly, a myriad of strangers with an oddly common goal in a place they'd only just arrived in and didn't seem to be leaving any time soon. It wasn't long ago that it was just her and Big Z as usual, making supply runs here and there but otherwise enjoying their life as independent contractors exploring every corner of Republic Space. Now that they were roped into something again, Mission wasn't sure when things might return to normal. If ever.
"For now is all we ask," Adare said after a while, echoing Orex's words, a wan smile gracing her tired face in somber appreciation. "Thank you."
3951 BBY, Telos, Citadel Station
Atton
It was too good to be true.
Atton should have known something was off when the landing bay accepted their clearance codes without a hitch, when he was immediately directed to Deck Module 126 before the comm went silent. As if Citadel Station been waiting for them to dock. As if they were walking into the easiest trap the TSF ever set. Atton was smarter than that. Or at least he liked to think so.
But Atton truly should have known something was wrong when Eden barely acknowledged their descent, assuring him that whatever was going on wasn't over yet. He wanted to trust her, but he also hoped she was wrong about this.
Atton still descended the ramp of the Ebon Hawk with the confidence of a mynock in thrall, ecstatic when he found that the door to the check-in center was open at the other end of the landing module, nothing barring their way. Both Kreia and Eden were silent, exchanging glances. Atton was left only with the excited camaraderie of the astromech who tittered joyfully at his side. It was then that Atton knew things would go south, and fast.
Maybe if they walked quickly enough, casually enough, the TSF would simply let them pass. Atton made a beeline for the door as calmly as his limbs would allow without giving away his inner anxieties, hoping Eden and Kreia would match pace and follow, but both women paused barely a meter from the foot of the loading ramp as silhouettes appeared in the door ahead.
"Attention," an unnervingly calm voice emanated throughout the space via loudspeaker, "This is Citadel Station Bay Control, Deck Module 126. Please remain where you are. Lieutenant Dol Grenn will arrive shortly to meet you. That is all."
Both Atton and T3 skittered to an unwilling halt just as they were about to cross the threshold. Within a moment, the silhouettes became people – a TSF officer followed by three heavily armed guards, blasters at the ready. Atton froze.
The officer at the forefront paused just before Atton, looking him up and down with a cocked brow before spying the women beyond. Either in dismissal of Atton or in guessing Eden to be the unvoiced appointed leader – and guessing correctly – the officer waited for her to approach before speaking.
"I'm Lieutenant Dol Grenn, Telos Security Force," the man announced with practiced poise. His slicked back hair glimmered in the fluorescent light of the landing module, glinting in the shine of his officers' helmets as they flanked him. Atton wanted to roll his eyes but knew it would be best if he did nothing. "I'm under orders to take you into custody in regard to the destruction of the Peragus Mining Facility."
Atton, immediately betraying himself and his promise of exuding a cool exterior, flashed a glance back at Eden in silent plea.
We didn't have anything to do with that, he wanted to her say. Eden caught his gaze and for a moment Atton thought she might say the very lie that echoed in his mind as he watched her, but instead she said, "Destruction? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
Better, Atton thought, though he still wondered if it would be enough.
"We were just docked at Peragus for repairs. Are you saying the station is no longer there?" Eden continued, doing her best to appear both shocked and cordial at once.
Eden wasn't the best actress, but she wasn't half bad either. Atton turned back to witness Lieutenant Grenn as his military-grade posture slumped ever-so-slightly, caught between giving away further potential evidence and wanting to take Eden at her word.
"Be that as it may, the circumstances of your arrival are suspect at best," Grenn said eventually. "But yes, the station has since been destroyed, as I am sorry to report. Due to the nature of the investigation, I have no specific timetable to offer you regarding the inquest. In the meantime, your ship and any droids will have to be given over for safekeeping."
T3 bleeped a string of binary too crude for even Atton to understand, though it didn't go over the Lieutenant's head.
"Yes that includes you, so you will be detained," Grenn said. Atton could almost sense the incredulous smile threatening to form on the man's lined face as he tried to appear professional even in the presence of an over-excited droid. "In addition, we will need to take your personal arms and armor until the completion of the inquiry."
"I understand," Eden offered immediately, likely to keep the peace, but Atton's dumb brain fired anyway and started yapping without thinking where it might get them.
"Hold on, is there any way to get our gear back?"
The worst part was how utterly desperate he sounded, yearning to hug his cache of weapons and med stims from the Harbinger like they were family heirlooms. Thankfully, Grenn watched on empathetically.
