A/N: Hey, sorry for the confusion earlier. It turns out I had completely skipped posting a chapter earlier on (New Friend), so I uploaded it when it was brought to my attention by ether-fanfic. It should fix some of the pacing issues several of you mentioned around that time.

Also, who am I to get between you and binge reading Rachel? Thanks for your review!

Chapter 23: The Academy

Atton Rand's feet pounded the deck as he raced to the subterranean hangar bay, but his thoughts raced even faster. Rand, have you lost your friggin' mind? You've always been dumb, but you've never been suicidal before. What gives? He had no answer to that accusing voice. Nor did he have an answer as to why he had pushed Marina so hard, practically dared her to reject him, to hate him. I mean, sure, it was going to happen eventually, regardless, but was waiting for it so painful he'd rather just get it over with? Well, that was one way to get away from her . . .

But he was avoiding what was really frightening him, even in his own mind. Marina had been in his head. And worse, Kreia had been in there as well, and kicked Marina back out again. He shuddered uncontrollably for a second.

Whatever the reason he'd been such an idiot, he had more pressing concerns as he threw himself into the pilot's seat at the front of the tiny shuttle. The other three were strapping themselves into the cramped passenger seats as he fired up the engines.

Who knew how old the shuttle was. It hadn't been serviced in years, and the fuel had been sitting in the tank just as long. Flying a ship in that condition was only marginally saner than trying to face down an Exchange assault team. He skipped the safety checks on everything but the main drive and the repulsorlifts. Even if the primary engines were shot, he's be happy to limp out of here on repulsorlifts alone and figure it out later.

Head of him the interior hangar doors ground open, revealing a narrow tunnel leading towards the surface. The place had been built quite well—the only evidence there had been a planetary bombardment above was bits of scattered debris. The drive hummed to life and he goosed the repulsorlifts. For a very long moment nothing happened, then they grunted to life and the shuttle jerked up a half-meter off the ground.

"Hang on back there, this thing is in pretty bad shape. This could be rough."

If they answered, he didn't hear it as he focused on the controls, coaxing the stubborn machine into the tunnel. The far end of the tunnel slowly approached, and they soared through just as sensors picked up an explosion behind them. Breaching charge, it had to be.

No missile locks. No ships in the sky. Atton breathed deeply for the first time in far too long. He was out, flying free, wings beneath him. "Okay people, we're out . . . where am I going?"

"North. While the G— while Marina was searching Czerka's databases, I looked through the base's sensor readings. There was a recurring fluctuation on the planetary shield grid, not big enough that the civilian equipment could detect, but the base zeroed right in on it. There's something up there, something someone has put in a great deal of effort to keep hidden."

Atton shrugged. "Look, Republic, I don't care where we go, but we're not exactly in good shape to raid another secret base just now."

Kreia nodded thoughtfully, which made Atton shiver. "And yet, we still require adequate transportation. The Ebon Hawk was not at this facility; it yet remains on this planet. And more importantly, I feel we have not yet accomplished our purpose here."

Marina stifled a groan. "Look, whatever our 'purpose' might be, we still need a ship. But Atton's right that raiding another Czerka base is suicide right now. So let's head up there and take a look at what we're dealing with. If it's anything more than a handful of thieves, we mark the location and head back up to the Citadel to regroup. And how knows, maybe things will have started to blow over and we can get passage on another ship."

Atton rolled his eyes at that particularly optimistic thought and set course for the polar region.

The Citadel shuttles rose as one from the still-smoking remains of the weapon's factory. They had arrived with all three packed to capacity and beyond, but the surviving Exchange teams could have been lifted off in only two of them.

Deep red photo-receptors tracked the shuttles' trajectory. "Egotistical complaint: We could have destroyed them all just now."

"Wearied response: And risk destroying the bounty? Request denied. Again."

"Pleading: Just one rocket? Risk of target's destruction is permissibly low."

"Irritated response: They are out of range. Advance on the facility. We must track those shuttles and where the target has gone."

