Lost and Found

by Ender Mahe

A retelling of Kotor 2 with some lead-up events I created and significantly altered portions of the vanilla and TSLRCM versions of the game to make it more realistic. Rather dark. An examination of the characters. Rated T for several reasons, including violence, language (kept to a minimum), PTSD, and, perhaps, redemption. Perhaps.

27. Secrets

Chapter 26: Secrets

"Nar Shaddaa? Have you lost your mind?"

Marina leaned back in the co-pilot's seat, put her boots up on the console, and ignored Atton's incredulous glance. "No, I don't think I have. Think about it. Right now we have a giant target on our backs. Every bounty hunter this side of Coruscant will have heard of a possible Jedi sighting and of a ship called the Ebon Hawk. You've been out on the rim—you know that every major bounty on the rim gets posted on Nar Shaddaa. We need to get to the source and take care of it, or we'll have these HK droids and a fleet of bounty hunters on top of everything else. And can you think of a better place to change out the ship's transponder codes?"

Atton shrugged. "Fair enough. But what's to stop the army of bounty hunters already there from just nabbing us?"

"Well, if they're all trying to get me, they're all worrying about all the other hunters waiting to jump on them in turn. Plus, there's supposed to be some sort of hunters' truce on the moon. They won't want to risk the one place they can feel somewhat safe."

Atton blinked. "Oh, is that so, princess? Tell me, do you know just how big the bounty on Jedi is?"

Marina paused. "Not . . . exactly."

"It's big. Maybe truce-breaking big. And you still want to go with this insane eye-of-the-asteroid-belt plan of yours?"

"Well, yes. Don't forget it may take them a while to catch on to us. Nobody will be expecting us to go there, of all places."

Atton just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, surprised at how easy it was to catch us. Alright, princess, I'm setting the course. We're quite ways out though—even with the Hawk's upgraded hyperdrive, it will take us a few days to get there."

"Thanks."

They fell into silence as the Hawk eased into motion, soaring through the void to get lined up for the first jump to hyperspace. "So . . . those Handmaidens were pretty impressed with you back there."

"Uh, why? My roguish charm?" He put on a winning smile, but there was too much wariness in his eyes to make it stick.

"Something like that, or at least to an Echani. They said you dropped into an Echani battle stance when they first saw you. Where did you learn that?"

Atton blinked. "Uh . . . oh, that. Look, don't tell anyone, but you wouldn't believe how many fights you can prevent by pretending to know that stuff. I mean, it doesn't compare to wearing a lightsaber, but then again, that doesn't seem to have helped you much."

He was changing the subject again, trying to hit a weak point to distract her. She'd been around the man long enough to recognize it as his go-to defense mechanism when he was feeling uncomfortable. She supposed she should be grateful that he'd shifted to that from trying to make her insecure with outrageous innuendo.

"Alright, you don't want to talk about it—fine. No harm meant. I just thought it could be helpful, that's all."

Now Atton looked uncomfortable. Not used to respect or praise. Interesting. She filed that little tidbit away.

"Well hey, thanks. But you've got the wrong guy. I'm good at shooting people, cracking wise, and pretending to know how to fight with my hands."

Marina's mood darkened. Yes, Atton was good, too good, at shooting people, like the Czerka worker he'd executed. She was honest enough to recognize that she hadn't really had a better option, but that didn't mean his had been the right choice, either.

"So . . . were they right about you?"

Marina looked back over at him. "What? Was who right about me?"

Atton watched her closely, his expression empty. "Don't play coy. Those Jedi in the recording. Did you try to go back to Revan?"

Marina stood abruptly. "I'll go take a look around the ship and make sure Atris hasn't left any other surprises for us."

Atton watched her a moment longer, then turned his attention back to the controls, waving her off.

Marina set off exploring the ship. Somewhat to her surprise, it didn't look like Atris had done anything untoward with it . . . aside from sticking one of her servants on it to report on them, of course. Shoot, Atris had even left the half-deconstructed assassin droid in the storage closet off the main living area untouched. Well, if she hadn't messed with that, then she probably hadn't messed with the repairs, either. She hadn't had time the last time she'd been on the ship, but she really wanted to take a closer look at the repairs the droids had made to the hull. They had looked anything but standard . . .

