Manaan. Kashyyyk. Korriban. Tatooine.

Tatooine. Korriban. Kashyyyk. Manaan.

Mal squints at the list of names. "Should we go closest to farthest? That kind of makes sense."

"That would put us to Korriban," Bastila objects. "I know we'll have to go there eventually but I'd feel a lot better if you had more experience as a Jedi first."

"So farthest to closest?"

Carth clears his throat. "We've got no idea where the actual Star Forge might be. There's no point basing it on distance."

Mal suppresses a groan. "Okay. Fine. Alphabetical order?"

They stare back blankly. Right. Mal's the one running the show which means they're letting her make the big decisions. Except for when they disagree. Oh, the joys of leadership. She turns to the onscreen map hiding it from view with her back. There's only one thing left to do in a situation like this and it's never failed her before. She closes her eyes, spins her finger in a circle three times, and hits the map. She takes a peek. Way off. Some clump of nothing but the closest of their choices is…

"Kashyyyk. We'll start there."

"All right, I'll take us up." Carth turns to the pilot's seat flipping a sequence of switches Mal should probably be learning. Instead, she catches Bastila's eye and nods toward the door. As they pass through the main hub her gaze naturally trails toward the space Juhani has claimed for her own. Their eyes meet briefly, a quick nod of the head before Mal turns away and leads Bastila to the storage room.

Mal is still learning how to control the way her vision slips beyond. Turns out it's a trick of the Force and not the result of brain damage according to a very amused Master Vandar. But Juhani's temper is a sharp thing, easy to cut your hand on. They haven't spoken beyond a brief reintroduction which quickly turned into a fumbling awkward mess. Mal knows there's more to be said. The tension emanates through the ship but every attempt to try again is stunted.

"Why is she here?" Bastila looks startled at Mal's accusatory tone. "Juhani. Why did the Council really send her with us?"

"Clearly they think it'll help her grow as a person and a Jedi."

"That's it?"

Bastila huffs. "May I remind you that I'm not a part of the Council. I only know what they decide tell me."

"You knew about her in the grove." Mal crosses her arms and fights the urge to start pacing. "You knew why she was there."

"Of course."

"And none of you helped her?"

"The timing worked in favor of it serving as your final test. If not you, then someone else would've gone."

Mal bristles. "And what if I failed? What if I was a jumped up Padawan like half the kids in there trying to prove their worth and ended up killing her?"

"That's not the Jedi way."

"And she would've paid the price for that mistake."

"You were successful," Bastila eyes her warily. "Why are you upset?"

"Because I lied to her."

"You lie all the time and to everyone. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Mal shakes her head. "This was different. She wanted a reason to believe again, and I gave her one. But it was false."

Bastila frowns, unsure in the wake of Mal's emotions. "Are you saying you don't actually believe in the teachings?"

"I'm saying I don't believe in how they taught her the lesson. I don't believe in the way she reacted to killing her Master. I don't believe in the consolation she needed to return. And I don't believe it's a good idea to send her on this suicide mission with us."

Bastila watches her a moment before responding. "Then what would you have said if you were speaking truthfully?"

The truth? People rarely mean it when they ask for the truth and those conversations always end in tears and tangled emotions. It's much easier to say what they want to hear, what they think they need to hear. So what is this feeling? Anger? Guilt?

"I would've told her that the Jedi knew the risks when they took her in. They knew the dangers of training her and they did it anyway. If her Master really cared, then she should've been the one to bring her back. They let Juhani think she was dead, that she'd done something beyond redemption."

Compassion? Pity?

"I know that's why we have discipline and codes to stay on the right path, but not even Jedi are beyond fucking up. So why is that a one-way ticket to the dark side? You should be allowed to make mistakes. It's not her fault."

Commonality. That's the one. And that's why they sent her with you.

There's a severity to Bastila's gaze that makes Mal want to crawl inside her own skin. "When we make mistakes, innocent people end up hurt or worse. To wield the Force is to wield a responsibility greater than our personal feelings. You can make all the excuses you want, but in the end, it was her choice," The harsh look falters into softness. "Just as it was your choice to save her."

Mal lets her body relax. She understands the lesson now. The test that never ends. The Council sure loves their metaphors. "And it's my fault she's stuck on this ship with us."

"Well, the good news is you can still tell Juhani all of the things you wanted to before. You may not have meant it in the moment but what you said gave her a second chance."

Mal scoffs. "She deserves a vacation at the very least."

"A vacation?"

"Bastila, don't tell me you've never heard of a vacation before? Somewhere warm with lots of fancy drinks and beaches. Now that I think about it, we all deserve a vacation."

Bastila's face scrunches in disbelief. "Of course I know what a vacation is. But we haven't even done anything yet."

"You know, there's this one planet I've always wanted to visit– "

"Absolutely not!"

"So instead, her grand prize is to join the tragic-backstory brigade on a life-or-death quest? Not exactly the ideal healing environment."

"I sincerely hope you're not lumping me into that description."

Mal smiles wickedly and leans in close. "I'm on to you, Shan. Your secrets will be mine soon enough."

The diversion has its intended effect. Bastila leaves in a huff of aggravation. There's something inherently adorable about pushing her buttons that's sure to get Mal in trouble one day. It was the truth though. Everyone on the Ebon Hawk had been swept off their feet into the storm and for lack of better direction stayed there, Mal included.

She walks the tight corridors of the ship with one hand trailing the wall. No matter which direction she goes all paths eventually lead back to the center. Juhani's still there with her body rigid and eyes alert. It hurts to see her in the way it hurts staring at an overly reflective surface. But that's their intention, isn't it? To take a kindred soul, polish her, and prop her up as a custom parable. And if they're that much alike then the road ahead is guaranteed to be rocky. Mal is still standing in the entryway grasping for words when Canderous walks by.

And there it is. Pure anger, fear, and loathing beamed directly from Juhani's eyes to the back of Canderous' head. Of course. Mal can recognize that look anywhere. She's just found their common ground.