Trista left the 'fresher the next day just as Atton was waking up.

"How ya feeling, Tris?" he asked as he sat up. She shrugged.

"All right."

"After 150 credits of alcohol?"

"Probably that Jedi metabolism," Trista mumbled as she hefted her bag to her shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's talk to the Ithorians and Czerka."

"Only if we grab breakfast on the way."

"Eventually." Trista turned to Kreia. "Are you coming?"

Kreia rose from meditation at the end of her cot and shook out her robe. "I will accompany you."

"Great, let's get underway. The sooner we know more, the faster we can get off this hell station."

Trista walked straight past the Czerka corporation, only looking away from the archway ahead when Atton tapped his blaster too loudly next to the Bumani Corporation headquarters.

"You sure you're all right?" he asked, as they started through the archway. "You sure drank a lot."

"I'm fine, Mr. Rand."

She over up as he smirked. "You broke the name barrier last night." Last night? What happened last night? He laughed as her eyes widened. "Nothing happened, Tris. But you definitely don't have to keep calling me 'Mr. Rand.'"

She elbowed him. Good, she remembered falling asleep as soon as she got in bed, but nothing else. "Fine, Atton, but I figured you didn't want me to get familiar." He shrugged.

The door to the Ithorian compound was right around the corner, and open, so she entered without breaking stride. Directly ahead was one of the tall, flat-headed aliens, and Trista stopped at the desk. Atton stayed a step behind her, thumb rubbing the grip on his gun again.

The Ithorian looked up with the same wide-eyed, shocked expression they always seemed to wear. "How may I help you, visitor?"

"Moza invited me to speak to Chodo Habat?" Trista forced her voice into the usual flat tone most Jedi used when dealing with situations of this nature, though it brought a foul taste to her mouth.

The Ithorian blinked. "Oh! You must be the Jedi he spoke of." Trista opened her mouth to correct them, but they were speaking again. "I will open the doors for you now and inform Chodo Habat of your arrival! A guide will meet you inside."

"Thank you." The Ithorian waved them through, and Trista jerked her head at the other two as she started deeper into the office. Another met them inside and motioned them after. She glanced to the side once as they passed another Ithorian and they looked away, only giving her the briefest peek at the awe written across their face.

Great.

Trista straightened her shoulders as they reached a door, and their guide waved them through. Standing in conversation amongst a variety of plants, many of which he'd never seen, stood two more Ithorians — one dressed in deep forest green robes embroidered in fine vines and plants, and the other Moza. The conversation stopped dead as they entered, and the new Ithorian stepped forward.

"It gladdens me that you came, Jedi." If she had to guess, only decorum was keeping him from embracing her.

Trista held up her hand. "First, I am not a Jedi."

"I apologize, and hope I have not offended you. I am Chodo Habat, the leader of this herd. I do not intend to impose our troubles upon you, but until I sensed an echo in the Force upon your arrival, I did not know where to turn."

"I'm interested in hearing you out."

"Thank you. I appreciate your willingness to listen. Moza has explained our problems with the reconstruction effort?" Trista nodded. "Yes. We are attempting to reconstruct the planet as dictated by the Force, by natural order, through careful introduction of flora and fauna. And through careful manipulation of weather and geological events to cleanse the planet of radiation and fallout, side effects of the Sith attack.

"Czerka uses the planet for material gain, plundering the resources we have introduced, and scavenging old military bases for profit, under the auspicious claim of 'fiscal support.' In their pursuit of wealth, they destroy the work we have done, and the planet teeters on the brink of collapse."

"And the government hasn't stepped in?"

Atton shook his head. "It's the Senate, Tris."

She nodded. "Fair point. And your current goal?"

"We wish to see the project move forward again." His bulbous eyes trailed to Kreia for a moment. "So that Telos will be restored, and the methods we are pioneering may save other Rim worlds from their destruction."

::I do not approve of this course of action.::

Trista listened as Chodo continued to explain the benefits of a slow introduction of resources, and problems around a droid intelligence that had gone missing under suspicious circumstances. ::I plan on speaking with Czerka next. We'll see.::

::We do not have time to manage this petty squabble. They should sort it out on their own, and interfering will only weaken them. Our enemies draw closer as we waste time.::

::We're prisoners on this station until this Republic ship arrives, then we'll end up on Coruscant. The Sith will catch up to us eventually. And I suspect the Ithorians will be more willing to help us locate the Hawk, and will try to use and manipulate us less than a for-profit company that offered me 'employment.'::

Kreia did not reply.

