Trista followed Vrook to a small room off the main hallway, dodging droids still patrolling and militia seeing to their wounded. He locked the door behind them, then swept past her.
"Well, this is all ominous," Trista grumbled.
"Khoonda is safe, thanks to you." He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms, and spoke with a note of resignation. "I may have misjudged you."
"I feel that's a summation of our entire relationship."
Vrook opened his mouth, sighed, and spoke. "Why did you come here?"
Trista cocked her head, studying him for a moment. "Why did I come, or why am I not surprised you're here?"
"Both."
"There's two answers. The first is Atris."
"Atris is alive?"
She nodded. "She had a recording listing missing Jedi and where they were. It said you were here. And I, uh, wanted to see if the Enclave had anything useful."
"What is the second answer?"
"I'm here because of the Sith."
Vrook narrowed his eyes. "The Sith? Explain."
Trista explained, from waking up on Peragus, to the encounter with Sleeps-With-Vibroblades on the Harbinger, to Dantooine.
"We've spoken with one Sith, and I believe we've turned her," she finished. "She told me about Katarr."
Vrook sighed and, for the first time in their entire relationship, he sagged. Trista blinked. "Katarr was a mistake."
"I'd like an explanation."
"It is Jedi business. You may carry a lightsaber again, but you are not of the Ord—"
"All right, let me reiterate, your holiness. The Sith are coming after me, and I seem to be the only damn person they're after."
Vrook slammed his hand on the desk, silencing her. "Katarr was an act of desperation." She leaned back on the wall, satisfied. "Ever since Revan left, something has targeted us. Our numbers were few after the Jedi Civil War, perhaps two hundred. By the time we called the Conclave, our numbers were—"
"One hundred and six," Trista mumbled.
"Yes. Something was killing Jedi, or forcing them to vanish. Katarr was our last chance. By gathering inside a nexus, surrounded by the natural proclivities of the Miraluka, we had hoped to see where our enemy was."
"Why didn't you go? Or Kavar, or Atris?"
Vrook shook his head. "We made a decision for such a circumstance. We divided the Council. Those that went... well." He waved his hand. "In the aftermath, those remaining on the Council sent the Order into hiding. We would only speak again should we learn where the Sith were striking from."
"Hiding will not answer that question."
He scoffed. "Your presence here gives me the answer I need."
"Go on," Trista said, raising a brow.
"It is clear your sister is attempting to—"
"Oh, don't start! Don't even try to blame this on her. She wouldn't try to kill me."
"The situation with Revan changed. It is a possibility."
"Well, I haven't seen her, but I know this." She leaned forward. "The Sith Lord I spoke to on the Harbinger seemed to believe I was a Jedi."
"You are an exile—"
"Vrook, as soon as he isn't trying to kill me, I'll argue the semantics with him. But the Sith have revealed themselves! He tried to kill me on Peragus, and then the Sith behind Katarr sent an apprentice to kill me here, on Dantooine! Last night! Vrook, it doesn't matter if you think Revan is behind it." She emphasized her following sentence, knifing her hand into her palm. "They. Are. Trying. To. Kill. Me."
"Yes, we have established that fact," he said, tone barely edging into snapping.
"And you hiding won't stop them! The Council — or what's left of it — needs to regroup and use the information I gathered. Visas' Master is a wound in the Force. I didn't think it was possible, but that's the only thing that makes sense. He's the one behind Katarr. Vibroblades... there's something with him. I could feel it."
"We have a plan in place, Morace," he barked, and she fell silent. "Once the Sith revealed themselves, we would gather here on Dantooine to plan a course of action. We had hoped they would become bold. That has not happened, unless you are telling the truth."
"I am telling the truth."
"That may be, but I suspect the others will make that decision far easier than I."
"Fine. Is Katarr why you left? Why come back here? Wouldn't this be a natural place for the Sith to look?"
Vrook shook his head. "The Jedi are at war. It is not like any we have ever fought — as I have said, we have yet to even meet our attackers in battle. Somehow, our enemy targets us through the Force, striking, then retreating to the shadows."
Trista nodded.
