3951 BBY, The Sojourn, Orbiting Onderon
Carth
Carth white-knuckled the viewing deck of the Sojourn, heart pounding somewhere at the base of his throat instead of his chest as the ship exited the blue-white tunnel of hyperspace to the suddenly expanding sight of Onderon looming ahead.
"Sights set on target, sir," Ensign Aurin muttered as she guided the controls beside him, her knuckles similarly white as she adjusted for the change in gravity as the ship left lightspeed. Carth eased his hold slightly, his eyes never leaving the hulk of the Harbinger as their ship joined the battalion of other vessels hanging in Onderon's orbit. Carth's eyes scanned the space, ships from all over the quadrant taking up every inch of his vision to the point that once the Harbinger careened past an ancient looking Delaya-class courier that it promptly disappeared from view.
"Still got it?" he asked, gaze unblinking.
"Yessir."
"Follow it," he hissed, his voice a harsh whisper. His throat was on fire, all of his agitation concentrated there as if his innards held council against his will to gather in one place for an unprecedented meeting instead of manning their biologically designated stations. He wanted to wretch, but he held his ground, swallowing whatever nausea rose in his throat and willed it to bother him later.
"Aye, Admiral."
The entire bridge tensed behind him, all eyes on his back as Carth scanned the viewscreen for where the Harbinger disappeared to.
The ship wove through the fleet of vessels outside Onderon's orbit like an unwelcome interloper seeking the front of the line where there was none. Several ships issued complaints, the bridge's transmissions center beeping wildly as hails poured in from all over but the communications officer ignored every one of them to Carth's relief.
"Still have a heading?" he asked, fear gathering in his gut.
"Yes, it's just beyond the satellite," Aurin affirmed, though her voice betrayed a similar apprehension.
The Sojourn veered again and the Harbinger's tail fell into view, its orange and beige hull filling their viewport before the whole of space, now at the back of the bulk of Onderon's visitors as the Dxun moon hung not too far off. The Hammerhead-class cruiser slowly sailed outward towards the field of stars beyond before the ship shimmered - its metal plating glistening as if catching the light of a nearby star - and disappeared completely.
"Tell me you still have a heading," Carth urged, only to be met with silence.
"I'm sorry sir, but I-"
"Tell me you still have a heading," he repeated, finally turning to Ensign Aurin balking at his side. The girl's brown eyes flashed wide before affording him an embarrassed glance, as if an entire ship vanishing before their eyes was somehow her fault.
"We did, but-"
"Do we at least have a record of the Harbinger in our sights?" Carth now turned to the pilot, who only shook his head.
"I'll try, sir, but I can't promise-"
"Well while we do that, at least send out a squad of fighters to scan the area," he said hopelessly as he turned back to the viewport, disappointed for once to see only the expanse of space beyond. "Cloaked. Find any evidence of the Harbinger and deliver it directly to the Supreme Chancellor."
"Aye sir," several voices promised from behind him. Carth inhaled, holding the breath in his chest as a buoy before slowly exhaling, closing his eyes. Please tell me this isn't your doing, he pleaded with an absent Nevarra. Please tell me this isn't you.
He opened his eyes again and turned to Ensign Aurin with purpose.
"Send me any and all updates," he ordered. "I'll be in my quarters."
"Aye, sir."
Carth could only nod, feeling hollow. His boots each weighed a thousand pounds with every step he took out of the bridge and towards his room, dark and void of comfort, his comm sitting idly atop his desk. It blinked absently as he toed off his shoes and sat despondently at the edge of his bed. He should call Mission, update Bastila.
But his bad news could wait.
He looked out the port window and wondered where Nevarra was now. He wanted to think that she had nothing to do with this, even if part of him knew she did. It wasn't a matter of forgiveness, but acceptance. He could feel it. She didn't do this, but something she'd done allowed for this to happen. Whatever Sith remained had followed her once, and now they chased her ghost. Either in pursuit of it or in spite of it. And wherever she was, she'd left the rest of the galaxy to pick up the pieces.
Carth could only hope that she had a good reason. He wanted to believe that much.
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 082
Eden
"You don't have to tag along, Kreia," Eden pleaded in a half-whisper as she pulled her boots on by the apartment door, careful not to draw Atton's attention should he decide to barge into the room and insist they go alone. "I understand if you want to stay out of it."
Kreia only shook her head, inching towards the exit equipped only with the intention to get this over with.
"I wish to see this exchange for myself," Kreia said. "I admit, I am curious what this Ithorian senses, exactly."
"Ah," was all Eden could awkwardly muster in response, now unsure if she wanted Kreia to come along after all. The last thing she needed was another onlooker, this one no doubt judging the exchange from start to finish. At least Eden could count on Atton not giving a damn about what went down, but knowing Kreia would be watching, she suddenly felt uncertain about the ordeal altogether.
"I will not interfere, do not worry," Kreia assured. "Go about your business as if I am not there."
Sure, like that will help. Eden only nodded in reply this time, shouldering on the vest she bought the previous day. She felt a bit more comfortable sporting new clothes, her hair in the same weird half-up do as yesterday to look as different yet nondescript as possible. Eden was about the put a palm to the front door's command console and call for Atton when she gave Kreia another once-over.
"I can lend you my other jacket, if you'd like," she offered, hand hovering over the access panel. "In case you wanted to disguise yourself as well."
Kreia stilled, saying nothing. Eden hesitated in the pause and wondered if she should have said anything at all. A few seconds stretched into more than Eden was comfortable with, clearing her throat before Kreia finally rewarded her with an answer.
"I… thank you… for the concern," Kreia nearly choked on the words before coughing purposefully. "I appreciate the forethought, but I would prefer not to."
"It's no problem if you do," Eden said, unsure whether to be offended. "I'd rather wear something else. These will just be sitting here either way, in case you change your mind."
"Again, the gesture is a kind one, but I am fine. I am used to going unseen, as women of my age and appearance often are."