"So you want us to escort this new droid intelligence to you?" Trista asked.

"Yes. The TSF has offered us a small escort, but Czerka is discreetly providing support to the Exchange for their services. I believe the Exchange will interfere."

"I see," Trista said. "I wish to speak to Czerka about their side, but my few interactions with them have not endeared them to me."

Chodo inclined his head. "Yes. And I would not expect you to decide without weighing all sides. If you agree, the droid intelligence will arrive in our docking bay, 126B, in an hour. If you are interested in aiding us, I would appreciate your support in ensuring it arrives."

"Of course."

"Thank you." He nodded, Trista returned it, and turned on her heel to leave. As she passed, she caught the tail end of an uncomfortable, suspicious look on Atton's face. She didn't mention it until they were outside the Ithorians' office, on their way to Czerka.

Atton shrugged and mumbled "don't worry about it."

When they entered Czerka headquarters – whose door was not open – the protocol droid behind the desk greeted them. "Hello, and welcome to Czerka Headquarters. I am B-4D4, administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch. How may I help you?"

"I'm here to see Ms. Lorso."

"She has been expecting you. You will find her through the door, down the hall on the right."

"Thanks." Trista started around the divider. One step into the main workroom, and her hand came to rest on her vibrosword. While Czerka employees sat at their desks, barely noticing her as they entered, a cabal of mercenaries' heads turned toward them. She cleared her throat and tapped at the closest desk, getting the attention of the employee.

"Lorso's office is that way?"

"Yeah, right through that hall there." He pointed.

"Thanks."

She started for the hall and jumped when Atton's hand brushed her shoulder-blades, ushering her toward the hall and moving to her left side. "Sorry, Tris." His voice was almost silent. "I'm a little jumpy today."

"Yeah, I'm feeling the same way."

They stepped into the hall and his hand fell. The next door was open, with muffled voices beyond, and they stopped just as they stepped through. Trista's eyes flitted over the two aliens talking to Lorso at her desk – a Rodian, and a Devaronian, both heavily armed.

Lorso was halfway through a sentence as they stepped through the door. "—transport to one of the restoration zones on the surface. You will be safe from the TSF there."

"That seems best," the Rodian responded. "We wish to wait until things cool down before seeking passage off-system."

"Looks familiar," Atton said, and Trista nodded. "We're not going to try anything here, are we?"

"For the services you have offered to Czerka, you will also be reimbursed. I trust that is agreeable?"

"No." Trista glanced back at the hallway. "There's no cover."

"Yes, Executive Lorso. And if there is nothing else, we are eager to leave."

"Yes, yes, be on your way."

Trista ignored them as they walked by, discussing the shuttle with barely a glance at the three of them. Once they had passed, she started for the desk. Lorso looked up from her datapad.

"Jana Lorso?" she said as she approached.

"And you must be the Jedi." Lorso stood and held out her hand. Trista glanced at it before crossing her arms, and Lorso lowered it. "I am confident that we will reach a working agreement satisfactory to us both, Miss Morace. But, ah, my manners. Let me be the first to welcome—"

Trista kept a smile plastered on her face, though she sure as hell didn't feel it. "The TSF has already taken that honor."

"Ah. I suppose I will have to settle, then." Much like her own, Lorso's smile did not travel to her eyes. They kept the same duplicitous, greedy look Trista remembered from the holocall; the eyes of someone who knew what stood in front of them – and how to use it. A look even Padawans grew used to after a couple months outside the Temple.

"Yes. I have already spoken to the Ithorians, but I would like to hear Czerka's proposal regarding the Telos project."

"Ah, yes. I can understand why you might support them, but believe me, you wouldn't do Telos any favors assisting those... amateurs. Habat's intentions are good enough, but that blue-sky thinking will doom the planet. His expensive policy of moving biological specimens from Onderon, without planning, will end in ruin. I do not think he realizes that, at their current pace, they will run out of funding before even half the restoration zones are up and running.

"Our plan is cross-functional, using innovative practices to create deliverable outcomes regarding a hard stop. We use the planet's own resources to help fund the restoration. The extra resources will improve the project in the long run. Habat, on the other hand, cannot see beyond his own selfish concerns."

"So it's the typical corporate line? The Ithorians are in the way of your financial gain and you want them to step aside?"

