The salvagers had described the sublevel as "overrun" by laigreks. They were right.

The creatures had relocated in force and took personal offense to their foray into the Enclave. They were quiet, too — if someone wasn't on watch while the others rummaged through storage lockers and rubble for useful hardware, a single laigrek could turn into an ambush, which then became a solo, kill-or-be-killed battle for their lives.

Which happened when they were just around the corner from the old archives.

Atton dropped his blasters back into their holsters with a huff, inspecting a jagged tear in his pant leg where a laigrek had gotten too close for comfort.

"Is everyone all right?" Bao-Dur's soft voice was still loud in the chamber, and he looked up. Handmaiden was fine, dusting some dirt off her jumpsuit; Kreia was untouched, as usual, the spiteful bitch; and Bao-Dur looked unhurt. Trista didn't answer Bao-Dur's question.

"Tris?" Atton called, looking around until he knew she wasn't there. "Tris!"

"I'm fine!" The answer came from the next room. "I'm fine, just over here."

As the others patched up their wounds, Atton hurried in. Trista stood with her back to him, looking down at her shirt. A pile of dead laigreks lay around her, one still bearing her vibrosword upright through its exoskeleton.

"You okay?"

"Fine." She sounded distracted. Atton took a step forward.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She turned, and he realized she'd been tying her coat shut over her chest. "You have a medpack?"

He tossed her one. As she jabbed the kolto syringe into her thigh, Atton wrestled her vibrosword out of the laigrek. The now-empty syringe replaced it as Trista threw it into the laigrek with a huff, and he looked back. Her shirt and the front of her pants were in tatters, and even the decade-old coat had taken serious damage. "Did you lose your clothes? Again?"

"Yeah, laugh it up, flyboy." She took her vibrosword back, and Atton grinned.

"What, no repeat of Peragus for me?"

The smirk she gave him was the first real indication of change in her eyes, and it took him more aback than her words.

"Maybe if you behave yourself." Trista turned and started back to the other room. Atton took a second, shook himself, and followed.

#

"Everyone okay?"

There were another series of affirmations, and Bao-Dur straightened from the rubble he was searching. "I believe this is the last part we need." He held it out, and Trista turned it over in her hands. "Just crystals, now."

"There used to be a cave we'd go to for lightsaber crystals," she said. "We should have time for a side trip, provided Malak didn't smash them."

"I'll add these to the rest then." Bao-Dur tucked them away in one of his pockets.

"Let's keep moving. We're almost at the Archives." Trista turned back for the main hallway. "Hopefully, they said where they were holding him. If not, I guess we'll head to Nar Shaddaa. They'll get there eventually."

"And that trip will be lots of fun."

Trista shook her head and headed back into the corridor, adjusting her clothes every few steps. Atton kept chuckling, and she met each one with a glare back — and ignored the disapproval still radiating out from Kreia.

The hall to the archives was free of laigreks, though a few scrapped over something at the end of the hall. The massive metal lockdown door looked untouched, if no longer locked. Trista let herself hope they were mostly intact. Malak would have either left the collections of datapads and holocrons... or razed them.

Revan would have taken them.

Trista pushed open the door and the pile of bodies in front of the large, arching windows caught her eye. After a quick glance she cleared the room, nodded to her companions, and strode forward.

"Lightsaber." She touched the cauterized wound across one mercenary's chest. A silver tube lay next to the corpse, and she picked it up and turned it over in her hands before hitting the switch. A green beam of light burst from the weapon, humming and vibrating in the air, and she deactivated it. "That's his, all right. Looks like he put up a fight." Something clenched in a mercenary's stiff hands caught her eye. "What's this?"

She tugged a datapad out of the body's stiff hands, switching it on.

"So?" Atton asked as she read.

"They're setting up in the old kinrath caves until they can transport him offworld. We've still got some time."

"Are these the same caves with the crystals?" Handmaiden asked.