She absently wandered into the garage, tracing the weld job on a replacement hull panel, and almost ran into Bao-Dur, crouched next to bracing structures still attached to the inner hull.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there. Um . . . what are you doing?"

Bao-Dur rose quickly to his feet, not quite coming to attention. "No need to apologize, ma'am. I was just working on the ship. I'm not sure who got her up and running, but I'm amazed she's even spaceworthy. Whoever made these repairs doesn't think like most mechanics. But don't worry, I'll get everything in shape."

Marina looked up at him curiously. "And how are you going to do that? With a hydrospanner and dead reckoning?"

The iridonian smiled. "Actually, with the help of my little friend here." He gestured at the small spherical remote hovering at his elbow. "He helps me out with repairs. I outfitted him with a cutting laser and some other tools for delicate modifications. He's also good for singeing the pants of annoying techs."

The droid beeped proudly.

"Well that's certainly helpful. I really could have used that kind of help keeping the last ship I was on flying. Where'd you pick him up?"

"Actually, I built him when I was a kid. Been following me around for years now, despite everything I've done to chase him off."

The droid bleeped something offensive and Marina chuckled. "Well, if it ever gets to be too much, feel free to follow me around instead. That'll show him."

The remote whistled in alarm and hid behind its creator.

"Or maybe not." She turned to leave when Bao-Dur spoke up again.

"General, ah, if I may ask . . . is there a reason you don't carry a lightsaber anymore?"

Marina winced. "You just saw why."

Bao-Dur shrugged. "That's not your lightsaber anymore. That belonged to someone who served Revan in the wars. It's been a long time, and, if I may, I think neither of us is the same person we were then. You could build another one, if you wanted to . . . but you know that."

Marina chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought, struggling past the mess of emotions Bao-Dur had once again managed to dredge up inside her. Bao-Dur carried on, sensing her weakness.

"I don't know why you haven't built one since then, but whatever the reason, you should put it behind you. I know this—a lightsaber is part of who you are. Without it, you aren't complete."

Marina bristled at that. Of course, it wasn't as simple as he made it out to be. A lightsaber was a part of she'd been, not who she was now; and it was a lot more than just that. It was a symbol of oaths, of a code, which she had been judged unworthy of. It was a statement of belonging and allegiance to those who no longer wanted her. It was a tool, a glowrod in darkness, a warning to thieves and criminals, and the best door opener in the galaxy. It was a weapon, virtually useless without the Force, and with which she had personally killed more people than she wanted to remember.

And, she realized abruptly, it was her first step back. Inwardly she was not ready to be a Jedi, wouldn't be for some time, possibly never . . . but this was something external, a project to start, a baby step on the road to where she now dared to hope of going.

Of course, she had no intention of sharing that inward journey with a man she barely knew. So instead, she waffled. "And how would I go about doing that?"

Bao-Dur grinned. "I think I can help you there. I happen to know the parts you need."

Marina put a hand on her hip. "Really? And since when have you been an expert on lightsabers?"

"I spent a lot of time around Jedi during the war. None of them would let me take their lightsaber apart, but I did learn about their construction. We'll need a power cell, and then a matrix, a lens, and a focusing crystal, though I have to admit the crystal is beyond me; I never did understand them. Those parts are fairly common, though a Jedi once told me that it's best if your lightsaber reflects you, and if it's constructed of things that identify it as your own. Just bring the parts to be before you start building it—I'll make sure they're usable."

Marina was more than a little uncomfortable that 'we' would be building this, and maybe a little miffed that he didn't trust her judgment on parts of all things . . . but only a little. His motivation wasn't to talk down to her, it was a desire to be involved, to help her, which left her both grateful and a little exasperated. She still wasn't used to having so many people around, much less people that seemed so interested in her for no apparent reason.

"Right, well, I'll keep an eye out for them. Talk to you later." And she made a break for it before he could ask anything else from her.

After getting something to eat, and trying and failing to meditate, Marina's sense of guilt overcame her better judgment and she went to talk to Kreia to let her know they were going to Nar Shaddaa. Of course, like most plans, this one didn't survive contact with the enemy.

