The inside of the Jedi complex was nearly as dark and quiet as the rest of the town.

Dinar Enai, being on an undeveloped world with a tiny population, was perhaps the least busy place Cina had ever been in her life. Even so soon after sunset, there had been absolutely no one on the streets, the only light pouring in from the occasional unshuttered window, silent save for occasional snatches of conversation flittering by, too soft to make out. The constant chittering and chirping of a million foreign insects was by far the loudest sound carried through the night air, so quiet the subtle hum of electricity running through the ground was actually audible.

On the way Cina noticed, to her shock, that she could make out the smoky line of the galactic disk stretching across the sky, distant dust clouds and nebulae back-lit by stars bright enough to be seen with the naked eye, shortly over the horizon the larger, brighter core, glowing a pure, clean white. Cina didn't think she'd ever actually seen the disc and the core from the surface of a planet before. It was more easily visible from space, of course, the view from down here dimmer and less detailed, but even that was new to her — she'd spent her whole life in the core, she hadn't seen the disc in person until she'd looked out of the Endar Spire when they'd briefly stopped over Garqi. She'd stayed at the viewport for some minutes, just staring out at the winding band of the galaxy, and...

Cina was distracted by the memory. Something about that felt like a lie. She meant, that memory itself, staring out at the disc from the Spire, that had certainly happened. Just... The disc and core seen from the rim was beautiful, yes, but it hadn't actually felt as...wondrous as it should, if she'd never seen it before. It just hadn't occurred to her to wonder about that at the time, she hadn't known Cianen Hayal was fake yet.

She still preferred to avoid thinking about all that, at least in any depth. It made her...uncomfortable.

In any case, the point was, the Dantooine night held a sort of eerie beauty, silent and dark, the sky overhead more dense with subtly twinkling stars than any she could recall seeing. It made her feel a little strange, she couldn't even explain exactly how, but she thought she rather liked it.

The silence and the darkness continued through the Jedi complex. The gardens acting as a barrier against the town, populated with trees and flowering bushes from dozens of worlds, were absent any beings, any signs of technology at all, the only sounds the gentle sussurring of leaves on the low wind, the occasional lapping of an unseen creature slipping into one of the little ponds, the constant chorus of insects. The lights were all off in the complex itself, save for the occasional dimly-burning argon torch at the corners of roofs, the tips of towers, painting only the most subtle, murky sense of an outline.

Shan led her to a hallway, low-ceilinged and wide, even here so dark Cina could barely make out her surroundings, reddish diode strips at the corners between floor and walls set at such a low intensity she only got a vague impression of greyish shapes, nothing particularly clear. At the end of the long hall was a central courtyard, again too dark to make out much in the way of detail — plenty of more bushes, a tall tree at the centre, thin, twisting branches blotting out a significant portion of the sky. Shan led her into another hall, this no different than the other, around a curving hallway, and finally to a door, the ceiling here having arced up a bit, allowing the rounded frame to stretch rather higher over her head than any of the previous.

A few metres away, Shan petered to a halt. She turned to face Cina, her features mostly hidden in shadow, only a faint sense of her profile, a subtle twinkle marking her eyes. Her voice hardly at a whisper, she started, "The Council... They are not accustomed to being spoken to with the sort of effrontery you've shown with me."

Cina felt one eyebrow tick up her forehead — Shan wouldn't be able to see it anyway, so she didn't bother trying to keep it down. "I don't see how your Masters being accustomed to sycophants could possibly be my problem."

"That right there is exactly the sort of thing you should try to avoid saying."

"I think I know how to speak for myself, thanks. Are we going in, or what?"

For long seconds, Shan stared at her through the darkness, anxious, nauseating sparks flying through the brief space between them. Then she let out a thin sigh, so quiet Cina hardly heard it, before turning back toward the doors.

The Council chamber itself was wide and tall, at the base of one of the towers she'd noticed from the outside — which was apparently hollow, empty space stretching a good fifteen metres above her head. It was noticeably brighter in here, though not by a whole lot, white lamps illuminating a circle at the centre but leaving the rest in shadow, the edges and heights of the room left murky and indistinct. At the opposite side of that circle, curving in a short arc, stood four beings — two humans, one dark-skinned and one light, a rutian Twi'lek, and an absolutely tiny being, didn't even reach the others' waists, that Cina didn't recognise.

At a level that was not truly seen, the four Jedi Masters filled the entire space with a soft, gentle glow, deep and brilliant, pleasantly cool against her skin.

Shan didn't hesitate a second, kept walking forward until she reached the edge of the brightened space in the middle, where she stopped, dipped into a shallow bow. She glanced back at Cina, gestured her forward with a sideways tilt of her head. Cina obeyed, swimming through the subtle sense of benevolent energy filling the air, her head going slightly fuzzy with it. She planted herself right in the middle, stared back at the Jedi, who hadn't twitched at her approach, barely seemed to blink.

Cina took a double take at the Twi'lek, over the next long, silent moments her eyes involuntarily drawn to him again and again. He was a middle-aged man, old enough his skin had started to wrinkle and lighten, pale lavender eyes steady but soft. He seemed oddly...familiar. Which, Cina had never met this man in her life, but the feeling was unmistakable, and very distracting.

She could only assume she'd known him before. Rather well, if the nauseating twinge at the left side of her head meant anything.

It was the Twi'lek who spoke first, actually, the new-yet-familiar voice just making her head hurt all the more. "Good evening, Professor Hayal. My name is Zhar Lestin."

That spot over her left ear flared for a second, Cina tried not to wince.

"With me are Masters Vrook Lamar—" He indicated the pale-skinned human, an aging, balding man, sharp eyes narrowed in something just short of a scowl. "—Vandar Tokare—" That was the little, unfamiliar being, with mottled brown skin, huge, floppy ears, a bald head that revealed long, wrinkled ridges stitching across his (she guessed) wide brow, peculiar three-fingered hands held folded in front of him. His brilliant green eyes seemed disproportionately large for his skull, his wide lips pulled into what might be a faint smile, it could be hard to tell with unfamiliar species. "—and Dorak, Chronicler of our Enclave here." This was the dark-skinned human, a man looking only slightly younger than Lamar, though even more thoroughly bald, pinning Cina with what felt like an evaluating stare. "Bastila has just been informing us of what transpired on Taris."

Lestin fell silent at that, and none of the others seemed to be moving to pick it up. After long, awkward seconds, Cina decided she might as well say something, despite that that really hadn't felt like it was inviting comment. "Yes, that was an...interesting detour."

Lamar's scowl deepened, but Dorak and Lestin actually looked faintly amused. "I suppose it was that."

Tokare jumped in, his voice surprisingly low and rumbling for his stature. "On behalf of our Order and the Republic as a whole, we must thank you for your assistance in recovering young Bastila. Her battle meditation — a rare talent, one which might only present itself once in a generation — has proven critical in our efforts against Malak and his Sith. To have her once again slip through his fingers must have angered him greatly."

The words came before she could think to stop them. "Given what he did to Taris, I guess it must have."

All faces turned rather more solemn, the gentle power in the air going tense, colder. "Yes," muttered Lamar, voice low and dark, "such is the madness of those fallen to the Dark Side."

Cina almost spoke impulsively again — she was pretty sure Alek was just nuts, the Dark Side had little to do with it — but she managed to hold it in this time.

With a weak, half-hearted smile, Lestin said, "Regardless, you have performed a great service to the Republic. It will not be forgotten."

She shrugged. "It just seemed the thing to do." It probably wasn't worth pointing out that Carth had essentially guilt-tripped her into helping him — not that she regretted it, she likely would have fallen into an existential crisis about the whole fake memory thing if she hadn't had something to distract herself with. (Not to mention, Alek would have levelled Taris anyway, she'd be dead right now if she hadn't helped.) "Though, if you really want to thank me, I guess you could reimburse me for the twenty million credits I spent on the operation."

Now Lamar was just plain glaring at her, the other Masters looking less severe, though they didn't seem particularly pleased either.

Before any of them could chastise her, Cina said, "That was supposed to be a joke, by the way." Mostly because she knew expecting the Jedi to compensate anyone for their assistance was a bit naive. If they were under contract, sure, but just some random, uninvolved person deciding to offer their help of their own free will? No, the Jedi didn't have a reputation for rewarding good citizens. "I didn't do any of it all with expectation of reward, I... Well, I just did it."

