A/N: And here is your legitimately new chapter! Woo!


"We still don't know if Vrook was telling the truth," Atton said, as the entrance to the cave loomed ahead of them.

Trista sighed. "Vrook never liked me, but I don't think he's lying."

::I suspect he would not.:: Hearing Kreia's voice randomly was getting on Trista's last nerves. ::You will get used to it.::

"I doubt it," Mical said. "This is of serious importance for Dantooine, and he seemed sincere."

"Look, I don't trust the guy," Atton said.

"That's no surprise," Bao-Dur said.

"Shut up."

"Exile!" Handmaiden's voice, whispered, came over the comm. "There is a large group of mercenaries just outside."

They came around the curve just as she retreated, turning as they approached.

"How many?"

"Ten. They appear to be discussing something."

Trista readied her vibrosword with a sigh. "Time to find out what."

Atton grabbed her arm, stopping her as she started forward again. "Look, Tris, I've been quiet for a while, but there's a fine line between being brave, stupid, and frakking insane. And you're doing somersaults over it."

Trista pulled out of her hand with a frown. "I occasionally know what I'm doing, Atton."

He held up his hands, echoing her frown. "All right, fine. This is me, keeping my mouth shut."

"Finally," Bao-Dur said. Atton elbowed him as the Iridonian walked by, and he rubbed his arm with a chuckle.

Trista stepped out of the cave, into the light, and shaded her eyes from the sun. The mercenaries were blocking the exit, and one regarded her with a lopsided smirk. He was scarred and grizzled, one of his eyes scarred over and white with blindness. She met his single eye with a ready stare.

"You're the Jedi I have heard about, then."

"I'm not."

"I'm sure." His tone was not friendly. "I am Azkul, leader of the mercenaries here on Dantooine."

"A pleasure, but I have nothing to say to you. Please stand aside."

He smirked. "Ah, I believe you'll change your tune. According to my reports, I have four times as many soldiers as the militia, and I am very committed to taking Khoonda. Inevitably, I will succeed and, if you wish to avoid a complete eradication of the people of Dantooine, you will make it easier for me to take the outpost."

"Adorable," Trista said sharply, "but I'm not interested."

"You should reconsider. I can't have a Jedi interfering with my plans. There is a considerable bounty on your kind that I will collect on... unless you're working for me."

"She isn't a Jedi, pal," Atton interjected, "so space off."

As Trista looked back, she caught sight of something on the bluff — a laser scope, glinting in the sun. She looked behind them, catching at least one more. Snipers.

Could they fight out of this? Possibly. But... She held out her hand as an idea formed in her mind. Something to get them out of this alive, and back to Khoonda with actual information.

"Now, there's no need for hostility. What do you have in mind?"

"What?" Handmaiden interrupted. "You cannot—"

"Just, hold on," Trista said, then motioned to Azkul. "Please continue."

"There are many ways someone with your... talents could aid us. Two of them I would entrust to you: disable the gun turrets, and the mines they will no doubt erect on Khoonda's two primary approaches. After that?" He motioned. "Any way that makes it easier for us to reach the Administrator."

"And how much time do I have?"

"Ah, ah, ah, that isn't how this works. I will not reveal details of the plan unless you agree to help us."

"Oh, of course." Trista smiled. She glanced back at the others and crossed her fingers behind her back. "If it will decrease the number of casualties in your assault on Khoonda, then I will assist you. Provided!" She held up her finger as he started to speak again. "Provided you do not tell me how to do my job."

Azkul laughed. "You. I like you." He held out his hand, and Trista clasped it. He pulled her in, tightly, enough that the smell of blaster-fire reeked off his armor and singed the deepest parts of her sinuses. Too familiar. Too recognizable. "Finish by the morning," he whispered. "If it is not, or if I find you cheated me, I will seek you out in the attack. I will put my blade into your heart myself and turn your body in for the reward. Am I clear?"

Trista fought the urge to swallow. "Perfectly."

"Good." He released her. "Come on, men. We have a slaughter to prepare."

The mercenaries walked away with a laugh, leaving them standing outside the cave. Handmaiden shook her head, almost furiously, as she turned to Trista and lowered her voice.

"You're not actually helping them?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But you agreed! You said you would."

Trista motioned Handmaiden closer. "They had at least two snipers up on this bluff behind us," she whispered. "No, don't look."

"At least three," Atton muttered. She looked over, finding his eyes locked on a point several hundred meters ahead. "Saw that one right before you changed your tactics."

