"We need to stop meeting like this. People will talk, and such."

Trista glanced up as Atton slid into the seat across form her. She took another bite of what she was eating – some native Telosian dish she couldn't remember the name of, with a lot of substitutions from the original recipe.

"Nothing to do while B4 is hacking the mainframe."

"What about Batono?"

She shook her head. "I got hungry. We'll deal with that later."

"Sure." Atton ordered something for himself, and they sat in silence for a moment. After his food arrived, and a few minutes more of silence, he cleared his throat. "So, what if the Ithorians don't have a shuttle?"

"Sorry?" He repeated the question. "Sit and wait for the Republic to take us into custody, I suppose. But I don't see why they wouldn't help."

"Neither do I, but we could be here for years fixing this. Years that, you know, we don't have."

Trista shook her head. "We can't think like that. If we do, we might as well find Sleeps-With-Vibroblades and hand ourselves over."

Atton smirked. "I'm not going to do that."

"No, I'll steal a TSF ship first." She shrugged. "I'll work out a deal with Habat after this. For all we've done for them, they owe us. I figure a small sum of credits — enough for us to fuel up later — and a shuttle to the surface is the least they can do."

"Seriously." Atton poked at his glass. "Then what?"

"What?"

"After that."

"I don't know." Trista leaned on her hand with a sigh. This was the part she wasn't sure of. "I would say we find any surviving Jedi, but... I don't know. Maybe we head to Coruscant anyway and check the Archives for clues. There must be information somewhere.

"And if we find nothing... we'll do something else."

Atton shook his head. "Can't believe you were a general once."

"It's difficult to call the shots when you don't have any information. I just wish I knew who, if anyone, survived."

"Can't help you there, I've only heard rumors. Like I said, two got brought to the Exchange dead, but we weren't asking for names. I've heard about a few getting spotted on Republic ships but, well, I thought we were trying to avoid those."

"Preferably. Know anything about Dantooine?"

"Still frakked from when Malak bombed it. If anyone's there, they're living in a wreck." Trista sighed. "Yeah, sorry. Can't help you there."

Trista stared above his head for a minute. "Maybe we'll still head for Dantooine next," she said. "I'm wary of Coruscant, but I'm sure they left something in the Dantooine archives."

"Malak probably grabbed it all."

"Doubtful. Revan hoarded information, not him."

"Yeah, sure." Trista looked back down. "So, you worked with Revan, right?"

She hesitated, but then answered. "I was second only to Alek. Er, well, Malak."

This time, it was Atton staring off behind her head. "What was she like?"

Trista glanced away. "She could have been the best Jedi the Order had seen since Master Sunrider. Her shortcomings were… numerous, but she was more a Jedi than the Councilors were. We all were." Regardless of what happened afterward, regardless of where they ended up, Trista would always believe that. She had to hold on to it, no matter what.

"But she fell. There were Sith teachings in the ranks way before Malachor, so it's not like she wasn't halfway already."

Trista frowned. "How did you know about that?"

Atton shrugged. "I was military. What, that surprise you? Just about everyone was, it happens when the galaxy is fighting itself."

Sure, sounded legit. "I don't know why it happened. I urged her not to go into the Unknown Regions, but she didn't listen. Whatever she found must have finished the job. If you want insight, I'm not the one to ask."

::You have suspicions.:: Trista huffed and took another bite.

::Not particularly.::

"Will you two stop that?" She looked up, and Atton motioned at his head. "Just flaunting it will get us killed."

::That, I doubt.::

::He's right, it's not fair to him.::

::He is unimportant, and need not listen to our conversations.::

Trista rolled her eyes. "But no, I don't know. But I know she did everything for a reason. If she fell, it was because she didn't have a choice — of that, I'm sure. She was far too pragmatic, had too practical of a view of the Force and its alignment."

"Why'd you follow her then? And why didn't you go with her?"

"She's my—" Trista cleared her throat. "We were close. I was the second person she approached after the Council refused to listen. There was no way I couldn't help, not when it was clear the Republic would fall without the Jedi."

"Well, if we go to Dantooine – or anywhere at this point – you're gonna have to stop the Jedi act."