Trista nodded. "They're about two hours' walk south of Khoonda." She tucked the datapad and Vrook's lightsaber into her bag. "I want to see what Vrook was looking for. These men are too armored for my liking."

"How do you mean?" Bao-Dur nudged one with his foot and a frown.

"You don't need armor that heavy to go after a Jedi." Trista pointed to the first mercenary, with his deep, chest-crossing lightsaber wound. "Unless it's cortosis, the armor won't matter. And on a world full of farmers and settlers, where your worst enemy will be a kath hound or a kinrath? You don't need that sort of armor."

"What are you searching for?" Kreia asked. Trista kicked the merc's legs out of the way and headed to the shelves.

"Just about anything. Training, Force techniques. Force bonds, for reasons." The shelves were nearly bare, as if someone had already taken almost everything of value. Trista stopped halfway to them and sighed.

"Change of plans." She turned back. "Just take everything and we'll sort it out later. Better we take it than the scavengers — or the Sith."

They were halfway through scraping the twenty remaining datapads, and one holocron, into their bags, when a voice interrupted them.

"You came looking for the old Jedi master, then?"

Trista dove out of her shelf with her hand on her sword, spotting the source immediately. A blond man in simple clothes stood at the entrance to the Archives, and she waved to her companions and approached. Atton broke off from his search and followed. As she approached, he bowed.

"Ah, thank you for the greeting," Trista said, tucking the holocron down into her bag.

"I am sorry for not announcing my presence earlier, but after the... event," he motioned to the pile of bodies, "I thought it best to determine your intentions. I am a historian and scientist for the Republic though, I am sure my contemporaries would call me the former."

Trista cocked her head, narrowing her eyes as she studied him. There was something about him — something in his face. Something familiar? "Do I know you? You look familiar."

He hesitated, then laughed nonchalantly. "I'm sure you've seen many faces. They do all look the same after a time."

"Right." Not convinced, but okay. "You say you're a historian, and you're in the Enclave. Am I to assume you've a special interest in the Jedi?" He nodded. "Do you know what happened to them?"

"I do not. It is a mystery why they would exile themselves as they have. It is not the way of the Jedi to vanish when the Republic has such need of them. I fear something else is at work, something we cannot see." He frowned. "Or, the fervent dislike for them has pushed them underground, but that is less likely."

Trista crossed her arms, studying him as he spoke. "And why do you think people hate them?"

"There are many such reasons." He leaned back against one of the remaining, unbroken tables. "The Jedi are often too removed to see certain things, normal things some would say, rooted as they are in human nature. And few outside the Jedi can tell the difference between them and the Sith. Without that perspective, they believe the 'Jedi Civil War' is the proper name for the last skirmish, while the Jedi can correctly separate the two philosophies."

"Even though the Jedi have served and protected the Republic, often at great cost of their own?"

"Jedi often fall, and in falling cause great harm in the name of peace and protection. I could discuss theories on the falls of Ulic Qel-Droma and Exar Kun, and of Revan and Malak, and the frightening prospect that a single Force-wielder can change the face of the galaxy... but this is not the safest spot to do so."

Trista chuckled. "No, you're right."

"So let me guess," Atton said, and Trista glared at him. "Do you hate the Jedi?"

The man scoffed. "Of course not. Jedi are not supposed to be like the rest of us. They are supposed to see a higher purpose in things — and to train students responsibly and well, so they do not repeat former mistakes. But all I have seen are ignorance, arrogance, and what those seeds created in the Republic." He shook his head. "I do not hate them, but I understand it is difficult to follow the Jedi Code when so few others have. But that is something you should understand."

"Oh?" Trista held out her hand as Atton tried to step in between them. "Should I?"

The newcomer seemed nonplussed by Atton's attempted intervention. "Many Jedi left for the Mandalorian Wars... and yet only one did not follow Revan into the Jedi Civil War. Or are you not Trista Morace, known now as the Jedi Exile?"

Trista shifted on her feet. "Is that a problem?"