Lestin's lips tilted with the slightest trace of a smile, and Dorak also seemed amused, if faintly, but while the other two didn't lighten up quite so much they at least weren't glaring at her anymore. "Yes," Lamar grumbled, with the sense of admitting something distasteful with all due reluctance, "it is undeniable that your assistance was critical in getting Bastila off Taris before she was lost forever. But, given that, your methods still leave...much to be desired."

She tried to stop herself — belatedly, a weak effort when it was already far too late — but she still rolled her eyes with a scoff. "This again? Honestly, I already got this whinging from Carth. In under three weeks, I secured a safehouse and funding, allies that proved absolutely necessary to our success, rescued Shan over there from slavery right under the noses of armed and hardened men by the hundreds, and devised a strategy to secure us transportation and slip through the blockade — a strategy which worked, flawlessly. I would like to see anyone do better."

With a slight sense of reproach, though it was unclear toward who, Lestin started, "My colleague did not intend to diminish your—"

"Then maybe just a little bloody appreciation is in order, don't you think?"

All of four of the Masters went silent, almost impossibly still, staring back at her for long, awkward seconds. They weren't all wearing the exact same expression, some more blank than others, but it was plainly clear all of them were less than happy with that little outburst.

Her eyes tipping up to the ceiling, Cina let out a long sigh. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just... I'm just tired, okay? I've had a long couple weeks." Though she'd felt oddly tired before that, that wasn't really pertinent. "I've gotten this conversation several times already from Carth, and now a few from Shan. I just... I achieved all of our objectives, with no losses, or even serious injuries. There were, to my knowledge, no civilian casualties, or even significant property damage. More than that, I went out of my way to help locals — Mission did end up providing critical assistance, yes, but I had no way of knowing that at the time, rescuing her and Zaalbar from slavers was entirely impulsive. I did nothing wrong. If you're suggesting I could have done something differently, and still be standing here right now, I do not see it."

Lamar, like the arse it was becoming increasingly clear he was, outright scoffed at that. "I suppose you think the whole lot of speeders you blew up, or the people who died in the chaos, don't count. Or the who even knows how many people at the swoop race. Or the dozens of people between you and the ship you'd chosen."

"At the swoop race, I only killed the people who posed a direct threat to us. I'm sure plenty died in the fighting, but you can't lay that on me — we may have set it off, but those gangs have been on the edge of war for years, their choices where their own. Besides, there was no other practical way to get to Shan." She shrugged. "And the rest don't count. I don't know how the Jedi see it, but, in my book, slavers are acceptable targets."

"Perhaps," Tokare said, his rumbling voice as light as he could probably make it. "Though, it is likely many of those beings were killed for circumstances outside their control."

"When someone joins an organisation like that, they know full well what they're getting into, and violence comes with the job. They knew what they were contributing to, and they knew they might die for it one day. And they signed on anyway." Cina shrugged, high and exaggerated, dismissing the topic. "I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to talk to me about."

"What makes you so certain of that? I think there's quite a lot here to discuss."

Cina shot Lamar a disbelieving glance. "Do you also think I'm an idiot? The only reason I was on Taris in the first place was because I was being brought here. To help with an archaeological project I doubt even exists."

One of the Masters started asking a question — Cina wasn't really paying attention to which, he only got a few words in.

Because she realised what he was asking very quickly, and cut him off. "I used to be a Jedi. Shan must have told you I figured it out. Whyever you wanted me here, I suspect it has far more to do with that, the dig was just a ploy."

It was hard to say exactly what it was telling her this. She meant, their expressions hadn't noticeably shifted, the soft feel on the air hadn't changed that much. But, somehow, she felt the sudden intensity of their attention on her, the Masters watching her every twitch. Slowly, carefully, Lestin asked, "Just how much do you remember?"

"Very little." She shrugged, forcing the gesture easy and casual. "Just, flashes, really. Nothing particularly coherent, very little of it even makes any sense. I know I'm from a wealthy Shawkenese family, and that I was sent to the Temple on Coruscant when I was...ten, maybe, somewhere around there. I know I fought in a war, but if Shan hadn't told me I was Revanchist I wouldn't even be able to say for sure which one. I could guess, obviously, but..."

From Lamar, his sharp eyes slightly narrowed, "You know you also joined the Sith."

"I don't remember anything about that, honestly. I suspect some of those flashes are with the Revanchists, and some with the Sith, but I can't tell which are which."

The others falling into watchful silence, it was Tokare who asked the billion credit question. "So, you know everything that is Cianen Hayal is a construction, and who put it there. What do you think of that?"

Cina considered how to respond for a moment — very, very carefully. "I'm fortunate, I suppose."

"Fortunate?" Oddly, Lestin actually looked surprised, enough it broke through the stereotypical Jedi equanimity.

"Sure. All else being equal, I'd rather be alive than the alternative. Since... As I understand it, from what Shan said, the damage was such that... Well, if my choices are having an entirely constructed identity, with all the false memories to match, and being dead, I know which one I prefer."

(Cina refused to entertain any doubts that might or might not be possible about what she was saying.)

After a brief, considering silence, the tension in the room swiftly dissipated, the subtle weight on her shoulders lifting away as the Masters visibly relaxed. Another faint smile touched Tokare's oversized lips. "We here have long held to a belief that all beings, no matter their crimes, are entitled to a chance at redemption. A belief that has sometimes led to intense disagreements with the High Council on Coruscant. It is heartening to hear that you are taking this opportunity as the gift it is." He didn't sound particularly heartened, but that was Jedi for you.

The words nearly brought forth a flash of anger, but Cina forced it down, quenched the fires before they could properly rise. "It's not really redemption, though, is it? That would require...well, for me to still be the same person. Which I'm not, really."

"You are more yourself than you might realise." At her questioning glance, Lestin almost flinched, the slightest twitch of his lips. He visibly mulled over his words for a couple seconds. "It was determined that, in constructing a new identity for you, it would be ideal for your personality and interests to be as similar as possible to that which was lost. Those who knew you well have always noted your interest in history, and the varied cultures of this galaxy, often expressed in a fascination with the minutia of how different peoples communicate between each other and among themselves. You wrote many essays on such topics as an apprentice, in fact.

"And, while you have certainly always held the principles of the Republic and even the Order in the highest esteem, you frequently found much to criticise in the practice. We believe it was, in part, this...disillusionment that ultimately led you into the Sith — a path that, we hope, a more distanced perspective may prevent you from walking again. But, taken all together, academia — particularly some form of liberal arts with the University of Aldera — seemed the best fit."

She was calling Lestin's bluff on some of that. For one thing, it strongly hinted at their lie about her mind being entirely destroyed, without explicitly revealing it. If everything she had been was gone, or at least the vast majority of it, she shouldn't see why it would be ideal to match her old personality as well as was possible. But, given what she knew now, the reason behind that was pretty obvious: the more similar Cianen Hayal was to who she'd once been, the fewer conflicts there would be between the artificial personality and the one buried under it, the less likely she was to be pushed to realise something about herself that didn't quite make sense. There had been things, as early as her weeks back on Coruscant — she had stumbled on languages she knew but didn't remember studying, and it was quite obvious, looking back on it, that she was accustomed to a degree of luxury that did not match her history — but the clues had been subtle enough she hadn't thought about it too hard. The latter she'd just written off as abusing the opportunity to charge everything to an expense account, the former as, well, she had studied an absurd number of languages, maybe she had just forgotten.

In fact, if everything hadn't quickly gone to shite, she might never have noticed anything was wrong, at least not nearly so soon. Getting that concussion on the Spire, she'd been too delirious to think things through too hard, she'd simply acted — and in the process revealed instincts and knowledge and skills she hadn't realised she'd had. If she hadn't gotten that head injury, if she hadn't been forced into situations where she'd had to rely on her previously forgotten combat abilities to survive, she wouldn't have determined Cianen Hayal was a lie, might never have had cause to put it together.

Shan jumping at the 'opportunity' to hit Alek had been a critical mistake on more levels than had been immediately obvious.