The trio of durasteel gray HK-50 droids moved quickly through the rubble, their sensors reconstructing the course of the battle as they went. They descended with interest into the weapons factory, contemptuously destroying what little remained of the base's security as they went.

Not long after, they had cleared the hangar.

"Statement: The target is not here. We must pursue it."

"Observation: They likely escaped aboard the orbital shuttle that has been docked here, and not with the others. The bay control computer likely will have a record of their departure."

"Query: have you discovered anything about the shuttles course?"

"Answer: I have managed to track the shuttles movement across the shield's network. However, the shield network does not stretch over the polar region, which was the shuttle's apparent destination."

"Statement: Dispatch a unit to the polar region with the last known coordinates and the approximate path of the shuttle. They will not escape us again."

Atton repressed a sigh of relief as they finally started their approach on the polar region. The flight had been awkwardly silent, just as he'd expected, but it had also been painfully long. Not wanting to be spotted by Czerka or the Exchange, he'd had to fly low, almost nape of the earth. And worse, he'd been corralled by the shield network system, forced to head towards the predictable shield access points to slide into the next shielded zone on four separate occasions until he finally was back outside where he was free to splash through the acid rain. Well, the ship was slowly melting, but at least they could move more quickly northward now.

Speaking of which, they were just about there. He couldn't see much on sensors. Now that he was close enough, he couldn't definitely make out that power system Bao Dur had been on about, but he still didn't have any idea what it was powering. Hmm… it did seem to be centered around that large plateau over there, and what the—

He jerked back on the controls, eliciting surprised grunts from the others as they were thrust forward against their restraints unexpectedly. Too late—they were going to hit the unmarked shield. There, access point. It took maybe a quarter second to decide that going into the shield was better than being destroyed by the shield, and he yanked the ship over towards the access point even as he did everything he could to slow it down. The access point detected an incoming ship and slipped open to admit them just as they came screaming through.

The shield didn't open quite quickly enough. They didn't physically hit the thing, but their shields brushed up against, jostling the shuttle and sending Atton's hands dancing over the consoles trying to regain control.

Wait, was that another shuttle over there?

The missile lock system shrieked. Oh sh—

The shuttle rocked to port, the wing crumpled as it crunched into the shields, and they were going down in a spin, down, down, do—

The HK-50 droid lowered its hand-held surface-to-air missile launcher as its companions watched.

"Egotistic praise: Excellent shot, even with the prevailing winds. I couldn't have done it better myself."

"Field Assessment: I've picked up on the heat forms of the Jedi and her allies. Activate the mines and prime the self-destruct sequences."

Marina groaned, only slowly regaining consciousness. She was . . . strapped into a chair. There had been . . . a crash? Shuttle . . . polar . . . right. Okay.

She released the restraints and flopped to the floor, head spinning. Before she had time to think, much less pull herself together, she heard the unmistakable clank of droids and looked up to see not one, but three HK-50 assassin droids standing over her, peering into the shuttle from the gap where the port bulkhead had once been.

"Relieved statement: Oh Jedi, it is good to see you intact! We were concerned that shooting down your shuttle would damage you irreparably."

"Quick clarification: But now that we have found you, we hope that we can facilitate communications."

"Unnecessary addendum: And put an end to hostilities."

All three of them talking over each other was doing nothing for her pounding headache, but she was still with-it enough to realize that fighting these guys right now was not an option. She had to . . . well, she didn't know what she had to do, but if they were talking, they weren't shooting, and that was enough for now. She stayed down on her knees, as non-threatening as possible, while the Force slowly went to work on her.

"Any reason you shot down my ship?"

"Unnecessary clarification: We merely wished to cripple your vessel. Once we tracked your coordinates, we were able to deploy several droids in this location."

"Probing query: We are, however, curious as to why you chose to come to the remnants of the polar Telos irrigation system. There is nothing here that our instruments can detect."

"Eager threat: But we are looking forward to extracting your motives for coming here when we place you in torture restraints."