"No." He straightened up. "However, I feel our goals are aligned."

"Is that so?"

He squared his shoulders and held out his hands. "In the interests of transparency — I am trying to save the Republic, and Dantooine and the fate of the Jedi Order are crucial for that goal. Despite the... difficulties of the Jedi Civil War, there are those among the Republic who favor the Jedi and see their value. And there are some admirals in the fleet, of some influence, who recognize we must find the Jedi if the Republic is to survive.

"And you came to Dantooine in search of Jedi. Why?"

Trista narrowed her eyes. It did not have the ring of a question — but a demand. Her lips drew into a thin line as she studied him. He had military training, and there was the clear inkling of familiarity. If he had been studying the Jedi, he would know more about the past decade than she did.

"The Sith are moving in the galaxy," she said finally, "though, whether they're new, or a remnant of Revan's empire, I don't know."

::Perhaps you should be less trusting.:: She glanced at Kreia, now standing to her left, with a frown.

"They are? And the potential Sith threat brought you here, to Dantooine?"

::Perhaps you should be more. He knows the Jedi of the last decade, where I don't. He may be instrumental to our mission — or at least give us directions.::

::Good. If we take this thing along, ensure it has a use.::

Trista turned back to the newcomer. "I have information regarding the locations of several Council members — perhaps you know of them? Vrook Lamar, who is here on Dantooine, Kavar, Zez-Kai Ell, Atris, and Lonna Vash." He nodded to each of the names. "They'll help to stop the Sith. As you said, I'm only a former Jedi — I won't be able to stop them alone."

::I highly doubt that.::

The newcomer nodded, musing. "If the Sith are rising in the galaxy again, it is strange the Jedi would not be there to meet them — or that there has been little evidence of them."

"Oh, they're there," Atton interrupted. His hand came to rest on Trista's forearm protectively, and she looked over at him, confused. "Blew up Peragus and everything. Speaking of which, Tris, don't we have your old friend to find? Who's captured by mercenaries? We should get on that."

She glared at him and pulled her arm back.

"No," the newcomer corrected. "I believe you. Such subtleties are rare among the Sith." His eyes drifted over the others, then back to hers. "They have practiced deception, but that has not been the trend. The destructiveness of Malak, of Exar Kun..." He rested his chin on his hand. "But, it appears our goals are compatible. If you would have me, I can apply my knowledge, and skills, to your mission. I am not unable to defend myself, and should these Sith find you, I am not afraid to face them."

"Nope!" Atton said. "We're full up. Ship's only so big. Hey, Tris, if we leave now, we can get back to Khoonda before dark—"

"If you know who I am," Trista said, waving her hand at Atton. "You know I'm a bit out of the loop — so your information will be invaluable. Welcome aboard." Atton groaned. "We'll head back to Khoonda. The mercs are holding Vrook in the old crystal caves south of the outpost. I don't think we'll get there before nightfall, so we'll camp and set out in the morning."

Atton jogged after her as she headed through the doors. "Hey, Tris, you look cold. Take my jacket."

Trista raised an eyebrow. "I'm... not." It was rather warm in the sublevel, even a little humid.

"No, I insist." He'd already half-shrugged out of it and draped it around her shoulders.

"I—all right then."

#

"Hey, Tris. I found something you can wear. You know, until we find something less Jedi-y."

Trista pulled Atton back into the storeroom, pushing him back into the wall. He frowned, though it was sheepish.

"What in all seven Corellian hells has gotten into you?"

"You know. You shouldn't be walking around like that. It's distracting."

She arched a brow. "For the droids?"

"Sure."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with our new companion?"

Atton half-smirked. "Course not, sweets."

"You're riled up like a nerf in heat."

"I don't trust him." Atton pushed away from the wall, thrusting the bundle of fabric into her hands. "You picked him up in the middle of a bombed out, abandoned building surrounded by scavengers that would sell you to the Exchange for one shroomchip, let alone a million credits. Doesn't that bother you? What even is the guy's name?"