"If you are cleared on any involvement, your personal effects will be returned to you promptly," Grenn said, and Atton sighed. "You will be held briefly in the TSF station until living arrangements can be arranged –"
"Wait, living arrangements?" Atton interjected, "How long is this going to take?!"
"-At which point you will be placed under house arrest."
"Arrest?!" Atton echoed hopelessly. Thankfully for them all, Lieutenant Grenn directed his next query at Eden alone.
"Do you understand?"
Eden nodded, tucking a strand of black-to-blonde hair behind her ear. "I'll cooperate. For now."
For now. Her words were amiable, but Atton felt the threat beneath her demeanor and was thankful for it. Lieutenant Grenn swallowed unsurely, shifting his weight from foot to foot while remaining at attention, eying Eden with a flash of fear in his eyes before his previous professionalism took over again.
"Good," Lieutenant Grenn sighed eventually, finally affording Atton an exasperated glance. "My men will now relieve you of any arms and armor, if you'll please follow me."
Tell me I'm not going to jail again, Atton thought on repeat as they left Atton with nothing but his jacket again. Another group of officers had arrived behind the first bunch with crates, presumably to begin unceremoniously unloading the Ebon Hawk and everything Atton had grown attached to in the last standard day. Tell me I'm not going to jail again.
And then, along with Eden and Kreia, Atton was dragged straight back to jail.
Damn it.
3951 BBY, Telos, Citadel Station, TSF Station Headquarters
Eden
"I can't believe I'm in jail again," Atton groaned into the silence. Kreia tsked, breaking her meditative stasis though nothing in her body language betrayed annoyance otherwise.
"So you've been saying for the last hour," the old woman snapped despite remaining completely still. Her hooded face nodded almost imperceptively in Atton's direction. "And where has it gotten you? Or us for that matter?"
"I did everything right," Atton was saying as if Kreia had not interrupted him. "Our clearance codes checked out. They even let us land! We were in the clear… frack I was this close."
If Kreia could roll her eyes, Eden imagined she would have. Judging by how the woman sighed heavily and readjusted herself on the floor of her force cage it was hard not to imagine Kreia doing something similar whether she had use of her eyes or not.
"You should rest," the woman said eventually, her voice growing softer, concern coloring her words as she directed this order at Eden. "You've barely slept since you were suspended in kolto on Peragus, and we've a long journey ahead of us I'm afraid."
"Not yet," Eden said, arms crossed. "Not until this is sorted out."
Not until I'm alone again.
Kreia did not respond verbally, instead nodding in recognition of Eden's words but not offering her opinion on them.
Eden had almost drifted into sleep back on the Ebon Hawk, her thoughts of Alek quickly making way for visions of Sion and a dream turned waking nightmare in which she found the corpse of the Republic Officer, Rell, who'd helped her back on the Harbinger, and the unblinking faces of Peragus' dead all watching on in silent judgment as Eden faltered over a flimsy testimony of why it wasn't her fault this time and how she hadn't wanted to be roped into this. In the end, the dead banished her just as the Jedi Council of old had, and when she woke, Eden sputtered, nearly inhaling water from the shower, jets still running, with the image of a door seared into her mind.
It was thin, triangular, and black – and wholly unlike anything Eden had ever seen before. Or at least as far as she remembered. She did not know where this door was, only that it was set in stone and… not meant to be opened yet. As much as it hurt to recall, she was remembering more in general now, Rell's hopeful face still fresh in her memory since waking on the Hawk, and it took everything in her not to think of what had actually happened to that woman as the TSF interrogated them each in turn before dumping them here to stew together in the derelict holding cell. But she wasn't sure this door fit anywhere in her recent or distant memory. At least not yet.
Kreia was no longer looking in Eden's direction, but Eden could feel the woman's gaze on her. Whether it was out of suspicion or pity Eden was not sure.
"I'll sleep once we're out of this," Eden assured, wondering just how much of her thoughts Kreia could read and just how necessary talking even was. "I'm sure you feel the same."
"You might as well meditate, calm your mind," Kreia said, though she bowed her head slightly in understanding. "But no matter. I can refresh your technique later if you need it of me."
In truth, Eden's mind was alight with overstimulation, so unused to the Force for so long it was nearly impossible to tune it out now. She could count her every heartbeat without first locating her pulse, as well as the heartbeats of both Kreia and Atton in the room across from her - through the energy of the force cages and all: Kreia's heart beat so slowly it was no longer a wonder the Peragus medical team might have mistaken her for dead once, whereas Atton's heart beat as fast as an ash-rabbit, almost to the point where Eden was tempted to tell the man she suspected he might have a heart murmur. And she sensed all that through the noise that was the force cages that bound each of them in place, as well as the mechanism that kept the door to the detention area closed, her senses reaching even into the beyond, her mind privy to the small talk the officers stationed near front desk were busying themselves with and internally groaning at every word.