She's barely set foot in the women's dormitory when Kreia rounded on her. "How many more do you intend to gather to us? This ship is not the galaxy, there is only so much room."

"Woah, how is it my fault that one of Atris' people snuck onto the ship?"

"She is but the most recent. The fool, the soldier, and now Atris' spy. They latch onto you, and if you are not prepared to turn away even one whose purpose is as transparent as that one's, then you must prepare for an army."

Marina sat down on her bunk. If she was going to get verbally dissected by Kreia yet again, she might as well be comfortable doing it. "Look, you said it yourself, they're here for their own reasons. They're not here to follow me anywhere."

Kreia waved away the distinction. "Initially, perhaps. Yet they stay, even after their purpose is accomplished. They follow you because you are a leader. Their kind always needs such, even when the figure deserves no such obedience."

"Hey," Marina bristled, "I never claimed to deserve anything. And maybe Bao-Dur, at least, stays because he thinks of me as a friend."

"Bah, do not cloak one word with another. Huh, 'friends.' Do friends not follow? Do friends not form a hierarchy of their own, no matter how small the circle?"

Marina blinked, taken aback. "Well, yes, but . . . Kreia, do you think of all relationships this way? Are you telling me you've never had a real friend before?"

"I am too old for friends, and when the years settle upon you, you will dispense with such words as well."

"Wow, that's . . . sad. But returning to the point, I'm not a leader. For crying out loud, I've been an isolated loner drifting across the outer rim for the last decade. I'm still uncomfortable holding a normal conversation!"

"No? Perhaps not . . . or perhaps you are different, something more. I am not blind. I see what they see, hear their voices when they speak to you, and notice the change when they speak to others."

Marina definitely didn't want to know what that something 'different' might be. "Look, what's brought this on all of a sudden? You didn't seem to mind when Bao-Dur showed up. Is there something that bothers you about the Handmaiden? Or is it just that they don't do what you tell them to?"

Kreia hesitated a moment before responding. "I . . . do not like the Handmaiden. She serves another, and . . . she reminds me of another time. And no, I am not so vain as to envy your control over others. I know many things, and I know what I am not—I am no leader. I speak with a voice that will never move others, I speak with a passion that goes unheard. They obey you because you are a leader, and perhaps something more. Have you noticed what has been happening? Have you felt it in them?"

Marina's morbid curiosity got the better of her. "No . . . what?"

"They echo you, either fighting or surrendering to their feelings, their loyalty, their duty. Your mere presence serves as an example to them of something to uphold, or something to fight against. Watch them carefully, see their patterns and recognize the strength in it. Influence can be a weapon, one that you may need before your journey is done."

Marina balked. "You've lost it. There is no evidence of any of that."

Kreia smiled. "Is there not? The fool fears and despises Jedi, yet he stays by your side despite every opportunity to flee. Even now he joins you to hunt down the remaining Jedi Masters. But if you want to prove it to yourself, then watch the spy closely. Speak with her, spend time with her, and watch as her loyalty transfers to you, in violation of her oath to Atris, in spite of all she knows and believes. Watch, and you will see."

Marina relaxed with that. Kreia had finally overreached. Off the top of her head she couldn't think of anyone less likely to become her number one fan than the Handmaiden. For starters, she was an Echani with their built-in aversion to anything that felt like a betrayal of duty, and she was pretty convinced that any Jedi that fought in the Mandalorian Wars fell directly into that category. Throw in that she had almost certainly been tasked directly by her most important authority figure to spy on Marina, and that she was desperately seeking to overcome the dual stigma of least-skilled and least-included thanks to her father's infidelity, and you had a recipe for a rock-solid won't-betray-Atris-in-favor-of-a-lost-and-conflicted-exiled-former-Jedi.

"We'll see. But what about you? I think I can safely say I'm not mysteriously bending you to my will. And you certainly don't do whatever I tell you."

"I? I am but a mirror, whose only purpose is to show you what your own eyes cannot see."

Marina rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, how's this then. I'll think about how my supposed influence over you can be used. I'll hold off on the others until the Handmaiden chucks every cultural value and her only means of financial security out the airlock to throw in with a broken-down exile."

