Chapter 4

The Ebon Hawk backed out the hanger bay, turned and flew away from the Spacestation. No laser fire leapt out towards the Hawk. No ships turned to pursue.

Allan appeared at the doorway. "Anything happening?" he inquired.

"Since you mention it - No. Why aren't they doing anything?" replied Atton tersely.

"It would appear the station has suffered a major computer malfunction that has spread to the connecting ships. The mainframe seemed to think there was a major breech in the seals just as we left and it locked all the doors," Allan remarked. "No-one can get in or out. It also appears someone managed to corrupt the Stations data core and shut down a lot of useful but not vital systems, leaving them with no communications and no weapons. But we did leave them their shields just in case. The ships currently docked seem to have suffered a similar fate." He sighed with mock sadness.

"How long will it take them to fix the damage?" Grace asked with a serious look.

"A few days. No more. T3 could not be more specific as he was unsure what their repair capabilities were like. Where are we going?"

"A place where it will be difficult to find us," Grace smiled. "There's a lot of space traffic in and out so it should be easier to get lost, figuratively speaking."

"And the name of this place?"

"Nexus. It's a planet called Nexus. It's what it describes. A point of connection, a crossroads for a lot of traffic, both in space and data-wise. It's no smugglers paradise but it is neutral space when it comes to the Jedi factions on this side of the galaxy."

"Plot us a course then," ordered Allan.

Grace moved to the navi-comp and pressed in the co-ordinates as Atton engaged the hyperdrive. The stars streaked past.

Grace sat waiting. When the first question came, it caught her by surprise.

"What do you want to drink? Cafa? Chai?" asked Allan. He looked at the surprised expression on his companions faces. "I think it is a good idea. I get the feeling we may be here for a while, and I do not know about you but I have not had a decent drink in six hours." He raised an eyebrow.

"Chai please. White, no sugar." responded Grace with a thankful smile.

"You know me. Cafa. Strong and sweet." offered Atton.

Allan smiled and moved away to collect the drinks.

"So. Um. What put you in your cell? I mean, you did something to deserve it," Atton asked as they waited. "Not just an urge to find a couple of good looking guys to run away with," he added as he glanced out of the corner of his eye.

Grace looked out at the blueness of hyperspace. "I was in disguise and bet the cantina owners brother at pazaak who then accused me of cheating and put a skifter in my deck. I got a little carried away and tried throttling him. So -" she ticked off her fingers "- cheating, wilful damage of property, false declaration of name and species, and attempted murder. What did they put down for you after the bar fight?"

"Resisting arrest, wilful damage of property, harming with intent, and inciting a riot though I didn't incite and I saw no riot," Atton ticked off his fingers. He looked at Grace's fingers then his own. "Looks like it's a draw." He looked around as Allan stepped back in with three mugs in his hands.

Allan handed out the drinks and sat down in one of the spare seats. "Now Grace, you were going to give a good explanation about yourself."

Grace breathed in the smell of her chai and took a small sip. She looked up and said, "I need to start at the beginning. A background before me. Before I was taught the Force. Before I met Kelbourne. Before a lot of things. So here goes…"

"Once upon a time not so long ago, about fifty years ago, on the planet of Nexus lived a thief. And not just an ordinary thief. She was the best - No-one could catch her. She became a legend in her own lifetime, an urban myth to scare the pants off anyone with money, jewels, artwork. She would steal anything if there were enough challenge in the execution of the job.

Anyway, Nexus was also a place where the Darkness could not go unless they were summoned. Dark as in evil incarnate, Sith'arri, demons, whatever you want to call them. One was summoned and set free on that world. This thief chose to sacrifice herself in order to kill it, to save the life of the one she loved. Thirty years later it was decided by some people to recreate the thief, to clone her, to recreate the strongest Force Adept they had ever known. But things never go according to plan when the Force is involved. They made as faithful a reproduction as they could. But they forgot that a body needs a motivating force, a soul, so all they ended up with after two years was a waste of money, resources and one vegetable that had been accelerated to about six years of age." Grace snorted indelicately.