"It is possible to find a fight you can't win," Trista said, "and if we want to be of any use to Khoonda tomorrow, we needed to walk away from this one. Now, what do we know?"

Handmaiden thought for a moment. "They will attack from either side of the settlement, and they know they can disable the turrets."

"Exactly. That's what I mean." She stepped back. "We'll drop the sensors with Saedhe, tell him about the assault, and get back to Khoonda. It's..." Trista checked her datapad's time. "We've got about five hours to nightfall, so let's hurry."

#

They left the atmospheric sensors with Saedhe — accepting the credits for the return, but turning down the extra for their silence — and made it to Khoonda with a couple hours until sundown. Trista made her way to the audience chamber, ignoring the civilians whispering at a second Jedi's appearance and the strong number of militia volunteers already packing the halls. She pushed past a small group of onlookers to join Adare, the militia leader Zherron, and Vrook at the front.

"There you are." Adare waved her forward. "Vrook has informed me that his rescue complicated our situation. I cannot say that was expected."

"Yeah, it wasn't. What's the situation?"

"The mercenaries have devised a plan to annihilate Khoonda itself," Vrook said.

Trista waved her hand."Yes, yes, their leader accosted me on our way back. I got his drift. I was asking for details."

"Their leader spoke to you?" Vrook said with a scoff. "For what?"

"He wanted me to, ah, tip the odds in their favor." She glanced at Adare and Zherron. "I told him I would, but I've no plan to do so. However, it's given me some intel about their assault."

"What do you know?" Zherron's voice, still as rough and gritty as before, interrupted her.

"They wanted me to keep the turrets offline, and to stop your people from placing mines. My assumption is they'll attack from both sides of Khoonda and, since they outnumber us, try to overwhelm us."

"That is what my surveillance indicated. Did Azkul tell you when they'd attack?"

"By morning."

He nodded. "They will need the night to gather their forces and coordinate the assault."

"But the militia has not been trained for this," Adare admitted. Zherron ducked his head, but nodded.

"Don't worry, I've done more with less," Trista said. "Who knows about the attack so far?"

Vrook answered her. "Just us, at the moment. Any more will create a panic. We will ensure the civilians receive enough warning to find safety."

"Then we need to stop standing around. I have a competent group with me, so what needs done to fortify the building?"

Adare shook her head. "The militia will need to be ready for a full-scale battle. So far, they have only dealt with scavenger problems."

"The militia will hold," Zherron said.

"They have seen nothing like this! Not since..." Adare cleared her throat and straightened. "Besides the militia, anything to strengthen our defenses is needed. We don't have the perimeter turrets online, as he said, though I don't know how they know."

"They may breach the building," Zherron added. "Anything that slows them down would be appreciated. If you have anyone good with droids, we have several offline that may help the interior defense."

Trista nodded, thinking for a moment.

"How offended will you be if I take control of the situation?" she asked. Vrook harrumphed. "I wasn't asking you."

"From my understanding, you have more experience than I do," Zherron said. "It will not offend me."

"Great. Administrator, evacuate civilians from Khoonda. Offer them spots on the militia, but be upfront about why. We need to get civilians cleared by midnight — that's our deadline. I'd say take them to the Enclave's upper level, but that may be too far." Adare nodded. "Zherron. Get your people together and tell them what they're up against so they can prepare."

Trista turned back and waved her group up. "Bao-Dur, team up with T3 and see about getting Khoonda's turrets and droids online."

"Here is a passkey to both bays." Adare handed him a card.

"Mical, how are you with people?"

"Decent, I suppose."

"Handmaiden?"

"I have less confidence in my abilities."

"It'll do. You two find anyone who looks combat-ready, and I mean anyone. Scavengers, if you have to. If they can hold a blaster and they're willing, we'll take them. After that, find me again.

"Atton, we'll walk the perimeter and check for any loose entrances, and figure out our mine layout."

"What about the old witch?"

::I will stay here.::

"Don't worry about what she's doing." Trista turned back to Vrook and Zherron. "We'll see to the extraneous things, including the mines. Master Vrook, uh, do whatever." She paused. "Meet up in five hours and see where we're at?"

Adare and Zherron nodded and headed off the dais, Zherron toward his office and Adare toward the packed main room. Vrook and Trista stared at each other for a moment, before he headed after Adare.

"Okay, head out. Oh! Bao-Dur." He stopped, as Mical and Handmaiden continued toward the main doors. "You still have that bag of parts?"

