A/N: Hey all, still alive, still writing. I've started to settle into a routine again, so hopefully the next few will come out more regularly. I hope some of you are still out there reading.

Chapter 25: Travel

Atton locked the controls and spun the pilot's chair around. "Alright, now that we're off that Dejarik-board of a planet and officially in the middle of nowhere, we can be pretty sure nobody is following us. So where do we go now?"

Before anyone could start to answer T3 whined and bounced from leg to leg in emphasis.

Marina nodded. "Yes, yes, I remember T3. Now what were you in such a rush to tell me before we left?"

The droid warbled a long and complicated response.

"Wait, hold on. Their data probe worked both ways?"

T3 continued its explanation until Kreia ran out of patience. "What is the machine saying?"

Marina looked from the astromech to the others. "He said there's a holo recording of . . ." she grit her teeth, "of the day it ended that he downloaded from Atris' archive when she tried to extract his memory. He wants us to follow him into the common area to watch it."

T3 whistled an affirmative and wheeled off to the larger common room while the others followed, emotions ranging from curiosity to overwhelmed. Without further ado, T3 projected the recording. The record had been made by internal security cams, which were far from cinematic, but even they couldn't quite hide the breathtaking view from the top of the Jedi Tower overlooking the city-planet of Coruscant's endless skyscrapers. The chamber itself was simply furnished, but the few adornments that were present were priceless. The open central floor was ringed by custom-built chairs for the members of the High Council.

Master Vrook was in his place, as were Masters Kavar, Atris, and acting Grand Master Vash. Master Zez-Kai Ell, her former Master, entered the scene from the main doorway, leading in . . . her.

Atton watched in fascination as a younger Marina walked confidently into the room, not an ounce of hesitation or uncertainty in her. She looked similar to the Marina that stood next to him, with the expected little changes of age, and yet . . . there was a difference, too. It was hard to put his finger on, exactly. It seemed that, for all the experience she'd gained in the intervening, what, ten years or so, she'd lost something as well. This younger self had a . . . an energy, a passion evident from just looking at her, that wasn't there now. He'd seen flashes of it, but nothing like this.

"Jedi Knight Meetra Surik, do you know why we have brought you here today?"

Atton felt his jaw drop and turned to stare at Marina—no, at General Surik beside him. Stars above, she hadn't been a general, she'd been the general. Revan had been the Republic military's leader, the unstoppable genius to whom they'd pledged their hearts and hands, and Malak the strong right first, but Surik . . . Surik had been the army's soul, the link of understanding and raw caring that had held it all together.

And he'd been traveling with her all this time and never seen it. What in the galaxy had the Jedi done to her?

Marina pointedly ignored Atton and instead watched in morbid fascination as her younger self looked each of the masters in the eye confidently, almost arrogantly, before answering in a clear, firm voice.

"I am a Jedi. My oaths required me to undertake a mission, and the mission has been completed. The Republic is safe. I now return to give my report to the High Council."

Kavar nodded gravely. "Perhaps. Yet we wonder if it was the call of your oaths as a Jedi to the Republic and the Force that drew you away from our counsel . . . or the call of Revan."

She did not answer.

Master Ell, having taken his seat, jumped in now, his voice not far off from pleading. "Why did you defy us? The Jedi are guardians of peace and have been for centuries. We are arbiters, not soldiers. This call to war undermines all that we have fought for."

Again she stood silently.

Master Atris glanced at El with thinly veiled contempt, before turning back to Meetra. "Is Revan your master now? Or is it the horror you wrought at Malachor V that has caused you to see the truth at last?"

Marina watched sickly as Meetra again waited to see if there would be any other interruptions before she answered, remembered the darkly swirling emotions barely contained beneath that calm exterior. Then Meetra spoke.

"What more can I tell you? We followed our oaths and the guidance of the Force, just as we were taught to. You have closed your hearts to the Force's whispers, clinging to ambiguity, and instead look for ulterior, sinister motives. You listen now only for a plea for forgiveness which will not come. What use is there in explaining it yet again to you, when you cannot hear?"