Kreia nodded. "It is a beginning, at least. Contemplate it, and then act on it. It is a powerful tool to motivate others, even me. That was Revan's way, I believe. It was a strength."

"What? Are you saying you knew Revan?"

Kreia looked away. "A discussion, perhaps, for another time."

The Exiled Jedi just stared at Kreia, once again re-evaluating her.

"Alright Kreia, you want me to use our relationship against you? Then fine. For some unfathomable reason, it's very important to you that you share your strange ideology with me. You've dropped too many references to both Jedi and Sith philosophy for me to think you weren't, well, weren't something before this. And I won't listen to another word of it unless you tell me who you are."

"Does it matter? Bah, of course it does; such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, to categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are—pieces of a whole. Know that I am your teacher, and that is enough."

"Don't hide behind semantics after accusing me of doing it. If you won't tell me what you are, then at least tell me what you were."

Kreia sniffed. "A most inconvenient time for it, but at least you begin to listen to me. What do you wish to know? That I once believed in the Code of the Jedi? That I felt the call of the Sith, that perhaps, once, I held the galaxy by its throat? That for every good work that I did, I brought equal harm upon the galaxy? That perhaps what the greatest of the Sith Lords knew of evil, they learned from me? What would it matter now. There is only so much comfort in knowing such things, and it is not who I am now."

"I still want to know."

Kreia sighed. "Oh, very well." She settled herself and began to speak once more, her voice taking on a different cadence, more measured, that of a story-teller or, perhaps, a teacher.

"Once, I walked the path of the Jedi. There is wisdom there, and yes, power, but it can be difficult to find amidst the infantile and the self-serving doctrines. There can be great strength in giving yourself completely to a greater cause. And so it was for me, for a time. But as I sought a greater understanding of the Force, and of our relationship to it, I was questioned and feared. When my students began their own search for truth, the blame was placed at my feet, and I was cast out. And so I wandered, searching. I had followed my beliefs and the Force when it led me in the light, and I did not turn away when my path turned elsewhere."

"There are dark places in the galaxy where few tread. Ancient centers of learning, of knowledge. But I did not walk alone. To be united by hatred is a . . . fragile alliance, at best. But my will was not law. There were disagreements, ambition, and hunger for power. There are techniques within the Force against which there is no defense. I was once more cast down. Stripped of my power. Exiled. I suffered . . . indignities, and fell into darkness."

"And then, at the lowest point, I was led once more to you, and together we began our journey. Learn from me, from my mistakes, and use that knowledge to become greater than I. That is all I ask of you, and all I desire. In you all my hopes rest, for the future, for the Force."

Marina kept her expression empty. "I need more than that, Kreia. What do you want with me?"

"If it means so much to you, then this I swear to you upon my life . . . upon our lives. That when your training is complete, I shall answer everything. There will be no more shadows between us, only the truth that exists between master . . . and apprentice."

Marina had no idea what to make of that. It was impossible . . . and yet, she believed it, simply because Kreia was, well, Kreia. She had the undeniable familiarity with and understanding of the Jedi teachings of a long-time member, but also a deep mistrust, even outright cynicism for those same teachings. What little evidence there was at least didn't discount the possibility.

Perhaps a more important question was what all that personal history had to do with her, and what Kreia meant by trying to be her teacher.

In some respects, it changed nothing. She still held Marina's life in her hands, just as Marina held hers, at least until they found a way to break the Force Bond between them. And until that happened, she needed to keep her around to keep an eye on her. But in other ways, it changed everything. If her past made anything clear, it was that Kreia had no love for the Jedi or the Sith. Her perspective was clearer, but her motives, her goals, were as inscrutable as ever.

"That's . . . a lot to take in."

"It is no more and no less than you demanded."

"Right. I'm going to need some time to think about this."

"Then go, child, and do your thinking. I will remain here."

The Handmaiden, to nobody's surprise, was exercising when Marina stepped into the cargo hold. Marina paused, not wanting to interrupt as the Handmaiden continued her training kata with a look of total concentration. Instead, Marina examined her newest crewmate.