"What for?"

"You think this sector is hostile? Wait 'til we see Dantooine. They still blame the Jedi for Malak bombing the place."

Trista shook her head and took a sip of her drink. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Atton scoffed. "Sister, we're lucky you don't have a lightsaber. If you started waving one around, they'd all be on you. This isn't the Mandalorian Wars, when you all started being heroes again. This is after the frakking Jedi ripped apart the galaxy over religion.

"Oh, and by the way? I wouldn't advertise that you were buddy-buddy with Revan. I don't think it'll go over well."

"She saved the Republic. Twice, apparently."

"After destroying it there in the middle. People take that one more seriously." He leaned back against the booth. "I'd just prefer you don't get murdered."

"I didn't know you cared."

Atton shrugged. "Who says I do?"

Overall, he was right. The miners had treated her unconscious self with a mix of uncertainty and greed, and the TSF had been jumpy around her. And then there was the Exchange. It didn't matter how often she asserted that she wasn't a Jedi. The preconceived notion was that she was dangerous, a time bomb already ticking without a visible clock. She shook her head. For the past two weeks she'd barely been able to see straight, let alone be dangerous.

"I don't have a lightsaber," she said, "nor am I wearing robes. I should be able to blend in well enough, provided the rumor mill hasn't beaten us there."

"That's a big 'if.' From what they've been saying, you're plastered all over the Holonet. Or, at least, the coreward databases. But if you want to hit Dantooine first, they might not know."

"As long as no one recognizes me, we should be fine. I trained there for a few years."

"Great."

Trista finished the last bit of food on her plate and stood. "Let's go take care of Batono."

"Sure." Atton pushed himself up from the table. "You sure it's him?"

"We'll find out."

"Kreia coming?"

Trista frowned and reached out. ::Are you going to meet us at Batono's apartment?::

::I will do so.::

::You don't have to.::

::I said I will do so.::

"Yes, she is."

They made their way back to Residential 082. Kreia stood next to the information terminal, waiting.

"The man we are looking for. He is the one that turned on the corporation?" Trista nodded as she kept walking, and Kreia joined her.

"Yeah, he's the one that was working with the TSF. Why?"

Kreia didn't answer, and they soon reached the set of apartments. Trista checked the numbers and, convinced she had the right one, knocked.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's gonna just open the door," Atton said.

Trista glared at him. "It's rude to barge in."

After a minute with no answer, Trista input the code from Habat and the door slid open to an empty apartment.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Atton said. Trista stepped inside.

"Strange, I wouldn't think he'd be wandering about on the station." She waved the other two in. If he had a stealth generator, or was hiding, he may not come out if the door was open. As soon as they were both through, she shut the door.

"Hello?" Trista asked, turning back to the room. "We're looking for someone. It's safe to come out." She tried to pour everything she could into the words — all her reassurance that they wouldn't hurt him, colored by a bit of the Force.

The plant in the corner rustled and, from behind it, a human man stuck his head out. "Who are you? What are you doing?"

"Are you Batono?"

He crawled out the rest of the way, and a clanging noise sounded behind him. "Huh? No, you must be mistaken. You're probably looking for a previous tenant, or a neighbor."

Trista titled her head. "Because you hide behind access panels for fun?"

"Don't judge my life."

"Well, if you know Batono, let him know we're looking for him. Or, Lieutenant Grenn is."

The man's demeanor changed in an instant. "Oh, Dol sent you? Can't say I'm surprised — he's the one who wanted me to come forward." He looked back at his hiding spot. "Sorry about that. When the CSD is after you, it's good to have a safe room. Or... safe access hatch. You knocked, though, so I thought I was just going to get robbed."

"No such luck," Trista said, letting the corner of her mouth quirk up. "Like I said, Grenn's been looking for you."

"Yeah, well, Grenn's not the one Czerka will send assassins after."

"If you're worried about your safety, you shouldn't. Czerka won't be able to send anyone after you once you finish blowing the whistle."

Batono shook his head. "You really think that? Heh. Everything takes time — testifying before the Council, their deliberation... Czerka will have a hundred different opportunities to rub me out."