"It is not only that, I assure you. We will ensure the planet's restoration occurs, as opposed to driving the project into bankruptcy before it is even half-finished."

"Or perhaps Czerka's use of the planet's resources is dangerous and detrimental to the project?" Trista held up her hand when Lorso went to speak. "Forgive me, I am not an environmental engineer as you are."

Atton coughed, and the hard look around Lorso's eyes hardened further. "Telos' surface is covered in military facilities destroyed or abandoned during the Sith attack. We salvage materials to be reprocessed and put back into service, or resold to further our funding for the project."

"So... you sell old Republic tech back to the Republic?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Right. That's not addressable under Republic contractor law at all." The first chink in Lorso's fake smile hit, and she began to frown.

"I hope you are not suggesting that our methods are below the board? We have an excellent rating with many Republic watchdog organizations, none of which have raised concerns about our use of military salvage."

"I would never accuse such a fine, upstanding organization as Czerka of impropriety," Trista replied sweetly. "So what do you want me to do, apart from drive the Ithorians out of the restoration project and involve myself in a convoluted racketeering scheme?"

Lorso moved to a full frown. "The Ithorians have ordered a new droid intelligence. Bring it here instead, and I will reward you with two thousand credits."

"I will certainly consider it." Trista turned on her heel, paused, and turned back. "Did you employ a man named Batono?"

"I am afraid I do not know all the Czerka talent on Citadel Station personally."

"He worked your docks. I presumed you would know about an employee of yours feeding information to the TSF about hypothetical illegal Czerka operations – not that I would presume Czerka is involved in illegality. But judging from this office, Czerka runs a tough ship. I am sure you know who I'm talking about."

She was silent for a moment. "Batono was one of our former employees," she replied tersely. "Let me tell you something, Miss Morace. There are far too many like him. Do-gooders, who believe that, because of what Czerka must do to be successful and profitable, we must be evil. They do not see the impracticality of their beliefs, they do not understand the realities of the galaxy. If we must pay certain funds, then Czerka will gladly pay. If competitors must be removed, then Czerka will do its part to forward progress.

"Batono refused to see this. Before leaving our employ, he stole many of our documents and began to stalk our movements on the station. Harassment, but overlooked – sanctioned, perhaps – by the Telosian authorities."

"So, since he's missing now, do you know what happened?"

"I am curious why you are looking for him."

"It's not your concern."

"I see. Well, I suspect he's put his nose into something or another. People like him cannot mind their own business, always prying into matters that don't concern them. I know he spent time in the company of the Ithorians. I assumed that was the reason for his efforts – that he thought by inventing stories of Czerka's evil, he could put Chodo Habat and his incapable assistants in charge.

"But, if you are searching for him and find him, there would be a reward for information of his whereabouts."

"I will keep that in mind," Trista said, intending to do no such thing. "One further question."

"Yes?"

"Does 'forwarding progress' include the collection and exploitation of slaves within Republic space across the Rim?"

This time, Lorso's brows narrowed, and her voice dropped. "I apologize, but I cannot comment on other branches' operations. If there is nothing else, I am very busy."

"So that's a yes. Have a lovely day, Executive Lorso."

Trista walked past the other two, half-pulling her companions after her. Once they reached the hall, she pulled her coat around herself and speedily walked toward the shuttle.

"Hey, Tris," Atton said, as he caught up. "What the hell was that?"

"You learn to read people when you're around Revan, and you learn to speak corporate. Though that was always Alek's talent, not mine." She adjusted her coat. "We'll go return the intelligence to Habat and ask about this man Grenn wants. And if Czerka has a spare shuttle just sitting around, I bet they do too."

"So we're just going to ignore Czerka?" She glanced over at him as they reached the shuttle. "I'm sure they've got Exchange backing on the station, and they can make your life miserable if they want. Like I said, they have a reputation."

Trista shrugged as she settled on a seat. "Then we must hope they don't want to."

#

The ride to the shuttle bay took only a few minutes, but the silence felt like hours. Atton paced at one end, Kreia stood at the other, and Trista, with a deep feeling of frustration, waited at the door.

Fortunately, 126B sat right through the arch on the other side of the waiting area. Atton was out of it first, and Trista swung out after him, one hand settling on her vibrosword.

"Expecting trouble?" Atton asked.

She glanced at his hand, resting on his blaster. "Are you?"

Atton shrugged and looked back up with a sideways grin. "Aren't I always?"

The barest hint of a smile tugged at her lips, and she started forward.