Solid was the best word Marina could think of to describe her build. She wasn't a gym hound, carefully regulating muscle growth to enhance her appearance, either—she was built for combat, from powerful neck muscles down to frankly startling calf muscles. And yet, for all the raw strength she clearly possessed, she moved through the forms with an undeniable sense of grace, each bare foot stepping firmly but not heavily, without the slightest readjustment or weight-shifting.

All-in-all, not someone Marina wanted to pick a fight with.

The Handmaiden flowed into the final stance and eased back into a neutral position before turning to face Marina. "Welcome, Exile. Is there something you need?"

Yeah, you to prove to me that Kreia is nuts and I'm not some pseudo-mystical leader controlling everyone around me. "Nothing in particular. I just wanted to check in on you, see how you are settling in." Marina paused as the Handmaiden just stared at her. "Uh . . . are you okay?"

The Handmaiden snapped out of it, shaking her head. "Yes, yes, my apologies. It's just . . . your features, your stance—there is a calm about you that was not there before."

Marina blinked. "What do you mean?"

Handmaiden again scrutinized her. "There is an . . . energy about you, a lightness to your movements. It is as if a weight has been removed, or perhaps you have gained a new sense of direction or purpose."

Okay, that Echani reading thing was officially freaking her out a little bit. "Well, I guess I do feel a little better than I did . . ."

Handmaiden nodded. "Oh, it shows. It is beautiful to see."

"Uh . . . thanks, I guess. So what exercise routine was that?" she asked, changing the subject.

Handmaiden shrugged and settled herself on an empty cargo container as a makeshift chair. "A simple training kata to improve balance, so that if danger should strike, my body and my reflexes will be prepared. That . . . and I had forgotten how long space travel can be. If I do not have something to focus my attention on, I fear my sanity will erode as well."

Seeing as they'd been in hyperspace for only about a couple of hours, that was a pretty bad sign.

"Well," she replied, dragging over another container and perching on top of it, "you could always play pazaak with Atton." She couldn't' think of a better way to keep the woman suspicious than to put her in the company of Atton. And who knew, Atton might get over whatever strange fixation he had on her if there was another female form around to distract him.

Handmaiden grimaced. "No. I don't trust him."

Marina grinned. Perfect. "At cards?"

That at last got a small smile out of her. "At that, too."

"Look, I don't think anyone here trusts each other." See how untrustworthy we are?

"That is untrue. You and the iridonian trust each other . . . or at least, he trusts you. We heard much of the iridonian while serving Atris. She believed that the iridonian held the knowledge to restore Telos."

"Just to be clear, we are talking about Bao-Dur here, right?"

"Yes. His skill with machines is something beyond which most can aspire to. His shield technology surpasses the designs of even the most skilled of Echani power architects. I do not know if you realize what it means to have such a one respect and follow you. The iridonian, Bao-Dur, allied himself with no one on the entire world of Telos, yet he now follows you at the risk of his life. His stance, in many ways, mirrors yours. Where he walks, he carries a world upon his shoulders. And like you, I do not know if he has ever faced it."

So much for this conversation being reassuring.

"I don't want to talk about it—and I don't want you asking him about it, either." She sighed. "Look, I don't like talking about my past much. At all. So how about this instead. You're bored, and I'm out of shape. How about you teach me one or two of those training katas?"

Handmaiden considered her for a moment. "That would be acceptable. And perhaps through this you will begin to see that I mean you no harm and intend only to help you in your travels."

Marina managed not to mutter anything skeptical about that. Not loudly enough to be heard, at least.

One more day until Nar Shaddaa.

Marina hid in the engine compartment working on one of the sublight drives. The level of tension had risen with each passing day of their trip. Atton had grown progressively more surly and suspicious of everyone. Kreia was Kreia. And between the two of them, Bao-Dur had finally given up his attempts to come to some sort of truce. Bao-Dur and Handmaiden were willing to talk to each other, but they'd quickly run out of things to say. And that left Marina; for inexplicable reasons, they all still wanted to talk to her, and got even more irritable with each other when they found her talking with someone else.

It was disconcerting, to say the least, and reminded her unpleasantly of Kreia's theory.