"Right here." He held it out and, with a heavy sigh, she took it.

"Thanks." She slung it over her shoulder as Bao-Dur headed out toward the doors, voice crackling over thecomms as he asked for T3.

"Do you want to poke around outside with me," Atton asked, "or do you want to take care of your thing?" He motioned to the bag.

"It's important that we—"

He shook his head. "I'll see about cooking up some mines."

"Thanks." She smiled, adjusting her grip on the bag. "Shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Plenty of time." Atton took a step off the dais, then turned back. "Yeah, uh. I wasn't gonna do this just yet, but, I figure I have an idea what you want to be alone for. So, uh."

He tossed something in the air, caught it, and handed it to her. "Found this back in the caves. Not sure if it's what you need, but, I thought it looked like the one you said you had. Don't know if it's exact, but hey. Couldn't hurt, right?" Trista took the crystal from him, their hands lingering together for a second too long before he dropped his. "Right, well, off I go. Enjoy your lightsaber-making."

Trista watched him leave, turning the pale, silvery-blue crystal over in her hands before she tucked it down in a pocket.

As she returned to the main room of Khoonda, she spotted one of the farmers sitting on a bench going over a datapad, frown etched on his face. She grabbed the modulator out of her bag and started toward him.

"Suulru?" He looked up. "I got your thing for you."

Suulru jumped to his feet, his eyes widening as she dropped the parts into his hands. "Wow, I didn't expect you to find it. Was it the salvagers? What's his name, Jorran?"

Trista shook her head. "No, it wasn't Jorran or a salvager."

"Well, it had to be someone near their camp. And no one else lives around them. So you may be right, but I doubt it."

"The salvagers got hit by the thief too."

"Are they turning on their own? Typical, I guess. I mean, I've never seen them. Do you know who it is?"

Trista looked away and tucked her bag closed. "Just a former Padawan struggling to survive. It's okay, they've been dealt with."

Suulru didn't answer and, when she looked back up, he was staring behind her with rage brimming in his eyes. Her words caught up with her. Ah, well, that wasn't what I was intending to say.

"Will the damn Jedi never stop meddling with this planet?" he hissed. "Even now they're causing problems, and they're all frakking dead."

"Suulru—"

"She's part of the reason our world was invaded! Why the Sith wiped out so many families! The endless interrogations..."

"She's not a Jedi now, no one is. She's just a traumatized girl going through—"

"So what, she has it rough now? She deserves it."

Despite her best intentions, Trista felt her tone harden."Dantooine was far from the only world that suffered in the war."

"You think I don't know that?" She wasn't sure if Suulru had heard the rumors swirling through Khoonda, but he turned the anger washing off him onto her without a second thought. "I fought in the war. And fallen Jedi were responsible for the worst atrocities! They're dangerous and too prone to fall into whatever the hell that war was. We'd be better off if they were extinct."

"And wasn't it the Jedi that stopped the war?"

"They saved us from their own kind. Without them, there wouldn't have even been a war!"

"They hardly came out of the war unscathed themselves, I—"

"Yeah, and that's a good start. They're almost gone now, and maybe they'll be long in the past soon. And we'll all be safer for it."

She raised a hand. "I understand you're angry, but—"

"Like I don't have the right? We can't afford another war. That would lead to — well, I don't want to think about it. So no, if you think I'm gonna overlook some Jedi stealing my shit after everything they put us through, after everything they did to us, you're damn wrong."

Suulru's voice had steadily risen, attracting way too much attention for her to extricate herself gracefully. But, even with her current personal dislike of the Jedi, this was getting to be too much. Kaevee hadn't had a choice. He wasn't wrong in blaming the Jedi, but he was blaming the wrong one — and before she could stop herself, she matched his anger.

"She was a child!" Trista shouted, and Suulru fell silent with a shocked expression. "She was what, nine when they attacked Dantooine? Nine! Children don't get a choice what they do, or where they go, or if they join the Jedi. And yet you act like she burned your world herself!"

He stared at her, shocked, but she wasn't done yet."I... I didn't—"

"If you want to blame anyone, blame the Jedi Council. The one on Coruscant, the one here, doesn't matter. Blame the Council that ignored the Mandalorian Wars. Blame the Jedi Council that created Revan and Malak. But I sure as hell didn't have a choice when I got dragged into the Order — I was six. My sister was four. You think we had the choice to just leave?"