Torture restraints . . . fantastic. Talk. Keep talking. "How . . . how many of you are there, anyways?"

"Chiding statement: Oh Jedi, there are as many of us as are needed to capture or kill our targets."

"Egotistical boast: and there are far more of us than any one Jedi. Destroy one of us, and more shall rise from the wreckage."

"Unnecessary threat: And our attack protocols are more than a match for you and your allies. Now, prepare yourself for capture and transpor—"

Marina looked up as the droid cut off abruptly. The droids simply stood there for a moment, then started to spark and topple over. Behind them, almost invisible against the white snowy backdrop, stood . . . women? She had a hard time deciding how many of them there were, as they seemed to fade in and out of her blurry vision. They were talking, but she couldn't make out what they were saying, and why was her face lying against the deck? When had that happened? Yes, it was time to rest, just rest her eyes for a moment . . .

Atton woke up with a start as he drooped forward and into the force cage. He startled back with a curse, fortunately not hard enough to smack his head against the wall behind him. Wha . . . Oh. It came back to him. The unexpected shield system, the assassin droids, and those women in white. He'd prepared to fight them, as insane as that was, until he'd seen Marina out cold at their feet. For some reason, that restored him to sanity, and he'd raised his hands in surrender. Of course, they'd then jabbed him with what must have been a shock staff of some sort, because he'd blacked out.

He took in his surroundings quickly. They were inside, so there must be some sort of underground facility beneath the plateau they'd landed on. And there were more cages. Kreia sat meditating, and Bao Dur was still out cold. No sign of Marina. They'd taken his weapons from him, so he was reduced to waiting. Again.

He sat back with a groan. "Why is that everywhere we go, I end up in a cell? I mean, why did they lock us up? What is this place?"

For once, Kreia answered his question, which immediately put him on edge.

"It is a training academy for Jedi."

He'd spoke out loud mostly to annoy her. He didn't actually want to talk to her. On the other hand, he didn't want to show her how much she bothered him, either. He grimaced but decided to talk it through. "What, this ice hole?"

"Yes, it bears the semblance of an academy. But where are all the students? Curious."

As usual, she was less talking to him than talking at him, using him as a sounding board for her own thoughts. "You've got to be joking. What is a Jedi academy doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"It is a place hidden from the galaxy like the academy on Dantooine. But this place… oh, Atris you have been clever."

"Atris?"

Kreia seemed to realize that she was speaking out loud for the first time, and cut herself off abruptly, voice hard. "It is none of your concern."

Fine by him. But he couldn't let her get the last word like that. One last comment, trailing off to nothing, and the conversation could safely die. "Well the sooner we're out of here, the better. Two crazy Jedi are more than enough for me. No one told me we were going to be dumped in a nest of Jedi."

He'd overdone it. Kreia actually turned to glance in his direction, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as her full attention came to rest on him.

"Oh? And what is it about this place that causes you such fear?"

Crap. He could feel himself panicking under that hooded gaze that seemed to see straight through him. "W-what do you mean? We're in the middle of a bunch of Jedi. You know how they are."

She frowned thoughtfully. "No I do not, not in the way you seem to."

And then she really was seeing through him. He grimaced at the onset of a splitting headache. "Wha—what are you doing? Get out of my head!"

Kreia kept talking at him in mild irritation. "Stop struggling. Let me follow the current… deep… deeper, to its source."

Atton collapsed to the floor, grabbing his head. Coruscant to Pantolomin to Bor . . . Borleais to . . . to Mrisst. "Sto—aaaaagh." Her eye smashed through his defenses, sliding like a vibroblade into his mind, cutting deep, deeper still, until she perused his deepest thoughts, his most intimate fears, holding them up to the light with a casual curiosity.

"Ah, with the fear is mingled guilt. It squirms in you like a worm. And the why? Ah, and there is its heart. You surprise me. I could not feel it before. Your feelings are a powerful shield indeed. Do not worry, 'Atton.' If she is a Jedi she will forgive. And if she is not, she will not care."