"As we learned on Katarr, any gathering of Jedi seems to attract them like a beacon. So it was necessary to divide our forces and conceal ourselves until we knew more. And great tragedies, old battlegrounds, places of suffering. These all leaves wounds on the galaxy, and in the Force. By coming here, those echoes allow me to mask my presence, to investigate the ruins and try to find some clues as to who our attackers are.
"But I will not speak of this further."
Trista rolled her eyes. "Can I at least ask you a few questions, or is that going to be too taxing?"
Vrook frowned. "You have gone through enough to speak to me. I suppose I can humor you."
"Why did you throw me out?"
He sighed. "You followed Revan to war in defiance of the Council."
"The Council allowed us—"
"Nearly a year after you first formed the Revanchists!" Trista frowned. "You were one of the founding members of her group. Do not act as if I do not know. You and Malak lured away talented young Jedi and Padawans with promises of glory, while Revan busied herself playing at war. When you were well enough to leave the Temple, there were already rumors that Revan and Malak had fallen — what else were we to do? Do you know how many worlds Revan's actions have doomed? Dantooine, Telos, Taris, Serroco—"
"Hey." Trista held up her hand. "Serroco was destroyed before we officially entered the war. We were still scouting and fighting the Mandalorians in guerrilla warfare. And besides, it was the Council that nearly broke Revan off from the Jedi. Or did you forget springing Alek's capture on her? I don't know what you expected—"
"It does not matter what we expected. Do you see now why we counseled caution, rather than action? And yet you were the only one to return for our judgment — because you lost that which made you a Jedi, just one more casualty of the war. And it is obvious you still blame us for your exile. I had hoped your isolation would allow you to reflect on what had happened, but I see it has not."
"No, but I learned an awful lot about homesteading on asteroids," she said. Vrook frowned. "I saw a recording of my trial, and you and the other Masters seemed to think something had happened. That I was an echo."
Vrook had recovered from her first sentence by the end of her last. "You saw the end of your trial? Perhaps you would like to explain how you came to this knowledge?"
She shrugged. "Atris is shit at data security. It's not a good look for an archivist."
"That was intended for the Council. If what remains of it tells you, then I will abide by their decisions — and the consequences."
"Oh, Force's bloody sake, Vrook. Don't I deserve to know? Did you expect me to stop running and look back, sit on some asteroid and think about my decisions? Then come crawling back to you and beg your forgiveness, hoping that that so loftily vaunted Jedi mercy would save me? Stars, we're so worried about Jedi falling that, at this rate, shouldn't we be amazed that some of us don't?"
Vrook closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in through his nose, and Trista waited.
"There is little I can tell you."
"Bantha-sh—" She cut her protest off as he raised his hand.
"Kavar would be the one to ask, if you can find him. Even then, all we had were suspicions, not truths. And he was too close to you — he found you, trained Revan, and he too felt called to war more strongly than a Jedi should. My speculations would not help you now. Perhaps we will tell you of them, but only if the Council were to decide upon it."
"Fine," she said, one hand fisting itself in her outer robe's sleeve. "That's not it, questions-wise."
Vrook circled the desk and sat down. "I would prefer we keep this brief."
"Yeah, I'll do my best. Did you cut me off from the Force?"
She had fought the accusation out of her words, but Vrook must have sensed it.
"We did nothing to you. Accuse us if you wish, but it will not change the truth. Is such a thing in the Council's power? Yes. But we reserve such punishments for only a few — and you are not among them. Your loss was a casualty of war — no more."
"But... then how have I re-established my connection to the Force?"
"What?" Vrook squinted at her. "Perhaps it is Dantooine, but I feel nothing I did not feel in the Council judgment chamber on Coruscant many years ago."
For the first time, concern gnawed at her. Had she, and Kreia, been fooling herself? Had she not regained her connection? Was she still just as Force-deaf as she'd been after Malachor, and for the past ten years? Was this just wishful thinking?
"But... I'm certain I have," she said, drawing on everything she remembered from her training. "I can wield a lightsaber without effort. I can use the Force on injuries again, I faced the Sith that was sent after me and was victorious."
"Hmph. Perhaps you are reading into it."
"Has anyone ever told you, to your face, how obtuse you are?" She threw up her hands. "Fine, I'm just an idiot who knows nothing. Last question, then we can go back to never speaking again. What do you know about Force bonding?"
Vrook raised a brow. "The bond that forms between a Master and a student... are you saying you have developed one?"