"That—"

"They never gave us that option. The Jedi isn't what you, or anyone else, thinks. It's a cage. Do not blame a child for a war the Council caused."

"It—"

"For all the bad Jedi leaders have done, thousands of years of service and peace shouldn't be casually cast aside. Don't forget that, before the Jedi Civil War, a group of Jedi cared so much that they risked everything to face the Mandalorians without the Order behind them. For all the sins of the Council, or the crimes of Revan and Malak, don't forget those of us that actually gave a damn. Those are the ones we've lost — and with attitudes like yours, they're the ones that'll stay lost."

Suulru narrowed his eyes. "Says a Jedi."

"I haven't been one for years. I got kicked out ten years ago."

"For what?"

"Because I lost everything. The only life I ever had, the only people I called a family. Everything." She frowned. "Right now we're all suffering. You, Dantooine... and us."

He frowned. "They caused my home so much turmoil. We're barely hanging on. And now with these mercenaries—"

"Then do something about it," she said curtly. "We're taking care of them tomorrow, and you're welcome to join us. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Trista turned on her heel and took several steps back toward the hallway, ignoring the settlers staring from the main room. Suulru stopped her, all traces of his vitriol gone.

"Hey, uh... what happened to her?"

She turned back. "Who?"

"The Jedi girl. That took my modulator?"

Trista shrugged. "I sent her back here, to the Administrator, where she'd be taken care of. Given a meal, some proper clothing, a place to sleep that isn't infested with laigreks, etcetera."

He studied the wall. "Well, uh... if she needs something. Maybe we can work something out. I could use a hand on my farm, and she's already shown she knows a thing or two about equipment. And I guess a lot of people could use a second chance about now."

"Oh. Uh. If I see her, I'll let her know."

"And if you're about to hit the mercs, I'll talk to Zherron. It'll be nice to hit back first for a change."

"Glad to hear it."

He nodded and headed toward Zherron's office, and Trista resumed her walk to one of the private rooms.

Once there, she locked the door and settled down, arranging the pieces on the ground in front of her. The shaking swiftly left her hands, the frustration and anger from her argument beginning to fade as she focused on the task at hand.

The lens, energy cell, and emitter they'd found in the ruins.

The white-blue focusing crystal.

The kaiburr crystal from Jorran.

It took a moment to pick her second, but she went with the phond. She added a few extra pieces of metal for the frame, and tore some leather off her old, broken-down boots for good measure.

"This'll look like shit," she mumbled as she crossed her legs. "But it's better than not having one at all right now."

#

Trista finally stood almost an hour later, staring down at the hilt in her hands.

Most thought this was the penultimate thing to a Jedi — even surpassing control of the Force and philosophy. A Jedi without one was seen as crippled. Even though she wasn't one, something inside screamed that she needed it. She'd fought the impulse for the past two weeks, ever since the Force first wormed its way back into her... but this was a full-scale assault. Her hand shook as she ignited it, and studied its white-blue glow and the hiss of the blade as she swung it in a gentle circle.

And she cursed how natural it felt to hold one again, even if it didn't feel like hers.

Atton hadn't come to find her, so she clipped the weapon to her belt and found him bent over a laboratory in the medical bay, concentrating hard as he measured powder into a flask. She waited until he wasn't in the middle of something.

"Atton?"

He glanced back. "How'd it go?"

"Fine. You almost done?"

"I'm rusty. Can you give me another thirty minutes?"

She nodded. "I'll see what we've got on the Hawk."

"Yeah. I'll meet you in front of Khoonda."

Trista headed outside, stepping into the Dantooinian twilight. Civilians were evacuating already, and Mical and the Handmaiden were speaking to a small cluster of farmers nearby. Trista waved at them — Mical half-waved back — and headed for the landing pad. She'd drop the lightsaber parts and her bag, leave her vibrosword, and grab their mines.

But as she first set foot on the ramp, something felt different.

She could sense Kreia in her dormitory, the blast door locked. But the feeling was from the other dorm. Another presence. Dark.

Oh.

It'd been only a matter of time before the Sith caught up.

She turned and walked toward the sensation. Her hand gripped her new lightsaber, thumb tense on the ignition.

Trista stepped around the door, only half-surprised to see someone she didn't know on their knees, almost meditating with their back to the door. Trista's hand tensed again, eyes traveling over the black and red the figure wore.

"Who are you," she demanded, "and how did you get on my ship?"