Eden nodded, unsure of what else to add, if at all. Kreia did appear older, but in other ways not so much. Her hair was silver, her skin wrinkled, but there were parts of her that did not match - her lips were still plush and lineless for one, despite the wrinkles that surrounded her mouth and the corners of her eyes, and there was something about the way she spoke that betrayed a certain youth Eden could not explain. Despite the woman's deeper tones, Eden sensed an almost spry certainty amid the woman's sage wisdom. And what was truly considered old anyway? Maybe Kreia was right. Women of many species past the age of forty steadily grew invisible, an age Eden was only a decade away from. She shook her head, wishing she hadn't said anything at all, when thankfully Atton arrived to break the silence.
"So, are we heading out, or-?"
Atton paused, taking in the sight of Kreia and her unwillingness to move from the door, quickly gathering that she was coming with. Whatever eagerness alighted in Atton's eyes as he approached quickly faded until his expression reading close to something along the lines of 'polite but strictly business', glancing from Kreia to Eden as if he hadn't expected any different.
"We are," Eden sighed. "You all set?"
"Sure thing, sister," Atton said, tapping his holster in response. In addition to buying Eden clothes, they also purchased a few more nondescript but reliable weapons the night before. The things they'd pilfered from the Harbinger were military grade but sure to draw too many unwanted eyes. Before hitting the Pazaak tables, the two of them had worked out that it would be better if they saved those items for emergencies or at least as hidden firearms while they instead sported something more common for these parts - less likely to draw attention but still capable of getting them out of a scrape if needed.
"Good, let's get going."
Eden slammed her palm on the panel, relishing in the stale air that met her on the other side. As strange as it was, she was enjoying this. Sort of. It was a nice change of pace to Tatooine, but more than anything - in that moment - all she wanted was to be out of that apartment. Sure, it was the nicest place she'd stayed in the last nine years, but it was quickly growing cramped and uncomfortable. Whatever Chodo Habat had to offer, hopefully it was better than this.
"The Ithorian Compound isn't far," Atton said, striding up to walk at Eden's side just as Kreia fell behind, her steps growing slower as she soaked in their surroundings. "I've passed by it a few times when I've stayed here. It's maybe a, I dunno, five-minute walk? Ten tops?"
"You've stayed here?" Eden asked, surprise coloring her voice where she did not expect it to. Atton almost blushed but he laughed it away, his usual nonchalance taking over before anything more vulnerable could take his place. Typical.
"Close to Peragus," he said, shrugging. "People with family either meet here or head back home, but since I don't have any they shacked me up in a company-owned apartment block for my big week off. Wonder what will happen with that property now, might be worth something…"
"How long were you stationed on Peragus?" she asked, unsure if she was actually interested or only eager to fill the silence between here and the Ithorian Compound, suddenly anxious about what would transpire there.
"Not long," Atton shrugged again. "Maybe a year? It's hard to tell in places like that. Contracts and all, no real sense of time."
"Gotcha."
Yesterday they'd been nearly friends. At least part of the previous night. Eden almost missed it, that feeling of easy camaraderie. They'd even laughed together. Something Eden hadn't done since she was a teenager, maybe. She could hardly remember. But now everything felt forced - with Atton and with Kreia. Her skin crawled and she wanted to be rid of it. She wanted to be rid of them. What with Kreia's judgmental eye and the sense Eden got that Atton was lying half the time, if not more, Eden wondered why she'd ever missed human interaction and instead itched to be in her droid shop again even if she could take or leave the rest of Tatooine. If exile had taught her anything, it was that she was better off alone.
"So, uh…" Atton ventured into the silence, nudging her with his shoulder as they progressed through the bustling street. "What's with the witch back there?"
"Huh?"
Eden was thrust back into the now, suddenly made aware of and overwhelmed by the crowd they walked through, her eyes scanning the space and growing dizzy with the sheer amount of foot traffic as well as the flashing neon lights.
"I thought she didn't want anything to do with this business?" Atton asked again in a whisper.
"Oh, yeah," Eden swallowed. "Well, she's along as a bit of a spectator I guess."
"You guess?!" Atton balked, still careful to keep his tone low. "She doesn't give a damn what happens, she shouldn't even need to be here."
"I know you're not the biggest fan of her-"
"It's not about that!" Atton cut in. "She doesn't need to be here. You already decided you were going to go through with this and that's all that matters. I mean, so long as she doesn't dissuade you from… well, whatever it is you plan on doing. I guess that's my main concern."
"You're concerned?" Eden echoed, hazarding Atton a studied glance. She wanted to laugh. Atton avoided her gaze but his displeasure was written all over his face.
"You know what I mean," he said, but now it was Eden's turn to act surprised.
"Do I?" she said. "Since when do you care?"
Since when did anyone care? Eden was tempted to stall completely in the middle of traffic, pedestrians be damned. But instead she kept up her pace, careful not to let her expression of character betrayal fault her. Now Atton truly reddened, his voice lowering into even more of a whisper.
"This needs to go right, right?" Atton offered, eyes shifting. "It's our ticket out of here, isn't it? I just want to make sure we all make it through the clear."
Right, Eden thought. Once they were free of Telos and the pesky TSF, she would be free to seek out whatever Jedi remained. But it also meant Atton was as good as gone. He was a decent enough pilot when the occasion called for it, and Eden doubted she could manage whatever feat the man had accomplished to get them here should the journey ahead demand it of her. Granted, she also doubted many dangerous asteroid fields stood in her way between here and the rest of the Mid to Outer Rim but who knows? The expertise would come in handy regardless.
"Okay then that can be your job, alright?" she said, "I'll speak with this Habat guy, and you just make sure Kreia stays out of it."
Atton frowned at her, unsure as he glanced back at Kreia before saying, "What, like distract her?"
"Sort of," she sighed. "I know Kreia's only coming along to see what this Ithorian sensed through the Force, or whatever it was his messenger said the other day. If you can manage to keep her at a distance while I speak with him, then maybe she won't be as crotchety with whatever his answer happens to be."