The Ithorian saw them coming and let them through with little hassle. Waiting by a shuttle stood a protocol droid, three Ithorians, and a single TSF agent.

"Oh, great," Atton mumbled as they entered.

"Yeah, this would end well."

As they approached, the TSF agent looked up and relaxed. "Oh, thank the stars you're here," he said. "Officer Hallock, ma'am. They said someone might be coming down to help — I don't expect trouble, but you never know."

"There will be difficulties," Kreia said softly.

"Yeah, like these guys?"

Trista looked back, then turned as the airlock closed behind the new intruders. About ten individuals had entered the bay, a few humans with a spattering of non — one Trandoshan, which could be a problem — all armed and armored.

She'd never really been thankful for Atton's "bad feelings" before, but she was now. She held out her hand to the Ithorians.

"Unless you're going to fight, get your droid and yourselves behind the shuttle." The Ithorians and the droid retreated, and Trista stepped up next to Atton. "Atton, Hallock, give us cover fire."

"Get over there, I'll take over here." Atton patted her arm. "Don't hero too hard, all right?"

Trista glanced after him, then back ahead as the mercenaries stopped. "Kreia—"

"I will support."

"All right." She took a step forward. "Hello, I—"

"Don't start talking, Jedi bitch," the one in front said, holding her blaster at Trista's head. She raised her hands. "Hand over the droid, and yourself, and we won't kill everyone in this hangar."

"We were having such a good conversation too," Trista said, smiling even as her heart skipped a beat or two. Then, she remembered. The Force. You have it again. "Why don't we all just drop our weapons, and we can talk this out?"

One of the mercenaries glanced around and began to lower his blasters, only for the man next to him to kick him. "You idiot, that's a Jedi trick."

The leader barked an order. "Kill everyone, take the Jedi alive and—"

She was hefted violently into the air, weapons falling from her hands as they leapt to her throat. Trista ripped her vibrosword from its sheath as two blaster bolts zipped past her, drilling the leader in her forehead and chest. Kreia's hand moved at the corner of her eye, and the leader was thrown to the side.

Trista moved forward, sword in hand, pushing her hand outward. Three of the attackers bowled backwards, out of her way, as she headed for the Trandoshan. He met her blade with a throaty growl, the impact of the parry vibrating through her entire body. Trista slipped behind his blade, forcing the bulky alien into an awkward spin. He brought his sword down on her, and she braced her vibrosword with her hand to block it. As he drew back for a second strike she raised her hand, slamming him into the ceiling far above them, and let him fall back onto her sword. The force ripped the weapon from her hand and the alien slammed into the hangar deck.

She stepped back, looking around the field. Atton and Hallock had taken care of most of the others, the last falling as she turned back. Those with the telltale signs of weaponry were more common, but at least four were crumpled among the others. Kreia stood to the side, studying her hand with sightless eyes.

"You should fetch the Ithorians," she said, as Trista stopped next to her. "Once this attack has failed—"

"More will be on the way. Come on!" The Ithorians appeared from behind the shuttle, ushering their droid along. "Atton, stop going through their pockets."

Atton stood from one corpse. "I'm just trying to set up a retirement fund, if I survive dealing with you." Trista frowned. "Besides, look at this."

"As we walk." She took the blaster he handed her. "Let's get back to the Ithorians."

#

Once they arrived at Residential 082, Kreia announced that she was "tired" and would return to the apartment, leaving just the TSF agent and them to finish the escort. Fortunately, nothing happened and, despite a tense moment where she made eye contact with the Exchange's Rodian guard, they reached the Ithorian enclave with no difficulty.

"While we set up our new Intelligence and discuss our next steps," Chodo Habat explained, "I invite you to rest and recuperate in the safety of our Enclave. The vivarium is open to you, and I will send Moza to fetch you once we have decided."

"Thank you." Trista tugged on Atton's arm and they retreated from Habat's office, back into the main room of the Enclave. Rather than head to the vivarium, they headed for the windows overlooking Citadel Station.

"Any ideas?" Atton leaned on the glass, looking out toward the planet's surface.

"Not really." Trista turned the modified blaster over in her hands. "Checking in with Grenn, I think."

"I meant about what they wanted next." He jerked his head back at the room. "But probably. He said there was a black market smuggling ring around here. I bet that's where they got it from."

Trista looked up, narrowing her eyes. "I didn't think you were listening."

"I'm always listening."