Atton floundered on the ground, covered in sweat, for once speaking without thought, without a plan, without even the shields of disdain. "P-please, you . . . you can't tell her. Please! I'm asking you. I . . . I don't want her to—"

"Think less of you?" She smiled in callous amusement. "I hardly think that's possible. Still, there is no shame in what you ask. We all wage war with the past, and it leaves its scars. I will not speak of yours, Atton. But there is a price for such things."

Of course there was. There was always a price. "Name it," he growled.

"There are those who wage war, and those who follow them. You are a crude thing, murderer, but you have your uses. You know how important this woman we travel with is. Even one such as you can feel it. You will serve her until I release you."

Atton shuddered once more as he felt the cold chains settle on him, colder by far than the tons of snow and ice above them. "And if I refuse?"

She let out a short chuckle. "You will not. If you do, then my silence will be broken. And then, Atton, you will be broken. You fear the Jedi, and rightly so. If Atris learns of your… choices, you will never leave this place. But whatever fear you hold of the Jedi, know that you disobey me, that my punishment will make you beg for the death that has long hounded you. Wipe the fear from your mind. You will not find blind obedience a difficult master. You chose it once. You will learn to embrace it again."

He shivered wildly at her last mental caress as she withdrew from his mind. The defense of his snide attitude returned without conscious thought, but it was hollow. She owned him now, and the worst part was, he didn't even know why she owned him. Why, why, WHY do I care what that damn Jedi thinks!? "I don't know how you became such a manipulative witch, but why a vicious old scow like yourself would even bother with me is an even bigger mystery."

Kreia settled herself back down to meditate once more but favored her newest pet kaath hound with a reply. "No game of dejarik can be won without pawns, and this may prove to be a very long game. You are a slippery one, your thoughts difficult for even one such as I to read. I suspect the self-loathing that squirms within you gives you a curious strength. Your spirit, as diseased as it is, refuses to allow you to give up, no matter what threats you face, no matter what wreckage you leave behind you. I feel you have crossed our path for a reason. Perhaps even you, at the right moment, may be able to turn aside disaster. If so, your potential is not yet spent."

Atton's jaw tightened at that damning summary but couldn't come up with a way to disagree with it. Every second this conversation drug on, things got worse. Time to cut his losses. "Fine, I'll be your pawn. But I still think you have the wrong man."

"Perhaps. But someone has to fly the ship. And the Force is a hard thing to predict. You have crossed our path for a reason. Our path brought us here for a reason. And now I know why. The past is here, and it must be met before the future can be set in motion. But I've wasted enough time with you. Sleep, murderer, and be silent. I need no distractions. A critical moment approaches."

Atton opened his mouth with a sharp retort, but found himself abruptly quite sleepy, and decided of his own free will that things would be better off all around if he took a quick break.

Marina woke up on a bed. Despite the surprisingly comfortable mattress and comforter of some sort of fur, it did nothing to help with the discomforting feeling of not knowing where she was. She started as a knock sounded from the doorway. "Uh . . . come in?"

A woman entered, one of the same ones that had saved them from the assassin droids, and maybe captured them in turn. For the first time she actually got a good look at one of them. She was an Echani, that much was immediately apparent by the almost alarmingly pale skin, white hair, and silver eyes. That was . . . well, it could be good or bad. They had a warrior culture to rival even the Mandalorians, but it was mostly focused on prowess in hand-to-hand combat and grand strategy, what they thought of as 'pure' conflict, whatever that meant. But they were very good at it, with a prickly sense of honor to boot. This woman in maybe her early 30's, dressed all in white, looked vaguely familiar, but that didn't tell Marina much—Echani were virtually indistinguishable from close family, which lent some credence to the persistent rumors of genetic experimentation in their planet's past. What a family of them was doing hiding on Telos, she had not the slightest clue.

"My mistress wishes to speak to you. Please follow me."