"Uh, yeah. Sure." Atton shrugged, trying to read Eden's face but she refused to look at him, her eyes fixed on the crowd ahead. It had been years since she'd seen so many people in one place. Nespis had been busy but she hadn't seen much of it, and Nal Hutta might have been a worthy contender were it not for the thoroughfares that were wide enough to allow more space between bystanders, designed for Hutt barges and caravans to pass through. The last time she'd had to weave in and out between passersby was back on Coruscant, the last time she'd visited Alek before being captured at Flashpoint. She shuddered, suddenly missing the heat and the low density population of Anchorhead more than before.
"Alright, it's just up here," Atton directed, the back of his hand brushing Eden's before pointing towards the west end of the thoroughfare. Eden sucked in a breath, willing the memory of Alek away as she approached the Ithorian Compound's front entrance, Kreia trailing behind.
The Compound looked like any other establishment Eden had seen on Citadel Station from the outside, but the space beyond the front door was anything but - like being transported to another world.
As soon as they approached, the door panel slid open with a soothing whoosh to reveal a lush jungle in miniature beyond. Trees canopied the entrance and deep purple orchids hung in an arch about the slab of marble standing a few meters away, manned by a pale Ithorian that bowed from behind the swath of leaves and petals that greeted them.
"Welcome Eden," the receptionist at the front desk welcomed in calm Ithorese. "Our spiritual leader is expecting you."
Eden opened her mouth to speak but found no words on the other side of her tongue. She smiled awkwardly, bowing in response as the Ithorian before her chuckled.
"Moza is just around the corner," they said. "He will bring you to Master Habat's office."
"Thank you," Eden finally managed. She glanced at Atton, who looked at her with a raised brow, but before she could read too far into his expression she pressed onward, ducking through the vault of flora to the left of the desk and further into the compound. The entire complex was brimming with wildlife: flowers, trees, shrubs, fungi. It was never ending. Whatever brief homesickness Eden felt for Tatooine moments ago was swallowed by the sweet scent of fertile ground. The closest thing she'd felt to Serroco since she was a child when the place was still free of war.
"They think this impressive?" Kreia huffed. "It is but a show of unrealistic expectations. A sale to be made."
Eden didn't want to give Kreia the satisfaction, but she shot the woman a look - her brows furrowed, her eyes narrowed to mere slits, and the woman stilled, as if taken aback.
"We are guests here," Eden whispered, almost hissed. "You can hold your thoughts for later."
Kreia almost sneered but instead, she smiled. Eden wasn't sure if the woman was being facetious or if Eden's display of disdain somehow made her proud. Either way, Eden didn't like it.
At her side, Atton said nothing. Just as she'd hoped he would.
"Ah, Greetings Jedi," Moza's voice said from amid the fabricated wilderness. "Welcome to our home."
From beneath the lilting leaves ahead, Moza's face emerged to greet them. Just as when he'd made his exit the day before, Moza bowed at each of them in turn before facing Eden again with another reverent nod.
"I am glad you have come. If you would please follow me."
Eden nodded, smiling politely as she did so, trying not to think of whether Atton or Kreia similarly followed decorum and feeling second-hand embarrassment in the event they didn't. But instead of either verifying or nullifying her fears, she kept her eyes on Moza as he led her through the maze of man-made forest to the far end of the compound. Ithorians and other humanoid creatures milled about, either closely examining the plantlife or holding up vials and test tubes for examination, comparing samples and the like. The air was studious, hopeful but serious, and Eden personally saw nothing wrong with what was happening here regardless of what Kreia might think.
"Our esteemed leader is just through here," Moza announced as he came to a slow stop near what appeared to be another fabricated archway, this one teeming with iridescent green-blue leaves twice the size of a humanoid head. He reached up to set some aside, beckoning Eden and her party to pass through. Eden ducked beneath the foliage, shooting Atton a glance that she hoped reinforced her desire that he keep Kreia from interfering too much. How she expected him to accomplish this, she did not know, but whatever worry plagued her before entering the room soon dissipated once she took in the sight before her.
On the other side of the verdant awning stood a shallow pool. Rocks of varying sizes surrounded the pond, creating both a maze and a barrier, some covered completely with moss while others remained smooth enough to reflect the glittering water beside it. Tucked into the corners of the room were thick trees with trunks the color of soft peat, branches reaching up to the ceiling in droves to completely mask it, giving the illusion that this place was truly outdoors - a secret glen in the middle of a dense forest. The room was crisp, and Eden could almost smell the coolness of the water as she breathed in, comforted by the chill of it in the air.
At the base of a large rock at the far edge of the room was a throng of Ithorians, each of them bent down by the water, one of them elevated above the rest on a plinth of pale wood. Swathed in luminous light fabrics that caught the light, Eden instantly knew this must have been Chodo Habat.
"I welcome you, Jedi," the Ithorian said, standing from his position at the far side of the pool. Eden nodded, trying to act normal while watching from her peripherals as Atton stood on tiptoe to get a better look over the dense underbrush while Kreia thankfully trailed behind, idling unimpressed near the entrance as the remainder of them walked further into the room. Atton angled himself between Kreia and Eden, acting almost like a child as he looked about the space, carefully keeping Kreia from advancing further as if by accident.
"It gladdens me that you came," the Ithorian spoke again, drawing Eden out of her anxious reverie and back into the moment. "I am Chodo Habat, leader of the Ithorians here."
Chodo Habat extended a hand and beckoned Eden to his side at the edge of the water. The Ithorians surrounding him parted to make way for Eden as she joined their throng, unsure of how to greet each of them as she approached.
"It saddens me to impose our troubles upon you, but I did not know where to turn until I sensed your arrival," Habat continued, silently urging that Eden take his spot on the raised plinth by the shoreline. Eden awkwardly stepped up onto the platform, glancing towards Kreia after registering the word sensed as its Ithorese equivalent escaped Habat's mouth. She did not sit, but instead hovered unsurely at Chodo Habat's side, unsure of what to do with her hands.
"You… sensed my arrival?" she repeated timidly, internally willing that Kreia's attention remain elsewhere. So long as they could discuss this later and the woman remain quiet for the time being, Eden could handle it. But she wanted to hear what the man had to say without her reluctant instructor butting in.
