A/N: Sorry this update has taken a while. The writing on Citadel Station is some of the weakest in the game, so I had to front-load a lot of the work of the next few chapters to figure out how I was going to change it. The good news is I now have a plan for how I want it to go, so Citadel is going to play out quite differently, a little bit in this chapter, but quite a bit in the next one and on until their departure. Just FYI, reviews make me write more and faster. So there's that.

Chapter 15: Flight Risk

The thick silence shattered.

"Excuse me, you have a caller." The TSF guard outside.

Atton and Kreia looked at Marina. She looked at both of them, grimaced, and turned to the door's com unit. "Who is it?" she asked, voice scratchy from disuse.

"Moza, representing the ithorian planetary restoration interests on Telos. Lieutenant Grenn has cleared him if you wish to speak to him."

She didn't want to. She didn't want to speak to anyone, or do anything, but suddenly the prospect of returning to the oppressive silence was even more unappealing. "Fine."

"Very well, I'll let him in now."

The door opened and closed. An ithorian paused, his large flat head twitching slightly as if tasting the background animosity in the room. After a moment he gathered his courage and began. "Thank you for seeing me. I am Moza, and I have come on behalf of Chodo Habat, our leader here." He paused to invite comment, but found only three blank stares measuring him.

He cleared his throat and hurried on. "Are you familiar with the Telos Restoration Project?"

Silence. Then . . . "Vaguely."

"Ah, yes, of course. As you know, the surface of Telos was destroyed during the Jedi Civil War a few years ago. This—Citadel Station—is a port of the Republic's planetary restoration initiative. The station uses energy shields to seal off portions of the planet's surface, then generates and controls weather patterns over each area. Once the weather in a zone is stabilized, new animal and plant life is introduced to restore the ecosystem. Recently, however, we have run into contention with the corporation known as 'Czerka.' Perhaps you have heard of our recent troubles?"

Silence again, then . . . "No."

"I . . . I see . . ." These people . . . they were not at all what he had expected when Chodo Habat described the leader as a Jedi. "I see. Ithorians are well known as ecologists and agricultural engineers. The Telosian government asked those of my herd to help restore their planet. Things went smoothly at first. The Republic funded us generously, hoping Telos would be a model for the restoration of planets damaged by the war. The funding enabled us to purchase flora and fauna from Onderon. Upgrades to Citadel Station's shield network have allowed us to purify and reseed small portions of the surface. Then the troubles began." He sighed.

"Republic relations with Onderon began to deteriorate, increasing the purchase and transport costs of our biologist's materials. And as the station grew, the Telosian Security Force was no longer large enough to police the entire station. Czerka approached the Republic and offered supply and security contracts. Their paramilitary security division now polices two-thirds of Citadel Station. Czerka has integrated themselves into the Telosian political system and economy. They are currently pressing to be awarded our planet restoration contracts. Their efforts hinder our cause greatly, and will have terrible consequences for the planet's restoration."

The woman, the Jedi, shrugged. "And?"

"Czerka recently wrestled control of a small number of Restoration Zones on the planet's surface from us. These zones began to deteriorate within weeks. If this continues, the restoration process will be brought to a halt, and the Republic will not be willing to continue the funding needed to resurrect it. Telos will remain dead forever."

The Jedi stared at him with cold, dead eyes. "Why would they do this?"

"I . . . I confess, I have wondered about this myself What does the largest weapons manufacturers in the galaxy want with planet restoration contracts? Perhaps they seek unrestricted access to the planet's surface, which is normally forbidden. Even we can land only at our established landing sites."

He moved his head from side to side in the ithorian version of a shrug. The human man sneered. "Get to the point."

"Ah, yes, of course." He turned towards the Jedi and hoped for the best. "Chodo Habat is a powerful priest, our spiritual leader. He sensed something upon your arrival... a disturbance, an echo in the Force. Chodo felt you might be able to help us. He bid me tell you that if you could help heal Telos, it may be possible for him to heal you."

For the first time there was a reaction on her face, but it was . . . strange. For a moment there was an almost desperate hunger, immediately smothered by fear, then anger, then nothing. What?

Marina burned with an unbearable ache. To be healed, healed! To feel the Force, to breathe it in deeply once more, to have it burned out of her forever, to know it would never come back to haunt her again. Something, anything other than his half-way agony, having it so close but so far.

