A/N: Thank you for your lovely reviews and messages! I'm glad people still want to read this, even after this long on ice. ^.^


In the morning Trista perched on the roof above Khoonda's main door, sipping on her caf and trying to act like she hadn't spent four hours training and one asleep.

"Hey." Zherron's gruff voice sounded below her and she half-waved. "You seen Vrook?"

She motioned past where Atton, detectable only by the slightest parting in Dantooine's grass, was checking his minefield under stealth. "He said he was going to 'delay them,' I assume by bitching at them."

Zherron chuckled. "Whatever he does, I hope it's successful. What do you have for me?"

"We've sealed the exterior doors, Atton's checking his minefields, and I've got my people ready for their combat orders. We've also got my Astromech plugged into the turrets, and Bao-Dur should have the droids up."

"I passed a few."

"How's Adare?"

"Locked in her office. That means the mercs go through us and the defenses." He looked around. "Thanks, by the way."

"Don't mention it. This isn't my first fight."

Bao-Dur stepped out of the doors below and looked up, wiping grease off his hands. "Did my last check of the droids. They should be in top shape." He shaded his eyes from the dawning sun. "If they get inside, it will hurt."

"Good work, Bao-Dur."

"Thank you, Ge—Trista."

After their four-hour training marathon the night before, Trista was thankful he was breaking himself of the habit.

"There are three entrances they'll try to break through," Zherron continued, after a nod to the Iridonian. "This one, the garage, and the security door."

"Not that one," Bao-Dur said, "I welded it shut this morning."

Trista nodded, taking another sip of her caf. "We'll still have to break up."

"Agreed." Zherron glanced over his militia, where they were gathering on the apron outside Khoonda's door. "We got three squads. The back will have to cover two entrances, even if one's welded shut, but the front will see more fighting."

"We'll compensate at the front, then. I'll keep more of my people here." Zherron nodded, and Trista waved to Mical and the others as they rounded the landing pad's walls. "Where will you be?"

"My men know they're gunnin' for me. Half of 'em would throw me in with the administrator." He scoffed. "Unless you have another idea, I'll placate 'em by running Adare's defense inside."

Trista nodded. "Probably our best route. I'll stay out here by the front." As the others arrived, she nodded. "Mical, Handmaiden, you two were working with the militia yesterday, so you're the logical choice for the back doors. Zherron, what are your squads like?"

"First one's our veterans. Second has spirit, but not experience. Third's, well, they're new and not well-trained. They could break."

Trista frowned, tapping her mug as she thought. Atton appeared on the apron.

"Mines are set." He looked over at the militia. "Yeah, uh, don't walk out there. They're not on a grid."

"Why not?" Handmaiden asked.

Atton scoffed. "You can avoid 'em if they're on a grid."

"Okay," Trista said. "Zherron, take your greens inside with you."

"Fine by me. Keeps them in line."

"I'll take your inexperienced people up here. I should be able to keep them together. Mical, Handmaiden, you take the experienced people around back and cover the two doors. Do you think you'll be good, or do you want someone else with you?"

The two glanced at one another. "Ah, with the experienced militia, we should be fine," Mical said.

"I'll send Kreia with you. She can keep me appraised of the situation." The woman responded with a curt nod. "Bao-Dur, Atton, Visas, you three get to stay with me." She didn't wait for an answer. "Zherron, have you addressed your troops?"

"I was gonna give 'em a bit of orders, but I'm not much for words."

"I'll do it."

She waited as Zherron got the militia in order, sipping her caf and staring out toward the bridge, wondering if Azkul realized she'd double-crossed him yet. Trista looked down at the fifty people ahead of her, quickly doing the math. If Azkul's figures were right, they were facing down two hundred mercenaries with fifty militia and a collection of cobbled-together, tired freelancers.

Ho, boy.

She stood. She hadn't given a pep talk since...

Since Dxun, her brain supplied, and she took another sip.

Since shut up.