Marina tried to pull herself together as she climbed to her feet. She'd need to be at her best if she was dealing with Echani. The Force could do incredible things, but even with it putting her back together for however long she'd been out, not even that was enough to get her back to one hundred percent after an all-out crash landing. Her head still felt vaguely wrong somehow, fuzzy, detached.

Okay, c'mon, think. The Echani was being nice enough, but she couldn't help but notice that her weapons were gone, and whoever had carried her here had removed her borrowed Republic combat armor as well. And she'd have bet the door to the room had been locked, too.

The Echani led her through the door and into a larger tunnel. The temperature dropped precipitously once outside her room, enough to make her shiver. Keeps down energy consumption, helps to hide from orbital thermal scans too. The base seemed to be a rough circle, with smaller rooms around the perimeter. The center was a massive shaft with the rusted and cracked remains of heavy machinery clinging to the shaft's edge, the last vestiges of the irrigation hub the place had once been. And yet, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to build on the control center, expanding it into a larger chamber, to the point that they'd built up a gangway right across the gasp, connecting it more easily to the rest of the converted facility.

And there, striding from the chamber across that gangway towards her was yet another woman dressed in white. She was also in her early 30's, though her face bore deeper worry lines and she wasn't an Echani despite her white hair. In fact, she looked almost like . . .

Marina' jaw dropped as she recognized the approaching woman at last.

"Meetra Surick. I did not expect I would ever see you again after the day of your sentencing. I thought you had taken the exile's path, wandering the galaxy. And yet you've returned—why?"

"Master Atris, I . . . it . . . it was not my intention to return." She suppressed a grimace at the honorific she'd included on sheer reflex. For a moment they just stood there, taking in the changes in the other, Atris in her resplendent, snow-white robes, and Marina in her soiled and worn spacer's attire. Atris hadn't changed much over the last decade. She still wore her hair tied back in a fierce bun, her clam 'master's voice' not quite masking the . . . conviction behind her words.

Atris looked her up and down appraisingly, and the aggressively neutral expression on her face told Marina all she needed to know about what the Jedi thought of her in return.

"And yet, here you are. Perhaps you do not know yourself as well as you think. Regardless of your intentions, your arrival here begs an explanation. Have you come to face the judgment of the Council, as you did so many years ago? Are you finally willing to admit that we were right to cast you out?"

Marina opened her mouth with a hot retort on her lips but paused, struggling to fight down emotions she'd buried so long ago she'd thought they were gone for good. "I . . . Look, Atris, I had no idea you were here, and I didn't come here to bring up anything, to say anything. Please, just give me back my ship and I'll leave, you'll never have to see me again."

Atris struggled and failed to hide a sneer. "And that is your only response, even after all this time to realize how big a mistake you made when you turned your back on us, on the entire Jedi Order, to follow Revan to war against the Mandalorians, even though it made Revan into a lord of the Sith and ruined you? Still, you say nothing?"

The damn broke. "The Republic asked for aid! I swore an oath to uphold the Republic and its laws, and that's exactly what I did!" Her hands clenched and unclenched as she struggled against the flood of feelings as raw and powerful as if it had been yesterday, the anger, the bitter betrayal by her masters and the Council, the desperation that they understand, even a little bit.

"You swore an oath to the Republic, but you also swore one to the Jedi. We only asked for time to examine the Mandalorian threat, that you not fulfill your oath to the Republic immediately, not when it meant rushing into battle, giving in to aggression, to your passions, your hatred. Bah, admit it, you sought adventure, you hungered for battle, you could not wait to follow Revan to war."

Marina trembled in fury, but forced her voice to keep level, to not give Atris the satisfaction. "I chose to keep my oath, and you wanted me imprisoned, even executed for it."

Atris waived a hand dismissively. "You ignored the Council's guidance to follow your own desires. When you returned, you were no longer a Jedi, and so had to be exiled."

Marina crossed her arms in front of her, the better to keep a handle on herself. "Over your strenuous objections to such 'leniency,' as I recall."