"For a man who acts like an idiot—"

"Yeah, yeah, don't read into it, Tris. I'll still get out of here soon as I can. I didn't sign up for some new Jedi spat."

"I've got great news, then, this isn't a new Jedi spat. It's hard when there's no Jedi involved."

Atton rolled his eyes. "Call it what you want, sister."

"I just want to know a little about you, to make sure I can trust you."

"What, I haven't saved your ass enough yet?"

Trista rolled her eyes. "That's not it. I know four things about you. One, your name is Atton — or, at least, that's the name you gave me. Two, you're good at running and drinking. Three, you flew us out of a dense, explosive asteroid field. Four, I found you in jail."

"And that's why you shouldn't trust me, Tris."

"Everyone I grew up with ended up incarcerated at some point. I can hardly judge you for it."

Atton looked away from the window. "What, you too? Not counting the TSF."

"Not me," Trista said. "They always needed me to lawyer their way out. Well, except Alek — I didn't break any of the Flashpoint Jedi out."

"Right. Well. Typically, you don't trust people you find in jail."

"Okay, so, help me out. Where'd you learn to fly?"

Atton was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "Went to flight school."

"Fair enough. Why were you out on Peragus?"

The silence was even longer this time. "I'm a smuggler."

"Yeah, I know."

"Right, but that's what I was doing. Smuggling. I was on a run out there, and some idiot unloaded a crate of 'contraband' that wasn't being smuggled. Seriously, Peragus had crazy rules."

"Is that it?"

"I... might have smarted off to the security officer."

Of course. "There it is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Trista smiled – still weak, but amusement had settled more inside her than it had in ten years. "Just that it sounds like you."

"Don't you only know four things about me?"

Trista leaned her back against the window and crossed her arms. "Fine. We can stand here in silence until they come get us, then."

"Yeah, sure." The silence stretched to about five minutes. "Really? Revan ended up in jail once?"

Trista nodded. "When they were Padawans, she and Alek got wasted on Alderaan, eloped, stole a thranta, and got put in the drunk tank for the night." She chuckled. "Their masters were a little upset in the morning. And yes, it was annulled."

"No shit. A thranta?"

"A thranta."

"Where were you?"

"Comfortably across the galaxy on Dantooine."

"Lucky you."

They leaned in silence for a moment, but this time, Trista felt driven to break the silence.

"What are you running from?"

Atton tensed next to her, shifting in a way that almost indicated surprise. He hid it well, but not well enough. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "We're all running from something. You know what I'm running from. What about you?"

He straightened the rest of the way and shoved his hands in his pockets. "This conversation. I'm gonna go check out some plants. Yeah. Love me some plants." He power-walked toward the vivarium. Trista turned back to the window with a sigh, staring out into the void beyond the window.

"Good job, dumbass. Your first attempt to have a real conversation with someone, and that's how you open. 'What are you running from?' Force." She scrubbed her eye.

Trista watched shuttles zip by until heavy plodding approached, and she turned toward Moza. He motioned. "Chodo Habat is ready for our next step."

"Thanks. Can you get my companion? He's in the vivarium."

"Of course." Moza plodded off, and Trista waited until the two of them emerged from the hall. Atton didn't make eye contact as she joined them.

"Sorry I asked."

"Don't mention it."

They were quiet until they rejoined Chodo Habat in his office, the intelligence already at work at a console.

"I thank you both for waiting. With evidence from the TSF and the illegal firearm you located, we believe the mercenaries that attacked you in the docking bay were likely hired by Czerka, on loan from the Exchange. Long have I suspected this, with Czerka supplying manufactured arms to be sold via the latter's black market channels."

"I cannot say I am surprised," Trista said.

"Indeed. I have tried to meet with the leader of the Exchange front here, a Quarren named Loppak Slusk. He has refused my every invitation and allows no one inside the Exchange suites. I fear he does not take us seriously.

"The Jedi, however, are renowned as warriors and diplomats both. Perhaps you may speak with him and show him the value of a restored Telos."

"Two issues," Trista said. "First, I'm not a Jedi."

"Yes. Again, I apologize. But you have received the training of the Jedi, and so, may have more success."

"Fair enough. And two, to the Exchange, I'm a walking credit sign."

"I believe you will convince them otherwise."

"Right, well. I'll confer with my companions and see what we can do."

Atton sighed to her right, drawing his fingers across his eyes. "Now I really wish I was back in my cell."