But, while that was an interesting thought, Cina didn't let herself linger on it too long — if she did, she would likely start getting annoyed, and she didn't want the Masters to realise just how effectively she was managing to mischaracterise how she felt about all this. (At least, she thought she was pulling it off, they'd probably react differently if they knew she was trying to fool them.) Luckily, a different thought had occurred to her. Lestin had sounded somewhat...odd, saying that, a peculiar reluctance touching the usual gentle apathy Jedi tried to speak with, and that made her wonder... "I'm sorry, Master, did we know each other, before? I was already wondering about that — you seem...familiar."

The other Council members glanced at each other, a subtle sense of anxiety touching the air, but Lestin just stared back at her. He smiled again, with a faint sense of...of sadness, of regret. Which was a strange thing to see on a Jedi Master. "I suppose there is no danger in telling you this. Yes, we did know each other before. Long before he was Darth Malak, he was my padawan, you see. The Revanchists were all Coruscanti Jedi, many around the same age — I was at least familiar with most all of them."

"I was close to them, wasn't I? Lesami and Alek."

There were a couple quelling looks from the rest of the Council, but Lestin answered anyway. "Even among the earliest of the Revanchists, there were two groups. There was the core group, composed of Revan and Malak's closest friends and associates at the Temple, and a larger, more diverse one, many of whom did not know them personally, but were drawn to follow Revan for one reason or another. You were one of the former, yes."

Cina had a weird thought. "I'm not Nisotsa Thul, am I?" The (limited) monarchy on Alderaan had been being passed back and forth between three noble houses for some centuries now: Ulgo, Panteer, and Thul. (The crown couldn't simply be inherited, the new monarch must be confirmed by Parliament, so it moved around.) Their current monarch was a Panteer, but the previous one had been a Thul — Nisotsa was his granddaughter. Certain peculiarities of her sacrifice to the Jedi had come up in the succession, in fact, it became a bit of scandal, played a role in the Thuls losing the crown this time.

During the war with the Mandoade, Nisotsa had played more of a diplomatic role, not primarily a frontline fighter. (Though she still did participate in her fair share of battles, of course, they'd needed every Jedi they could get.) Her connections through her family and her work buttering up Republic and local officials had even been the source of the greater part of the Revanchists' political legitimacy — at least, before "Revan" had been made Supreme Commander, anyway. In the Sith, Nisotsa had been their Minister of State, which was essentially their equivalent to the Supreme Chancellor, the president of Parliament and leader of their civilian government. It was known Alek had summarily dismissed her not long after Lesami's death. (Even if one accepted he was Emperor now — an office to which he'd never legally been invested, he'd just unilaterally claimed it — that wasn't a power the Emperor even had under their constitution. Not that most people in the Republic cared about that kind of nuance.) That was, what, five months ago now? four? Cina couldn't recall hearing any news about her since then.

If she had been Nisotsa, that... Well, it wasn't a perfect explanation. For one thing, her accent wasn't Alderaanian. Also, she remembered vacationing on Shawken which...wasn't necessarily evidence against. She didn't have to be Shawkenese for her family to have a vacation home near Mathilnai. Shawken and Alderaan did have ties going back millennia — a number of Shawkenese noble houses, including Lesami's, had originally been Alderaanian noble houses, exiled after a civil war about eight thousand years ago, they'd had a fair bit of economic and cultural contact ever since. And wealthy families did tend to get around, they weren't quite as fixed to a particular locale as lower classes often were. It wasn't out of the question Nisotsa could have spent a fair portion of her childhood on Shawken. Perhaps even enough to have a Shawkenese accent.

Cina wasn't certain it was a perfect fit, but it would explain rather a lot.

Before Lestin could say anything — not that she was certain he was going to, he appeared a little conflicted — Tokare gave a non-answer. "We will neither confirm nor deny your previous identity. We feel doing so may push you down paths better left unwalked."

"Right." She could tell pressing the matter would be pointless. It wasn't that long ago that she really hadn't want to know, and... Well, okay, she still didn't that much, to be honest. She just... For all she'd protested to Carth about such generalisations, she was well aware some of the Sith had done truly horrendous things. And there was that...that cold, dragging exhaustion always looming over her, no matter how much she might try to ignore it, that... Whoever she'd been before, Cina had the feeling she'd been... Well, she would admit to some curiosity, on occasion, but she wasn't certain she actually wanted to know. So, she'd let the idea that she'd been Nisotsa Thul sit as a possibility, but—

No, wait. Wasn't Nisotsa blonde? Cina was pretty sure Nisotsa was rather taller than her too, her figure more obviously feminine. Surgically altering her hair colour was simple, but the rest would take a lot of work. Even a minor height change would require weeks of physical therapy to sort out, and those moments acting on instinct were far too coordinated. Right, never mind.

But anyway, they'd spent long enough on that tangent. Back to the point. "This is fun, but perhaps we can talk about why I'm here."

Lamar scowled at her, but he scowled a lot — Cina was getting the very clear feeling he did not like her. It was Tokare who answered, again. "The answer to that is more straightforward than you think. Essentially, we have not lied about why it is we wanted you here. Recent developments, though, have made things a little more complicated — I am speaking now of the vision you and Bastila shared on your approach."

Cina blinked. "Those were the ruins where the inscriptions you wanted me to translate are from. Where Lesami and Alek went."

"In short, yes. There are ruins scattered about Dantooine, all very old and many bearing a strong resonance with the Force. Some time ago, fresh from their victory against the Mandalorians, Revan and Malak—" Tokare put a subtle stress here, apparently trying to suggest she stop using their actual names. "—came to this world under false pretenses. They told this Council they desired some time alone, here in isolation, to reflect and meditate. We allowed them this, believing it to be an early step on their return to the Order.

"We later learned it was a ruse. They did something at one of these sites — we do not know what, or at which. Whatever it was they did, the entire planet resonated with it, a disturbance in the Force so powerful it was deafening. And then they left. They returned a year later as Sith, with an impossibly large fleet at their backs." This last phrase was said with a subtle sense of suggestion — Tokare even raised a single, prompting eyebrow.

That was a fascinating question few people bothered asking, and none seemed to have an answer to: where exactly had the Sith fleet come from? The core of it was made up of defectors from the Republic, of course, but they were a minority, there were thousands of ships Lesami had seemingly conjured out of thin air. Cina had heard more than once people claim she had simply conjured them, through some inexplicable Jedi magic, people could be very silly about Revan. The most reasonable theory she'd heard was that the Revanchists had stumbled across another advanced society in the Unknown Regions, made an alliance with them, or perhaps just staged a coup, and took command of their military. That was the only one she'd heard that really made any sense at all.

So it was bloody obvious what Tokare was trying to say. "You think whatever they found here pointed them toward wherever they found all those ships of theirs."

"It's not an unreasonable suggestion," said Dorak — he'd hardly spoken at all so far, Cina had nearly forgotten he was there. "They were sighted a few more times across the known galaxy in the following weeks. They then joined up with their defector fleet, which then departed known space, travelling west. The greatest portion of unexplored space lies to the west of the core, comprising perhaps as much as a quarter of the entire galaxy. It is not out of the question that advanced civilisations exist out there, entirely unknown to us. It is not out of the question that two powerful Jedi might have convinced or coerced them into an alliance. Indeed, Intelligence has uncovered evidence to suggest as much."

Tokare picked up the thread. "We suspect their travels throughout the galaxy over those weeks was a pursuit of the information necessary to pick a way through the hyperspace disturbance bisecting the galaxy. It was our hope that, in examining the ruins here as they did, you might be able to replicate this first step, allowing us to put together the rest. We hoped this might prove some advantage in the war, perhaps enough to cripple the assault on the Republic, if only momentarily."

With his patent scowl on his face, Lamar grumbled, "Of course, that's all been blast to hell now."

It took some effort for Cina to hold in a snort — that was a very Corellian thing to say. "How so? Expecting me to translate a completely unknown language is sort of absurd, but that was the idea from the beginning, far as I can tell. What changed?"

"You have started to touch the Force again," Tokare said. "This complicates matters."

Lestin continued, with a slight sense of a smirk on his voice. "This was always a possibility, of course. In fact, I was of the opinion it was an inevitability — you are too strong in the Force to forget it for long. But we'd hoped we would have more time."

There was a subtle implication there, subtle enough Cina probably wasn't supposed to notice, that the Council hadn't been in total agreement on the plan. But that wasn't particularly important at the moment. "How does that change anything?"

