A/N: Decided on an update schedule! Fridays before 11pm EST, and Wednesdays before 11pm EST if I feel like I've got enough work done to merit it. This week I decided it - and then just lost track of time in Guild Wars 2 lmao.
The lights were off in the dormitory when they returned to the Hawk that night.
Khoonda was fortified, and their midnight meeting had passed. They had about five hours of sleep before dawn, then an hour before the estimated time of attack. She pushed her way through to the dormitory as they clustered in the hall and nodded to Handmaiden.
"I just want to talk to her."
"She is dangerous," Handmaiden said.
"And that's why you're all cluttering up the hallway, right?" She glanced around. "It'll be fine."
Handmaiden moved, reluctantly, and Trista opened the door and stepped through. The Miraluka woman kneeled in the center of the room again, her head lowered. It lifted when she heard Trista's steps, but she didn't stand or turn back.
"Are you all right?" Trista asked.
"I am able to serve."
"Um." Trista blinked. "That's not... physically, are you all right?"
"If we enter battle, I can fight and die alongside you."
She could feel Atton's eyes rolling. "That's... that's not it either. Are you physically fine? Emotionally? Mentally? Spiritually? Are you functional, are you—"
"I... I understand," she interrupted finally. "I have not heard that question in some time, forgive me. My flesh is... healed, if that is the answer you seek."
"Uh, close enough." Trista took a step closer. "May I join you?"
"I will not stop you."
Trista took a few steps, settling down next to her. She didn't move. "Do you have a name?"
"Visas. Visas Marr."
"Visas. All right. We noticed, in medbay, that you've suffered a great deal of trauma. Who harmed you before?"
She was quiet for a while, as if she weighed the answers before giving them. "The scars are many, the causes equally so."
"Then who sent you to find me?"
"I serve my Master. I am an emissary, a scout." Her head turned toward her. "My Master knew of a disturbance in the Force, but not its nature — not of you. The disturbance is... unlike something one feels from a living thing. And there is little my Master does not know. That you eluded him so long is significant, but I do not know why."
"I've only recently regained my connection with the Force," Trista explained.
Visas seemed to weigh this over. "How was it lost?"
"I'm working on that. How did you find me?"
"I... felt you, heard you through the Force. It was like a sound at the edge of hearing, and once I heard it, I could not ignore it."
"So your Master is a Sith Lord?" She nodded. "Where is he? I've got a few things I'd like to tell him, preferably with a lightsaber."
The Miraluka's energy changed — fear? Trista frowned. "You cannot find him. Even I do not know where he travels, until he... calls for me." She shifted. "Even if I could lead you to him, I cannot allow you to find him. Not until you are ready."
"Fine, fair." Trista crossed her arms. "But if he's part of what's happened to the Jedi, I must deal with him."
"It is inevitable that you will meet my Master. But until you have stood before him, and realized what you face, you cannot see the danger he represents. Until then, I must protect you."
Trista glanced up at the others clustered in the doorway. Atton was futily shaking his head.
"We're full up on crazy, lady," he mumbled, "'specially the Jedi kind."
"If he sent you to kill me, why do you care if I'm ready?"
"There is a greatness to you that is not of the Force. And if my Master does not understand you, if he cannot see you, then perhaps there is hope for us all. But if you wish to survive, you must understand him."
Trista tucked her legs to her chest. "So why were you able to find me, and he couldn't?"
"There is much I see that he cannot. I fear it is the nature of my race, and that..." She cleared her throat and lowered her head.
"The Miraluka? I've known a few."
She nodded. "We spend our lives seeing the galaxy, the energy streaming from stars, the growth of life — all things touched by the Force."
"Where are you from? Atton said that your kind aren't common in this part of the galaxy."
Visas was silent for a good minute, enough time that Trista thought she'd worn out her welcome. Finally, she spoke. "It is not something I have spoken of since its destruction."
Trista straightened, shifting until she was cross-legged. "Were you from Katarr?" Visas nodded. "Do you what happened? How it was destroyed?"
"I... do. But it was not destroyed. It orbits, dead in space, but nothing lives on its surface. It echoes, but none are left to hear it."
Trista hesitated before asking, "Were you there?"