"Yes," Habat said, his smile apparent only in his words as his face remained still as his species' limitations allowed. "I am a priest of my people, and adept in the Force."
Eden could only mouth a polite Ah, as she registered his words, the truth becoming more obvious now. Were it not for the lush vegetation surrounding her she might have sensed that Chodo Habat was indeed a Force user, the energy surrounding him not unlike Force adepts, his aura much like that of any Jedi Academy at full capacity milling with Padawans and Masters both but only in miniature. The transplanted garden about them was so vibrant and full of life that it had been difficult for her to tell.
Damn, it really has been a while, Eden thought, looking to Kreia again and wondering if the woman already sensed that Chodo Habat was exactly what he said he was before they'd even entered, still more familiar with the Force than Eden was after nine years out of practice.
"I sensed an echo within the Force upon your arrival," Habat continued, "It is a… subtle disturbance, unless one is actively listening for it."
Eden wasn't sure if Habat was being sincere or merely trying to make her feel better for coming off as so broken as Moza had implied.
"I suspected you were one of the remaining Jedi, and hoped that you could help us. This is why I sent Moza to seek you out," Habat continued. Eden jolted slightly, wondering for a moment if Habat had sensed her thinking of Moza before uttering his name, before thinking herself paranoid for it. Of course he would mention that, she thought. It's how we knew to come here in the first place.
"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am not a Jedi," she affirmed, but Habat only waved the notion away politely.
"I understand, and hope I have not offended you. Perhaps you might help us just the same."
The Ithorian bowed his head, as did his other attendants in unison, listening on as they awaited Eden's response.
"I'll… do what I can," she said, looking at each of them as they remained still, heads lowered, "What do you want from me?"
At the other end of the room, Eden spied Kreia and Atton speaking with a man, someone they'd passed on the way in, and Moza, seemingly deep in conversation. Relieved that her companions were occupied, she couldn't help but still feel reluctant as Chodo Habat's gaze returned to hers with an answer.
"Tell me, do you know of the problems our restoration efforts face?" Habat asked calmly.
"Moza told me Czerka was giving you trouble, though beyond that I can't say I do."
"Very well," Habat said, "I believe that is enough of a preamble for what I am about to request, though I can give you the details later. In short, I have ordered a droid to be delivered here, one programmed to tap into each of our mission's outposts on the planet Telos below, a project management effort to make our many endeavors more streamlined - easily accessible. However the droid has yet to leave the depot despite its scheduled delivery a week ago. I fear the machine may have already been tampered with, and our data made vulnerable. I would have it repaired here but there are reports of men guarding the port, non-TSF sorts that will not let my disciples pass."
"What part of this makes you think only a Jedi would be capable of helping?" Eden asked. She wanted to laugh. Had Chodo Habat known nothing about her and simply asked Eden to do the job by happenstance, she would have coincidentally been the perfect candidate. Having spent the last nine years in factionless exile, Eden actually had more decades' worth of being an expert on droids under her belt than she ever had as a Jedi.
"Nothing," Habat's eyes went wide before he fell into an easy laugh himself. "At least perhaps not in a way you might think. See, my connection to the Force is through nature, through life. Being often so far removed from the natural world, many spacers do not understand our affinity nor our affection for things that grow. But no matter their place of origin, the Jedi do. They see where this natural connection extends into our space stations, our starships, our places beyond the planets from which we all originate. And they see the utter importance that life continues, as I expect you do as well."
Eden couldn't say she did. She did know - once. At least she had before her connection to the Force had been consumed by death. Feeling the weight of every soldier lost on Dxun, their memories finding a final resting place with her once there was nowhere to go otherwise. At first, it was a ceremonial remembrance. The least she could do. But soon it was very much like drowning. Her soldier's memories could have dissolved into the nether, forever forgotten, but she'd chosen to shoulder the growing weight of them. Body by body, life by life. It was one thing to simply honor the dead but another to remember them whole and in their final moments, inheriting the thoughts they carried of home - the one place they would never return to. She'd known the harmonious calm that came with being in-tune with the Force once, but that was long, long ago. Even when the Force was deaf to her, all she remembered was the death of it all.
"You wonder if I believe you can truly feel it," Habat said, quieter now, his attendants too far out of earshot to hear his exact words. He looked at her unblinking, sure of his words with a calm conviction that set Eden's hair on edge. "The weight of death."
A chill ran the length of Eden's back, her arms erupting in goosebumps as she registered Habat's words and looked him deep in his amber eyes.
"Despite its connotations, death is just as much a part of life. You would know more than anyone else, and it is why I wish to trust you with this request."
Habat bowed his head in a solemn promise, as if physically sealing his words like an old lord might seal a deal in wax with the kiss of a signet ring.
"I…"
Eden began to speak but as soon as she opened her mouth, the words were gone. All thought dissipated. She glanced across the room again, almost hoping that Kreia noticed her this time, for once desiring the woman to break the tension with some cutting remark. But instead Kreia was cradling her temple and side-eyeing Atton who was doing too well of a job at heeding Eden's earlier request. Eden bit her lip, willing words to come - any words - when Habat yet again broke the silence.
"And this is what I meant when I offered to heal you," he said even more softly, so much so that Eden wondered if the Ithorian was somehow speaking to her inside her mind. "My wish to help you is the same as my desire to nourish this planet, to help it thrive. I despair to see any being so hurt."
The inner ache Eden felt the day before intensified, but not in a way that was lacking. This time, the gaping, hungry maw inside of her sensed the cliff's edge beyond the endless abyss - just out of reach, but within sight. Maybe it was just a clawing hope, a naive hunger. But she had to take it.
"That means a lot to me," she said, unexpectedly choking back the immense gratitude that overwhelmed her in voicing the revelation. "I can't live like this."
I can't live like this.
Eden's knees nearly buckled, the weight of the last decade finally weighing on her as it should have the moment she left those Jedi Council chambers an entire lifetime ago.
I can't live like this, her mind echoed, the ugly truth of it ringing in her ears.