Tokare again — it hadn't been spelled out, but she'd gotten the feeling he was a leader of a sort here. "Those ruins are steeped in the Dark Side. For one who is not open to the Force, this is no danger, but for one who is? It is all too easy for the untrained to, unknowingly, let it into themselves, and become twisted by it. And there is the connection between you and Bastila to consider."

Cina frowned. "What connection?"

"Surely you remember the vision the two of you shared. She told us of a similar event, on Taris — you were both asleep, and you were drawn into her dream."

"That..." Well, she did remember that, come to think of it. She didn't remember it very well, just a vague idea of anger and sadness, two Jedi falling into a despair so black and so deep it never ended. It hadn't occurred to her that that might not even be her own dream — of course it hadn't, at the time she hadn't even realised she'd been a Jedi yet. "Was that what that was?"

"Yes," Shan said, from behind her. "I didn't realise what was happening right away, but eventually I noticed your presence. Even when I was cut off from the Force I could still feel you there, if I tried."

"That... Is that a normal thing to happen?"

Dorak spoke this time, his voice slipping into a more academic tone. "It is not a common occurrence, but it is not unheard of. Force-sensitive beings will sometimes develop close connections, powerful enough to be maintained across the galaxy. Most often, such a bond will develop between a student and their Master, slowly over years. It is unusual for one to develop so quickly."

Okay, that made absolutely no sense. From her uninformed perspective, this "connection" sounded rather like a strong personal, emotional bond being reflected through the Force — that it happened so rarely could simply be because Jedi were told they shouldn't form such bonds at all, the master/apprentice relationship the nearest thing they were allowed. But, at that point, she and Shan had only spoken a handful of times, and none of those conversations had been very... They hadn't liked each other, was the point. They still didn't, honestly.

Cina nearly said something about that, but changed her mind at the last second. She didn't think they were wrong about the bond itself existing, no matter how absurd an idea that was, there was no point lingering over the question of how it had formed. Especially since that made absolutely no sense. "And why is that a problem?"

"There are benefits to this sort of bond," Lestin said, "but there are also disadvantages. You might notice, as you progress further in your study of the Force, that thoughts and feelings sometimes drift across from one into the other. If one of you is injured, the other might share the pain. If one of you falls to the Dark, the other might well follow."

Still scowling at her, Lamar ground out, "The lure of the Dark Side is not easy to resist. It may be found outside of us, in places like these ruins, but that is not the true threat. The Darkness exists in all of us — these places simply draw it out, and far too easily. Until you have the discipline to master your own worst impulses, you cannot be allowed near such a place, lest you fall to madness and drag Bastila along with you." Something about the way he said it suggested Lamar didn't think it likely Cina would ever be able to resist the lure of the Dark Side.

Which was honestly laughable, Cina had to work to keep a smirk from her face. All this Dark Side stuff just sounded so silly. True, she didn't know a lot about these things, she'd forgotten everything she'd learned with the Jedi, but she thought the idea that there even was such a thing was absurd on the face of it. She meant, the Force was the collective psychic energy of all living things in the universe, right? Something like that. It would follow, then, that if there were such a thing as the "Dark Side" it would simply be an expression of the maliciousness within everyone. The idea of a "fall" to the Dark Side was, by extension, also not a thing, because nobody was entirely destructive, with no benevolent impulses or instincts whatsoever.

But this wasn't really news — Jedi philosophy had always reflected very basic misunderstandings of how life worked. Like, okay, the Force was the collective energy of all the life in the galaxy, work with that. One could then say there was one aspect, all the drives and behaviours that promote the continuation of life, then another aspect, all the ones working against the continuation of life. Call them creation and destruction, life and death, Light and Dark, whatever. That would be fine, Cina would have no problem with that, in principle.

The problem was, that was clearly not what the Jedi believed. Under any definition that made sense, the Jedi were not the servants of the "Light" they claimed to be, their interests were not aligned with those of that positive aspect of the Force. For a point of obvious evidence, they weren't even allowed to have families — if there were any instinct that was most closely tied to life itself, it was the reproductive drive. Jedi were, in fact, directed to remove themselves from the ordinary patterns of natural life as much as possible. When it came down to it, that's what their Code was all about.

Similarly, what she remembered reading of Jedi writings on the Dark Side were just... The world just wasn't that simple, life wasn't that simple. The absolutist, black-and-white thinking inherent to Jedi dogma was just...childish. She could just be missing something here, but how Jedi kept talking about evil — which was what they meant, they just called it "Darkness" — was, just, patently absurd.

Cina had never seen evidence that true evil actually existed. She didn't expect to ever be convinced otherwise.

But, again, there was really no point to arguing about it. She'd be butting heads with thousands of years of cultural indoctrination and institutional inertia, she'd never get anywhere. Besides, being too contrary would just make dealing with them all the more complicated. "You're saying you mean to train me to be a Jedi."

Somewhat to her surprise, Lestin smiled at her again. "I don't expect you'll find it difficult — you have learned it all before, after all."

That was coming perilously close to admitting she'd never actually had catastrophic brain damage, but okay.

"Understand that there is little choice in this matter — for you, or for us." It was obvious Tokare was trying to seem more solemn, grave, his already low voice dropping further, wrinkled face contracting in a frown to make it seem even more deeply crevaced than it'd been before. But, well, he was just too tiny and ridiculous-looking to take too seriously, it was actually vaguely adorable. "Our ancient Order stands weakened to a degree it has not been for millennia. First we were divided when Exar Kun turned against us, many leaving to follow him, thousands of Jedi dying in the fighting. Only a generation later, we were again divided when the young and the impulsive left in droves for the war on the rim. Again, many Jedi died, and the rest left the Order forever, only one of hundreds returning, and she only briefly."

Her eyes widening involuntarily, Cina nearly interrupted at that. She'd had no idea any of the Revanchists had returned to the Jedi after the war — all the survivors had continued on into the Sith. Well, a few dozen had simply gone missing, but none had actually come back.

Even if she hadn't decided to keep her mouth shut, Lamar would have gotten there first. "Even now, Jedi fall to embrace the Dark every day, turning their back on their own to pledge themselves to Malak as their new dark lord." The scorn Lamar put on those two words was blistering, and also curious — Cina had been under the impression Jedi weren't allowed hatred. "The lure of the Dark Side is difficult to resist in ordinary times. In these times of conflict and division, the contagion is all the more virulent. If Malak is not stopped, and soon, the Jedi will be no more, and there will be no one to stop him swallowing the Republic star by star. If we don't act quickly and decisively, the galaxy will descend into an era of darkness and tyranny not seen in a thousand generations."

Despite herself, Cina couldn't hold in a snort. Wasn't this whole fiasco because, back when the Mandoade invasions were still contained on the far rim, the Jedi hadn't acted quickly and decisively? A prompt, proportionate response from the Jedi — and the Republic, of course, but the High Council could have dragged the Senate along if they'd wanted to — could have contained the Mandoade before their push toward the core even started. The war would have been much shorter, and Lesami likely wouldn't have been driven to rebel against the Order and the Republic. Honestly, if they hadn't stalled like cowards and displayed a little bloody conviction years ago, the galaxy wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place.

The Masters' faces all tightened with disapproval, Lamar's even with clear anger, his eyes almost burning. Before anyone could ask a stupid question, Cina scrambled for something to say. She didn't stress the thing she'd actually found darkly amusing — it was the very issue that had inspired the creation of the Revanchists, and later the Sith. The fewer doubts about her they ultimately came away with, the better. "I'm sorry, are we just choosing to pretend the Empire isn't a liberal democracy again? I mean, I understand you have personal issues with Malak and his ilk, but referring to the Imperial government as tyrannical is a bit of a stretch."

"You just saw the Sith destroy an entire world, one of their own worlds, and you don't think the word applies?"