"Yes." Visas' voice was barely a whisper.
"How did you survive?"
"I... am not certain I did." Trista listened to her, eyes wide. "I was there when the planet died. To see everything around you extinguished... it... was as if I was blinded. It was as if the Force had been bled from the world."
"...as if everything went silent," Trista whispered, burying her hands in her robe.
"Yes." Visas' head lowered. "I imagine there are worse deaths, or worse pain. If there are, I do not know them. I was the only living thing remaining on the planet of Katarr... and my life, my agony, was a flicker in the planet's darkness. All I had been connected to, severed."
Trista's hands shook in the hems of her tunic as she fought back everything she wanted to say.
"I still wonder," Visas continued, "what would have happened if I had died with the rest. If, perhaps, I may have hidden my presence from the galaxy. If only I had not felt that pain, that loss, as I did.
"But it could not be. When the life was bled from the planet, and yet somehow I remained, my Master came for me." Trista rested her hand on Visas' arm. She flinched away. "He walked upon the surface of my dead world and there, lying in the bodies of my race, he took me for his own. And... he made me 'see.' And for the first time, I saw the galaxy, and I wished to die."
"What did you see?" Trista asked. This time, Visas didn't flinch from her touch.
"That to this galaxy, absent the currents and spectrums of the Force, my world was nothing but crude matter, rock, flesh, emptiness. He showed the flickering of life on other planets, the mass of beings swarming through the empty places of the galaxy. To see such creatures, disconnected from themselves, their world, their place in it, unable to see the currents and how they affect everything around them."
"Why? Why show you that?"
"To make me believe in his cause. To convince me that all life must die. He fed upon its ugliness, its screaming, and in its place he left silence — and where there was chaos, he brought stillness, and order."
Trista shook her head. "But... he destroyed Katarr? How? To kill on such a scale, it's... well, it's improbable."
"It was not a thing done with machines or weapons. The Force is far more terrible, and it touches more lives than any machine can hope to slay." Her stomach sank into a pit of dread. The Force? She had seen the Force do terrible things. Hell, she'd done a few things she wasn't proud of with it. But what Visas was saying was impossible — wasn't it?
"For every one that feels the Force, strongly, deeply, each perceives it in their own way. You have strengths, whether or not you know them, and my Master has his. His power is great, and it comes from hunger. He is a... wound in the Force, more presence than flesh, and in his wake life dies — sacrificing itself to his hunger."
Mical whispered, "oh, stars" in the doorway, and she glanced back to find him staring, eyes wide, at Visas' back.
"And those who touch the Force are beacons to his hunger. My people, my planet, would have been attacked in time. It was inevitable, yet we could do nothing about it."
"Why? Did something draw him... to..." Trista trailed off, looking back at the others as she slammed into a wall of shock. Her heart, from nowhere, simultaneously raced and fell in her chest. Even Atton's eyes had widened as the same epiphany struck them. The Jedi. The Jedi had gone to Katarr. Seventy-eight of the hundred and three names in Atris' databanks had died on Katarr, all on the same day. Mical was the only one who didn't seem in on the specific epiphany, still lost in Visas' description of her Master. But she suspected even he knew.
The Jedi had killed Katarr.
She looked back at Visas, only able to speak in a harsh, horrified whisper that grated in her throat.
"The Jedi were there, weren't they?"
Visas nodded. Trista closed her eyes and lowered her hand from the woman's arm, drawing a deep breath.
"The last Council of the Jedi came, to meet in secret. They hoped that, among our people, they could achieve the clarity to 'see' what was striking them from the darkness of the galaxy."
"I'd say they did," Atton muttered in the doorway.
"They were unprepared for the magnitude of the threat. And he cannot deny his hunger for long — and any gathering of Jedi is something he cannot long resist." She shook her head. "And now that they have gone, I do not know what will happen. Perhaps he will grow strong enough to eradicate all life with his presence."
"Or it will starve him... make him desperate."
"I do not understand what you mean."