Master Ell exhaled. "You refuse to answers us, or to hear us . . . you have shut us out, and so shut yourself to the Galaxy."

Master Kavar leaned forward marginally, elbows on knees and resting his chin on clasped hands while he looked her in the eyes, considering her for long seconds. "We feel your true understanding of what happened at Malachor Five will only happen in time, and it cannot happen here, near the battlegrounds where you fought."

"From this moment," intoned Master Vash, "you are exiled, and you are a Jedi no longer."

Meetra seemed to quiver for a moment, a million responses restrained, then nodded and turned to go.

"There is one last thing," called out Master Vrook in his gravelly voice she'd once known so well. "Your lightsaber—surrender it to us."

Meetra trembled openly, face flush with rage and shame. Not trusting her voice, she turned and ignited the weapon, her constant companion through the past years of strife. She stared at the humming blade for a moment, saying a silent farewell, then thrust it deep into the floor at the center of the chamber, turned, and stormed out.

The powered doors resisted her petty attempt to slam them and instead clicked shut quietly behind her.

Atris raised a hand and the lightsaber shut off and soared into her grasp before it could cause any further damage.

Kavar shook his head. "Much defiance in that one."

Zez-Kai Ell responded, though his eyes were still locked on the doorway his old student had walked through. "You were correct, Master Kavar. When she was here I felt it. It was as if she was not there, more like an echo."

Kavar leaned back, frowning. "Revan's influence has grown among the youngest of the Order. She speaks to their passions, not their sense. The war has touched them, as we feared. Many of them have 'found' themselves in the war against the Mandalorians. And yet now that she has won, my fears grow only deeper. Where has she gone, taking so many Jedi with her?"

Vash looked at Kavar. "I fear we have played into Revan's hands, granting her a martyr to display and making it easier to close the paths back to us for her followers."

Atris snorted. "It is not a Jedi we lost this day. You felt it—she has lost herself. She is no Jedi, whatever we might say. She walked Revan's path, but she was not strong enough."

The other masters glanced at each other with carefully neutral expressions before turning back to Atris. She saw it, and her hands gripped the armrests of her chair tightly enough to turn white but made no other reaction.

"I fear it is our teachings that may have led Revan to choose the path she did," spoke Master El in his teaching voice.

Atris shrugged. "We are not the ones that taught her."

Master Vash intervened. "We take responsibility, Atris, not cast blame."

Atris visibly stiffed at the conspicuously absent honorific. Before she could reply, Master Kavar carried on.

"The choice of one is the choice of us all. Revan's teacher intended no harm, and she has had many teachers since."

Atris crossed her arms in front of her and held her ground stubbornly. "Yet they all stem from the same source. Her teachings violated the Jedi Code, and lead all who listen to the Dark Side, as they did to Mee—to the Exile."

Master Vash sighed, her eyes heavy with sadness and exhaustion. "You are wrong. The Dark Side is not what I sensed in the Exile. Surely the rest of you felt it as well? That emptiness . . . she has changed."

"Whatever that . . . that wound was, it was of the Dark Side. We should not have let her depart. She will simply join with Revan again, or perhaps worse."

Master Ell leaned back and closed his eyes. "And what would you have done with her, Master Atris? Be mindful of your feelings. This was not Revan who stood before you. This one walks . . . a different path."

Kavar nodded. "Yes, although it may come to that, in time. We let her go because we must. Where she travels, she carries her destination with her."

Atris shrugged. "Malachor Five should have been her grave. You saw it in her walk, and in the Force. It was as if she was already dead."

"No, not dead," said Master Ell. "Many battles remain for that one, if what we have seen is true. But the future is a shifting thing, and she cuts through it like a blade."

Master Vash sighed. "We should have told her the truth. A Jedi deserves to know."

Master Vrook finally emerged from his thoughtful silence. "We have been through this time and time again. No good would have come from it, even if what you believe is true. There is still the matter of Revan, and such 'truths' could leave us vulnerable on two fronts."