Cina rolled her eyes, exaggerating the motion to make very sure Lamar could see it. "Oh, honestly, Alek is one man. He has committed horrible atrocities, and he needs to be put down like the mad beast he is, but in time he will be gone, and power will change hands. I seriously doubt whoever succeeds him will be able to ignore the rule of law as he has — so far Alek is skating by on fear and the remaining goodwill he has from his Revanchist days, no future emperor will ever be able to get away with all he has. Imperial citizens have all the same rights we do in the Republic, and, in fact, broader protections against economic exploitation. If the Sith win, it will hardly be the beginning of an era of darkness and tyranny. It'll be harsh that first generation or so, of course, and that is reason enough to oppose them, but give the Empire time to stabilise and I doubt the galaxy will actually look that different. It might even be an improvement.

"I'm not saying I want the Empire to take over the galaxy. I'm just saying, at least be intellectually honest when it comes to your justification for fighting them."

The next few moments, there was silence, the air around her suddenly all too sharp and cold. That almost looked like faint horror on the Masters' faces. Er... Oops? She'd thought that would be a safer topic than the Order's own failure to appropriately deal with the war on the rim, but maybe she'd miscalculated.

Finally, after tense minutes that stretched far too long, Tokare grumbled, "This is a separate matter, and ultimately irrelevant."

"This is foolish in the extreme," snarled Lamar, his scowl turning down on his tiny colleague this time. "Once again, you refuse to listen to reason. It is obvious that Revan's influence still hangs over this one. If we allow this to go forward, she will—"

Tokare cut him off with a harsh, "Vrook." For a brief moment the two glared at each other, the silence so thick Cina could taste it. "Be mindful of yourself, old friend. Your thoughts on this matter are poisoned with anger."

"Anger or not, this is folly."

"If you have a better idea," Dorak said, soft and casual, "I would love to hear it. Whatever your reservations, Vandar had the right of it, before: we have no choice."

Cina bit her tongue — her input here probably wouldn't be helpful. But there was always a choice. The consequences of all but one of the options might be unacceptable, but there was still a choice being made.

Turning away from the glaring contest, Lestin said, "So the question is turned to you, Cianen. Your path will be difficult, and the destination unknown. But will you accept this burden all the same, submit yourself to the guidance of this Council, and once again take up the mantle and the blade of a Jedi Knight?"

"I don't suppose I'll be allowed to leave if I say no."

None of them actually answered the question. But from their eyes as they stared at her, Tokare and Lamar even putting a hold on their silent argument to add their own, she knew what that answer would be. Cina sighed, shook her head. There was a choice, there was always a choice, but only one option was in any way palatable.

Even as she agreed, with all the appropriate platitudes, the words tasted of bitterness and despair.

Spotting a particular pair among the crowd of apprentices filling the refectory, Sesai felt his own face split into a smile. He sauntered his way over, dropped his tray onto the table, and flopped into a seat next to one of the girls. By the way she immediately leaned a little away, he'd probably done that invading-personal-space thing, which honestly wasn't even on purpose this time — he was really bad at judging how much distance was appropriate with which species, he couldn't help it. Grinning, he said, "Hey, girls. What's new?"

Right next to him, shooting a sharp glare at him through her bangs, Lesami said, "I don't suppose there's anything I can say this time that will get you to stop talking to us like we're already friends."

"Nope, 'fraid not." Tearing his hunk of bread in half, he winked. "I'll win you over eventually, Lesami. I know these things." She didn't dislike him nearly as much she claimed to. In fact, he was certain she didn't dislike him at all. She just felt she had to pretend she did, for some unfathomable reason.

"How could you possibly? I already proved your Zeltron stuff doesn't work on me."

Yes, she had, which was rather fascinating, honestly. His people — or, a majority of his people, there were a sizeable minority of Zeltrons who didn't have it — could sense the feelings of others, even influence them if they so chose. While Sesai could read Lesami, at least when she wasn't consciously blocking him (which she bothered to do only rarely), she'd proven completely immune to his influence even from the very beginning. Which was interesting, there were fully-trained Jedi who had trouble resisting Zeltrons when they really put an effort into it. Adult Zeltrons, granted, but Sesai had always been talented with it, and Lesami had only been ten when they'd met. It was still impressive.

Not that he'd even been that particularly surprised when his attempts to poke at her mind had just bounced right off. Lesami felt...interesting. She was...well, very herself, he guessed, in a way many people weren't — it was hard to convince a mind it should be feeling something other than what it thought it did if it was a hundred percent certain of exactly who and what it was.

But all that was entirely irrelevant. "I don't need to use that at all. I'm very charming, you see."

Lesami let out a frustrated scoff, but before she could say anything Nisotsa, in the spot across the narrow table from her, cut out ahead. "Don't bother, Lesami. This one doesn't listen to reason."

"I'm very reasonable, I'll have you know." Even as he started picking at his stew, he turned slightly in place, dipping to lean against Lesami's shoulder.

She threw him off instantly, nearly hard enough to make him knock over his bowl. "Would you not do that?"

"Why?"

For a couple seconds, Lesami was actually speechless, the both of them staring at him with blank, slowly blinking eyes. She glanced over at Nisotsa and said...something, it wasn't in Basic. Nisotsa replied in the same language — some classical Alderaanian language, probably, they had both gotten a very traditionalist education before coming to the Temple. After a few times back and forth, Lesami let out a long sigh, eyes tipping up at the ceiling. "Look, I get that you don't understand why other people might not be comfortable with the sort of things you're inclined to do, but it should be plainly obvious that we are."

Sesai grinned. "If you were actually uncomfortable with the sort of things I'm inclined to do, I wouldn't touch you."

After a brief, low groan, Lesami grumbled, "I hate you, shem Rhysa."

"If you want to lie to a Zeltron, you'll have to do a lot better than that."

"He's got you there, Lesami," Nisotsa said, trying and failing to hide her smile with her mug. "You're a terrible liar."

"I am not. I lie to the Masters all the time." Lesami paused, frowning to herself. "That was probably the sort of thing I shouldn't say out loud."

"Probably."

Lifting one shoulder in a languid shrug, he said, "It's easier to lie to Jedi than it is to lie to Zeltrons. To lie to a Jedi, you just have to keep what you're thinking and feeling inside yourself, not let it go out into the Force. Our thing doesn't work through the Force, or at least not the part of the Force Jedi use, some of the Masters aren't even aware they're leaking everything out where I can feel it." Not that the Masters usually felt much of anything interesting at all, not the point. "I don't even really think about it, honestly. It's natural to my people, hardly worth commenting on.

"Think of it from my perspective," he continued, giving Lesami a crooked grin. "With your words, you keep telling me to leave you alone, but with your head—" He gently poked her in the side of the head; she batted his hand away, shooting him another glare. "—you keep telling me you find me interesting and amusing. Back home, this would be taken as trying to annoy me on purpose, which I personally have no problem with, or as flirting." He smiled, as innocently as he could possibly manage (which wasn't very). "So you can see my problem."

While Nisotsa again tried to hide her amusement, Lesami glared at him some more. "I'm going to pretend you didn't suggest that second possibility."

"Fair enough. Annoying me on purpose it is, then — that's fine, I can respect that. But that means I have little reason to not do this." Sesai leaned over a little, laying his arm across her back, his hand coming to rest just over her hip.

Lesami tensed slightly, barely enough for him to feel it, her eyes narrowing in annoyance that, this time, was actually echoed in the feelings drifting off of her. Though, it wasn't only annoyance — that sharp heat was there, yes, but there was something else softer and cooler, he wasn't sure exactly how to interpret the mix. "If you're going to be so...well, Zeltron—"

He snorted out a laugh.

"—could you maybe not do it in public? I get enough lectures from the Masters already."

At the mild protest, Sesai couldn't help another smile. That was what that oddly mixed feeling was about, then — she didn't actually mind that much, she just didn't want to have to deal with the older Jedi preaching at her about...likely "attachment" or something like that, it all bled together at some point. Sesai wasn't particularly surprised, it was something he'd noticed about a lot of the students here, not just Lesami. Some were better at hiding it than others, but it was still very common.

In his time since he was sent to the Temple, Sesai had noticed that being a Jedi was, at the heart of it, extremely lonely. Baked into virtually every aspect of the ethos of the Order was a rejection of comforts of all sorts, physical and emotional. Jedi were taught they must reject all their basic needs or risk falling to the Dark Side. Actual meaningful relationships — lovers, yes, but even proper friends, any companionship of any depth — any personal pleasures of any kind — sex was the big one people thought about it, but they were supposed to stay away from all intoxicants as well, or even comfortable furniture, many Jedi even argued they should avoid enjoying or participating in the arts! — any form of physical intimacy, no matter the context, even something so basic as a damn hug, all these were things Jedi were supposed to keep themselves apart from.