"If he can't find gatherings of Jedi to... consume, or whatever it is he does, he may grow desperate enough to show himself." Trista snapped to her feet. Visas followed, more cautiously. "The Jedi went into hiding to avoid him — because the last time a group of them were together, Katarr died. But also, if they have any idea what they're dealing with, they might force him to get desperate, to show himself somewhere, so they can confirm it." Trista lowered her hand. "I hate that I understand where their 'careful timing' thing is coming from this time."
"Did Atris seem aware of what they were dealing with?" Bao-Dur asked. Trista paused.
"No. Maybe I'm presuming too much of the remaining—" She shook her head. "No. Kavar is supposedly still alive. A plan like this has his prints all over it." Trista drew several deep breaths. "Let me stop myself before I need several kilometers of yarn and twenty datapads."
Atton smiled, perhaps despite himself, but she caught the tail end of it as he looked away.
"What will you do with me?"
Trista turned back and studied her. Visas was still standing with her head down, as if she had already steeled herself for the worst.
"You can reconstruct your lightsaber," Trista said, her decision made in an instant. "We have the parts. I'll hold on to it until the morning, when there will be an attack on the settlement outside. If you defend it with us, I'll consider your words honest. And you will be welcome to join us — provided you give us with what information you can on your Master and his associates." She nodded. "If you are not willing, we'll deal with that in time." Trista stepped out the door and fetched the bag of parts, handing them to Visas. "I'll check in about an hour."
"Very well."
She stepped back out and closed the door.
"She is a threat to us," Handmaiden said, in a loud whisper. Atton rolled his eyes.
Trista turned and headed toward the garage. "I will not harm her, if that's what you want."
"I am not asking you harm or interrogate her further, but she is of the Sith. And she has attacked us once."
Trista stopped and turned back, forcing Handmaiden to stop too. "And in ten minutes of conversation, we learned more about the Sith than the Jedi learned in the eight months since Katarr's destruction!" she said. "If she knows more than that? Then we've already won."
"I am just saying that we should not allow her to walk freely on the ship."
"All right." Trista motioned to the door. "You're on Sith watch duty tonight, since you just volunteered. I'll be in the engine room taking a nap. I suggest everyone else consider something similar."
"Something similar?" Atton asked, raising a brow.
"Well, I don't want you all in the engine room with me, do I?" She turned for the hall. "Find your own corner."
#
Someone knocked on the engine room door a few minutes after she was settling in, and she sighed. "What's up?"
"It's me, Trista." Bao-Dur. "I wanted to speak with you."
"Come in." Bao-Dur closed the door behind him as Trista sat on the hyperdrive. "What's bothering you?"
"The battle for Khoonda has me thinking," he said. "I'm glad I found you again."
"I hope you're not about to hit on me."
Bao-Dur laughed softly. "Nothing like that."
"Good," she said, grinning, "I won't have to kick you off the ship."
He leaned against the engine with a sigh. "It's... the battle for Khoonda has me thinking about the last battle I fought."
"Ah." She nodded. "I think I've been too busy to wander down that path myself."
"If you would rather not—"
"No, it's fine."
"It's... we were together at Malachor. Like you said last night, I don't know if anyone else could understand."
She nodded with a sigh, tucking her feet under herself. "Is that why you're here?"
"Getting philosophical on me? I'm here because you found me on Telos and I came along for the ride — not that I've had much choice since."
Trista laughed and shook her head. "But why have you stuck around? Not just me, I hope."
He ran his hand along the Hawk's scaffolding. "Tired of me already?"
"Not quite."
"I was frustrated. Watching the Ithorians getting pushed around by Czerka. I thought I could make a difference, but they took it away from me." He shrugged. "Guess if one planet wasn't good enough for me, why not the galaxy?"
Trista laughed, though it didn't have any feeling. It sure seemed like that these days — like repairing everything fell to her, even though she could barely fix herself.
"Even if you knew what was wrong, where do you start?"
"You just have to know what the circuits look like."
She shook her head. "It's all wires to you, huh?"
"It's just the way I see things. Traveling with you, I know there's something else in the universe, but I can't do anything about it. So I'll leave that to you."
"Heh. Thanks."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Trista leaning on her crossed legs and Bao-Dur taking too much interest in a loose bit of scaffolding.
"That wasn't the only thing you wanted to talk about, was it?"