Habat's attendants seemed to melt away, and all that existed was Eden, Habat, and the glowing pool of water beside them. Within the span of a moment, Habat took a step forward and took Eden's timid hand in his long four-pronged palm. Her fingers looked childishly small in his, dwarfed by the man's narrow but deceptively cosmic hands. Like the universe personified. He closed his other hand over top and nodded solemnly at her again, his gaze even more earnest than before.
"No one should."
3951 BBY, Dxun
Darth Sion
He didn't expect the place to be so saturated with the feel of her.
Dxun was thick with rain and mud, but amid it all he sensed her. The Exile. The banished Jedi. The Wound in the Force.
The feeling festered here. It hung in the air. It stained the soil and it stuck to his boots. Whatever he'd gleaned from his brief glance at the broken Jedi aboard the derelict Harbinger flooded his mouth, the taste of her as strong as the rain now pinpricking his skin as he soaked the place in.
"We've scanned the moon, my lord," a voice interrupted his reverie. An attendant appeared at Sion's side, hovering just out of his peripheral vision. "There are Mandalorian clans scattered about the jungles, and beasts as well."
"We will mind them not," Sion muttered, opening his eyes to the downpour. "We are not here for them."
"Of course not, my lord."
"Stay with the ship," he said, glancing back at the shuttle they used to descend to the moon while the stolen Harbinger hung invisibly in nearby orbit. "I will not be long."
"As you wish."
Thunder groaned in the distance and Sion waited for the following flash of light before stepping further into the underbrush. No one followed, just as he desired. A mile into the jungle and all he could sense was her. The Jedi Exile and the pain that followed in her wake. Both during and after, but especially after. Wave after wave of it wafted over him as the storm raged on, each crack of lightning rank with memory.
This place was death.
It had been rife with ghosts even before the war, echoes of the conflict Sion fought and first died in still heavy amidst the jungle's dense forest. He'd never stepped foot on the moon then, only Onderon, but the wilds felt familiar still. He walked undisturbed, sensing unending agony and anticipation all around him but avoiding it all - following the Force where it felt heaviest of her.
She'd only been a husk when Sion first laid eyes on her, weak and unassuming at the far end of the hall. And though Kreia drew his attention then, it was the memory of the Exile that sustained him now, wide-eyed with anguish, unsure of what to do with the Force chaotically coursing through her.
A similar connection, though tenuous, wove itself around his old master. He'd questioned it then as he stood Kreia down, saber drawn, hoping it to be her weakness. But she'd bested him. Just as she always had. Her severed hand remained in his quarters, half-fossilized yet fixed in mid-invitation. Come find me. Finish me if you dare, it said. Sion wondered if Kreia felt the death of her hand as he felt the death that flooded this moon now. An overwhelming lack that warned to swallow the place in full but instead held its breath, its threat hovering on an unseen precipice. A fatal dose of perpetual suspense that hung in the air like a thick fog, a noxious gas that choked the life from anything that could not withstand the unknown. No wonder only beasts and armored men roamed this place. It wasn't until Sion reached the edge of a cliff that he realized there was no birdsong, no creatures running underfoot. The men hunted the beasts and the beasts fed off the men that remained. And so the cycle would continue, death forever collecting its due.
Beyond the cliff there was… Sion was not sure. The Force was too full here, too raw. Sion seethed, closing his eyes and focusing inward on his ever-healing ribs until the hurt led to a sense of something. But all he could sense was…
"Nothing." Sion turned his heel, rock and debris loosening from the soil to plummet over the edge of the rock face to an unseen point miles below as he looked back at the jungle he'd waded through.
No wonder Nihilus relies on the internal politics of Onderon to better map this place. The Dark Side was so thick here it was impossible to penetrate its depths without completely losing oneself first. It was a wonder the Mandalorians trained here, and it was a wonder the Exile had survived this place at all.
Nihilus had been here years before, at Sion's insistence. Not for the Exile's presence here but out of a desire to see where Exar Kun first learned of the Dark Side. Sion knew it was here, the temple Kun found having changed the course of Republic history forever, but where on this Maker forsaken rock he did not know. And so, they'd left. Nihilus was still half a man then, borrowing the corpse of some other at the time. His face was awash with death, features slacking as the body he inhabited began to decay faster than Nihilus could control. When Nihilus first left for the moon he'd still retained control of the corpse's facial expressions, but by the time he'd returned to Sion on Malachor his face had frozen, the carcass now more a cadaver than a costume. It was Nihilus' second death mask, his current one the more permanent of the two. This one similarly did not move, betraying no expressions, but it suited Nihilus better.
Sion hardly remembered Nihilus' true face, let alone his given name, if he'd even shared it.
Does he know of the temple's location now? He wondered. Or perhaps his servant has found the location for him…
Nihilus' usurped underling had also been the one to find his mask, the thing that sustained the man now, if Sion could even call him that. If anyone could locate something from history, especially that which was once forgotten, it would be him. Erebus. Perhaps the man could also help Sion… tell him where else the Exile had been and direct Sion as to where he should venture next.
Nihilus was orbiting Onderon and its moon as well now, keen on uncovering Kun's origins once and for all. Sion would join him before venturing onward. Perhaps Nihilus knew - or felt more rather - where else the Exile might have left other wounds, old hungers, in her wake.
Sion paused, looking back out over the path he'd walked. He expected to find a view of the chasm he'd approached and the maw of nothingness beyond but instead he came face-to-face with more jungle, as if he'd never left the underbrush, the elevation unchanged. He spun around, eyes wildly scanning the space to come up empty.
If the Jedi Exile's experience of death was anything like this, it was any wonder she'd survived. Sion had his map of scars, a well-preserved history pressed in still living vellum. But her? It was as if she were a ghost still inhabiting a body. And not just a new body - but the same body. A feat even Nihilus could not achieve.
Perhaps Erebus would know of how this was as well, and why. But first he would have to pay his friend a visit.
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 082
Atton
"So, how'd it go back there?" Atton asked once they'd finally returned to their apartment.