The problem was, the Jedi believed all this, but they also recruited students very, very young. (Often forcibly — Sesai's family hadn't wanted to give him up, so the Jedi had gotten the Republic to issue a court order to take him from them, and he knew he wasn't the only one with a similar story.) But, well, see, in most sentient species, there were emotional needs people must have met to remain psychologically healthy. This was even more critical with children.

He hadn't known this right away, of course — he'd only been eight (uh, five) when the Jedi had taken him — but how he and the other children had been expected to behave had still struck him as very strange right from the beginning. Back home, everyone was encouraged to be completely open about their feelings, be they positive or negative. Especially the negative ones — keeping such things inside would only make them fester, it was better to address them right away. With the Jedi, they were expected to get to a point where they didn't feel anything at all, which was just a preposterous idea, everybody felt something, even the Jedi who claimed they didn't. And even the little things, Sesai couldn't count the number of times he'd been chastized for sitting too close to someone, or for hugging, and it'd been so cold at the Temple, he'd barely been able to sleep at first, he couldn't remember ever sleeping alone before coming here...

He'd hated it here at first. Eventually, he had adjusted, but the first few months he'd been so unbearably miserable, he'd honestly thought he was going to die.

Years later, his education had progressed to the point he could actually read up on psychology. Turns out? Yeah, he'd been completely justified in doubting how children were treated with the Jedi. It'd been a well-established fact in the field for uncounted millennia that children needed a certain degree of affection and emotional expression as they grew up, that not getting it could have serious, irreversible consequences. There were species that this didn't really apply to, or who simply needed far less of it, but for humans, for any species that showed a similar degree of social bonding? These needs, these instincts couldn't be ignored. It was extremely unhealthy.

In fact, Sesai had a theory about that he'd never actually voiced to anyone. It was accepted in the field that people who didn't get the required physical affection and emotional validation in childhood frequently ended up developing a whole variety of mental health issues in adulthood. All too often, the violent and destructive kind. What if, he thought to himself, there was no such thing as the Dark Side? Or, at least, not in the sense the Masters talked about it. What if, he couldn't help but think, what the Jedi called a "fall" to the "corruption" of the "Dark Side" was simply a person lashing out, a person made sad and broken by the unhealthy upbringing the Jedi enforce, a person who, more than anything else, needed help?

What if the Jedi created their own villains through what amounted to institutionalized child abuse?

Yeah, Sesai wasn't an idiot. He kept that theory to himself.

(Apparently, it was actually a common strain of criticism among outside academia. He still very much doubted the Masters would appreciate hearing it from him.)

Anyway, the point was, a great number of his fellow apprentices were desperately lonely, even if they would never admit it out loud, or even in the privacy of their own heads. He'd noticed it did influence how they related to each other, sometimes. Lesami, for example, had been slowly gathering people around her since she'd gotten here, the others of their generation who...didn't handle it quite as well, the ones who couldn't quite repress their need for companionship. People like Nisotsa and Alek and...whatever the Verpine's name was (he couldn't even attempt to pronounce it), who needed someone to relate to, needed to share themselves with someone, needed a friend. People like Talvon and Cariaga and Voren, who were barely holding it together, far closer to breaking than anyone wanted to admit, who just needed someone. Without even seeming to realize she was doing it, Lesami, in her own loneliness, was drawing together the others who were equally desperate (and not so brainwashed to ignore it entirely), and allowing them to find in each other what they needed to keep themselves from falling off the edge.

He suspected that, without Jedi like Lesami, who bent the rules more than the Masters liked, they would see more Jedi "fall" — not that he expected them to ever admit it, or even realize it.

So he wasn't surprised that, while she didn't want to suffer more irritating lectures, she was willing to accept a little comfort when it was offered. They got so little of it, after all.

Anyway, she'd said he could at least not do this in public. But, well, "That's a lost cause, Sami — they already don't much like either of us."

"Don't call me that," she said, pouting at him.

Which was completely adorable, and completely unfair. He had the feeling that if he just went ahead and kissed her she'd probably set his robes on fire or something.

Cina was, irritatingly, woken up at the crack of dawn, by a tiny Jedi kid of a vaguely avian-looking species she didn't recognise.

She hadn't managed to sleep much, which wasn't a surprise. Her concussion and subsequent medical treatment had adjusted her internal clock to Taris capitol district time rather effectively, but local time here was off by several hours — it'd been after midnight by the time she'd finally been shown to a room here at the Enclave, but it'd felt more like mid-afternoon to her. The day on Dantooine was slightly longer than on Taris, but she'd still only gotten maybe three or four hours of proper sleep, if that many.

The kid had tried to get her to change into the Jedi robes that had been laid out for her, but she'd just swept past him out of the room without a word — honestly, those things just looked uncomfortable and obstructive. He'd caught up after a moment, looking slightly flustered, to lead her off to breakfast.

Where she got yet another bit of unwelcome news: there wasn't any caf in the Enclave. At all. Apparently the Order didn't approve of mind-altering substances, even such a mild stimulant as that. Which, well, yes, annoying, but really it was more their problem than it was hers. If they really wanted to deal with her being snappy and irritable half the day, they could be her fucking guest.

Not that she ended up actually doing much of anything the rest of the day. Immediately after breakfast, she was dragged off to the library, where she was met by Dorak. She got a meandering lecture about how exactly the Enclave's computer system worked. An account was set up for her, through which she would access the archives, though she would be limited to the subjects she had the proper permissions for. (She got the impression quite a lot was forbidden to apprentices, but it hadn't felt tactful to ask directly.) Dorak then gave her a lengthy reading list, along with a schedule going out some weeks — apparently, it was his responsibility to re-educate her in the history and philosophy of the Order.

She didn't anticipate those conversations going very well. It might be better to attempt to lie her way through, but she wasn't certain she could do that consistently enough to be believable.

Dorak wasn't the only one she'd be getting lessons from, though. In their attempt to cram a decade's worth of education into as little time as possible, they'd split subjects three ways. The distractingly familiar Lestin would be responsible for combat training — which, Jedi being Jedi, mostly just involved lightsabers. Tokare would be handling all the Jedi magic stuff which, really, Cina would think that should be the bulk of Jedi education, since it was the only thing about their Order that was truly unique, but apparently not. Looking over the schedule she'd been given, she was actually spending less time with Tokare than with Dorak, and even Lestin.

Which was an additional bit of absurdity — didn't Jedi claim to not truly be a martial order at all, more intently focused on other pursuits? Of course, that probably the most widely-recognised characteristic of Jedi was that they carried a particular weapon had already given away the lie, but she'd think they'd at least have the honesty to spend more time on their ridiculous magic shite than waving laser swords around. But Cina didn't know what she was talking about, clearly.

All in all, the explanation of just how they'd be going about her re-education dragged on for what felt like forever. By the time they were done, and Cina was finally being left to her own devices, the sky was already starting to blush with impeding dusk, the chorus of chittering from unseen insects that had dominated during the night starting up. There was really no justification at all for what amounted to Jedi orientation to take nearly that long.

A quick check of the time confirmed she'd cut it very close: the shuttle Asyr (and Onasi) were taking off-world should be leaving in less than an hour. Jedi just never shut up, apparently. Stepping out onto the grounds, it took her a moment to get her bearings — it'd been pitch black out here when she'd come in — before she turned off toward the town, weaving along the path through the gardens.

Just as the gates out of the Enclave came into view ahead, a voice called out to her, sharp and irritatingly familiar. "Where are you going?"

Coming to a stop with a sigh, Cina threw a flat look over her shoulder. "Is that really your business, Shan?"

The younger woman, practically hidden within those ridiculous Jedi robes — honestly, she looked plain strange in those, Cina still hadn't gotten used to it — halted a little further than a polite distance away, eyes narrowed. "You have responsibilities to the Order now."

"I still have other responsibilities. Unless you think I should leave the kids on the ship alone with Kandosa for...however long this is going to take."