"Look, if we got in here, Czerka's gonna get in here," Atton interrupted. "TSF might be shit at investigating, but I bet they'll take better care of you."

Batono looked around the apartment — the undefensible window, the small access hatch he was relying on to protect him, everything. Trista nodded back at Atton, who gave her a thumbs up.

"Yeah, you might be right," he finally said as he turned back. "I don't think Czerka's willing to clash with the TSF. But I don't even know if I can leave this apartment safely."

"Leave that to us," Trista said.

He scoffed. "You look sure of yourself, but—"

"I used to be a Jedi," she interrupted. "So it's me, or you sit here in fear for the rest of your brief life."

"You used to be—" He looked her up and down again. "... Jedi or no, Grenn wouldn't have sent you if you couldn't handle it. All right. Give me a few to get a bag together."

They waited as Batono threw some clothes and a stack of datapads into a bag, then slung it over his shoulder.

"Okay. Let's go." He cocked a blaster. "I'm right behind you."

"You two ready, just in case?" Trista asked. Kreia responded with a curt nod, and Atton shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

They had barely taken two steps out of the apartment block when two men intercepted them, already armed with drawn blaster rifles. Trista held up her hand and took a step forward, cutting them off.

"Hm." One of the man was a head taller than her, close to Alek's height, and must have made eye contact with Batono. "What do we have here? You're a hard man to find, Batono."

"Excuse me." He looked down. "He is off-limits, but you may deal with me."

He rolled his eyes. "You trying to be a hero?"

"Perhaps. And you are?"

"Doesn't matter. We've been looking for him." He motioned back at Batono. "Lorso sent me to take care of some unfinished business."

"Unfortunately, that business will remain unfinished. He is under my protection."

"That's fine, we can wrap up a few loose ends at once."

He brought his rifle up, and Trista grabbed the barrel and brought her elbow down on the inside of his, wrenching the gun from his hands. The other fell to a blaster round straight to the forehead. Her mercenary grabbed her by the shoulders and went to crack their heads together. She planted her hand on his face, pushing out in the Force. He skidded back into the far wall and crumpling to the floor. She didn't check if he was alive as she walked past.

"Come on," Trista said, starting for the shuttle ahead of them. "The faster we get to the TSF, the better."

#

Grenn stepped out of his office, closing the door behind him, as he ushered them out.

"You'll take steps to protect him?" Trista asked. "I've seen your protection, and it doesn't leave much faith."

"He also doesn't have a million credit bounty on his head."

Trista sighed and shook her head with a wry smile. "Don't remind me."

"Thanks for finding him. I offered you a reward." He brought up his datapad, and she stopped him.

"Use it for his protection money. I'm serious! Hire an extra couple guards or something."

Grenn shook his head, tucking the datapad back away. "Suit yourself."

Trista started to walk out of the head office, but stopped in the doorway to reception. "Grenn."

"Morace."

"I have a question." She took several steps back. "How dire is the fuel situation?"

"You mean, the fuel situation you caused?" Trista rolled her eyes. "Look, you're still not off the hook for that."

"How much time do you have?"

"We have enough in reserves for about four months. After that..." He drew his finger across his throat, and Trista nodded.

"Understood. Well, one way or the other, I'll be out of here soon. I'll keep my ears open."

"If you want to fix what you caused, feel free. There'd be a small finders fee."

"Not my concern." Her comm chirped, and she checked the name. "Got to go. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"You do that."

Trista headed out into reception, collecting her companions. "That was Habat. He's ready for us."

They headed through the modules without incident, and soon enough they were heading into the Ithorian Enclave. The mood was jovial from the moment they stepped through the door, almost physically palpable in the Enclave's air — even through the Ithorians' normal, pacified facade.

Habat greeted them warmly, as always, as they entered.

"I am happy to report that we have the information from Czerka's mainframe. Thank you, Trista Morace."

"You're welcome," she replied. "Now, about that shuttle..."