Kreia had not uttered a single word since leaving the Ithorian Compound but had no qualms about walking about the main promenade or grabbing a bite to eat on the way back. Atton had the feeling Eden was trying to wrest free of Kreia's presence, giving the woman plenty of opportunities to retreat to their temporary headquarters only she didn't. And it was only now that they were all back did the woman withdraw silently to her room with only so much as a nod, finally leaving Atton and Eden alone.
"Did I make a mistake in asking you to play Pazaak yesterday?" Eden asked instead, her voice taking on a tone of quiet seriousness Atton wasn't yet used to. She looked him dead on, her green-eyed gaze unwavering as she awaited his reply.
"Wait, what?" Atton tried to laugh it off. "Of course not."
Eden blinked and nodded, but didn't budge, instead folding her arms across her chest before she continued.
"You were hesitant to get into a game, which is fine. But seeing how you lit up afterwards, watching you actually play… that tells me that it's something you're quite good at."
Atton's eyebrows shot up as he shrugged, still trying to retain the smirk he preferred to have plastered on his face during times of uncertainty.
"What can I say?" Atton said eventually, "I'm a decent player."
"That doesn't account for your betting behavior, though," Eden continued, her voice steady, "It's why you were on Peragus, wasn't it?"
Atton swallowed, knowing that Eden had figured it out, but that wasn't the whole of it. I shouldn't have mentioned my mining stint earlier. Shit.
Yes, he'd been avoiding playing Pazaak again because gambling was a sickness, but the game itself? The numbers, the strategy, the calculated moves, the statistics… all of that was skill, and skills that had saved his life countless times - from Force-users as well as himself. But skill alone didn't save him from making bets against the wrong people, nor did it have anything to do with the sort of people he'd been running with before Peragus, or before he was even going by the name Atton. And then there was the truth of his father and how his affinity for the game even started… There was no way to explain any of this to Eden in a way that made sense, at least not without getting a few drinks in him first before spilling his entire life's story.
"Listen, it's no big deal. If anything, accidentally destroying that hunk of magma saved me from whatever debts hounded me before I was stationed there." Though that doesn't account for whatever the Exchange has on me now, Atton thought through a smile, "Besides, as long as you call the shots, I'm good."
Eden narrowed her eyes and nodded, a glimmer of smile teasing the corners of mouth as she took him at his word. "It's none of my business, but as long as you're doing favors for me, I'd like to think I'm not taking advantage of you, y'know?"
At that, Atton paused. That's what she's worried about? He already had a feeling Kreia's account of Eden's backstory the other evening had barely covered the basics, but in that instant he knew there was more to Eden than he could ever possibly fathom. Even if he asked nicely.
"Sure, yeah. No advantage taken," he said, though he hated to say it, the lie sitting bitterly on the edge of his teeth. If Eden were taking advantage of him, it wasn't because she knew it but instead because he was letting it happen. Because he deserved it, and if anyone in the galaxy needed credits for a new pair of duds it was a woman still too shell-shocked to don the robes of someone likely dead. Not to mention what Atton was about to do… "I'm serious, though. As long as we're here, just say the word. Whatever you need."
At this Eden eased into an unmistakable smile, her face softening for the first time since they'd met, and it was only then that Atton truly felt himself go weak in the knees. Shit.
"I appreciate it," Eden said, whispersoft, before her smile dissolved into something more serious. "I know the TSF is more than forcing this living situation of ours, but I mean it."
"Sure thing," Atton said, hating every moment of this conversation despite how oddly nice it was to see Eden smile. "But you didn't answer my question."
"Oh, that?" Eden put on the fakest laugh Atton could possibly fathom coming from her, the utter desperation of it undercutting anything about it that might make it funny. If Atton felt guilty before, he felt it tenfold now.
"Fine, fine," she said, shuffling a little too casually, putting on airs. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Kreia but Habat asked that we get a droid of his from the docking bay tomorrow. Says there's some rougher types giving him a hard time about getting it back to the compound. That and he thinks it might have been tampered with, by Czerka specifically."
"Oh?" Atton said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned in the open doorway of his own room, trying desperately to seem both earnestly interested and not too interested at the same time. Eden still shuffled from foot-to-foot before him, dancing the subtle dance of anxiety all the while Atton tried not to notice.
"Yeah, shouldn't be too hard," Eden said, her feet finally pausing only for her to begin swinging her arms awkwardly back and forth. "I know I just made a big deal about taking advantage of you, but-"
"If you need my help, just ask," Atton said, doing his best to keep his tone soft. Not just for his own benefit, but genuinely for hers. The poor woman was holding so much in at the moment that Atton didn't know if he could comfortably watch on for much longer. "Really."
"You sure?" Eden wrung her hands now, her brows furrowing before she caught herself and put on her air of false ease again.
To think this woman could easily kill him, and yet here she was looking like the most unassuming person in the world. He'd ask her more about Habat tomorrow, if she was feeling up for it.
"Yeah, no problem," Atton said with a laugh.
"Thanks," she said, seeming all the more calm for it now. "And I appreciate your help with Kreia back there, by the way."
"Don't mention it," Atton assured, growing more and more uncomfortable the longer he stood leaning casually in his own doorway, as if he were thinking of going to sleep any time soon. "She did most of the work, honestly. It doesn't take much to tick her off."
At this Eden truly laughed, a soft laugh that lit up her eyes, her cheeks growing rosy beneath the pale scar that ran the length of her cheekbone.
"I'll keep that in mind for later, in case it comes in handy," Eden said, finally seeming more relaxed now, if only marginally so. "I won't ask you to play Pazaak again, so long as we're here at least. I mean, you'll probably head out as soon as the Republic shows up, and I wouldn't blame you, but if you're ever up for a friendly game I could always use the distraction."
"Distraction?" Atton echoed, truly caught off-guard. Eden looked up at him through the dark of her lashes, her expression vulnerable but in a way that seemed purposeful now. She's just playing nice, he convinced himself, trying not to read into it. "That I can do any time."
"… Good." Eden smiled briefly before biting her lip until her mouth turned into a thin line, unsure of how to end their conversation. A part of Atton wanted to stall, to ask if she was up for a game right now, but instead he thought the better of it.