"I understand, Cina, that you are..." Shan trailed off, her eyes flicking away for an instant, transparently scrambling for a politic way to put whatever less-than-flattering thing she was thinking. "I know this is still new, to you, but it wouldn't do for you to just—"

"Are you trying to drive me into the Sith again? Because, really, keeping me locked up in the Enclave against my will is probably the quickest way to make me hate you all."

Wow, that was quite an impressive glare. Not very Jedi-ish, that.

Cina didn't bother even trying to stop her eyes from rolling. "Oh, honestly, Shan. I'm not leaving forever. I'll be back for my lessons in the morning. But, I think it's best for everyone involved if I sleep on the ship from now on."

"How is that best for everyone?"

"There's caf on the ship. If nothing else, this way I won't end up stabbing Dorak in the neck with a datacard."

Shan gave her a flat, unamused look, clearly not taking that seriously. (Which was just stupid of her, she'd seen what Cina had been like this morning, it wasn't pretty.) But, after a short moment of just staring at her, her eyes tipped away again, shoulders rising and falling with an inaudible sigh. "Fine. But if this becomes a problem, I'll be taking it to the Masters."

"I could hardly expect anything else."

The mild insult went right over Shan's head, of course. With a noisy shuffling of those ridiculous robes, she turned on her heel, stalking off to disappear into the gardens.

Well. That had been...weird. Shan had been strange ever since they'd landed, still not sure how to handle her now.

Whatever, not important at the moment. Cina wandered through the town, heading back toward the primitive excuse for a starport that was apparently all Dantooine had. Once she'd gotten in view of the place, she immediately spotted a ship that hadn't been there before — a tiny commercial skip, she doubted it could have more than twenty seats, the logo of what had to be a shuttle company of some kind emblazoned across the side. (Cina didn't recognise the name, but she hadn't really expected to, there were thousands of the bloody things, and she doubted the big names would bother with charting trips to backwaters like Dantooine.) A little crowd had gathered just off the ramp, presumably passengers saying their goodbyes.

It wasn't difficult to spot her people — Zaalbar was bloody tall. She worked her way over, which was much easier than it might have been normally, people kept stepping out of her way, it was weird. (Probably assuming she was a Jedi, since she was wearing Annas's lightsaber openly now, but it was still slightly discomfiting the way they were looking at her.) She walked up just as Mission and Onasi were launching into another argument. A disagreement over how much she could or could not take care of herself, by the sound of it.

She had to wonder if Carth really still thought Mission needed looking after, or if he'd just started a shouting match for the fun of it. That didn't sound like something he'd do, but really, if he hadn't figured out by now that the girl didn't need an adult around he was a bloody idiot.

Of course, Cina did plan to keep an eye on her, but that wasn't because she thought Mission needed someone looking after her. She just wanted to.

Spotting Asyr nearby, close enough to seem a part of their little group but not close enough to necessarily be dragged into the conversation, Cina sidled up next to her. In Harishye, she whispered, "So, how long they be going at it?"

She wouldn't have seen her coming, but Asyr hardly twitched anyway. "Not long. This one isn't so bad. You left me alone with them all day," she added, shooting Cina a glare out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh." Was Asyr trying to say Mission and Onasi had been especially bad since she'd left? Honestly, Cina really hadn't expected that. Not that the two of them would fight — they could hardly tolerate being in the same room for more than a couple minutes — just, Mission had been a bit...withdrawn, since Taris. "Sorry about that. She done moping already?" Not that she didn't have an excellent reason to be moping, of course. "I thought she would take a lot longer than that."

"She would likely have moped by herself the whole day, left to her own devices. The Captain made himself a nuisance."

"How did he do that?"

Asyr let out a harsh huff. (Or just sighed, really, Bothan voices tended to be harsh.) "He tried to convince the kids to leave with us. I believe your questionable fitness as a guardian featured extensively."

"Ah." By the kids Asyr probably meant both of them, Mission and Zaalbar. "Yeah, I can't imagine that going over very well."

"It did not."

"He really is an idiot sometimes, isn't he?"

"Yes. He is."

Right around then, the argument wound down. Well, no, actually, it didn't wind down so much as abruptly stop when Mission realised Cina had appeared at some point. "Cina, there you are! You didn't come back last night, I was worried the Jedi had, I don't know, locked you in a cell or something."

Cina smirked. "They thought about it. They decided to recruit me instead."

Absently frowning to herself, Mission clearly couldn't think of how she was supposed to respond to that. Probably couldn't tell if Cina was being serious or not.

By the look on Onasi's face, he thought she was being completely serious. Which, well, she sort of was...

Their goodbyes ended up being very brief. Onasi had abruptly decided he didn't like her again, and while she'd been gone he'd managed to thoroughly offend Mission. And even Zaalbar, by the set of his shoulders, which was actually rather impressive — Zaalbar was remarkably even-tempered for his age. So it was only a short moment before he was wandering up the ramp, looking firmly ahead with a dark glare.

Cina had no idea if she'd ever see him again. And she really didn't care.

Before he'd even entirely vanished, Asyr was right in front of her. Right in front of her, close enough Cina could smell her. Acting on instinct — Harishye was one of the languages she did remember studying, but she knew far more about Bothans than those (false) memories adequately explained — she turned her face into the side of Asyr's neck, even as Asyr buried her face in her hair. (At least as much of it as she could get in there, Bothans did have long faces and Cina's hair was rather short.) Their hands found their way to the available side of each other's necks, close enough to the same time Cina wasn't sure if she had been cued in somehow, or if some part of her simply knew this was a thing Bothans did.

...Although, now that she thought about it, whoever had made up the Cianen memories hadn't done a great job. She did remember, to use the common euphemism, dating Bothans before Asyr, but they hadn't really acted... Well, they did act like Bothans, just in general, but they didn't act like Bothans in an intimate relationship. Which was a reasonable thing for a Jedi to fuck up, after all, they wouldn't have had any experience in that sort of thing.

Though, really, now she had to wonder what else they'd gotten wrong. It wasn't like she'd gone through Cianen Hayal's life with a fine-toothed comb, and maybe if she did, she could compare the accuracies and inaccuracies to somehow identify the exact Jedi who'd done it...not that she was sure she wanted to. She meant, if it was someone actually at the Enclave — and they would probably have to be, for Cina to have any hope of figuring it out — she would then have to be in that person's presence, possibly with some regularity, which just sounded unbelievably awkward, it was probably best not to—

Cina's train of thought came to an abrupt halt, quite effectively distracted by the claws digging into her neck. Her hand tightening, probably yanking at Asyr's fur a bit (not that she had any right to complain), she drew a hiss in through her teeth. "You are a cruel, cruel woman, Asyr Lar'sym."

A low chuckle set Cina's hair fluttering. "Yes. And yet you like me anyway. What does that say about you?"

"That I'm a shameless masochist, obviously."

"It's good to know these things about yourself." Asyr drew in a long breath — smelling her hair, Cina could tell, it was hardly the first time she'd done it. "Take care of yourself out there."

"You too. If I hear you got yourself killed, I'll be very put out."

"Fortunately, I'm very good at my job."

Well, she wasn't wrong about that. Very few pilots could have managed that crash-landing onto Taris, and some of the shite she'd pulled on that speeder bike extracting Shan...

After a short moment of stillness, Asyr pulled a little away, enough they could actually look at each other, her grip on Cina's neck loosening but not entirely letting go. "You have my com code."

Cina nodded — Asyr would be going right back into the war, so she'd likely be constantly going in and out of com blackouts, but they'd at least be able to get recorded messages through now and again. Though, honestly, she really hadn't expected Asyr to want to stay in contact. Bothans weren't generally given to idle sentiment. A smirk pulling at her lips, Cina said, "Are you going soft on me, Asyr?"

"Truly, I have grown fascinated with the mystery of the Sith with the missing memories. Yet I've only just begun figuring you out — you must tell me when you learn more."

"Ah, I see. It's certainly not because you like me, or anything silly like that."

"No, of course not."

Laughing to herself, Cina tipped up onto her toes — why did everyone have to be taller than her, dammit — and planted a quick little kiss on the tip of Asyr's nose. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone."

Asyr barked out a short, hard guffaw. Letting go of Cina, she stepped away, but not before ruffling a hand through Cina's hair. "Until next time, Professor." A last energetic hug from Mission, a calm wave of farewell to Zaalbar, and Asyr was walking off, disappearing up the ramp a short moment later.