"I can't believe this," Atton was still complaining. "If they find anything –"
"Quiet," Kreia warned. "Don't be a fool."
Atton sneered but heeded Kreia's words. Eden was about to finally retort when she felt a presence approach their door, pausing just before keying in the panel's sequence wrong once but then correctly the second time.
"Wait, someone's coming," was all Eden managed to say, the minute details of her discovery escaping her vocabular capabilities as her mouth failed to process the multitude of data her mind was handling all the while. Something was off, but her mind was too busy to hone in on why just yet, her senses a blur.
"Wait, what?" Atton said, his head snapping towards the slow-opening door. "Who is it?"
"Like you would know them?" Eden replied, though judging by the look on Atton's face it may have been a possibility. Atton might have been about to reveal the true likelihood of any chance meeting, had his face not scrunched up at the sight of Eden through the force cage instead.
"Wait, when did you change?" Atton asked.
"What?"
"Those clothes…" Atton sputtered dumbly, his face growing pink as he tried to regain composure as well as full control of his mouth. Eden wanted to laugh but was still too on-edge and too focused on the presence on the other side of the door to allow her own inner mirth a moment's enjoyment. "You weren't wearing those before"
"No, I wasn't, smart ass. I took a shower."
Atton didn't seem offended, only confused, cocking his head like a dog questioning a new owner's garbled commands.
"There's a shower?"
"Maker, have mercy," Kreia drawled, her voice a ragged imitation of itself as she finally stood from her meditative position, placing a hand on her hip as she looked expectantly towards the door that was now opening on the far end of the room.
"Who are you and state your business, I am growing tired of this," Kreia demanded of their visitor. Clad in an ill-fitting TSF uniform, the officer that entered was not one they'd seen before. Instead of saying anything at first, the man entered the room almost unsurely, as if he'd gotten the wrong room. His eyes scanned each force cage with a careful consideration before landing on Eden, his eyes going wide, telling her no, this is exactly where he meant to go. And she was exactly who he meant to find.
"So, this is the last of the Jedi," their visitor purred slowly, his voice as oily as his hair. The man before them was about Atton's height but wiry, his skin taut over his muscles as if it were a size too small for his frame. Bulging eyes looked out at Eden from across the room, sizing her up like an animal at auction. "I must admit, I am a little disappointed."
"Let me out of this cage and we'll see how disappointed you are," Eden muttered, taking a step forward until the skin of her nose felt the tingling proximity of the force cage a mere centimeter from her face. "You're no TSF agent, are you?"
The man paused in the center of the room, relaxing in a way that told Eden he was acting: his limbs almost too loose to be casual as he cast a lazy hand over his holstered blaster, his back arching too far as he squared his shoulders so cartoonishly that she thought he might have thrown his spine out of alignment.
Eden bit back a snicker, not wanting to give this creep any ammunition, instead willing her face to remain as placid as possible as she awaited his next words.
"The Exchange has a bounty on Jedi, you know. You're worth quite a bit of money."
"The Exchange, huh?" Atton piped up, his voice rife with annoyance. "I'm pretty sure some two-bit pistol jockey like yourself isn't one of them."
Atton huffed a laugh as the man spun around to face him, his eyes alit with an unspoken fury.
"I'm more than skilled enough for The Exchange!" the man spat. "They'll see, and you'll soon see as well, just what havoc I am capable of causing, if it means I may bring them their so-coveted prize, unlike the rest of them. None of them thought to follow the Peragus rumors enough to await the arrival of a suspicious ship on the eve of the news that the station was destroyed, too busy counting their coffers to make use of their blasters. None of them followed you here. None of them spotted you as you were escorted to this station. Only I did, I did that."
Oh boy. It took a special kind of merc to hunt a Jedi, but this man was a whole other brand of deranged. Eden tried to get a reading on the man – sense his intentions, his motives, if anything other than money and recognition as his clumsy admission would attest – were it not for Atton, who only laughed harder in response before his face settled into something sinister, a seriousness overcoming his features Eden would not have readily guessed their jailbroken pilot was capable of.