"Maybe soon," he said, "Or not, I mean, it's up to you I guess. Or how this goes tomorrow, or… y'know what, whatever. Yeah."
What in the actual fuck, Atton berated himself, biting his own lip now if only to stop his stupid mouth from doing any further damage.
"Something like that," Eden said, a more spirited laugh gracing her voice as she said it. It was nice to see her acting this way, even if it was a mask for whatever happened back there or whatever lied ahead. Atton wanted to relish in the moment even if it was at his own expense, but it would be better if he ended it here.
"Well," Atton began, sucking in a breath before nodding as politely as possible and closing his module door before any budding feelings other than polite camaraderie could manifest. "G'night."
Idiot.
"'Night," Eden said from the other side of the door, muffling a laugh.
Shit.
Atton stood with his back to the closed door for a while. He listened as Eden paced the common area behind him, standing in quiet observation as he traced her steps from the entrance to deposit the boots she'd been wearing to the kitchenette to fetch a tall glass of something before she eventually padded softly to her room, closing the door behind her with more careful consideration than need be. It was only then that Atton sighed, letting a held breath finally loose, as he glanced towards the lone window that graced his living space. He waited again, counting the necessary imagined Pazaak hands it took to pass twenty minutes before he tiptoed to the window, slid it silently open and crept carefully over the sill and out into the alleyway.
"Didn't take you as long as I thought, honestly."
Luxa was standing a few paces away from their apartment, her back leaning against the closed shutters of the studio two modules down. She was closely examining her nails, as women often were in holovids, one heeled foot resting gently on the wall behind her. She looked up at Atton a beat after she spoke, as if on cue, and took a step towards him.
"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?"
"Looks like the Ithorians were expecting a shipment, a droid, but it hasn't made it to the compound yet. Any idea what that may be about?"
Atton, of course, knew the answer. But he wanted to know if Luxa knew. The woman laughed, narrowing her eyes until only her lash extensions were visible.
"Of course I do, honey," Luxa groaned. "Everyone on this station knows about the Ithorian's beef with Czerka. Or vice versa if you want to be precise."
Luxa scrubbed her nails against her leather dress before blowing on them, picking at a loose bit of the free edge of her index finger before freeing it and flinging the remnants to the floor, stomping on it like a discarded cigarra butt.
"I'll make sure to keep my people in the loop," Luxa said, looking Atton in the eye as the same index finger poked him square in the sternum. "And I'll meet you there, Jaq."
Jaq was more likely to pull something like this. Atton wasn't a stiff but he liked to think that version of himself would rather play it safe, lest it get himself killed. Now it seemed it didn't matter who he was or pretending to be.
Luxa winked and slinked off, making sure to highlight the sanded-off blaster she kept at her hip beside her bare legs as she exited the alleyway.
"What, that's it?" Atton asked after her, careful not to raise his voice too much. Luxa's head knocked back with laughter, her red hair flying as she cackled, but the woman did not turn around to meet his questing gaze.
"You're lucky you got that much," she said. "Once this is over, just about anyone would be fortunate enough to speak with me personally."
Atton could only watch on in bafflement as the Zeltronian walked the length of the alley before finally disappearing down a side street.
He'd hoped she might promise the debt stricken from his record. That she wouldn't hurt Eden, let alone turn her in for the price on her head. But Atton deserved this. If anything, he deserved the uncertainty for his disloyalty, for his mounting debts, and he was lucky for that much. He was lucky he wasn't already dead.
Atton sighed and returned to his open window, climbing back inside like a clandestine teen after a stolen night out. And he felt like one. Soiled, sullied, and not sure if he was making the right choices.
But did he ever?
3951 BBY, The Ravager, Orbiting Onderon
Darth Sion
Sion preferred the sound of the jungles to this. This being dread and unease personified in the breadth of an endless hum. An infinite but ancient battery running on fumes, white noise ad nauseum. But it was how the Ravager operated at all, portions of the hull so decayed that the blackness of space could be spied from within, stars twinkling from between scorched metal and portions of the flayed hull. At least the jungle had more life than this. More blood to spill.
It was a wonder the ship was at all flightworthy. But that was Nihilus' game, much as it always had been. Forever the puppeteer. The Ravager was a marvel, and not unlike Sion himself if he thought about it too much. But he had other ambitions rather than make skeletons take flight. If he craved anything, it was for battle again, always. Nihilus was much more content to wait. A beast in sloth awaiting his next meal following hibernation, satiated for the moment but not for long. Sion, however, was never one to rest.
"I wish to speak with him," Sion ordered once his shuttle was seen aboard. A cloaked acolyte merely bowed and swept them down the hall, a swath of stars following as Sion and two apprentices crept closely by his side.
"He is awaiting another," the acolyte whispered as they bowed out of the room, leaving Sion and his apprentices alone on the bridge. "I may be required to cut your meeting short."
"I will not be long," Sion assured as the doors closed. The acolyte bowed even lower, if possible, before disappearing entirely from view. Sion's apprentices turned to him and bowed in turn.
"We will wait here, my lord."
Sion turned on his heel and walked the length of the hall to the bridge's entrance proper, a heaviness growing in the air as he neared. His apprentices remained still as stone at the end of the hall when he hazarded a glance back at them, neither one moving, before he commanded the access panel to grant him entrance into the room beyond.
The air was stifling.
If the atmosphere surrounding a dying sun could be inhaled, the air of this room would be even hotter. Sion's skin prickled as he stepped over the threshold, a welcome searing pain lancing through his nostrils as he inhaled, trying to get a reading on Nihilus' mood this evening. For a man without a face, or a body to betray him, Nihilus was an oddly easy man to read. At least for Sion.
What brings you here, friend, an errant thought echoed within Sion's skull. No word was spoken, and yet his mind knew that this thought was not his own. It was uninvited but not unwelcome, yet alien just the same.
"I have questions," Sion muttered in response as he neared the center of the room, his voice a gravely whisper. Not that Nihilus needed to hear his words in order to understand them, Sion still spoke aloud out of his own desire to keep track of their conversation.
