Atton was back in the cockpit, feet propped up on the center console as he tossed something up in the air and caught it. Trista paused in the entryway.
"So, how's our passenger? Still aging?"
She made a face and leaned over his shoulder to check a screen. "Cryptic as always."
"What a surprise." He made a face. "Just so you Jedi know, the 'cryptic' routine isn't mysterious. It's annoying. If you can see the future, get up at the pazaak table."
"What did I say about calling me a Jedi?"
He held up his hands. "I'm just saying."
"Whatever." Trista sighed and settled down into the copilot's chair. "And I don't think Kreia's a Jedi."
"Well, she must be royalty then, because she's Queen of the Galaxy. How old do you think she is?" He tossed the ball again. "She mighta looked good once, but it takes some hard living to make creases like that."
Trista raised an eyebrow. "You that desperate?"
"Hey, I just got out of prison. If these nav charts weren't as bad as they are, we'd be dropping out of hyperspace over Nar Shaddaa. After spacing that old witch."
"She got injured helping us escape, remember?"
"Ugh, fine. Don't get mad at me. I didn't ask her to get her hand axed off, okay?" Trista sighed. "Look, I appreciate her taking on the Sith Lord for us and all, but she could lay off me a little. I didn't cut her hand off."
She rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair. "We still en route to Telos?"
"Like we've got a choice? With the navicomputer locked, it's all we've got. ETA should be about a half hour. You can check on the computer." He pointed behind him at the screen, and Trista shook her head.
"I'll take your word for it."
"Dangerous game, you're playing, doing that."
"What's wrong with the navicomputer?"
Atton shrugged. "Voice-locked."
"Huh." Yeah, some recordings on Peragus had said that, hadn't they? With all the excitement, it'd slipped her mind. They sat in a near-companionable silence for a few minutes before Atton spoke again.
"So, what happened?"
"Huh?"
"Don't give me that, a lightsaber would have been handy on Peragus. Where's yours?"
Trista didn't answer for another minute, even as she spotted Atton glancing at her warily as the silence dragged longer. Her lightsaber? She hadn't thought about it in years. "Exiles can't keep theirs," she finally mumbled.
"Really? Thought you were married to 'em." He shrugged. "Single or double?"
She spun and nearly snapped at him. What did it matter? She didn't have it and reflecting on that fact wouldn't help. The intensity of her near-protest startled her, and she wrestled it back down in her chest. "It, uh, it was a single blade. Light blue, almost white. My sister gave the crystal to me." Trista turned her seat back for the viewport. "And I don't really want to talk about it."
Atton's reply, to her near-surprise, didn't have his usual incredulity. "All right. Forget I asked." The console chimed, and he straightened up, pulling on the ship's radio headset. Trista reached for the copilot's. "We're coming out of hyperspace to Telos. Strap in."
As she did, the hairs on her neck raised, and when she glanced back Kreia had settled on the rear jumpseat. Space ahead of them started to blur again, until the viewports turned to black velvet spritzed with stars. Ahead of them loomed a planet, and Trista's breath caught in her throat. She'd seen destruction like this only once before – when the Mandalorians had bombed Serrocco into glass. Unbidden, her eyes shifted to a different viewport, years earlier, as the Stereb cities burned and she watched —
"Still looks like shit," Atton said, snapping her out of the memory. "That's Citadel Station, where we're headed."
How she'd missed it at first, she didn't know. It spread across a quarter of the world in orbit like a dark, netted lattice – a web of modules held together by prayers and optimistic hope, rather than metal strutting.
"Oh," she said, instead, "that looks... safe."
"I heard they pulled most of it out of scrap-yards and discounted Czerka modules. So." Atton clucked with his tongue. "Super trustworthy structure we're headed for." Something chimed over the headset, and he cleared his throat.
"Unidentified vessel 34-P7JK, identify please."
"Telos control, this is the Ebon Hawk," Atton said. "We're looking to land somewhere."