"Maybe not, if I don't have the Force."
"Be serious, for once." He huffed. "Neither you nor your sister could ever get to the point without dramatics."
"Oh for—" Trista drew a deep breath. "Yes, I've developed a Force bond with someone, and it's lethal."
If Trista knew the thoughts in Vrook's head at that moment, she would have run for the galactic edge and never looked back. Hang both the Jedi and the Sith.
Instead Vrook sighed, but continued thoughtfully. "Such bonds grant strength to both, but not to such a degree. Are you certain? Perhaps it, like your regained connection to the Force, is merely what you believe." This time, Trista did roll her eyes. "Do not give me that. Besides, your ability to form such connections, to influence others, was always a subject of discussion — even in your training here."
"Really? I know Master Ell mentioned it a few times, but—"
"Yes. Like your sister, you had your own, unique abilities within the Force. Perhaps this is a punishment of a sort. But a bond that ties two lives together... I have seen a similar one before, and such bonds do not seem natural to me."
Trista straightened off the wall. "You have? What were the circumstances?" Vrook hesitated before answering, and she raised her brows. "Vrook?"
"A Padawan, in a panic, saved the life of a... Jedi... aboard a ship in the middle of the Civil War," he said, drawing a deep breath. "In doing so, she seemed to use some of her own life, not just the Force, to do so. Or, such was our understanding. It allowed thoughts, memories to pass between the two of them, as well as sensations, emotions. Pain was mentioned frequently." Trista nodded. "But, with your loss of connection to the Force, such a bond should be impossible."
"Who was it? The other bond? Are they alive?"
Vrook shook his head. "That is a bound of privacy I will not breach. Perhaps one of the other Councilors would tell you, but I will not."
"But they might know how to break it!"
"It is my understanding that they never did."
Trista frowned. "Fine. But if I die because of it, I'm haunting you."
"That would be quite impossible without the Force," he said. "Is that all, or do you wish to pester me for the rest of the day?"
Trista groaned. "No, believe me, that's more than enough conversation with you for one lifetime, Vrook. I'll leave you to whatever you're doing."
She turned back to the door.
"Morace."
Trista didn't turn back. "What?"
"If the Sith have attacked you, then it is time for the Council to gather." She turned back. "If you find the others, tell them to convene on Dantooine."
"Fine."
"And this Sith that was sent to attack you. Bring her to me." Trista's hand tightened on the door's lock, and she turned it. "Morace?"
"Sorry, Vrook," she said, "between your stubbornness and Atris' paranoia, I'm not sending her in."
He scoffed. "I don't know what you expect me to do, but—"
"Vrook, she's the only survivor of Katarr." She turned back, just in time to see Vrook hiding a look of shock. "I think she's suffered enough."
She stepped out of the door, directly into Atton and Bao-Dur. Atton winced at her expression.
"That good, huh?"
"Stars, I hate that man," she muttered. "Where's Adare? She okay?"
"Both Zherron and the Administrator are fine," Bao-Dur said. "She has asked to see you."
"Good. She's much easier to deal with." Trista started back to the audience chamber, weaving through militia and fighting to unclench her hands. Inside, Adare was helping clean up alongside Kaevee. Zherron was sitting in a chair, shirt open and several bandages plastered on his chest and stomach. Adare looked up as she approached and smiled.
"Trista," she said warmly, resting her hands on Trista's arms. She winced. "Oh! You're wounded."
"No, it's fine." Trista smiled. "It's sore, more than anything."
"Good." Adare stepped back. "It is largely thanks to you that Khoonda is still standing. Dantooine will not forget how the Jedi protected us from this threat."
"I'm not—"
Adare smiled. "It is how the people of Dantooine will remember it."
"That's fair."
"It wouldn't do to not reward you, but we are a humble community and this conflict has diminished our resources. I hope this will be sufficient." Adare handed her a credit stick. Trista looked at the amount and shook her head.
"No, no, that's ridiculous. The community will need that many credits to rebuild."
Adare put it back. "I am humbled by your generosity, but let us at least give you something for your aid."
Trista looked at Atton. "How much fuel do we need to get to... there?"
He frowned and counted on his fingers. "Probably about a hundred credits' worth. And that's if we push the Hawk as fast as she can go. Otherwise, about fifty."