"The Force is not impersonal. It provided a soul to inhabit the body… And I woke up in a nutrient tank. I eventually escaped after they found out I wasn't what they wanted me to be and found my way to the thief's… family, I suppose you could call them. I worked hard for them to accept me and in the end some of them did. But I couldn't help feeling left out by the ones that mattered the most and so, eventually, I chose a self-imposed exile in an effort to find out who I really was. I travelled far away for a few years and met my second 'family' who continued to train me in the ways of the Force - in the ways of the Assassin. Kelbourne was one of my team," Grace shrugged. "He was just a small-time assassin with a smattering of Force sensitivity then. I was good at my job, but I wouldn't say I was the best. I didn't have that extra something… that ability to imerse myself in the Dark-side like others could. To me it was just a job. Kill quickly, silently, precisely. I wasn't into collateral damage if it wasn't necessary. Most thought I was cold, impersonal. I kept everyone at arms length but I still trusted them enough that I stayed."

Grace sipped at her chai as she looked at the other two. Allan nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Atton stared at her, his drink forgotten in his hand. "But you're not like that now. What happened? Did you meet someone who…?" he tailed off with dawning realisation in his eyes.

"Yes, I met someone. Three years ago three others and myself were given the task of removing a thorn in the side of a particular Jedi. This thorn was another Jedi who was very difficult to surprise. She had contingency plans for seemingly everything. But one day I got her alone in a room, or perhaps she got me alone," Grace frowned in thought. "Anyway, she convinced me there was more to life than an empty heart and she said there was something I had to do and I would need to change to do it. She turned me. And when the others of my team arrived she offered no resistance when they moved in to kill her."

"She was willing to sacrifice herself," remarked Allan quietly. "She took a calculated risk to prove a point."

"I didn't want her to die. I felt there was more for her to do also. I killed for her. I attacked my team and left them for dead. I left Kelbourne for dead. I left her standing by their bodies and left that part of my life and ran. I hid myself away behind disguises as I traveled. And as I traveled I began to feel again. I made a few friends and gave a helping hand here and there. But whenever someone showed any interest in my past I would move on, leave. And eventually I ended up here telling you my life story," Grace finished and looked at her empty mug. The hum of the hyperdrive sounded in the silence.

"Not so long ago I heard a very similar story but with a slightly different outcome," Allan spoke gently as he looked at Grace, then Atton. "I could not help but forgive Atton for what he had done. I accept him for what he now is…" Allan moved off his seat and placed a hand on Graces shoulder. "And I cannot help but accept you also. Please stay with us. Help us."

Grace looked into Allan's eyes and only saw trust and acceptance. She smiled shyly and nodded her head in response. Her eyes drifted to Atton who sat quietly in thought, his hazel eyes focused on her. A knot slowly curled in her stomach as the silence stretched out.

"Sure. Why not? Not like I have much say in the matter anyway but, yeah, welcome to the crew," Atton smiled.

The Ebon Hawk continued its journey through hyperspace towards the planet of Nexus. In the garage, Allan swung the green blade of his lightsaber in slow arcs. Parry, feint, attack, parry, lunge. His body in perfect balance as he moved. Attack, parry, stutter. His concentration broke as he heard the hum of a second lightsaber being lit behind him. He tensed and turned; defending himself from a blow that failed to arrive. Red light lit Grace's face as she brought the 'saber up in a jaunty salute that matched the smile on her face.

"A bit jumpy for a Jedi, aren't you?"

Allan relaxed slightly as Grace moved further into the garage. "I did not sense you there. You are almost as good as Atton at hiding your presence when you want to." He eyed the red blade. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you could do with a real opponent. I've always found it more satisfying when there's another blade to hit," Grace shrugged as she swung the blade in her hand. "Besides, if I'm going to help you then I have to get back into the habit of using a lightsaber. Since I don't have my own currently I'll just have to make do with this one. Don't worry, it's set on low. It'll only give you a small burn if I hit. What do you say?"

Allan turned off his lightsaber and set it on low. He lit it up again, anticipation surging through his veins. He smiled as he presented the blade towards Grace. She crossed her blade with his as she stepped sideways, then paused. Her blade snapped down with no warning as she started their match. Allan moved to block her attack.

Atton heard the hum and crackle from the storage room where he was checking the supplies and went to see what was going on. He stopped by the entrance to the garage to watch in appreciative wonder as Allan and Grace swung and clashed their blades as they fought the length of the room. Green blade defended and attacked with precision, moving carefully, conservatively, waiting for the rare opening in the red blade's movements. Red blade struck with speed and power, it's wielder moving and spinning, dancing a pattern that would ultimately drive the green blade away from it's user. Grace moved in for the finishing stroke and stopped as the green blade slid past her defenses and rested by her neck.