"Mical."

"What?"

"He said it twenty minutes ago. If you'd pay attention, you'd have heard." Trista shook the robe out with a frown. It was far more... official than she would have liked, the thing worn by Jedi on business affairs outside the Order. But... she sighed. Better than what she had on.

"I'm a grown woman, Atton," she continued as she untied her coat and began removing the shredded remains of her shirt. "I don't need you protecting me from hypothetically bad people, all right? Maybe when we get to Nar Shaddaa, but not here on Dantooine."

Atton ducked his head and cleared his throat, looking at the far wall. "Yeah, uh, sure. I'm gonna go back to rummaging through crates with the others."

He beat a hasty retreat, and she shrugged and pulled the tunic over her head, followed by the pants. As she went to pull her old boots back on, she thumbed where the sole was peeling back from the body with a frown. All the walking on Telos' surface and here hadn't been kind to them.

She headed into the next room. "Atton, did you find boots with these?"

He just pointed to an open footlocker. Inside was an untouched pair of boots. She checked the size — a couple too large. Easy enough to fix. Trista poked the shredded remnants of her shirt down into the shoes until they'd fit, at least well enough to leave, and lashed them on. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it'd work.

"Anyone find anything interesting?"

"A few spare crystals." Bao-Dur handed them to her, and she turned them over in her hands, watching as they sparkled in the dim light. "But I do not believe any of them are focusing."

"No," she agreed. "You can squeeze about three crystals into a lightsaber — one focusing, and two that modify the beam. These are, uh..." She held them up. "Phond, which strengthens the beam some. Firkrann, which carries a bit of an ion charge. And this looks like a Ruusan, which affects how the blade looks. Good find, though. They'll come in handy once we've got a 'saber on hand." She tucked them into her bag, under her ruined coat. Reluctantly, she pulled the matching robe to her current set out of the footlocker and swung it on. It was a little too big for her bag.

"Anything else?"

"I found this datapad next to the body." Handmaiden handed it to her, and Trista switched it on to the last note.

"Oh," she breathed, feeling her heart fall in her chest. "I knew him."

"You did?" Mical looked over her shoulder, and she glanced up to see Atton scowl. She held the datapad so he could see easier.

"He was the Assistant Head Technician when I was here. Dergar Chester. Looks like he got trapped in here and starved to death."

"What a terrible death."

Trista nodded. "Once things have calmed down, we'll come back and gather what bodies we can for a proper send-off." She tucked the datapad into her bag. "Call me sentimental, but they deserve better."

"I would not call it 'sentimental.'"

Trista smiled back at Mical. "Thanks."

"Apart from that," he continued. "I believe Bao-Dur found more repair and droid parts, and there were a few blasters scattered throughout the footlockers."

Trista nodded. "We always kept a few for any time we were worried about lightsabers. We'll take them. That weapons merchant in Khoonda might be interested if we're not."

"Should we be selling what we find in the Enclave?" Handmaiden asked. Trista shrugged.

"I'm not a Jedi anymore but I'm the only person with Jedi ties around, and we've got to keep the ship fueled somehow." She started back toward the main corridor. "And I did used to live here."

After a few more encounters with laigreks and a few more explored rooms, Trista was confident they were near the exit. They stumbled across the two bodies the salvager camp had mentioned, coupled with wills naming each other as their inheritor. ("Militia leader's gonna be pissed," Trista said as she took the wills.)

Finally they circled around to a last door, which Trista tried to open, only to find it locked. "Huh." She dug in her bag for a tunneler. "Wasn't expecting this."

She had hardly touched the tunneler to the door when a voice inside called out. "Is someone out there? Hello? Help! Laigreks have me trapped in here!"

She glanced back, and Handmaiden looked hit with an epiphany. "Oh! The missing salvager."

"Right!" Trista turned back. "Is this Jorran?"