Atris nodded musingly. "Yes, there was much about that day that was difficult to forget. Your words, your defiance . . . and when you stabbed your lightsaber into the center stone. I have kept it, so I would never forget."

Marina froze, anger blown away by shock as Atris pulled out a single-bladed lightsaber and ignited it with the weapon's distinct snap-hiss. A part of Marina struggled to move closer, ached at the sight, every groove of the hilt as familiar and right as one of her own limbs. But another part of her recoiled in revulsion at the flood of memories attached to that thing, the avalanche of pain, loss, and bitter regret. The war raged inside her, threatening to dash her into a million pieces while she struggled to hold herself together. And her voice spoke in barely more than a whimper. "That's . . . that's my . . . my . . ."

Atris watched her reaction closely, with a hint of satisfaction, before extinguishing it and returning it to her pocket. "It was yours, you mean. The lightsaber is a mark of a Jedi. When you turned your back on the Order you ceased to be a Jedi and it ceased to be yours. I have kept it so I would never forget your arrogance or your insult to the Order."

Something seemed to die within Marina as her lightsaber was taken away. The war within her died along with it, replaced by a cold flatness, an empty calm. "I went to war to save life, not to take it."

"So your choice was to meet the aggression of the Mandalorians with more aggression? Can't you see that that is not the Jedi way?"

"Can't you see that letting whole worlds be massacred is not the Jedi way?"

Atris sighed, but at least she gave up on her 'master's voice.' "Every choice we make, whether we know it or not, sends echoes through the Force. It can awaken feelings, ignite passions, hate, anger, fear, where none existed before. By meeting aggression, by serving as an opponent against which the Mandalorians could test themselves, you fed their hate, their lust for war, and it sent a terrible echo through you. And because of it, you and those Jedi who met them on the battlefield lost your way, and you turned on us."

"If we had not answered, they would have continued to slaughter until someone else did it for us. Don't you remember that the deliberate massacre of civilians ended when we joined the war? Or would you have waited until someone else, like your Echani friends, took up the challenge in your place?" The fury was building again but held back beneath the ice layer of emptiness. "Tell me, were you not even tempted to help the innocent?"

She'd hit home with that one. Atris grimaced for a fraction of a second before she masked the emotion, and for the first time she was on the defensive. "Of course I was! But the Jedi teachings require that we examine how we may best help them. Action without reflection is not our way."

"I may not have ever been on the Council, but even in my oh-so-limited experience," she bit off sarcastically, "it's pretty hard to help someone after they're already dead!"

Atris snorted derisively. "There was no guarantee that marching out to war would have saved the outer rim. In fact, quite the opposite."

"No, there was no guarantee fighting would save them. But it was guaranteed that not fighting would doom them to death and Mandalorian rule."

"The Mandalorians may have won a physical victory, perhaps, but the real victory lay in the—"

"The triumph of pacifism? The Jedi's glorious abstinence from saving the Republic until they could find the proper mindset while the Republic burnt to ashes around them?"

Atris snarled, her demeanor breaking down completely. "Do not twist my words. A physical victory is not the only victory, nor the only loss . . . as you well know."

Marina ignored the pointed barb and sneered right back at the Council member. "Just answer me this—if the Mandalorians had conquered the Republic, would you have fought then? Or would you have congratulated each other on finally being free of that irritating little oath?"

Atris gasped. "How dare you? The Mandalorian wars should have been your grave, buried around Malachor V with the rest of them."

Marina staggered as if sucker-punched. That . . . that . . . Atris was on the Council, had been her friend, her best friend, and to hear her say that . . . But she couldn't show weakness, couldn't show her rage, not now. Not ever again. Instead, she spoke with perfect calm, without inflection. "There, it comes out at last. Was my decision always this personal for you?"

Atris replied equally flatly. "You see shadows where there are none, and hate where there is none, you are blind as always. I tire of fighting with you. You lust for war, and you always will, and you have succeeded in distracting me from my questions. So answer me. If you cannot seem to admit the Council was correct, then why are you here?"