Kreia spoke, shifting the attention away from her. "Perhaps Chodo Habat should turn his eyes to his own people, if they truly suffer so."

Moza bowed nervously. "Forgive me. I am unclear as to Chodo's message, and may have related it incorrectly. If this offer of mutual aid interests you, please go to the Ithorian compound here in Residential 082 when you are able. Chodo Habat would be most pleased to see you."

The ithorian turned and beat a hasty retreat, and once more the heavy silence fell. But this time . . . this time the wheels were grinding back to life once more.

Why? If the ithorian's position is truly so tenuous, why would they risk reaching out, associating with me, when they have to have the same information the assassin had about me? They though I was one of them, a Jedi, so . . . why? It doesn't feel like a last gambit by the truly desperate, not when they're offering such tempting, perfect bait. It's a trap . . . but for whom? Why?

She thought about it for a while, rolling it back and forth in her mind, but there were too many possibilities without enough information to narrow it down.

The com rang again. Word was getting out.

"Yes?"

"A call for you, ma'am."

"Put it through."

A small screen buzzed to life, revealing a protocol droid that started speaking immediately. "Good day. I am B4-D4, administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station branch. I am attempting to connect you with Executive Officer Jana Lorso. May I put you through?"

Well, she'd come this far. "Sure."

"Thank you. I will connect you now. Good day."

The picture cut and was replaced by a strong, thirty-something woman with a blue blazer over a lighter blue tunic. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, leaving her forehead bare and exposing a curious line of tatoos running across it. She spoke briskly and businesslike.

"Thank you for accepting my call. As my assistant no doubt informed you, I am Jana Lorso. I understand that you were approached by an ithorian earlier. Doubtless he tried to obtain your help, attempting to purchase it with imposed guilt and veiled threats."

Marina blinked.

"Oh, he didn't? I suppose he didn't mention the Exchange 'helping' you with any problems here, either?"

Marina just stared at her, and she shrugged carelessly. "Well, no matter. My apologies—I never intended to waste your time discussing ithorians. To the point, I believe you are a person if influence, someone I'd like on my side, rather than aiding the ithorians, whose quasi mysticism and bumbling foolishness is standing in the way of progress and profit."

Marina was aware of Atton's attention from his bunk, listening closely. She didn't want to deal with it, or with any of this, and her exhaustion and exasperation made her blunt. "What's your problem with the ithorians?"

"Their plans for the restoration of Telos are aimless and meandering. Restore the sacred natural beauty of Telos they say. Just what does that mean? How does that apply to natural resource development and consumption? The proper planning of urban sectors? Resorts and tourism? It doesn't. The Ithorians are spending billions of Republic credits on a plan with no defined profit. If it continues, they'll drive the Republic into irreparable debt, and they'll have nothing to show for it but a few meadows and a weather generator the size of a small continent."

Marina just stared at her, inviting her to continue. "And, to be frank, there is a lot of money and influence to be won here, an opportunity that the ithorians are squandering just as badly as they are credits."

There it was.

"And so what, you want me to aid your cause or something?"

"Why, not at all! I'm not asking for your help though, I'm offering you a job. Work for Czerka and be handsomely rewarded. You'd be helping yourself. If you're interested, please visit our offices here in Residential 082. B4-D4 will know what to do when you arrive."

"We'll consider it." She cut the line abruptly and sighed. What a mess.

The comm buzzed again.

"Ma'am, I have another—"

"Hold all calls. I'm done talking."

At last there was quiet again, but it left her with nothing to do. She paced for a while, lay down, got up again, paced some more. Atton kept half an eye on her, which both repulsed and worried her, unable to figure out what the man was thinking. Or if he was thinking at all. Eventually she gave up and joined Kreia in a meditation position on the floor. She'd never been a big fan of meditating, but it helped her focus on nothing, keeping her mind off her problems and the ocean of memories that kept trying to come back.

The com buzzed again. Marina cracked an eye open from her spot on the floor. She must have fallen asleep. Before she could say something to that properly expressed her irritation to the door guard, however, the door burst open. She swarmed to her feet, startled, and Atton launched himself from his bed with arms raised to fight, face fierce, then relaxed once again as they both saw it was Lieutenant Grenn. She met Atton's eyes curiously, but his face had gone blank again, his thoughts masked.