(If they'd known the stir that statement caused in one Lieutenant Grenn's office, they would have turned around and never been seen in known space again. Alas, that was not the case.)
"Uh... Ebon Hawk, this is Telos Control. State your destination and—" The controller shut off their microphone.
"Oh, I don't like that," Trista mumbled.
"Me either."
The mic clicked back on. "Ebon Hawk, proceed to Docking Module 126, hangar A."
"Thank you." Atton turned off the comm. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"So do I." Trista sighed. "But we don't have anywhere else to go."
"No, we don't." Atton pushed the controls down, and they zipped past a heavy freighter toward the station.
They slipped through the various modules, rising from the netting like monoliths on a plain, until Atton slid the ship into a narrow docking bay on the module marked 126A. The ship settled down on its struts, shaking, and he grumbled. "Either this ship's always been bad, or one of those explosions hit a strut."
"I found a datapad that said it'd been bad since a planet called, um, Rakata Prime."
Atton quirked a brow as he powered the ship down. "Rakata Prime?"
"Yeah, you know it?"
He shrugged. "Name sounds familiar, is all."
Trista started to pull off her headset when a voice crackled back over her radio.
"Attention, Ebon Hawk. All crew is to disembark from the ship. Lieutenant Dol Grenn will arrive shortly to meet you."
"Copy, Hangar Control," Atton said, and any discussion of Rakata Prime was over as he clicked off their headset and finished shutting down the ship. "Oh, I don't like that. If they know we're coming from Peragus and think we caused the explosion—"
"Not that we've got a choice."
Atton sighed. "I'm real tired of that, by the way."
"Tell me about it." Trista stood and slung her coat around her shoulders. "Well, let's see what they want."
Atton grumbled behind her but followed, and Kreia moved into place behind them both. Trista finished pulling on her coat and tapped T3 as she passed. "They said all crew, that includes you."
T3 chirped and zipped to the ramp, lowering it to the hangar floor with a clang. Trista grabbed her bag from the floor beside it and headed down, coming to a stop on the deck beside T3.
"All right," Atton whispered. "Are we going to have a story?"
"I don't know that we should plan it," Trista muttered. "Just tell the truth about what happened. We were getting shot at, they hit an asteroid, everything exploded. We were just trying to survive."
"So just play it cool?" Trista nodded, and Atton straightened his jacket. How he'd gotten the fuel odor out of it, she didn't know. "Don't mess it up for us. They may not know anything happened."
She glared at him, but footsteps cut off any further argument. They both straightened as a large detail of blue-clad security officers with very large blasters strode in through the door at the far end, backing a balding, graying man with a blaster holstered at his hip. The stripes on his uniform, if they were analogous to the Republic, marked him as a lieutenant. Next to her, Atton half-raised his hands.
"I'm Lieutenant Grenn," said the lieutenant as he took several steps forward. The other guards weren't standing threateningly, at least, but Trista could read the tension in their shoulders. They were still ready to fire if needed. "I'm under orders to take you into custody regarding the Peragus Mining Facility."
"We had nothing to do with that," Trista said, with what she hoped was a winning smile.
"Great," Atton mumbled. "No way that won't work."
Grenn cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, the circumstances of your arrival are suspect. Due to the magnitude of the investigation, you will be in custody indefinitely. Meanwhile, your ship and droid will be impounded."
T3 chirped angrily. "Yes, you are a droid, so that includes you." He looked back up to Trista. "In addition, we will take your personal arms and armor until we complete our inquiry. If we clear you of involvement, we will return everything."
"How long do you expect this investigation to last?" Trista inquired, struggling to keep her tone polite. This lot seemed jumpy enough that they might just shoot her.
"I cannot answer that. We will hold you briefly at TSF headquarters until living quarters are arranged, at which point we will place you under house arrest. Do you understand?"
Trista glanced at Atton, then back at Grenn. "Ten years ago I had the right to know the purpose of my detainment. Has that changed?"