"All right," she said. "We are about to do something dangerous, perhaps even foolish. I won't lie to you. Our odds are not great, our position is not solid, and the people we face will not feel the same fear we do. Where we hesitate, they may not.

"But what we have is something they don't. To them, this is just one more thing to take for their own. To you, this is your home. You have stood through the fires of war before and emerged. They want us to be afraid. They want us to feel defeat before they arrive. But we will not give them that luxury, because the people standing with you are counting on you. And your families are counting on us. And that's what we have that the mercenaries never will: something to fight for. And the sun is rising — and today, so will we."

A shout and a smattering of applause were the most she was met with, and Trista dropped off Khoonda's roof to meet Zherron. He clapped her shoulder.

"Good work. I think that helped."

She frowned. "You think so? They seemed a little under-enthused."

"Yeah. Getting enthusiasm out of this group without a potluck is next to impossible." Trista smiled, and Zherron nodded. "I'm taking my group and getting in position. You and yours should do the same."

"On it." She turned to Mical. "Show time. Have you two got this?"

"I think we'll be fine."

Trista nodded to Handmaiden as she passed and whispered "good luck," and turned back to Atton, Bao-Dur, and Visas, and seventeen Dantooinians who looked enthused to be there. They were leagues away from the silent, stony-faced veterans following her other companions, or the nervous, fresh-faced newcomers who had already gone inside.

"All right," she said. "What sort of infantry tactics do you know?" The militia looked at each other for a minute. "Okay, uh. Different tack. Divide up by weapon. Blasters over here, rifles here, something bigger than a rifle, here."

They split almost perfectly down the middle. Trista studied them for a moment and finally pointed to one of the rifle-wielders. "Are you sure that's a rifle?"

She looked down at it. "My dad always said it was."

"Can I see it?" She nodded and handed it over, and Trista checked it over. "What's your name?"

"Lora Sprax."

Trista turned the rifle over in her hands, checking the sight. "How good are you with this?"

Lora perked up. "I can headshot a kath from a thousand meters if I'm on a hill."

"Heh." She handed it back to her. "Good. Lora, what you have is a full-ass military grade sniper rifle. I won't ask where your dad got it from. How do you feel about shooting people?"

She frowned. "I'm not too keen on it, ma'am, but if they're tryin' to kill us I'm gonna kill 'em right back."

Trista blinked a few times. "Zherron was right, you're all enthusiastic. All right, Lora. I'll get my friend Atton here on the roof with you. As soon as he tells you, open fire on the mercs. Line up your shots, don't worry about frequency. Quality over quantity." Lora nodded and headed toward Atton. Atton nodded at Trista and they disappeared inside.

"All right, for everyone else." She motioned. "Group up, two blasters to two rifles."

The speed they responded with made her more hopeful.

"Group Aurek, Besh, Cresh, and Dorn," she said, pointing to each. "Remember that. Aurek, take the left flank; Besh, take the right. The grass will give you some cover — crouch down and make yourselves small on the outside of the turrets. Fire in turns so someone is always giving you cover fire. If you stay low, it'll be harder for the mercs to hit you. Visas, you get behind the right turret, Bao-Dur, take the left. Cresh and Dorn, get prone in front of the apron. Thankfully, you picked green uniforms. They might have thermal vision but, well." She paused. "Are you all familiar with leapfrogging?"

"Yes, ma'am," one of the militia said.

"Fantastic. That's how you'll stagger your fire. Rifles first, then blasters. If we have to retreat inside, that's how we'll retreat. Half-meter increments, rifles then blasters. Everyone got it?" They nodded, and she pointed at one of the militia. "Repeat it."

"Aurek and Besh on the flanks, Cresh and Dorn with the turrets. Prone in the grass. Wait for the signal to open fire, then stagger it between the blasters and rifles. Retreat in half-meter increments if called."

She nodded. "Good. Places everyone."

As they did, Trista dragged the dock overseer's chair from its place outside Khoonda's door and sat down with a sigh at the front of the permacrete apron. She opened her comm.