He paused for a second before answering. "Y-yes! Yes, I am! I locked the door in here. I thought I was gonna to be laigrek compost! You a salvager? You don't sound familiar."

"I'm not, but I took care of the laigreks around here. We're on our way out if you want to come with us."

"You must be fierce with a blaster, then. Give me a minute, I jammed the door a bit. Just don't leave!" The door zipped open a second later, and an older, bedraggled man stepped out. His eyes darted around the sizable group before settling on Trista. "Thanks for saving me. I thought those laigreks had me for sure."

Trista pulled out one of her last packets of water and handed it to him. "How long were you in there?"

"No idea. Felt like forever, though." He downed it in almost one swallow.

"And how'd you get separated from the others?"

"Ugh. It's all Taepalae's fault! She said the entry to the sublevel was safe enough. We've barely made it down here at all. And we only got a few steps inside before everyone started going left and right, grabbing anything they could. It was every man for himself, and nobody was watching for laigreks! And before you know it, we're under attack by those beasts. So salvagers were running every which way, and they left me to die down here."

"So why even bother coming down here?" Bao-Dur asked.

"All the easy pickin's got picked. Now everything worth more than a cup of juma is long gone. So this level's the only place left. And as you mighta noticed, it's very dangerous down here. Almost nobody's got anything from here. Not that it matters."

"How so?"

"Even this level was ransacked long before the salvagers came! The uppity Administrator says her people never came down here, but that's a pile of kath droppings."

"It was occupied by the Sith for some time," Mical said, "so it is likely they took whatever you were hoping to find."

"Yeah, maybe," Jorran said.

"Did you salvage anything?" Trista asked.

Immediately, Jorran looked shifty, his eyes darting to Bao-Dur, then Handmaiden, then back to her. "...no, I got nothing, just want to leave."

He started toward the Enclave exit, and Trista held out her hand. "No, this isn't extortion. I apologize. I know you have to sell through a middleman and, if possible, I'd like to cut that out. That's no questions asked, no fees paid to someone else, a hundred percent profit right to you." She poked him for emphasis. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Now that you mention it, I found a few things, mostly from in there." He jerked his finger back at the room. "But it's just Jedi garbage. Just a, uh, crystal. The others look like parts, for a lightsaber, maybe. I'd take..." Jorran eyed her. "Thirteen hundred credits for the lot of them. That's enough for me to get off this rock. No returns, and you're stuck with what you buy."

"Can I see them first?"

He shook his head. "Aw, it doesn't work like that. Maybe it's worth a lot more, and you make off real good. Maybe it's a lot less, and I make off good."

"Unless prices have skyrocketed, a ticket off Dantooine is about 500 credits. Another 500 would be plenty to last you for a while, as long as you spend it wisely." Doubtful he would, but that was his problem. She reached down into that well in her chest and flavored her words with the subtlest persuasion as she counter-offered. "I'll give you a thousand."

After a moment of thought, Jorran nodded. "Sure. Sounds fair." Trista produced a credit stick and, against the judgment offered by Atton's frantic head-shaking behind Jorran, handed it over.

Jorran laughed as he pocketed them. "Ah, a pleasure doin' business with you. Now I can get passage back home. I hope that junk's worth it to you, I really do. Here you go." He dug in a few of his pockets and handed her three items, two of which she recognized — a deflection emitter and a lens. Not bad, but not worth a thousand credits. The crystal came last, and she held it up to the light and no longer regretted her purchase.

"Thank you very much," she said as she tucked the crystal into a pocket on the inside chest of the robe, and dropped the parts into her bag. "And I meant the escort. We're on our way out."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate the help."

She jerked her head at the others and headed for the exit. Kreia joined her at the front, arms folded inside her sleeves.

"Was the purchase worthwhile?" she inquired.

"He got very lucky with that crystal," Trista murmured.

"And how fortunate are we?"

Trista glanced back, then ahead again. "It's seven letters and starts with a K."

A smile bloomed on Kreia's lips. "Fortunate indeed,then."