Bao-Dur sighed. "No. Having you around has an effect on me. I never noticed it years ago — I think my mind was too occupied."
"How so?"
"I feel... calm. In control. The anger is still there, but it's further away. It has defined the last years of my life: the Mandalorians, Czerka, and Revan. And above all else, myself. For Malachor."
"Yeah. I know that." Trista rested her arms on her legs, letting her hands dangle. "And me, for giving the order?"
"No. Never." There was such an underlying finality to his words that she dared not question them. "It had to be done. It was my hands that destroyed the Mandalorians. I cannot be forgiven for that."
"The Republic has forgiven people for worse. Ulic Qel-Droma, even my sister — if they can be even marginally forgiven for waging war against the Republic, I think you can for saving it."
"Even out of hatred for the Mandalorians?"
"Even then."
He shook his head. "That might be the truth, but I don't see it that way. I can't just ignore the blood on my hands, Trista."
"Maybe you've been in the past too long. You can't undo history." She sighed and looked away, studying the back of the engine room with mild interest. "Maybe we both have."
"I feel like I must make up for it. And when the Sith was speaking earlier—"
Trista raised her head. It wasn't that simple, was it?
"—it made sense. But to admit that, I have gone through so many layers of anger. I—" He looked back at her. "How do you not feel it? How did you not just... implode with it?"
"My secret is an emotionally stunted childhood. Or that's the big one."
Bao-Dur rested his head against the scaffolding.
"That's... not to say I can't help you," she said, with hesitation. "But you're asking a lot. Because I am angry. I cannot even state how furious I am. I've been living in anger for ten years. For Malachor, for Revan, for the Mandalorians, for the Jedi. And now I've been taken to a whole new level. They made an entire planet die."
She motioned towards Visas' dorm. "Maybe that wasn't their intention, but the Jedi have never been good at consequences. Sure, we're taught to lessen our impact on things, to never act without thinking, but when the reverse happens — when no action is taken, when they leave it to the last second, the consequences are extraordinary.
"The difference isn't the volatility of our anger. Not how much we have to be furious for. Or how much we have to blame ourselves for." She took a breath, wrenching her tone back from the anger. "It's about what we do, when we are angry. It's about channeling it into something that won't make things worse."
"I don't even understand how you just did that."
"That is what I can teach you. Control. But it can be more than that." He nodded. "If Visas was making sense to you, Bao-Dur, she was talking about the Force."
"I'm aware."
"I can teach you that, too." She held up her hand. "Not as a Jedi. I'm not training any of those anytime soon, if ever. But I can teach you how to see it – to see where the wires are broken, and where the circuits need fixed. And maybe if we've got three of us working on it, we have a chance at fixing it."
He crossed his arms, thinking for a moment, before nodding. "With your guidance, I think I could overcome my anger. And... if the rest comes, it comes too."
"Okay. Let's, um..." Trista stood. "Go to the garage."
The Hawk was silent as they slipped out, back into the garage. Trista motioned to the floor. "All right. The first time it's easier to sit down. Eventually you might find it easier to connect in motion, like certain... people." She settled down, crossing her legs, and Bao-Dur mimicked it. "You'll get your own style. Okay. Close your eyes." He did. Trista drew a deep breath. "Steady your breathing. Try to focus on your own breath."
"That's it?"
"It's the easiest. If it's not working, pick something else. Your heartbeat, my breathing, T3 beeping to himself in the main hold, the ship's engines. That last one is better if we're in hyperspace. The first step is to master control of yourself.
"The biggest lie the Jedi teach is that we do not have emotion, that we make our decisions based on objectivity and calculation. This path is not about that. We have emotions just like everyone else, but we teach them control. To prevent fear blossoming to paranoia; joy to euphoria; love to lust; anger, to rage. Anger does nothing more than set one foot on a dangerous path.
"This is your first lesson, Bao-Dur. We will always be angry. We have caused suffering and, in return, suffered ourselves, but perhaps we've both let it go too long. Our anger will always be here, but now we control it, rather than it control us. And perhaps we'll even forgive ourselves."
"Yeah." His voice was little more than a whisper.
"And this is your second lesson. Don't lose focus."
She rested her hand on his.
"Now, we fall."