"Atton."

"Yeah."

"Tell Lora to hold her fire until they finish the mines on the bridge. I'll signal, but in case I don't or can't, that's it."

"You got it."

She crossed her legs, bouncing her foot as she watched the bridge. This was a hell of a risk. Hopefully she was still decent at blocking blasterfire. "Any sign of them on the sensors, T3?"

"/Sensor range = 500 - a=50 meters / Targets: 213 meters, a=15 meters /" Trista glanced up to the closest haycock-style hilltops. "/Speed = 0 / Assessment = targets on reconnaissance / Jedi = watched/!/"

Trista smiled. "That's way more than I expected. Thanks, T3." She caught a glint at the top of a hill and returned to her comm. "Everyone keep your eyes open. Atton, as soon as Lora sees something through her scope, fill me in."

"You got it, Tris."

"Tell her to check the hill at one o'clock. Thought I saw something. How's the back look?"

"We're fine here," Handmaiden said. "We have taken defensive positions and are awaiting contact with the mercenaries."

"Same here." Bao-Dur looked back at her, and she nodded. "Now we wait."

About five minutes passed in silence, save for the chirping of some native Dantooinian birds and the occasional breeze rustling the tall grass.

"Yeah, hey, Tris."

She raised her comm. "Go ahead."

"Lora's got eyes on a merc with a scanner. From her description it sounds like our buddy Azkul's with him. Big guy, white eye, wicked scar, her words."

"Yeah, that sounds like him. We know they're watching, at least."

"From what she's saying, they've focused on you for at least three minutes."

"Heh, good, I want them confused."

"We've got hand motions."

"All right." Trista kept her comm on, but raised her voice just above the rustling breeze. "Get ready. We might be a go."

"/Alert! / Targets acquired! / North incoming! / South incoming! / Turrets = range of 15 meters = standing by! /"

Trista didn't move, fluffing her outer robe as she waited for the first sign of a mercenary across the bridge. It came soon as five rounded the corner for the bridge.

"Visual contact on the southern side," Handmaiden said.

"Same on the north." Trista lowered her comm and barely raised her voice. "Steady. Wait for the mines."

The mercenaries hit the bridge, and the first layer of mines exploded in a burst of plasma and shrapnel. Three of them were thrown from the bridge with the force, into the creek below.

"They're just sending them straight into the minefield," Handmaiden reported. "It's... eugh."

"Yeah," Trista said, watching as another wave charged the bridge — straight into the second patchwork line of mines. "Like nerfs. T3, you got a guess about their numbers?"

"/T3 = calculating.../.../.../.../.../a lot?/"

Force, even her droid was a sarcastic little shit. "Thank you for the exact summation."

"/Jedi = welcome! / Exact = 218 = 146 north = 74 south! /"

That was less than ideal. "That's better, thank you."

As the lines of mines took out lines of mercs, she tried to keep count. Five, ten, fifteen...

"On my signal, Lora," she whispered into the comm. The first mercenaries cleared the bridge, into the secondary field, and she hesitated. Once the sniper opened fire, her remaining deceit was over.

Halfway through the mines, she stood and raised her comm, maintaining direct eye contact with the hill that was Azkul's last reported location.

"Lora? Fire."

A mercenary crossing the bridge fell as a rifle retorted above them. His companions stopped, looking at the body, then back ahead. Trista waved as the rifle sounded again, and another fell.

"Come on," she called. "Sorry I couldn't help you, my hands were tied! Pesky Code and all that."

::Must you antagonize them?::

::Yeah, it's called strategy.:: She ignited her lightsaber.

It took another minute of the mercenaries running into the mines until they blew. As they reached the last line, marked by a tiny, almost invisible flag Atton had pointed out earlier, she stepped off the apron, level with her front line.

"Get ready," she said. "Fire!"