"Yes. You have done more than enough – we cannot ask for more. The shuttle is in our docking bay, 126B. It will take you to Telos' surface. If you are to be successful, you will wish to seek out the Iridonian technician, Bao-Dur. He should still be in that zone, and will help find your errant ship."

"Thank you," Trista replied, and turned to leave. Habat held out his hand.

"Wait." She did. "When you first came to me, I said I would heal you. If you will let me, I will do what I can."

Trista hesitated, warring inside herself. She should let him, because they needed it. Even if the galaxy was hostile to her former kind, they needed someone who could face the Sith on their own terms. But, she couldn't be certain this wasn't just a nightmare. And just a few weeks ago, she would have never agreed.

She cleared her throat. "Okay. Go ahead."

Habat nodded his flat head. "Please, hold still."

One finger pressed into her forehead.

Warmth flooded from the finger into her, from her forehead down to her feet. It settled in her core, illuminating a cold, necrotic, sucking lesion – right where she'd been taught to draw from the Force. That was new. She'd never felt it like that before, like an actual wound. It had always just been chill, draining, spreading through all her senses and emotions until it left nothing behind.

And as the warmth settled the lesion seemed to lift, to be pushed back, to linger at the outskirts of the light. Warmth replaced the empty hole, one she recognized from so long before, like she were greeting a long-absent friend.

"I have done what I could," Habat said, withdrawing, though he sounded... sad? She stumbled a little and Atton steadied her.

"You all right?"

She nodded, surprised. "Yeah, I am." Realizing it was, at first, foreign, but it began to blossom into comfortableness, almost contentedness. It felt right. It felt like it had felt years ago, back before Malachor. Back before everything changed. "Thank you."

Habat nodded. "It is the least I can do – your efforts may have saved Telos. Now hurry. I feel your path takes you away from here, and quickly."

"There, we are both agreed." She turned to leave. "Let's get to the shuttle. It's almost night, but I'd rather the TSF not get wind that we're trying to leave."

"Agreed," Atton said, as he caught up to her. "Then, down into Czerka central. Hey, think they know you've ruined their reputation yet?"

Trista halfheartedly glared at him. It had to be half-hearted. Her steps felt lighter than they had in a decade, like the weight of the discovered wound had lifted.

As they entered the entertainment module, Kreia spoke. The sound of the cantina's music was almost overpowering, even though they weren't there yet, a product of the later hour.

"I sense we may not be done here."

"Hopefully we are," Trista said, walking toward the bar. "The Exchange isn't a problem, and Czerka would be stupid to do something now."

"It will not be directed at us."

Only a few steps later, her comm chirped. She stopped and glanced at Kreia before answering. "Morace."

"Jedi!" Moza's voice answered her, frantic with fear. "Can you hear me? This is terrible! Armed humans broke into our home and are causing much destruction and death!"

"We do not have time to assist them," Kreia said.

"Sh." Trista turned back to the comm and the residential modules, jogging back for the Enclave. "Did you see how many? What's the situation?"

"Many of my herdmates are dead. They have threatened to kill Chodo, and I think they will see it through! You must help us – the TSF can't!"

"I'll be there in half a minute. Stay where you are."

"They're holding Chodo in his chambers – you will need a passkey. I have it, but I am in the vivarium and men are hammering in the door. Please, hurry—" The line cut, and Trista broke into a sprint as she dialed for Grenn.

"No time," she said before he could answer. "The Ithorian Enclave is being attacked. I'm halfway there, but the TSF will need to secure the scene." Before Grenn could speak, she hung up. "I should have expected this. If Czerka is as morally bankrupt as they seem, they'd hate the loss of profit."

"Do you take constructive criticism?" Atton asked. Trista drew her vibrosword as they reached the Enclave door.

"Only on Saturdays." She slammed her hand into the door's latch, and it shot open. A group of mercenaries, looking like the Czerka office's guards, stood with weapons drawn on the terrified-looking Ithorian receptionist, huddled behind the desk.

"—flatheads regret getting that Jedi bitch to help you," one of them was saying. Atton's guns clicked behind her as she stepped through.

Trista held out her hand and pulled the speaker's blaster rifle away from him, tossing it to the side as they spun towards them. She hefted her sword.