Grenn sighed and squared his shoulders. "This vessel and its passengers are connected with the destruction of the Peragus fuel mining facility, which this station depends on. We need to determine the extent of your involvement."
Trista glanced at Atton, who looked frustrated, and over her shoulder at Kreia, who nodded. She sighed. "Fine."
"Good. My men will relieve you of any arms and armor, then do a cursory scan of the ship." He nodded back to the guards, who stepped forward. Trista held up her hands.
"That's unnecessary. We won't resist." She unsnapped her vibrosword from her belt and placed it on the floor. With a huff, Atton drew both of his blasters and set them down next to it. Trista held out her hand for Kreia's sword and set it down next to hers. "That's all we have on us."
Grenn nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation. Step aside, please."
Trista nodded. The man with the biggest gun on the security team motioned, and she moved to where he'd indicated. Atton put himself between her and the guns, and Kreia drifted with her usual dearth of concern. T3 tried to follow, but one guard stuck his foot out to stop him.
"It's all right, T3," Trista called back. "We'll be back before you know it."
"Doubtful," Kreia muttered.
T3 chirped again and zipped around his guard and hid behind Trista's legs. "/T3 = do not want/"
Trista crouched down next to the droid, holding up her hand as several of the TSF officers stepped forward. "It'll be all right, just a couple of days." A worn streak in his flat top caught her eye, and she ran her fingers along it. T3 replied with a quiet dwoo. "I know you don't like it, but you just need to stay with the ship. See if you can fix that strut, or finish up the hyperdrive?"
T3's top lowered. Atton scoffed, and Trista glared at him. "/T3 = fix+ guard/?/"
"Yes, exactly. Now go on, I'm sure the soldiers will be nice."
T3 gave her the droid equivalent of a resigned sigh and rolled back toward the ship. Grenn was waiting when she stood, giving a final few orders to his people.
"-and make sure you get that recording of the ship's interior for the Admiral. He requested it if we found the ship."
"Of course, sir."
Grenn turned back to them, and Trista tried to look inauspicious. "There's an admiral interested in our ship?"
"He's had a ping on this thing for four years." Trista glanced at Atton, confused, even more so when he looked like he'd just had a terrifying epiphany. "Now, if you'll come with us."
He motioned, and Trista nodded and followed the direction. Atton fell in next to her, Kreia drifting behind as usual. Most of the guards fell in step around them, and they left the hangar into a mostly deserted hall.
They were marched to a shuttle and motioned into a block of connected seats. Trista sat down, staring at the wall. Panic was bubbling out of that warming void in her chest, and she bit it back down. She hadn't been around soldiers, or this many people, for a decade. And she'd blown up a planet ten years ago, in a battle with millions of casualties on both sides. The Republic must view her as little better than a war criminal, unless Revan's actions had already made them forget.
It was possible.
She drew a deep breath through her nose, flinching out of her introspection when Atton nudged her knee with his.
"I'll need your names," Grenn was saying, standing in front of them as the shuttle trembled away from the terminal. "You, first."
Trista looked away and cleared her throat. "Trista Morace."
"Uh, Atton Rand." Grenn responded with a quiet hemming noise as he entered the name. Trista looked back at him and Atton shrugged. "What?"
"Kreia." Her answer was uninterested, aloof, her attention elsewhere.
"When we arrive at headquarters, you will each be questioned regarding the Peragus incident. We are authorized to use truth serum, so I recommend you cooperate."
"We're that important, huh?"
Trista leaned back in her chair and studied the ceiling as Grenn glowered at him, then walked away to the shuttle captain. "Can you not antagonize the guards, Mr. Rand?"
He scoffed. "What else am I supposed to do? Can't play pazaak with myself in these conditions."
"But you may mercifully spare us from your prattling," Kreia retorted. "I am trying to think."
Atton rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the shuttle wall. "Fine, wake me when we get there."
#
They were each taken to separate interview rooms in TSF headquarters – Trista made the mistake of calling them "interrogation rooms" when she saw them, and was hastily corrected. She settled into a chair and resigned herself to her fate.