Grenn looked back and forth between the two of them and Kreia, slowly climbing to her feet as well. "I've come to inform you that the Telosian government has completed its inspection of what's left of the Peragus facility. It appears that the Harbinger had indeed been present, though it was gone when our ship arrived, and was responsible for the station's destruction. Logs recovered from the facility's wreckage indicated that the minors perished as a result of sabotage, which occurred while you and your companions were incapacitated or incarcerated. As such, you are to be released from house arrest. However, the Republic is sending its own ship. They have insisted that you remain on station for the duration of their search."

Marina felt her skin crawl. Waiting for the Republic . . . that was not an option. Less of an option than it had ever been. She glanced at Atton and Kreia, but they were stonefaced, letting her, or rather, forcing her to take the lead. She grimaced. "Why is the Republic sending a ship?"

"To further investigate the station's destruction and search for their missing ship, the Harbinger."

Which didn't say anything at all as to why they were sending a ship here, to find her. And that said some very bad things about what they might be looking for from her. "How long will I have to stay?"

"The Sojourn is already en route, likely not more than a few standard days. Feel free to use these quarters during your stay."

Yeah, as if he hadn't already painted a target on this place by posting TSF outside the door. This was where they, and anyone else, could find her if they wanted to. She was out of here the moment their backs were turned. "Is the Ebon Hawk still impounded?"

Grenn shrugged, apparently unperturbed at her asking for her spaceship after ordering her to stay on the station. "The vessel's ID is complete. Please visit the TSF station in Entertainment Module 081 to complete the necessary paperwork at the front desk. The Ebon Hawk should be transferred from the impound docks by the time you're free to leave."

"And the droid?"

"After filling out the paperwork it will be transferred to your ship, along with your confiscated weapons and armor."

"Well that's just great."

Green gave her an abbreviated nod. "Enjoy your stay on the station." Then he turned on his heel and left, and the guards went with him. They all watched him go, then Atton threw up his hands.

"Now what? We can't just stick around, we need to find a way off this Station, whether it's the Ebon Hawk, or another ship. We could hit Nar Shadaa maybe . . . if you've got people coming after you, it's where you go to get lost in the crowd."

Marina glanced up at him, still annoyed that they'd thrust her to the forefront. "You know that from experience?"

Atton shrugged easily. "Hey, everyone needs to get lost once in a while, get away from something, you know? It's no big deal."

Marina rolled her eyes. "Right. Why are you so sure we need to leave?"

Atton gave her a suspicious stare. "What do you mean, why? It's obvious. If Telos wasn't doomed before Peragus blew, it is now. Even more so if your 'friends' from Peragus come calling." Marina just blinked at him, confused, and it was Atton's turn to roll his eyes. "Telos depends on Citadel Station, and this glorious orbiting hunk of junk depends on Peragian fuel and the Republic senators. The Citadel's fuel source went up with the mining facility. And the bickering senators? Not something worth counting on."

Marina bit her lip, trying not to think about all the new people whose lives had been messed up with her passing. She didn't want to make any decisions, didn't want to be in charge. "Kreia?" she asked hopefully.

The old woman considered quietly for a moment. "It is difficult to say. I feel we came to Telos for a reason, but we may have spent too much time here already. Even if the Harbinger was destroyed at Peragus, more Sith could already be on their way. Still . . . there is a chance we might learn of other Jedi here, on the planet's surface. Jedi who might help us restore your abilities . . . or sever the link between us. But whatever we do, we should move quickly.

They both turned back towards Marina, once more pushing her to take the lead, to make the call. She sighed. "Well, 'whatever we do,'" she said mocking Kreia's passing on the buck, "the sooner we get armed, the better. Let's go get our credits and weapons from the TSF."

"Assuming they're still there," grumbled Atton.

Atton trailed a handful of meters behind Marina and the old witch as they made their way across the station. It kept him out of earshot of Kreia, but that was just a bonus—it also let him hang back far enogh to avoid being associated with the other two, which looked to be growing more important by the minute. It was getting to the point that he was losing track of the number of people gunning for them, which was impressive enough, in its way. And it let him watch her back, too, of course.