"I am here because someone stole my ship. I need it to leave this place forever."

"You're ship? You mean the Ebon Hawk? It is not your ship, unless you are admitting to the destruction of the Peragus mining facility."

"I admit nothing."

Atris sighed dramatically. "Of course you admit nothing. That would require facing and examining your actions. You have not changed, acting instead of thinking, putting yourself before the galaxy, before the Jedi. Do you know what you have done?"

"And as always, you are ready to blame me without knowing anything about my decisions or the circumstances. But go ahead, Master, tell me what I have done."

"Without the fuel from Peragus, Citadel Station cannot maintain its orbit. It will crash into the planet, and its destruction will echo across twenty other worlds. Do you still not see? Telos was a test to see if the Republic could mount a restoration effort on the outer rim. When it fails, the Republic will not finance another. The outer rim worlds devastated by the Sith will remain graveyard worlds, devoid of life. And that is the magnitude of your crime."

Marina rolled her eyes. "Now, Master Jedi, allow me to explain why everything you just told me is wrong, and shows that you are completely out of touch with reality. First, I didn't destroy Peragus, the Sith dead. Second, the Republic isn't actually interested in seeing Telos—"

Atris interrupted, for the first time showing surprise. "The Sith? What do you mean?"

"I was minding my own little exile business, when someone leaked my information onto the coreward databases. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"'I admit nothing,'" she parroted back.

"Right. Well, after the galaxy discovered who I was, they all started coming after me. Bounty hunters to start, and then the Sith. They tracked me down to Peragus, nearly killed me, and blew up the station as I was trying to get away. So, tell me again how this is my fault."

Atris turned away, eyes narrowed in concentration as she looked across the gorge. "You speak truly. I can sense the Sith's scars upon you. So they have come out of hiding at long last. Tell me, why were they at Peragus?"

Marina blinked. "Why? They were looking for me. Apparently, everyone thinks I'm the last Jedi."

Atris laughed. "You? If they thought you a Jedi, the teachings of the Sith have blinded them indeed. I am the last Jedi, not you. If these Sith attacked you, they will soon realize their mistake. And if you escaped, they most likely let you go, to see if you would lead them here."

"And I wouldn't have if you hadn't stolen my ship. Why did you steal it, anyways?"

The Jedi again waived a hand dismissively. "It once belonged to Revan. I confiscated it to see if there were any records of her movements there."

"Yeah? Under whose authority?"

"Authority? It was Jedi business, and it was a small thing. A single, battered old starship."

"You do realize that that ship costs more than an average worker could afford after ten years of hard labor, right? That's hardly 'nothing.' But regardless, what do you mean, you're the 'last Jedi'? What happened to Kavar, Vash, and the others?"

Atris turned back to look at her, eyes cold. "I said I was the last of the Jedi, Exile, and I did not speak falsely. There are others who were once Jedi, but no longer. They will not take action against the Sith."

"What, and you will? Or did you mean staking me out for the wolves?"

"Enough. I must consider how best to meet this threat. Handmaiden, return the Exile to her quarters."

Marina turned and managed not to storm out, contemptuously leaving behind the handmaiden as she returned to her room on her own.

The handmaiden hesitated, then let her go. Instead she turned back to her master. "Are you alright, mistress?"

"Yes. The Exile reminded me of something I . . . had forgotten, that is all."

The young woman hesitated. "Forgive me mistress, but I must ask… the Exile… I have never seen another effect you so strongly. Was she important to you once?"

Atris sighed once again, turning to look out into the darkness that surrounded her. "We all have our heroes, and when we watch them fall, we die inside. She made a choice once, and I did not. The day we judged her I stood in the chamber and she was . . . so right, so certain of it, I doubted myself. But not now. She will never make me doubt myself again. But now, now I am tired. I must meditate."

The handmaiden backed away. "Of course, Mistress. I will tell the others you are not to be disturbed. And please, do not exhaust yourself. We can attend to matters here."