Kavar nodded slowly. "Perhaps . . . perhaps, in many years, we will call her before us and explain what happened to her, and how she may be healed. Until then, she must accept her journey."

Vash frowned. "But she may never discover the truth, and she will never know why we cast her out."

Vrook stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Then that is the future we must accept."

The recording died and for several seconds, nobody said a word.

Marina stared into space, reliving that conversation again and again. How differently it would go if she could redo it, yet she remained proud of how firmly she'd held to her convictions. And yet, beyond even that emotional shock was something she only recognized for the first time now. Atris . . . she had been even younger then, and how clear in hindsight that the Master been deeply aware of her relative youth and inexperience among the members of the Council. She must have suspected, even feared, that she was only there as a political expedient to put a younger, more relatable face to the Council as it struggled to retain the loyalty of the younger generation. Her stubbornly refusing to back down, always pushing for a tougher and tougher stance on any threat to the Council's authority, to her authority . . . it all fit.

And for all the personal enmity, Marina couldn't help but feel sorry for Atris. What a terrible position she was in – cut off from her peers by her lofty position, yet not really respected by the older Jedi, much less her fellow Council members. She'd had no friends, no one to turn to.

And because of that, she'd only turned harder over time, until (unless Marina was very much mistaken) Atris had posted her information publicly and shoved her out into the open, helpless, to see who or what would come to tear her apart.

At last Atton broke the silence with a whistle. "Those Jedi sure like their secrets, don't they?"

T3 let out a low dwooo of sympathy.

Yes, yes they did like their secrets. And because of those secrets, she found herself here. The slow, fitful return of the Force had left her deeply conflicted, but this . . . somehow this might be even worse. Part of her demanded she grab and shake that astromech, demanding more, there had to be more! Another part of her reeled in shock that the Jedi had lied to her, had banished her to ten long, lonely, miserable years with no direction, no purpose but to survive, no goal but to avoid remembering, avoid thinking every moment of every day, without even telling her why. And another, very small part of her flickered faintly to life, a part she had thought long since gone forever—hope.

She hadn't been cast out because her choices were so wrong, so terribly misguided there could be no return—and at the same time, the Council hadn't just thrown her aside in petty, self-serving arrogance. There had been a reason, a real reason, they had sent her away. And buried in that dismissal was Kavar's promise that perhaps one day she could go home.

That, more than any thoughts of Atris, more than even the gradual return of the Force, that was what penetrated the deepest, what swept away every other thought. Home. There was a chance she could go home.

When she'd been a little younger and a little more foolhardy, she'd wanted to stay away, far away and never come back to spite the Jedi for what they'd done to her. It hadn't taken long for that petty desire to be overtaken by a desperate longing to return, where if she'd taken even a single step backwards she would have broken completely and raced back to the Council, only to be turned away a second time and her spirit utterly shattered.

But now, maybe, some way, somehow . . .

. . .

I'll do it. I'll find the Masters, no matter how long and how hard the way. I will find the secret reason they exiled me, and whatever the problem is, I'll fix it. And then yes, and then!

Marina closed her eyes and gave herself over to that hope, that purpose, completely. It would destroy her if she failed, she knew that even now, but her life now had no meaning, no purpose, and oh, the relief to have a goal again, a reason to keep breathing.

She took a deep, cleansing breath, nodded to herself, and opened her eyes.

"T3, did you find any record of missing Jedi in Atris' data?"

Atton looked up sharply, as did the witch and what's-his-name, the iridonian. The change in Marina, even in a single sentence, was pronounced. It was . . . he didn't even know how to describe it. Before she'd been there, she'd just been . . . less there. Faded. An echo.

Until now.

And even as she unexpectedly re-emerged, he could almost feel himself get sucked deeper into her gravity, locked in a tighter orbit he had no hope of escaping, and part of him cried out to fight, to struggle, while another part relaxed at finding, at long last, a place to belong.