The rifles sprung to their knees, opening fire as the mercenaries hit the last line of mines. A line of ten or twenty came past the newest casualties, opening fire. Trista held out her left hand, blocking the shots aimed for her as they flared off her militia's shields, and threw her lightsaber.

"Visas! With me. Militia, fire at will! Just don't hit me."

Giving her new lightsaber an experimental twirl in her hand, Trista charged.

#

::We have sustained too many casualties for this position.::

Trista had been halfway through a swing when Kreia interrupted her. She grit her teeth and finished it. ::What do you mean?::

::We are being overwhelmed. The Echani is advocating a retreat.::

::Do it.:: Trista glanced behind her as she flung her lightsaber again, then looked back. "Fall back to the interior! You too, Visas."

Visas stayed next to her, feet spread in the simple stance she'd borne the night before. "I will not leave your side."

Trista sighed. "Okay, then push out with me."

Both women extended their hands toward the bridge, as more mercenaries reached their bank, and pushed out in the Force. The mercenaries scattered, and Trista grabbed Visas' arm and pulled her back toward the door. Bao-Dur stood by the turret, opening fire as the mercenaries recovered. She glanced up — Atton was lowering Lora down to the apron. As her feet hit the permacrete she spun, aiming for Trista. Trista ducked, and the shot went right over her shoulder into an approaching mercenary.

"Get inside!" she shouted, waving them through the door. Atton pushed Lora through, drew his blasters, and joined Bao-Dur and the turrets in covering them. Trista pushed Visas through, then grabbed Bao-Dur by the back of his shirt and hauled him through after her.

"After you," Atton said, drilling a mercenary almost on the apron in the forehead. Trista grabbed his jacket and threw him inside, sending another wave of Force energy outward. The closest mercenaries bowled backwards, and she stepped through and slammed the door closed.

"Bao-Dur?"

"On it." He pulled his torch from his toolkit and began welding.

Trista opened her comm as she fought to catch her breath. "What's the situation?"

"We've lost comms with Zherron's group."

Just as the Handmaiden spoke, blasterfire erupted inside the building.

"Did Zherron miss an entrance?" Atton asked. "We welded the security door—"

"If they had a plasma cutter it wouldn't have mattered," Bao-Dur said. He grabbed a cabinet from beside the door and pushed it, getting it in place with Atton's help.

"Okay. You three stay here with the militia. Set up a barricade and flip a few tables for cover. I'm gonna check it out."

She started for the short hall and glanced back to see Atton following her.

"Tris, I'm coming."

"You're needed here."

He drew his lips into a thin line and continued to follow her as she turned into the hall. Several battle droids, all scarred and missing their shields, tromped around the corner to join them.

"Just... be quiet then." She pressed herself against the wall to look around the corner into the audience hall.

A large group of mercenaries — maybe about twenty — had gotten into the main hall, arching around the door to Adare's office. The green militia were back against the door, with Zherron nowhere to be seen. At the front stood Vrook and Kaevee, both with lightsabers in hand. Vrook was in front, positioning himself between the bulk of Zherron's recruits and the girl.

"—and Khoonda." Trista recognized the voice.

"Azkul's here," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"He's monologuing. Radio for Handmaiden to meet us here. Quietly!"

"One creepy Echani, coming right up."

"And you must go through us to reach it," Vrook was saying. The Force rippled inside her, and she frowned. If he was drawing that much energy into him, it was for one big attack.

"I hate that I'm invested in his survival," she muttered. Atton peeked around her into the room.

"Oh yeah, this is gonna end well."

"Guess we better step in." She pulled her robe out of Atton's hand as she stepped into the doorway. "Just, wait there."

"Our quarrel is with the distinguished Administrator, Jedi, this isn't your problem."

"I have made it my problem." Vrook's tone was just as haughty as usual, and Trista frowned deeper. "You do not want to fight. Throw away your weapons."

Not a single mercenary flinched.

"Is that supposed to convince me, Jedi?" Azkul scoffed. "I was trained by the Sith. My unit killed many Jedi."