"Sorry to interrupt, but did you mean this Jedi bitch?"

She threw the sword into him as he dove for his gun. Atton drilled the guy next to him, as she pulled her sword back to her, throwing out her hand to block a few blasts as she headed forward. She swung down through one of the other mercenaries, then spun on her heel to attack another. Half the room flew back into walls, some leaving dents where they hit, with Atton taking care of those that didn't immediately stop moving.

Trista ran the last merc through and, without thinking, spun the hilt of the sword over her hand and dropped it to her side, where it clattered on the floor. She glanced at Atton, who looked away, and sighed and picked it up.

"Lock the door," she said, and the tech nodded as he pulled himself back to the desk. "The TSF should be on their way."

"Y-yes, Master Jedi."

She didn't bother to correct him as she headed into the next room.

#

At the door to the vivarium, Trista paused. "Get ready. Moza said they were just outside, but—"

"No mercs."

"Exactly. I doubt they lost interest."

"I'll get the door."

Trista readied her sword, glancing back as Kreia folded her hand over her arm inside her sleeves. Atton elbowed the lock, and she walked through casually. Mercs had herded the hiding Ithorians into a corner, now with Moza standing in front of his herdmates like a shield.

"Sorry we're late," Trista said. The mercs turned back, immediately training their guns on her. "If you leave, I won't have to kill you."

"We ain't paid enough to not deal with an upstart half-Jedi." Their leader almost looked smart. "Ain't even got a lightsaber."

"Didn't know I needed one." Trista lifted her hand and slammed him into the ceiling, then into the far wall. He slid down it limply. "Run, and the rest of you can live. I'd think that's more important than credits."

It seemed to be enough. After a few glances at their unconscious leader, the remaining mercenaries headed for the doors.

The huddled Ithorians straightened, still holding one another as they collected themselves. Moza hurried forward and thrust a keycard at her.

"Thank goodness you came so quickly. Here is the key. Please hurry!"

Trista took the key, nodded, and hurried past Kreia and Atton. "Come on."

They crossed the Enclave's main room, past the bodies of mercs they'd slain and fallen Ithorians, back to Habat's private quarters. Atton held out his hand as she started to reach for the lock.

"Give me the key. Don't want to get in the way."

She nodded and handed it to him. Atton slid it into the lock.

The door opened to Habat's office, the Ithorian forced to his knees with a mercenary in front of him, blaster ready. The rest stood in an arc, also at the ready, no doubt in case the first missed.

"—die with your herd." Habat's plea was nearly drowned out by the mercenary leader's reply. "That's not my concern. They hired me to do a job — no measure of pleading will change that."

"What about a better offer?" Trista asked. He turned, a dry, raspy chuckle crossing his lips.

"This is the best you can muster, Habat?" He kicked the Ithorian in the chest, sending him falling backward. "Fine. We'll add them to the dead." The mercenaries turned, and the leader drew the vibrosword sheathed across his back. "Come on then, Jedi, protect your Ithorian friend."

Trista smiled. "With pleasure." He'd been waiting for this — wanting it, almost. His stance screamed it. She motioned behind her. "Mind the others."

"Gladly," Atton said.

By the time the leader started forward, he had already fired off a shot, and Trista moved to block as the leader charged. Momentum carried him past her, and she swung back to face him. Atton fired low behind him, the blast whipping past her thigh to kneecap one of the mercs.

The man circled his blade, something she thought should merit some emotional reaction. For the first time in ten years, staring down a big mercenary with a sword to grind... she felt a nervousness similar to that she'd felt before Malachor, so unfamiliar and rank that it caught her off guard.

He charged again and she batted his sword aside like a mere annoyance, swinging back and splitting the armor across his chest.

"You left yourself open."

He scowled and swung back, aiming for power over grace. Like Alek had. Trista stepped back, the sword swinging past her.

Already her vibrosword was heavy — clunky, even. For the first time in ten years, she missed the narrow, cylindrical hilt of a lightsaber in her hand.

She didn't enjoy feeling rusty.