She'd barely been gone a second before Mission was turning to Cina, with an uncertain, peculiarly concerned sort of look. "Are you going to be okay? I mean, I know you and Asyr were..."

Cina smiled. "I'll be fine, kebin'ika." With a last glance at the shuttle, she turned away, started off toward where she knew the Ebon Hawk was waiting.

"Kebinika?"

"Kebin, ika."

"No, I mean, what is that?" Mission's voice came more than slightly churlish.

"What, is Kandosa the only one who gets to come up with Mandoa nicknames for you now?"

"But that's not fair! I don't speak Mandalorian!"

"I guess you'll just have to learn." Honestly, that sounded perfectly reasonable to her. They had five people on the ship now, and three of them spoke Mandoa, one of them exclusively. If she were going to expect Sasha to learn Basic, getting Mission (and Zaalbar) at least passable in Mandoa was only 'fair'.

She could still feel the heat of Mission's pout on the back of her neck, though.

Cina couldn't sleep.

Not that she could think of any particular reason why that should be. Whoever had outfitted this ship had spared no expense, the crew bunks couldn't reasonably be expected to be any more comfortable than they were. The more noisy systems in the Hawk were all off or on standby, and everyone else had already gone to bed, so there wasn't anything particularly distracting she had to work to ignore — even if there were, Cina hadn't ever found it difficult to sleep through the low noise of a ship in hyperspace. And she was bloody tired. It should be a simple matter to just drift off, this shouldn't have taken nearly as long as it apparently was.

Maybe it was that... She still wasn't entirely sure what to call it. That heavy cloud lingering over her, always there. If she were busy, if there was enough going on around her, she could mostly ignore it, hardly even noticed it was there. She hadn't noticed it was there until after she'd woken up on Taris, which was really quite odd when she thought about it. But tonight, lying here alone without Asyr to distract her, with everything that had happened lately, and all the...

She really didn't want to focus on it. That heavy sense of exhaustion, of hopelessness, hitting so hard it was disorienting. Enough she felt she was falling, even with the bed against her back, the ship sitting perfectly still. So thick she couldn't think straight through it, she could hardly move, so thick her chest and throat were tight. Not the same sort of tightness that preceded tears — she couldn't say if anything was going on in her own head that justified getting quite that worked up — it was just... She didn't know, exactly. Overwhelming, too much, she couldn't shake it off.

Or maybe the only thing keeping her up was that persistent feeling she was being watched.

Finally growing fed up with it, Cina turned onto her back, propped herself up on her elbows. "Did you need something, Sasha?"

A short pause, a tiny handful of seconds, and the peculiar Mandoade girl faded into existence — crouched over the bed, her face only inches from Cina's. She jumped, jerking away from the girl, her heart unreasonably hard in her throat.

Once she had control over her voice again, Cina muttered, "Dammit, kid, do we need to have a conversation about personal space?"

Sasha's eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly with obvious confusion. Which, Cina couldn't entirely blame her for that, she wasn't certain personal space was even a thing to Mandoade. (Their language had the words to say it, of course, but she wasn't sure it actually meant anything to Sasha.) For a few long seconds, Sasha just stared at her. Then, in her thin, harsh voice, weakened from a year of not using it at all, she whispered, "You left."

In a way, Cina was almost surprised. She wouldn't have expected Sasha to... Well, she'd been on her own so long, she hadn't had anyone around who even knew she existed in what must have felt like forever, she hadn't thought Sasha would care if Cina wasn't around anymore. At least, not so soon after meeting her. Though, perhaps she should have, now that she thought about it — people with nothing tend to be proportionately protective of what little they do have, and Cina had promised she'd be looking after Sasha whether she wanted her to or not, if not in so many words.

But more than that, she was... Well, it was sort of heartbreaking, wasn't it? The kid had lost everything, and while it wasn't obvious on her face, there was a clear note of vulnerability on her voice, of accusation, of... Whatever it was, Cina wasn't so heartless she wasn't affected by it at all, that dark weight only grew heavier, too heavy, that inexplicable tension in her chest growing so hard she felt she had to scream, or cry, or just...just do something, anyway, she didn't know what the fuck was wrong with her.

Or what the fuck she was supposed to do now. She was completely unequipped to deal with...this, this traumatised orphan kid thing, she was lost here. "Well... I came back."

Sasha just kept staring at her. She didn't move a muscle, hardly even seemed to breathe, just...staring.

"I will have to go out and do things occasionally, I might even be away for days at a time, but I will always come back." Assuming she didn't get herself killed or something, anyway. A note of reluctant humour entering her voice, she added, "This is my ship you're living on, you know."

Sasha's eyes narrowed, the slightest hint of a suspicious glare. "You promise." It wasn't really a question — though, if it weren't a question, Cina couldn't say exactly what that was supposed to be.

"Sure, kid, you have my word." As much worth as her word had, since she had evidently been a traitor to the Republic and all. (Not that she really felt like a traitor, she assumed most traitors didn't.) "Now, unless there was anything else, I really do need to get to sleep. You can go ahead and take one of the beds in here, by the way. I'm not going to make you, if you're more comfortable in the hold go right ahead, but you really don't need to sleep in there anymore." Without waiting for a response — she didn't really expect one — Cina laid back down and turned over, forcefully directing her mind back to the futile effort to sleep.

Sasha didn't leave, Cina could still feel her there, but her presence was far less distracting now. Cina really couldn't claim to understand how this Force shite worked, but probably because Sasha was less directly focused on her. That seemed reasonable. It was at least less distracting enough Cina finally started drifting off.

Some minutes later, she couldn't begin to guess exactly how many, Sasha finally moved. Cautiously, as though afraid of...something, couldn't say what, she tipped onto the bed, crawled over Cina while somehow managing to not touch her at all, so slowly and gently the bed hardly shifted. By the feel of it, Sasha tucked herself away far to the inside, on the very edge of the bunk against the wall of the ship.

The increasingly familiar weight of inexplicable despair smothering her all over again, Cina never did get much sleep that night.

[diode strips] — The real-world equivalent would be strips of LED lights. (Think the lines of dim lights some movie theaters use to outline the features of the floor and lead to the doors.) The technology wouldn't be exactly the same, but the principle would be very similar.

Cina's reaction to Zhar — Zhar Lestin was Alek's master in his padawan days, as was mentioned in previous flashbacks, and he was also along for Lesami and Alek's fact-finding expedition out into the rim before the war with the Mandalorians. They would have known each other quite well.

[She'd had no idea any of the Revanchists had returned to the Jedi] — Vandar was obviously talking about Meetra, but the number of people who know about her return and subsequent exile are actually very few. The Council decided to keep it to themselves, for morale concerns. The official line is that she's MIA, along with many other Jedi whose bodies were never recovered, or simply vanished after the war. With the absurd number of humans there are in the galaxy, and the comparatively limited possible variation in facial features, nobody has actually recognised Meetra, so the official story has stuck. (Not to mention she mostly hangs around frontier rim worlds, so surveillance is very unlikely to spot her and start a frenzy.)

[eight (uh, five)] — The year on Zeltros is significantly shorter than the standard year. Thinking back to when he was very young, Sesai still reflexively uses Zeltrosian years, he had to correct himself. At this point, anyway, he drops this habit eventually.

Harishye — Um, as a reminder, that's what I called the standardised language in Bothan space. It only came up once, apparently, ages ago.

kebin'ika — Mando'a. Formed from canon "blue" (kebiin) and what appears to be a diminutive suffix of some kind. (It's also used in ad'ika, which is an affectionate way of saying "kid", and cyar'ika, which is translated "darling" or "sweetheart".) The shortening of the vowel (kebiin -» kebin'ika) is inspired by the canon term doing the same thing (adiik -» *adik'ika -» ad'ika). At least, I assume it's from adiik, that would make the most sense. Dropping the repeated ik is just the sort of thing people do to make words easier to say.

Yes, I still exist. This delay is for the same reasons as have been explained before — medical issues, depression-induced writer's block, focusing on All According to Plan — with the addition of actually having a job again. So there's that. I do think I'm finally starting to adjust, maybe, but I really can't promise anything.

It is odd that Sesai keeps turning up in those flashbacks. I'm sure that won't have any relevance in the near future whatsoever.