Still . . . Marina was a puzzle. For all Kreia's nastiness, she was a clever one, and the more he watched Marina the more Kreia's explanation seemed to fit. She walked with the unconscious confidence of a Jedi, but she kept her head down, not making eye contact. Even as he watched, she skirted around a brewing fight as two hulking mercenaries picked on a little sollustan outside a bar, avoiding entanglement and personal involvement like the plague, the opposite of a Jedi.

It was like she'd completely closed herself in, cut herself off from all external contact unless absolutely necessary. She was shut down. Sleepwalking. Broken.

Welcome to the rest of the galaxy, Jedi. Still . . . I can't just leave her helpless like this. I'll get her safely on a ship, then that's the end. She leaves and it's over. End of story. He nodded to himself and walked on, hands casually in his pockets, eyes tracking the surprisingly numerous, heavily armed mercenaries, as well as the occasional, nervous looking flock of TSF officers sticking together. Prey, waiting for a predator to make its move.

The sooner they got off this station, the better.

"Welcome to entertainment module 081's TSF station. How may I be of assistance?" the battered protocol droid in an all-too-familiar TSF station asked pleasantly.

Marina tapped the welcome desk irritably with a finger. "Lt. Grenn said to come here to get the Ebon Hawk and the rest of my possessions out of impound."

"I understand. I will call up the appropriate information now. One moment. Searching. Searching. Searching. One moment. I regret to inform you that the Ebon Hawk is gone. The TSF believes it was stolen, and is currently investigating."

Of course. "What do you mean, 'gone?'"

The droid carried on, completely unperturbed at her dangerous tone. "It seems the Ebon Hawk was transferred to Telos' surface instead of the impound dock. However, both the requested, and the point of delivery, are unknown. In addition, the vessel is not showing up in any government sanctioned landing site. I would conjecture that it has been stolen, and that TSF records have been illegally accessed and modified."

Atton cursed. "I knew it! That stupid T3 unit stole our ship! It's probably joyriding through the system right now, laughing at us! Laughing at me!"

What the hell? Marina turned and gave Atton a puzzled look, his bizarrely misplaced suspicion jarring her out of her anger. Wait . . . did he do that intentionally? No, he's not that subtle . . . right?

The droid filled the abrupt silence. "That is unlikely. While your utility droid is unaccounted for, numerous satellites track all incoming and outgoing vessels. There is no record of the Ebon Hawk leaving the system."

"Wait, you're saying the ship's actually somewhere on Telos' surface?" The realization pushed Atton to the back of her mind, where he belonged, while she considered this. Once a ship left the system, it was pretty much stolen forever. Nobody had the resources to go hunting that far, even in the best of times, and it was far from those at present. This wasn't a simple theft from the criminally incompetent TSF—it was bait. Bait for her."

Atton, apparently back on task, frowned. "Wait a minute. Telos' atmosphere is highly corrosive outside the shielded restoration zones. Where else could someone land safely?"

"I'm sorry, I do not have access to any information regarding such a place in the public records. I'm afraid that's all the information I have for you. Of course, the quarters in residential module 082 will remain yours until the situation is resolved."

Marina turned back to look at the droid. "Can I get my possessions back at least?"

"Fortunately, your possessions were kept in the armory, and were uncompromised. I will open the door for you so that you can retrieve them. You will find them in the security lockers."

Without a backward glance, Marina strode over to the security lockers and retrieved her custom blaster pistol and her duffel bag. The credits had been stolen, of course, but they'd missed the scan shielded compartment, and she felt a moment of pleasure putting her utility belt back on. After a moment's consideration, she left the Republic armor in the bag and put on her black flight jacket instead. It wasn't as good of protection, but she had a sneaking suspicion that wearing Republic symbols was asking for a knife in the back around these parts.

Then her liberated vibroblade went into her boot, and she was ready.

Atton had retrieved his looted weapons as well and, like her, had eschewed his Republic armor for his own heavy jacket, which she suspect was armored as well.

Kreia, of course, had no weapons to speak of, and simply waited patiently for them. Or at least for her—she doubted the woman would have wasted two seconds waiting on Atton. Atton joined them, and yet again, the other two turned and waited on her. Honestly, it was unnerving. At least she'd had a little time to think about it now.