Bao-Dur perked up at the change in the General's voice, her bearing, her entire demeanor. Yes, there was the General he'd known, the leader he'd fought for, given everything for. Without realizing it he stood a little taller and thanked whatever fate or luck had placed him in the General's path once more.

Kreia watched the change in Marina with a different set of eyes, feeling through their bond as a distant hope sparked to life and the girl committed herself irrevocably to it. Once again, she was struck by the power of a single scrap of knowledge, a single secret whispered in the right ear. She watched cautiously, curious as to the exact trigger, the thought, that had moved her so.

Ah, and there it was. Not the promise of meeting the masters once more, not the allure of a new enemy to fight, a journey for redemption, or anything as tiresome as a quest for revenge. No, beneath the morass of emotional responses the girl had tapped into one of the fundamental human needs—to belong. She thought she could belong again.

Interesting. A powerful desire, to be sure, but one that could easily be misdirected if not . . . managed properly. Yes, she could work with this.

T3 whistled an affirmative to Marina's question and displayed a list.

Master Vrook: Dantooine.

Master Zez-Kai Ell: Nar Shaddaa.

Master Kavar: Onderon.

Master Vash: Korriban.

Master Atris: Telos.

Marina frowned. "Those are exactly the same masters from the recording."

Bao Dur cocked an eyebrow. "A strange coincidence."

Kreia sighed. "It is not so strange as you might think. The Masters on the Council had more resources available to them to go into hiding, and the records were taken from Atris, who clearly harbored insecurities regarding the other masters. And yet, as it happens, you are correct; it is no coincidence. There is a larger plan at work here, and we are walking into it. This is too convenient to be anything but a trap."

Marina glanced at Kreia questioningly. "A trap laid out by who? The Force?"

"You would not speak so lightly of this if you had seen what I have seen. The Force sets the most cunning traps, making you believe you are fulfilling your purpose, only to discover the Force would use you in ways you had never imagined, and would never have agreed to."

And abruptly a new voice cut in, startling everyone, including the Jedi who hadn't sensed its owner. "Those are Mistress Atris' records you have stolen!"

Atton glared at the intruder, the youngest of Atris' Handmaidens, blaster half-drawn. "What the hell are you doing on our ship?"

The Handmaiden crossed her arms and took in the motley assembly before her. "I have come to join you. I can help you against this threat."

"Yeah, well, we don't need your help. Or any of your sisters,' either."

Handmaiden rolled her eyes. "If it comforts you to believe that, then so be it. But the enemies you face are many, and you will need all the help you can get. It is just me, and I am doing this because Mistress Atris believes you will need help."

Marina privately doubted that was her only reason after her expressed fascination with the Force, not to mention being sent by Atris, but kept the thought to herself. "Well, I'm not going back to Telos any time soon, and no, Atton, we're not going to space her. So I guess she stays. For now."

Kreia watched Handmaiden warily, a strange expression on her face. When she noticed Marina's look, it turned to a grimace. "Indeed? But of course—what does one more matter to our journey. I have endured enough of this. I will be in my chambers."

Atton sneered at Kreia's retreating back. "Yeah, me too. I'll be in my chambers. But since I don't have any, I guess I'll just go to the cockpit like I always do. Look, if servant girl over there is coming with us, then she gets the cargo hold. It might remind her of how fun it is getting locked up." And off he went.

Marina blinked. "But we haven't decided where to go next yet . . ."

Bao-Dur smiled. "Of course not, General. We go where you lead. If you need me, I'll be doing a walkthrough of the ship, checking on the repair job done to her." And he, too, turned and left, leaving Marina with the Handmaiden.

"The cargo hold is enough, I assure you. There is little I need. I will attend to myself."

"Oh, don't be silly. There's plenty of room in the female quarters."

The Handmaiden shrugged. "It is no matter. I am used to worse conditions. But . . . I thank you for your kindness." And off she went, back to the cargo hold.

Well, if the Echani wanted to mistake simple decency for kindness, that was fine by her. She turned to the last remaining crewmember, T3. "Why don't you show me that list again and we'll see about where to go first."