"You bounty hunters couldn't even win a fair fight," Atton doubled down, an insidious sneer overcoming his otherwise handsome face as his gaze honed in on the man before them, eyes shining with an understatedly unhinged menace as he slowly uttered his every word with a vitriol Eden didn't expect, and neither did the stranger. "You're the cheapest, most worthless mercenary scums in the galaxy. I'd hire a Mandalorian over your filth in a second."
Eden looked to Kreia, who was similarly frozen in surprise and mild amusement. Kreia crossed her arms, ready to watch the rest of this unfold, just as Eden's eyes returned to Atton's face, surprised that she would describe him as handsome only now that she saw how terrifying his face could look in comparison. Atton's eyes were still fixed on the stranger in the center of the room, an energy radiating from him that she wasn't sure was the result of residual frustration at having been jailed again or something else.
"No Mandalorian could match my skills," the man sputtered, spinning about the room now to make hurried eye contact with both Eden and Kreia as if he were now on trial. "No Mandalorian could have been clever enough to infiltrate this station, taken the identity of one of the guards, then…"
"Then what? Overloaded our cage fields and made it look like an accident? You probably don't even have the guts to fight me. Heh, pathetic." Atton spat into his force cage, the moisture sizzling instantly on impact. The stranger took a surprised step back before masking his show of fear with a nervous laugh.
"Don't think overloading your cages had not occurred to me," he sneered, turning to Eden again. "You're wanted alive, but I doubt anyone will care as long as I bring them your corpse…"
"Hey, leave her alone," Atton barked. In the moment it took for the stranger to turn back around, Atton's gaze met Eden's – and when their eyes met, Atton's mask fell, revealing the laid-back-but-annoyed-nonetheless pilot she thought she'd met, silently pleading trust me. When the stranger's eyes fell on Atton again, his fury returned in full as if it'd never left. Eden froze, unsure if she were impressed or terrified. Or maybe both.
"You have goaded me once, and you shall not do so twice," the man uttered - Who talks like that? Atton hissed, as if for Kreia and Eden's ears only even though the man could certainly hear him - "But I shall dispose of you eventually. " The stranger bristled before steeling himself, his eyes like ice as he stared, wide-eyed, while he enacted the force cages to release.
"An old woman, a fool, and a broken Jedi are no match for my skills," the man sneered, looking sidelong at Eden as he said it.
Broken Jedi. Eden couldn't help but think of the Harbinger and of Peragus, both gone but addled with death, and because of her. She wanted to both retch and reach for the stranger, to somehow make him understand what it felt like to be a true herald of death as he so claimed to be, but before Eden could even consider it, Atton delivered an upper hook that sent the man careening across the holding cell, landing in an unconscious heap right where the door was now opening again.
"The security cameras ha- what?!" Lieutenant Grenn's voice wailed as he sidestepped the flying body. "What's going on here?"
Lieutenant Grenn, accompanied by the same officers from earlier, skidded to a halt before the already-open door, looking from the man on the ground to their previously temporary detainees now free of their restraints and looking awfully suspicious.
"Man down! Quick, call a medic!" one of the other officers yelled, pointing their blaster stupidly at the body on the floor and not either of the three prisoners now standing unrestrained.
"All right, Jedi – I want you to back up slowly, hands in front of you, and into the force cage. Cooperate and we won't have to gun you down." This time it was Grenn who gave the order in what Eden could only assume was an attempt to save the face of the Telos Security Force. Eden didn't move. Neither did Atton or Kreia. All three exchanged calm glances, silently agreeing to do nothing in response to the blaster rifle aimed at each of them.
"Come on, Lieutenant! They've already knocked out… eh… who is that? Is that Batu Rem?" the other officer said, toeing the body with the tip of her boot.
"Batu Rem is on leave, he shouldn't even be on the station," Grenn sighed, already relinquishing his weapon to its holster again. "This man isn't him."
"I'm glad someone noticed that only after he tried to kill me," Eden said into an uneasy smile. Grenn only looked at her, harrowed, saying nothing.
Like an embarrassed schoolchild regretting an unfortunate excuse for having arrived late to class, yet again, Grenn waved his hand behind his back as if Eden and the others might not see, giving them all an even look as his officers similarly relieved their weapons and returned to a half-assed air of normalcy. Ignoring the body in the room, naturally.
"Officer, get Lieutenant Yima a report of this incident. She'll look into this," Grenn eventually said, keeping his gaze even with Eden's. "We've assessed your testimonies and have so far determined that there is no need to have you detained here further. That being said, we have arranged for an apartment in Residential Model 082. You'll stay there under house arrest until our investigation of the Peragus matter is complete."