You always have questions and yet are never satisfied with the answers. Nihilus stood at the far end of the viewing deck looking out at the expanse of space, his command center empty. Before the ship was resurrected, when it was still an intact Rakatan vessel under Revan's command, it would have required a team of at least twenty officers to operate. But now all it required was Nihilus' iron will and unending hunger. What makes this any different?
"These are not my usual questions," Sion postured, knowing exactly what Nihilus spoke of and sensing a wave of shame rise within him at the notion. Quashing the thought down with disinterest, Traya's snide sneer haunting him from memory, Sion pressed on. "I want to know what you sense of the Jedi Exile here. The one Traya spoke of, the one you study."
Ah, her. The ghost of what Sion could only describe as a purr shuddered through the room, like a lion with a mouse fixed between its claws, playing with its food before eating. Her death is rife here though that is not why I have come. You know that already.
Sion nodded. Nihilus always spoke of death as if it were a continuous act. A chain of events rather than a string of them loosely clung together through running theme alone. Death at the hands of the Exile wasn't just something she'd allowed to happen, but something that happened to her as well. And maybe Nihilus was right about that.
"You are here for the temple, I presume."
That I am.
"But you have not answered my true question."
Nihilus turned, his mask catching the light and shimmering as he faced Sion. One false hollow eye looked straight at Sion while the other reflected the brilliant blue-green light of nearby Onderon. Though the eye socket was dark and vacant, the mask itself was polished bone, smoothed to an unnatural sheen as it met Sion's eye.
I sense much of her here, Nihilus admitted, a wave of decay emanating from him at the thought. Sion smelt the rankness of the jungle, the scent of mud mixed with blood flooding his senses, and he shuddered before retaining his gaze with Nihilus - his still-seeing cataract riddled eyes to Nihilus' nonexistent ones. But it is only slowing me down.
"Do you still not know the location of Kun's transformation?"
Yes and no, Nihilus thought. I've spoken with the rebel faction, and in exchange for my generosity they will provide me with the location of the temple as well as the means with which to destroy the Mandalorians that guard it.
"I did not expect them to be the ones responsible for its secrecy. We never expected them to be such a lingering problem, did we?" Sion almost laughed. He'd jabbed about the Mandalorians back on Korriban, too, when he'd instead been stationed at the ancient academy instead of out in the field. If Nihilus could laugh, he would have. Instead his figure jerked unnaturally, like an alien growing accustomed to unusual skin, before settling again.
Of course not, and yet they remain. It is not just them that haunt the moon but her as well. The death she wrought is part of it, I am sure. But I will refrain from tracking the Jedi Exile as long as I can. And I hope you will as well, especially after what happened at Peragus.
"That I will, friend," Sion bowed, though shame overwhelmed him for the moment his shorn head was laid bare to Nihilus who remained motionless in response. "I only sought to catch up with our old Master, and perhaps make her pay."
I know. A certainty emanated from Nihilus that set Sion on edge, his skin prickling at the realization of his comrade's thoughts. And it was foolish of you.
"It was," he admitted, though he did not quite agree. I was so close, he thought. If only I'd just…
I will not tolerate another mistake, Nihilus willed in Sion's direction. Sion stilled, his skin almost cold with rage as he registered Nihilus' thoughts. He did not answer to Nihilus. Sion answered to no one. Whether Nihilus felt Sion's rage, he did not reveal as much. It would be best if we wait and watch the Exile. She is bound to draw others to her given what we know. We would do well to see who else she draws out into the open.
Instead of growing angry, Sion resigned, though a pit of fire resided somewhere within his stomach. Not quite anger and not quite frustration, fitting somewhere between the two and refusing to move. Nihilus was right and Sion did not like it. The only reason Nihilus wanted to play the long game was to better satiate his hunger. Sion, on the other hand, wanted to see things done. Finished.
He could end it all if he wanted. Here and now. But instead, he chose to follow in the Exile's expired footsteps before following her recent ones, too curious as to where they might lead than was good for him. At least her old haunts might illuminate something for him, but how she came upon Kreia so recently he was almost afraid to know. At least for now.
"Of course," Sion bowed, though again, he knew he did not answer to Nihilus. But regardless of their rank, Nihilus could consume Sion and his pain whole if he wanted to, subsisting only on his suffering alone for a thousand years. Sion wanted to live to see another fight, hungry for spilt blood just as Nihilus was hungry for living flesh and the souls that supplied it. He would not die today.
I will tell you what I know of the Exile if you only wish to study her, for now. Nihilus nodded in recognition, extending a hollow hand that beckoned Sion to stand straight again. And I will send my apprentice to you when he has fulfilled his current task.
"Erebus?" Sion asked. Nihilus' mask betrayed nothing, but in the space between them something whispered Yes.
"Your attendant said you were awaiting someone, so I will-"
No need. Nihilus swept across the viewing deck to a lone chair at an unmanned console beside them, spiriting over the space like a ghost. Stay a while. I will tell you all I know of her.
"As you wish," Sion uttered, still unnerved at the way Nihilus' shapeless form settled on the seat before him. Sion felt the weight of his every step as he matched Nihilus' venture over to the command consoles, finally sitting in a stiff chair he was fairly certain had not been sat in since the ship was destroyed at Malachor.
She stood just over there, if you were wondering. When she made the call to enact the Mass Shadow Generator. Nihilus willed into Sion's understanding. This was her ship, after all.
Sion prickled at this, a wave of gooseflesh arising along his scarred arms at the revelation. His eyes flashed wide as he glanced hard at Nihilus, the man's mask tilting downward in a mock-nod. And in that moment, he almost seemed human.
You act surprised. If Sion could sense a snide smile through the Force, he imagined he did, even if Nihilus' mask betrayed nothing but its painted countenance, intended to be expressionless by design.
"It is certainly news to me," Sion admitted, hating it all the while. "But please, do tell me more."
Gladly, Nihilus said. The ghost of a cheshire smile shimmered through the space, the idea of the expression resonating in place of words or display. As usual, Nihilus' mask remained placid and still, its expression frozen in its fixed existence.
Shall we begin?