She only waited about five minutes before Grenn entered, datapad in hand and a frown already on his face. He sat in the chair across from her, and she waited.
"Trista Morace, eh?" he asked as he opened a screen on his datapad. "You've been causing a lot of waves recently."
"How do you know who I am?"
"About a month ago someone leaked your information to the Holonet." He scrolled up on his datapad and handed it to her. She took it and stared down at her own face, albeit an image from ten years ago.
She remembered it.
Whoever had posted this found one of her laughing, standing with the Revanchists on the steps of the Taris legislature. It was cropped but she remembered the picture, and she would recognize the arm around her shoulders anywhere. Alek had been the only one who wore ribbed robes like that, saying it gave him better mobility.
That meant... she touched the image. His other arm was around Revan as she stood at the center of the Revanchists, one hand raised to the sky in the Aurebesh symbol vev. For victory. She scrolled down, away from the painful memories that brought with her. The rest was a rote physical description. Trista Morace. Height: 1.8 meters. Hair: Blond. Eyes: Green. Species: Human, Coruscanti and Corellian descent. Age: 35. Former Associations: Jedi Order, Revanchists. Exiled from Jedi Order 1040:10:22. Last known location: Outer Rim, Galactic South.
She handed it back. "Any idea who leaked it?"
"None." He scrolled down. "But you've interested many people. Where have you been since the Mandalorian Wars?"
"Not in Republic space, that's for sure. I've been wandering. Away from people."
"Why?"
"Seemed like the thing to do."
"For a Jedi to—"
Before she caught herself, she'd slammed her palm on the table. "For the sake of everything left that's holy, I am not a Jedi. It said it right there, I got kicked out." She drew several deep breaths as Grenn wrote a few things on his datapad. "I got kicked out, and I haven't been back. I don't even have the Force anymore."
Or, whatever was happening.
"All right," Grenn said uncomfortably, "what were you doing on Peragus?"
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I was on a Republic ship, the Harbinger. At some point, someone... I don't know, drugged me or something. I think it was a droid, an HK-50 model?" Grenn frowned and made a note on his datapad. "One minute I'm in the Harbinger's medical lab getting my immunizations updated. The next, I'm crawling out of a kolto tank on Peragus and everyone on the station except my companions and me are dead."
"You say everyone was dead except you and the two other humans with you?"
She sighed. "Yes." He made another note. "And then the Harbinger showed up."
"With its crew?"
"No, they were dead too. It was under the control of the Sith."
Grenn's stylus hovered over his datapad. "The Sith?"
"Yeah. There was a Sith Lord with them. Everything's a blur after that. We barely escaped."
"So this Sith Lord—"
"He had the Harbinger, yes, and as we were escaping it started chasing us down." She motioned. "I assume that, while it was shooting at us, it hit an asteroid and made the field blow."
"Then this mystery Sith destroyed Peragus?"
"That's my assumption. I don't think he'll be a problem though, I doubt the ship made it out. We almost didn't and a cruiser is much larger than our frigate."
"If it had, wouldn't you be able to sense this Sith Lord?"
Trista's brow furrowed. "I already said, I'm not a godsdamned Jedi."
"My apologies." He made another note with a heavy sigh. "Well, the good news is that your companions all appear to share your story, where they bother to speak at all." From his tone, she suspected Kreia opted to avoid questioning at all and was in a holding cell already. "You'll be taken to the holding cells until we can arrange quarters. It shouldn't be more than a few hours. It's all a formality. We'll check out your story at the scene and just double check that you were, as you said, a bystander in the disaster. After that, you will probably be taken to Coruscant."
"With all due respect, Lieutenant, I don't want to go to Coruscant. I don't want to see the capital again, ever."
Grenn responded with a surprisingly gentle smile. "I understand you won't have much choice. Another Republic ship, the Sojourn, is already en route to Telos. The Admiral on board has ties to the Jedi, and he is not an easy man to say 'no' to these days." Grenn stood. "Follow me, please, Ms. Morace."