"Forget the Hawk. The only reason it's still in the system is to bait us into chasing after it. I'm not sure if it's our 'friends,' bounty hunters, or something else, but I don't want to find out. Let's split up and hit the docks, see if we can find anyone that will take us. Beg, borrow, or steal if you have to, but let's find a way off this station today. And if you find anything or not, let's meet up at that cantina we saw earlier in four hours."

She glanced at Atton, who nodded. She and Kreia had to stick together thanks to this bond thing, but this was as direct an invitation to ditch them as she could give to Atton. He still had a chance to get out of this, whatever it was. And from the thoughtful look on his face, he knew it as well. Good luck, Atton. You may be a nasty, womanizing rimmer, but you saved us a couple of times back there, and you're a hell of a pilot. So long.

Marina was the first back in the cantina, her expression grim as she toyed with the fizzy drink in her hands. It was worse than she'd thought. She wasn't just marked, she was radioactive. From what she could gather, word of the arrival of a 'Jedi' had hit the station like a bombshell, and the shockwave was still going. Not a single ship owner had failed to recognize her, and nobody would touch her no matter how many credits she offered. Hell, they were hardly willing to talk to her!

And the news just got worse from there. The station was starting to see an uptick in traffic from small ships here on 'business,' and that could only spell trouble. The bounty hunters were on the scent. So . . . she couldn't get a new ship, and her only option was to chase after a ship she knew was trouble.

What a disaster.

She sighed and looked up as she felt Kreia arrive. It was still disconcerting, no scratch that, it was still wonderful-awful-joyous-terrifying-liberating-nauseating to be able to sense her through the Force. Her hold on it was still shaky as hell, but her connection with Kreia was the lone constant, reassuring her with false hope that she hadn't lost it again, wouldn't ever lose it again.

Kreia sat wordlessly across from her, and Marina had a sneaking suspicion that she hadn't even tried to look for a ship. "Well, here we are. Atton should be long gone by now. I take it you had as little luck as I did?"

Kreia didn't bother to dignify that with a response, and Marina rolled her eyes. Typical. "Well, that leaves us with just one option, as much as I hate to admit it. The Hawk. And only two groups have access to the surface, the ithorians and—Atton!? What are you still doing here?"

Atton slid casually into the cantina booth, savoring the open shock on Marina's face while he considered how to answer her question. Honestly, he wasn't sure himself. Marina didn't have a hope of getting off on any ship this side of at gunpoint, but he might, might have been able to pull it off. There were a lot of people connecting him to her thanks to those TSF morons, and it would have been a risk, maybe even a big one, but it was possible he could have pulled it off.

For once he wasn't sure how objectively he'd been able to calculate the odds, which disturbed him to no end. But in the end, he hadn't taken the chance.

And besides, he hadn't gotten Marina safely away from here yet, and you could believe that was a serious part of his calculation as much as you wanted to. Atton knew himself better than that—he recognized ascribing false nobility to hide his own motivations from himself for what it was.

"I couldn't pull it off. You're a hotter commodity than we thought, and I've been connected with you in too many minds to risk taking a ship." He added a wink, and was rewarded with Marina's blush and immediate angry glare for his all-too-obvious double entendres. He rushed on before she could realize he was distracting her from thinking too hard about why he was here. "So what's our move? It's got to be the Hawk, which means the ithorians or Czerka, right?"

She nodded, but half his attention was pulled by Kreia, who was watching him with a frighteningly intense, calculating look. He managed not to swallow nervously and shifted in his seat to face Marina, showing as much of his back to the old witch as he dared.

Marina nodded seriously. "Yeah, that's about the size of it. Only we can be pretty confident that the Hawk's a trap."

"Of course," nodded Atton. "So, which will it be?"

Marina paused, leaning back in her seat to consider. She'd thought about it quite a bit already, but ran through her thought process one more time before speaking. "I'm thinking the ithorians."

Atton arched an eyebrow. "Why? Czerka's got the money and the contacts. Shoot, they could probably just give us a brand new ship if we if we do enough for them."

"Yes, but the ithorians control access to most of the surface. The odds are a lot better than they'll control the area where the Hawk is."

Atton paused, then nodded slowly, and Marina hid a sigh of relief. She wasn't entirely sure how much of her thinking was clear on this, and how much of it was from the vague, uncertain promise that Chodo Habat might be able to do something about her connection to the Force. "Well, the sooner we get off this station the better, so let's get this show on the road."