"Sorry I'm late!" Trista called. Azkul, followed by his mercenaries, turned toward her. "Yeah, Azkul, it wasn't going to work out. But there's still time to stab me through the heart for double-crossing you, if you're interested?"

"And you have allied yourself with these flaming settlers." He stepped off the dais with a loud thunk, shoving his gun into its holster. "I've killed hundreds of your kind. An old man, a child, and you will be no different."

"Oh, wow, hundreds?" Trista said, igniting her lightsaber. "I killed a thousand of my 'kind.'"

Any sign that Azkul was worried was well-hidden. His men, though, traded a few looks behind their raised blasters.

"Kill them."

"Now!" Trista shouted, diving to the right as Azkul charged. She clattered through the chairs and looked back as Handmaiden swept her staff under him, driving the butt into the back of his knee and igniting its charge. Azkul growled in pain. "Get to Vrook, I've got this asshole!"

Handmaiden jammed her staff into his back for good measure, then slid through the chaos ahead into the middle of the mercenaries. Azkul staggered back to his feet and charged her.

She stumbled back and grabbed a chair, swinging it into the leader's face, the wood splintering with the impact. He swore and caught himself and she lunged, jamming her shoulder into his chest. Azkul stumbled back, and she followed it with a kick. He grabbed her foot and threw her into the chairs. They scattered and broke under her, and she climbed to her feet.

She let the Force flow into her, easing the searing pain in her lungs, just in time to block as his sword came down onto her. Her other hand grabbed a chair with the Force, throwing it into his face and sending him staggering. He was still ready when she pressed him back, and she grit her teeth.

There was one last trick. Revan liked it, but she knew it was tricky.

Trista decided as he swung to correct and charged her, stepping dangerous close to the blade as she blocked.

Her thumb hit the switch on her blade, and it vanished.

Azkul's sword carried through, gouging a deep slash down her arm. Just as the vibrosword cleared her hilt she reactivated it, slicing the blade through his neck. He didn't even have time to be surprised.

She swore and slapped her hand to the wound, wincing even as she pulled on the Force to still the bleeding. The pain receded, and she looked up.

The other half of the fight was going well, with Atton turning his attention to the others, Handmaiden still in her element in the center. Vrook was pushing mercenaries back from the door, lightsaber all but unused. The militia were holding their own.

She grabbed another chair and threw it at the closest mercenary. It broke over his head. She followed it with a lightsaber through the next, and the battle went rather quickly from there.

With Azkul dead behind them, the mercenaries were quick to lay down their weapons or flee, only to be caught by bursts of gunfire at the doors from Bao-Dur's remaining droids. Handmaiden laid out another mercenary with a blow to her throat, then turned back to Trista as she deactivated her weapon.

"You are injured," she said, trying to look at the gash, and Trista waved her away.

"It's just a scratch." Trista clipped the lightsaber to her belt and started toward the militia at the doors, when a hand stopped her.

"It's not 'just a scratch,'" Atton said, voice rising somewhat mockingly as he pushed her into a chair. She frowned.

"I'll take care of it later. Other people are hurt more."

Atton tutted and ripped the packaging off a medpack. "You're an idiot, sweets. Sit still." He drew his knife and, still holding the packaging in his teeth, cut a hole in the blood-matted cloth. She winced as he poked at it.

"Yeah, I forgot why Revan could do that." He raised a brow. "She always had a second lightsaber to block with."

He pulled the packaging out and began smoothing the bandage over the wound. "It didn't look like a single-weapon move. Hold still."

She did until he pulled back. "Thanks."

"Next time just save the bleeding for after a firefight," he said. "Freaks me out, all right?"

Trista frowned. "Why, do you not like—" The rustle of a Jedi robe to her left cut her off, and she sighed and looked up with the start of a smart comment on her lips. Vrook interrupted her with his usual frowning impassivity.

"I must speak with you." He glared at Atton. "Alone."

Atton held up his hands and backed away.