The two TSF guards outside the door followed them as he led her to a small room, lined with six forcefield-protected cages. Kreia was already in one by the door, meditating, barely reacting as the door opened. Grenn motioned to the one across from the door.
"A force cage? This is ridiculous."
"It won't be more than a few hours." Grenn motioned again, and Trista grumbled but stepped into it. The field lit around her.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" Atton balked in the doorway. "Really?"
"They're serious," Trista replied.
"I just got out of one of these! I—"
Grenn huffed. "I suggest you do as we say, Mr. Rand. I'm sure I could find other charges to detain you for." Atton scowled but stepped into the cell next to Trista, glaring as the field shot up around him. "I'll return when we've arranged housing for you."
"Can I at least get a sandwich?" Atton asked. Grenn shook his head and turned on his heel, waving the guards out. "I take it that's a no?"
"Oh, be silent," Kreia chided. He glared at her.
"I'm not in the mood for a fight." Trista settled down on the floor, tucking her chin under her knees. "So both of you, please, for like, five minutes. Don't."
Kreia didn't reply. Atton glanced over at Trista as she laid her head on her knees, looking at the far wall. He sighed and started pacing.
#
They were alone for at least two hours, though none of them spoke. Atton continued to pace his cell, occasionally glancing at Trista or the witch across from him.
This was a disaster. They should have gotten back on the ship as soon as Control took an interest in them. They could have worked around the voice-locked navicomputer – the droid had. Anywhere would have been better if those assassins were after them.
His head jerked up as the door opened. Trista must have fallen asleep at some point, as she groggily got to her feet in response. The door closed behind a man in TSF blues, an enormous blaster slung across his back.
"Well," he said, "this will be easier than expected."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Atton snapped.
"Silence, I'm not interested in you." The man turned his gaze to Trista, her expression still as blank as always. "And this is the last of the Jedi. Not as impressive as I'd thought."
For a moment, he thought he spotted a flash of anger across her face. Then it faded back into the usual impassiveness, and the lifelessness of her eyes.
"I'm not a Jedi," she replied.
"Ah, what a pity. That will make you easier to kill." Atton clenched his hands into fists. "The Exchange has a bounty on your kind, you know. You're worth quite a bit of money."
Trista didn't reply. His nails dug into the flesh of his palm. "The Exchange? Like some two-bit pistol jockey works for the Exchange."
The false TSF agent glared at him. "I'm more than skilled enough."
He scoffed. "This is the worst hit I've ever seen then. You bounty hunters couldn't win a fair fight. You're the cheapest, most worthless merc scum I've ever seen. I'd hire a Mandalorian over you any day."
The man's face twisted into a scowl as he took a step toward Atton. "A Mandalorian would have entered this office and redecorated it with TSF organs. No Mandalorian would have been clever enough to infiltrate this station, then take the identity of a guard, then—"
"What, overload our cages and make it look like an accident? You probably don't have the guts to take me on. You're pathetic."
He laughed. "That had occurred to me. Unfortunately, my employer wants the Jedi very much alive. However..." He turned back to Trista. "The cameras in here are deactivated, and if she refuses to come, I will put a blaster round in your skulls and say I killed you in self defense. After all, I am a TSF guard. Who will they believe? By the time they know differently, I will be halfway to Nar Shaddaa."
Trista hadn't moved, her hands clenched loose at her sides, and that same accursedly calm expression on her face.
"And if I do cooperate, do you believe the TSF will simply let me stroll out of this compound?" She couldn't be agreeing to this. Atton stared at her incredulously.
"Of course not. That is why I have secured the back entrance." The man reached out and flicked a switch on the console, lowering the fields on Trista's cell. "Now, how will this play out?"
"Tris," Atton said, "you can't agree to this. You can't-"
She held up her hand. "If you wanted a fight, bounty hunter, I hope you prepared for one."