She wasn't prepared to deal with that mess. Just holding full conversations was still uncomfortable, much less inserting herself into the middle of a three-person disagreement. And so here she was, splayed out on her back beneath the port-side engine, working with T3. Hiding.

"Alright T3, I think that should fix it. We'll have to check up front, but I think that should fix the issue with the navicomputer. My best guess is the drive was feeding bogus error reports into the system, limiting the charts to list 'safe' jumps to major systems. If that reset doesn't work, then it's a problem with the navicomputer itself."

The droid blatted at her, and she crawled out from beneath the oily engine housing with a look of consternation. "Wait, what? You locked the astrogation system? Why did you do that?"

T3 beeped out a complicated reply.

"I don't get it. The Republic is already in trouble. I'm not sure what else you think you're protecting it from."

The astromech warbled out another lengthy reply.

Marina grabbed a dirty rag and started scrubbing the oil on her hands. "Don't play the pronoun game with me, T3. Who was this friend, and where did they go that was so secret you crippled the ship's systems to prevent anyone from following? And, come to think of it, if it was so dangerous why did you come back in the first place and leave this 'friend' of yours out there?"

The droid paused, but instead of answering its holoprojector hummed to life. Before her appeared a miniature figure dressed in the uniform of a Republic admiral. He was starting to grey a little, and he favored a leg slightly, but spoke with confidence.

::T3, you have been with us since Taris. Without you we never would have made it out of there, and for that I thank you. But now, I have to ask something more of you. Revan, Kyrena . . . she's gone now. I've included in this data packet the full sensor readings from the battle, both from the Republic fleet and from the Ebon Hawk after the Republic left the system. It's not much but see if you can reconstruct where she went with her fleet. Get her whatever help you can. And if you find her, tell her . . . tell her Carth Onasi is still at his post, fulfilling her last request. End recording.::

Marina sat there for a long time, absently washing her hands over and over again. She didn't know who this Kyrena was, but Revan . . . yes, she knew Revan. Had known Revan, at least, and this was exactly the sort of impact she had on people. But thinking of Revan brought back yet another complicated, deeply conflicted sea of emotions. "So this help you came in search of—you came looking for me?" She turned to look at the little astromech droid. "Kreia didn't find you, did she? You found her."

T3 whistled affirmatively.

So there was more to it than luck. Atris leaking her dossier into the core databases, T3 somehow finding Kreia, and then the two of them finding her despite the astronomical odds . . . it fit into the pattern where she found just enough help from just the right person to have a chance to survive, to take another step closer to whatever purpose lay ahead of her. Even the Force Bond preventing her from just fleeing as she was so desperately tempted to do.

If there had been any question before, this put it to rest. The Force was using her, drawing her into its inscrutable purposes. It had been liberating to open herself to the possibility of return, of forgiveness, even (tentatively) to the Force, but of course there was a price to be paid for that, and she could feel it as the weight of that purpose settled on her.

Whatever the Force wanted done, it was she who would have to do it, and she that would pay the price for it.

"But why me?" she asked at last, only half to the droid. "I was, and mostly still am, powerless, defenseless . . . a failure and a castoff." It hurt to say, but it was no less than the truth. "How am I supposed to do anything?"

T3 whistled encouragingly and Marina smiled. "Well that's kind of you to say, at any rate. But going back to my questions, that message doesn't say where Revan went. So I assume you went after her and came back? Did you . . . did you find her?"

The droid bounced back and forth on its tripod legs, blatting negatively.

"How do you not have that information?"

T3 bleated again and Marina frowned. "Wait, you deleted it from your own memory banks? So let me get this straight. Revan saved the Republic, then left at the head of a Sith fleet, a Republic admiral asked you to follow her and help her, then you went off after her, then came back looking for me, but you erased all record of whether or not you found her, where you went, and even why that data needed to be deleted?"

T3's low affirmative whistle was positively deflated.

Marina shook her head. "Look, that's all very interesting, but one crisis at a time here. The odds are good none of us will live long enough to do anything about this anyway. And if what you said about the navicomputer is right, then there's no point checking things back here. Come on, I need a distraction or my head's going to explode. Let's see what the others are up to."