Grenn spoke as if reading from a script, and Eden figured the man likely was. There was some duplicitousness in his tone, but the way in which he held himself told her there was truth to what he said also. Were it not for the Force telling her too much and all at once, Eden might have trusted the man for the moment, but so far could only tell that the Lieutenant had a firm hold on controlling his heartbeat to the point that his forehead began to sweat with the effort. A lie could outweigh whatever truth he held, and while Eden was just as withholding, she needed to know they'd get out of this. And soon.
Eden narrowed her eyes in response, nodding only once to acknowledge the Lieutenant's news. Grenn attempted what she thought was meant to be a polite smile.
"So… this is just, what? Business as usual?!" Atton demanded, though Grenn didn't afford the man any recognition that he had even spoken. Atton grunted, throwing his arms up in the air as the Lieutenant directed the remainder of his message at Eden again.
"You'll be under TSF protection. I'll personally clear any visitors to your quarters, should there be any, and we'll investigate the incident to the best of our ability."
"The best of your ability?" Eden echoed, crossing her arms. She looked pointedly at the body on the floor before returning her attention to Grenn and his fake business smile. "That's not very inspiring."
Grenn's false grin only intensified in place of a response.
"Just take us to our quarters."
Grenn bowed, needlessly so, before turning on his heel and exiting the room. Each of them followed, stepping over the man who was not Batu Rem as if he were merely a doorjamb. Eden watched as they passed the officers at the front desk whose conversation she'd half-overheard earlier, their gossip already lost in the chaos of what just happened.
Eden hadn't gotten a good look of Citadel Station yet aside from the drab causeway that led from the bustling landing bay to the stark face of TSF station, a beige-gray cube in a sea of similar beige-gray cubes in what she assumed was the administrative district. Atton hadn't bothered saying a word to her until neon signs started popping up, promising that enough crowd cover would mask whatever it was he was about to say.
"You weren't kidding," Atton said at Eden sidelong, not looking at her but leaning towards her, all the better for Eden to hear, "About this being over? Any chances of your meeting with Admiral Onasi trumping all these charges of ours?"
"I think that's the only reason these idiots overlooked what just happened back there," Eden answered through the corner of her mouth, "As incompetent as they seem to be, I don't think they'd ease up on us with something as tame as house arrest otherwise. I'm hoping it's all part of a cover to ensure that I meet with Admiral Onasi at all."
"I hope you're right," Atton said, his shoulder brushing against hers. Eden flushed but willed her expression to reveal nothing, feeling her cheeks pale just as soon as they felt too hot for her liking, "As much as I'd like to get off this rock, you're not safe here."
"Safe?" Eden echoed, not so much confused with the concept as much as she was baffled by Atton's concern.
"That imbecile back there mentioned the Exchange. They're a big deal here. If that moron could spot you from whatever wanted ad your mug is on through a force cage, then your bounty is as good as cashed in."
Atton grabbed Eden by the elbow, forcing her to pause even as the remainder of the TSF escort party and Kreia along with them walked on ahead. Eden yanked her arm back, looking Atton in the eye only to find herself frozen again, his hand still held firm on her arm. There was a grim determination in Atton's grey eyes – grey, or perhaps a washed-out green – that Eden had not expected to find looking back at her.
"Trust me," he said aloud this time, though Eden instantly recalled the look he'd shot her back in the TSF holding cell, his expression transforming for an instant, only long enough to let Eden in on his plan. It had been handsome then and it was again now, despite the sharpness a few days' hunger likely added to it.
"Sure, yeah," she said, mind spinning, knowing that their exchange now mirrored almost exactly their final words together aboard the Ebon Hawk as well. Her memory was here, there, and nowhere, threatening to swallow her whole.
"Everything alright here?" a TSF officer butted in as they held up the rear of the group, urging them onward. Flustered, Eden spun around to meet the officer in the face – a blonde woman, not unlike one of the miners she'd found in the Peragus dormitory, her hands still clutching a holopad in a vice grip that Eden wasn't sure was due to sheer willpower prior to death or something that had happened since her rigor mortis had set in – and faltered.
A heaviness overcame her, muting everything. The Force slowed, and her mind along with it, her memory again like a fly trapped in amber.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, just fine," Atton spoke for them both, grabbing Eden's elbow again though this time far gentler, yet his urgency was still clear. "Are you okay?"
Eden wanted to ask Atton the same thing, thinking of the look that overcame him as he taunted her would-be assassin no less than a half hour ago.
"I will be," Eden said after a breath, craving sleep yet dreading it all the same.
I'll have to be.