Atton glared at the walls of his cell. "Hey, you want a fight, buddy? Leave her alone and try me."
The guard rolled his eyes and pulled a knife from his belt, grinning a feral look that bared his teeth.
"Before you think about the Force, Jedi," he growled. "It won't work."
For the first time since he'd met her, the corners of Trista's mouth twitched upward. Before the false TSF guard could react she lunged forward, slamming her fist upward under the man's jaw. He staggered back.
"Haven't had it for ten years," she said, stepping back into what looked like a brawler's stance. "Won't be necessary for a bastard like you."
He rubbed his jaw and lunged forward, the feral smile growing. Trista dodged, slamming her hand into the console and bringing the other fields down. Atton charged, grabbing the man's arm as he went to swing again. He jerked it forward, and jammed the point of his elbow into his nose. The assassin jerked back and kicked out, forcing Atton to release him.
Trista grabbed his leg, throwing him off balance. He latched onto her arm and wrenched out of her grip, and threw her into face-first into the console. Trista caught herself, hitting the flat top rather than the sharp edge.
As the man's back turned to him Atton moved in, despite the sound of something cracking of as Trista slid to the floor dazed. He grabbed the assassin from behind. One hand on the shoulder. One on the other side of the head.
Snap.
The bounty hunter slumped to the floor, dead.
Kreia had already moved from her stoic position at the edge of the fight, kneeling next to Trista. Blood had run down the front of her tunic, staining the pale fabric red.
"It is merely a broken nose. Move your hand." Trista cracked an eye to look at her and coughed. Kreia sighed and tugged her hand aside and placed two long fingers on either side of the swelling nose. Something cracked again, and Trista whimpered. "There. I can not staunch the bleeding, but the cartilage is set."
She held out her hand to Atton. "Part of your shirt, fool."
Atton looked down at his clothes with a frown.
"Use mine," Trista said, her voice thick and lispy. "S'ruined anyway.
Kreia tore part of the hem and pressed it into Trista's hand, and she sat up and held it to her nose.
"You all right, Tris?" Atton asked. She nodded.
"Just th'nose. Thanks."
The door slipped open, admitting a full unit of TSF guards with Grenn at the front. "What's going on in here? The cameras went dead—" His eyes fell on the bounty hunter's corpse, and his tone changed.
"Get a medic in here," he barked at a TSF agent. "All right, 'Jedi.'" His guards held their guns ready, and Atton stepped in front of both of them. "Back nice and slow into the force cage with your hands where we can see them, and we won't need to use deadly force." Atton glanced back.
Kreia scoffed from the floor as she helped Trista to her feet. "As if you could kill her were you to try."
"That was a bounty hunter," Atton explained. "He—"
Grenn spoke over him. "Again, back into the-"
"Sir, is that... is that Batu Rem?"
Grenn glanced at his officer, then the corpse, then back at the trio. With a nod to keep their guns ready he stepped forward, turning the corpse over. The head lolled, and Atton looked away. "Batu Rem isn't even on the station, he's on shore leave. This isn't him."
"Well, I'm glad you figured that out after he attempted to kill us," Trista said.
"Like I was saying, a bounty hunter. Good job. You let one infiltrate your ranks."
Grenn sighed and motioned for the agents to lower their weapons. "We'll investigate this, of course."
"If it lives up to the quality of your other investigations," Kreia interrupted, "I am sure we will be free in no time at all."
He glared at her, but didn't reply. "Meanwhile, we've arranged quarters for you. Follow us, please."
"And how long will this be?" Trista asked.
"Again, I have no timetable to offer you. You'll be under TSF protection, and I will personally clear any visitors to your quarters. Now, please. Follow me."
One of the guards gently pushed on Trista's shoulder, and she smacked his hand off and followed Grenn. Atton jogged after her. One guard motioned to Kreia, almost as if she'd started to reach for her. Kreia's head tilted toward her, and the agent cleared her throat.
"Uh, yeah. After you, ma'am."