Grace turned off her lightsaber as the green blade hovered. "Not bad," she remarked lightly as she lifted her hands in surrender, a satisfied smile on her face.

Allan switched off his blade as he moved it away from her neck and smiled back. "You almost had me." He slid his 'saber onto his belt.

"True, but I'm a bit rusty. If I weren't, it would have been a far shorter match." Grace turned and walked to the workbench. She put the lightsaber down and turned around to lean her elbows and back against the bench.

Atton shifted to see her better and she looked his way. He leaned against the door framing as he spoke. "You didn't take that long with Kelbourne. All that fancy footwork and everything, I mean. Not that it wasn't impressive or anything," he quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Kelbourne was sloppy with the Force. He had good form, so someone taught him well, but he was lousy at disguising his intent." Grace looked at her hands as she fiddled with a tool from the bench. Her head lifted with a smile as she glanced with appreciation at Allan. "Now, Master Berrun here knows how to give a girl a run for her money. We should do that more often."

Atton tried to keep his face neutral as he looked at Allan. She likes you better than me… he thought. I've barely had her alone in a room with me. And here you are, getting the smiles and attention… "Yeah? Well, keep it to a civil hour. I'd hate to loose my sleep because of the sound of you two trying to hit each other. It kind of echoes in here if you hadn't noticed," Atton groused. He turned and left to return to the cockpit in a sudden foul mood at the thought of them together.

Grace watched Atton leave then turned to the workbench and stared at the lightsaber resting on its scarred surface. The 'saber was blued steel, inlaid with rings of some dark wood and appeared new to her eyes, like it hadn't seen much service. He didn't have much time to stamp his mark on his own lightsaber… she thought.

Allan's voice interrupted her. "You have been avoiding him. Why? I thought you two had some sort of understanding."

"What? Oh… Atton. No," she remarked as she tried to follow what Allan was saying. Grace looked up as Allan stood beside her. He looked steadily at her and she flushed. "Okay, yes. I've been avoiding him," she sighed and looked back at the bench and started rubbing at one burn-mark. "I can barely tell what he's thinking unless he shows it on his face, and that's not something I'm used to. I can sense anyone when I'm trying but with Atton all I get is pazaak. It makes me nervous, not being able to read him like everyone else." She smiled wryly and looked at Allan as she picked up the 'saber and rolled it in her hands. "When I first saw you both I told myself I should never get involved. And with him in particular. I…" Grace stopped her thought and shook her head. "I need to talk to you about something else," she changed the subject. "What do you know of Force-dreams? Dreams that aren't entirely memory or imagination."

"Such dreams are usually meant to guide one to a conclusion or a deeper understanding of the subject." Allan offered as he mirrored her posture by the bench. "Are you saying you had one recently?"

Grace stood straight and started pacing around the garage as she rolled the 'saber in her hands. "No. Not as such. More like repeatedly, as in every night. I can barely get enough sleep as it is, and this…" she stopped pacing to look at Allan again. "This memory isn't helping. Some nights it holds me. I can't wake up. It repeats. And when I do wake up I feel like I haven't slept all night. I have to resort to catnapping in the day and it's wearing me down. I don't understand what it's trying to show me." She twisted the lightsaber in her hands in frustration and looked at Allan. "I need help," she whispered.

"Tell me about this dream," Allan requested.

Time, Grace felt, slowed down when she was awake in hyperspace. All her memories seemed to drop away before they came back with avengeance while she slept. Here, in her sleep, memories and dreams paraded past with almost indecent haste. Some good, most bad. Some real, others almost a reality. She let them all flow past as best she could until she came to the one that demanded her attention whether she wanted it to or not. One memory that would replay over and over - her fight with the members of her strike team as the Jedi stood unarmed behind her. Each movement repeated with aching familiarity. Now fast, now slow. Always ending in blood and corpses. The woman watching her with brown eyes as Grace moved automatically and deadly, giving and receiving no quarter, attacking and parrying with tears running down her cheeks, knowing she was dreaming, and eventually screaming at the ghost Jedi and the Jedi's responses. -Stop doing this!…

-You have to remember…

-Remember what?…

-Remember…

-What?…

"Grace! You have to wake up, Grace." Gentle but firm, a voice called her out of another restless sleep. Her eyes snapped open as her senses told her there was someone nearby, too close for comfort. She struck out without hesitation but her hand was caught with familiarity and restrained as her awareness of her surroundings filtered in and Grace stopped struggling.