He swung again, higher this time, and she parried and spun behind him, slashing across the back of his knees. He swore and stumbled, turning back for her. She threw out her hand, grabbing at that new warmth, and threw him backwards. The mercenary flew off his feet, rolling head over heels into a table.

"One last chance to leave."

He climbed back to his feet with a scowl, picked up his blade, and charged.

Trista circled it, binding their swords at the hilt. He tried to push it back, and she brought her knee into his armored groin. He stumbled, breaking the bind, and she thrust forward into his chest.

The rest of the mercs were already down. She checked on the others, finding Kreia passive in the doorway (as usual) and Atton holstering his blasters before starting to rifle through the closest mercenary's pockets.

Trista turned back to Chodo and extended her hand, helping him to his feet. "You're all right?"

His flat head nodded as he climbed to his feet, eying the now-deceased mercs.

"I am fine," Habat said. "I cannot believe Czerka would escalate to this! They will stop at nothing for their sabotage." He tromped to a body, shaking his head. "They have gone too far this time. If we inform the authorities, they will have no choice but to act."

"Chodo!" Moza pushed past Atton at the door, rushing to Habat's side.

"Hey!" Atton protested, fixing his jacket.

"Moza, you are safe!" Habat looked his assistant over. "You must go to the Telosian council and inform them what has happened. Make them see the evil Czerka has brought to the station. We must stop them."

"At once, Chodo." He stomped out, moving about as fast as an Ithorian could. Habat turned back to them.

"I had feared you were already on your way to the Restoration Zone. I am glad that was not the case."

"As am I." Trista sighed and checked the time on her datapad. "I don't think we can leave now, we'd land during the night cycle." She looked up. "Will you be safe if we head back to our apartment? We'll be leaving very early in the morning."

"Yes. Move quickly — we will keep the TSF interested until after you have left in the morning." Habat rested his hand on her shoulder. "Travel in peace, Trista Morace."

"I doubt I will have that luxury," she mumbled. "But I thank you for the sentiment all the same."

#

They left at almost 0300, making it down to 126B without incident.

"Think we need to say anything to Telos Control?" Atton asked, as they climbed aboard the shuttle. Trista strapped herself into the copilot's seat.

"Of course not."

"That was my thought." Atton began powering the ship up, the engine rumbling beneath them. "Restoration Zone 0031?"

"That's what Habat said."

"Punch in the coordinates we got, I'll get us in the air."

Trista checked behind her, making sure Kreia was strapped in, before entering the coordinates. Atton closed the ramp and backed the ship out of the hangar.

"All right," Atton said, as they joined the slow, early traffic over Citadel Station. "I'm sure Czerka won't like us visiting, so be ready for anything."

Trista nodded as the shuttle slipped over the edge of Citadel Station, heading for the indicated zone.

"Looks like we've got a few minutes before we get to the right zone." The comm chirped, and Atton shut it off. "And with the comm off, no TSF interference."

"Hopefully they keep not interfering." Trista leaned forward, watching through the viewport as they burned through Telos' outer atmosphere. As it cleared, Telos' massive shield networks appeared ahead of them, sectioning the planet like a game board, shining in the early morning sun. Trista pointed. "That zone there."

The shuttle tilted as Atton steered it for the zone. "I think I see a landing area over there. That where we headed?"

"See if you can find a field. I'm sure Czerka would hate if we landed at their base."

"Yeah, and if that tech's working for the Ithorians, he's out in the wild somewhere."

Trista nodded, and the shuttle descended past the bounds of the shield walls, into the zone itself. Atton pointed toward the base, a cluster of brownish prefabs and towers.

Wait, towers?

"Hey, is that an – fuck!" Atton jerked the shuttle to the side, and it rocked as something slammed into the bottom. "Are you frakking kidding me? Grab onto something, sweets, this is gonna be rough."

Trista grabbed for the handle on the console as Atton straightened out. "You know I hate that!"

"We're crashing, so I'll apologize later. Hold on!"

Trista lurched in her seat as they slammed into something on the left side of the shuttle, then snapped back to the right, and spun. Her head slammed into the side, just as Atton cut the shuttle's power and it dropped from the sky.