Trista nodded and looked back. "If you could spare about four hundred credits for fuel and supplies, I would appreciate it. That should hold us for a while."
Adare nodded, reconfigured the stick, and handed it back. "I will put the rest to good use in the community."
"Good." She glanced at Kaevee, helping with cleanup on the rear of the dais. "Will you be willing to watch her for me?"
"Kaevee?" Adare looked back. "I believe Vrook has already taken her under his wing, but I'll make sure she's taken care of." She turned back with a smile. "I remember that Padawans always seemed more dogged than a child should."
"If only the Jedi would notice that," Trista said with a quiet laugh. "I'll talk to Zherron about a reward that might be beneficial to both of us, too."
Adare nodded. "In that case, I have much work to do. Dantooine will be slow to rebuild, but I am confident that we will recover. If you will excuse me."
Trista nodded and turned back as Adare left. "Atton, can you do me a favor?"
"Depends on the favor, sweets."
She rolled her eyes and handed him the credit stick. "Put that into our account. And take Visas back to the ship, I don't want Vrook coming looking for her."
"Why?" Bao-Dur asked. "Did he threaten her?"
"No. But given he's... himself, and how paranoid Atris was? I don't want to risk it."
"We'll both go. C'mon." Atton slapped Bao-Dur's shoulder, and they headed out of the audience hall. Trista turned back, grabbed a chair, and settled down across from Zherron.
"Thanks for the help," he said, voice a little more growly from pain. "Said you had something to ask me?"
"Yeah, I remember you were having problems with some salvagers' wills?"
Zherron rolled his eyes. "I'm ready to have that damnable problem over with."
"I'm sorry that I can't give you good news." She handed over the wills she'd found in the Enclave, then thumbed to two holoimages she'd taken on her own datapad. "The images are, uh, unpleasant, but I wasn't about to lug a pair of bodies out of the sublevel."
Zherron took both, studied them, and groaned. "They named one another the beneficiaries of their wills. Great. The salvagers will never stop trying to claim this junk."
"Ah." Trista held up a finger. "I believe that gives the state a claim to it, doesn't it?"
Zherron thought for a moment. "I believe so."
"In that case, it is salvage pulled from a Jedi Enclave, and I did just, you know." She motioned around them. "Would you perhaps see your way to offering the salvage for helping with Khoonda's defense?"
"Single-handedly taking on the meanest bastard I've seen in five years, you mean."
"Call it what you want."
Zherron dug in a pocket and handed her a keycard. "My office is unlocked. It's in a chest by the desk. Help yourself. I'm throwin' out anything left tonight."
Trista tapped it to her forehead. "Thank you very much."
"Thanks for taking it off my hands."
As she started back through the door, heading for Zherron's office, a minuscule "excuse me" stopped her, and she turned.
Kaevee smiled at her shyly from the wrecked audience chamber. Her hair, now washed, was a light strawberry-blond, and a fresh set of Jedi robes that actually fit had replaced her tattered ones.
"You're leaving?" Trista nodded. "Can I come with you?"
Trista smiled, a little forlornly. "Kaevee, if I wasn't Enemy Number One for the Sith, I'd take you in a heartbeat."
"Oh," she mumbled, lowering her head, and Trista sat down and patted the seat next to her. Kaevee joined her.
"But," she said, "I can't make any promises. I'm not a Jedi anymore. In fact, Vrook will probably give you a lecture about not trusting me, because I was exiled."
Kaevee looked at her with wide eyes. "You were?"
"Yeah. I lost the Force for a bit, but I think I found it again. If I can come back from that, you can come back from a few thefts." She nodded. "And, like I said, I can't make any promises. But I have a feeling I'll be back eventually, and we can talk more. There'll be more Jedi showing up soon too, so you'll have more than just Vrook."
"Thank the Force." Kaevee leaned her head back. "He yells a lot."
"He does." Trista went to stand, and Kaevee threw her arms around her. She froze, then returned the hug. It'd been a long time since anyone had made that sort of effort - actually touched her, gently, not as part of a fight, that her body struggled with the proper response more than it should.
"Thank you for getting me out of there," she breathed as Trista pulled back.
"Thank you for surviving when everyone gave up on you."
She smiled. "I didn't know what else to do."