"How am I supposed to help you if you keep attacking me each time I have to wake you?" Allan asked as he held her now limp hand.

"Sorry," she croaked. "Force of habit." Grace sat up in her bed and pulled her knees up to rest her head against them as Allan released her hand.

"Here. Drink this." A mug was placed in her hand and she lifted it to her lips to swallow its hot contents slowly. "Do you remember anything else about the memory?" Grace shook her head, the memory fading too quickly. "Do not worry yourself unduly. Perhaps you are not meant to remember whatever it is until it is needed. Get some rest if you can. I will mediate some more on this in the morning." Allan gently patted her on the back and stood up off the edge of the bed. He gathered his outer robe around him and smiled assurance as he took the empty mug, turned and walked to the dormitory door. "Sleep," he ordered kindly as he stepped out and closed the door part way.

Grace lay back down and curled into the sheets but sleep eluded her for some time as she stared at the opposite wall.

Allan returned the mug to the kitchenette and slowly moved back to the port dormitory where he had been disturbed from his own sleep by Grace's dreams. He glanced back towards the cockpit and saw Atton standing in the shadows by the security room. He turned around and moved towards his friend. As he neared he shook his head.

"It is getting worse. She does not say so but I can feel it. Her memories are powerful and there is definitely something important for her to remember but whatever it is eludes her grasp." Allan sighed as he stopped walking.

"Maybe if you stopped forcing her to remember every detail she would have better luck. I mean, I'm no expert but sometimes you have to let things go and just take your time." Atton remarked without his usual humor as he leaned against the corridor wall with his arms folded.

"You may be correct Atton. I thank you for your advice. We will try something different in the morning I think," Allan nodded thoughtfully then smiled. "I will bid you another goodnight then." He turned and walked back to his new bed in the port dormitory.

Atton watched Allan leave then straightened up and returned to the security room to check the monitor like he did every night. He sat watching until Grace relaxed under the sheets and slept. Then he returned to the cockpit and slumped into the pilot's seat to eventually sleep and have his own memories repeat. Since Gate-Way his dreams had began to shift. Before, they had been of the blond, blue-eyed female Jedi he had strangled - the conversation they had, his torture of her, his only thought being that he would love to kill her, and in the end his love for her as he killed her with his bare hands. Now, she would talk to him in honey-smooth tones and look at him with dark violet eyes. And eventually the dream faded to be replaced with another altered memory until he woke up and started counting cards in his head as he looked at the blue of hyperspace.

After a while Atton looked at the chronometer. He dragged his hands through his hair as he stretched, then stood up from the pilot's seat and set off for the 'fresher. The smell of fresh brew floated tantalizing from the kitchenette when he returned so Atton grabbed a mug of caffa as he set out to walk the corridors of the ship. He moved silently in the shadows as he approached the port dormitory, expecting to see Allan and Grace in meditation or discussion as usual. Atton blinked in surprise at the sight of Allan by himself and stepped forward into the room.

Allan looked up from his seat on the floor. "I took your advice and told her to take some time off from dissecting her dream. She's probably in the garage exercising if you're interested." Allan smiled lightly as Atton scratched behind an ear and looked at his mug.

"Nah. Just wondering if you wanted a drink was all," Atton lied.

"Thank you but no, I do not think I could handle one of your caffas again. The last one I had I could not stop fidgeting for hours afterwards I was so wired," Allan laughed softly, and a crooked grin slipped over Atton's face as he shook his head and turned away. He could not help liking the Jedi even as he felt he was in a competition for Grace.

Atton headed for the garage and slowed down as he neared. He stopped in the shadows by the door and looked over at Grace as she exercised in the middle of the room. He watched her dip and sway, her feet shifting balance lightly, her arms flowing as she moved in slow motion, stretching, bending, focused on her moving meditation. He could see that she used the momentum of her invisible opponent to power her counterattacks and flowed from one form to another with the ease of familiarity. His drink grew cold as he continued to admire her and her skill.