The woman's head lifted, and she stood without a word. A red cloth, trimmed in gold, covered her head, concealing her eyes in shadow. She was on the smaller side, perhaps a little over a meter and a half tall, with a delicate build. Anything else was lost as a bright red beam broke from the lightsaber in her hand, casting angry red shadows across the dorm. Trista ignited her own, the familiar weight settling comfortably in her palm.

It'd been so long that the clash of lightsaber on lightsaber made her wince.

The Sith woman sent a hail of lightning toward her. She'd never seen it in practice, and threw herself to the side. As she attacked with the blade again, there was something half-hearted in her opponent's swings. Trista forced her back, deeper into the dorm. She swung again and Trista parried it to the side.

Half-hearted, but no less deadly.

She'd had no formal training in the blade either. Her stance clearly said it was a recent acquisition, and Trista's easy retreat into the most basic of forms was more than enough to gain the upper hand. After several traded blows, Trista swung her weapon low, clipping the emitter at the top of the Sith's lightsaber and severing it. The blade vanished, and the woman dropped it, but stretched out her hand.

Trista's vision flooded with darkness and light, color and lightning. The woman burned, a dark, red-laced gray in her eyes. She looked down and her hand was more energy than color, a bright, pale gray-blue. The Sith thrust her hand forward and lightning, even more vivid and electric purple now, burst on her fingertips, and Trista panicked. She reached out and threw her into the back wall, denting it slightly, and the Sith slid down until she crumpled to her hands and knees.

Almost immediately, Trista's vision snapped back to normal, leaving her dizzy with the barest start of a headache behind her eyes.

"My lightsaber," the Sith breathed, and Trista's eyes lowered to her on the floor. "You destroyed it. I-I yield. It is as I heard... through the Force. My life for yours."

Trista stopped a safe distance away. "I won't kill you, if that's what you want."

"You must," she said. "The only alternative is another death, and I would rather die at your hands."

Trista kneeled next to her, touching her shoulder, but she jerked away. There was something more here, beyond just another Sith trying to kill her. She'd come expecting this outcome, expecting to die...

"Look, you're injured. Let's get you to medbay."

"But I-I have nothing to offer you. Your strength is superior, just as I felt."

"That's not what this is about."

Her arms trembled, and Trista caught her as she collapsed.

"Godsdamn it," she grumbled, hefting the now-unconscious Sith over her shoulders. She snapped her lightsaber to her belt and left the woman's where it fell, heading toward the medical bay.

As she rounded the corner by the ramp, Atton appeared at the bottom. "Hey, I got done and thought I'd meet you — who the hell is that?"

"Not now." She kept walking, and Atton jogged after her.

"How about now?" he asked as she laid the woman on the cot. Trista turned away, rummaging in the drawers for kolto. "Huh. Now I've seen everything."

"Hm?"

"She's—" He indelicately lifted the fabric covering her head and eyes, and Trista smacked his hand. "Ow! She's a Miraluka. I didn't think any were left in this part of the galaxy."

"Oh? Makes sense. That she is one, at least." Trista had known a few Miraluka from her time in the Jedi. "Start scanning her and see what's up. I didn't want to hurt her."

She measured out what felt like an appropriate amount of kolto as Atton started the cot's scanning. A few moments later he whistled. "Damn. Looks like she's been beat up pretty bad. Severe concussion, cracked a few bones, several old fractures — what the hell happened?"

"She attacked me." Trista tapped the side of the syringe. "I slammed her into the wall." She turned back, a little sheepish. "I might have over-reacted."

"You think?"

Trista shook her head, carefully pushing up the woman's sleeve and injecting the kolto into her. "She was coming at me with a lightsaber, Atton, I didn't have a lot of thinking time."

"So she's a Sith?"

Trista paused, pulling the needle out. "I'm not so sure."

"Tris, seriously? She tried to kill you with a godsdamned lightsaber and you're not sure she's a Sith?" He looked up. Trista shook her head, studying the woman again.

"I... can't explain it. But she... she felt too hesitant. There's something else at work here, I know it. Either way." Trista looked up. "We'll get her back into the dormitory and lock her in while we wrap up our preparations. Then we'll get some answers."

"I'll get her. Radio Handmaiden so she can have guard duty." Atton hefted the Miraluka over his shoulders and staggered off. Trista sighed and pulled out her comm.

"Handmaiden, you're needed on the Hawk. I'll fill you in once you get here. Bao-Dur, pair up with Mical when you're done with the droids."

She glanced after Atton. "Seems like the Sith found us, and I need you on guard duty."