A/N: Hey y'all. Never get diagnosed with an executive dysfunction disorder. It sucks. Anyway, here we are. I'm super close to where I had edited, and some of Onderon is giving me trouble (in that "what do and don't I keep, since I'm relatively apathetic to writing out the entire Dhagon Ghent arc). However, I'm still nearly ten chapters ahead, so if I have to edit in a 5-chapter block instead of a 10-chapter one, it's no big deal. I'm hoping to have it sorted out by next week, but given I have to start hunting jobs in earnest now, we'll see how that works.
I'm tempted to post this and the next chapter today as compensation for dysfunctioning my way out of updating, but I think I'm gonna play it safe. Next chapter is fully ready, so I'll post it on Wednesday to make up for lost time. If, yknow, my brain doesn't suddenly forget everything exists again. :/
Zez-Kai Ell turned, making his way back to the ramp and off of the Ebon Hawk without a backwards glance. Trista stared after him, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"You all right?" Atton must have moved out of the hallway and followed her.
"Yeah," she said, making her way back to the main hold. As always, he followed. "Just figuring out if I want to walk all the way to Vogga or call him."
"Call him." Trista spun. Mira dumped a bag of supplies inside the storage room. "It'll save you from the smell."
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Atton asked.
"Look." She pointed at Trista. "New bounty, 500-k credits. I'm gonna make sure she stays alive long enough to collect it."
Trista closed her eyes and started toward the holotable.
"I don't think so. We're just about full up on—"
"Fine, I'll just stow away if it makes you feel better." She kicked a panel, which fell open to reveal a large smuggling compartment behind it. "Easy enough to do."
"Atton, just..." Trista shook her head. "We could use the extra gun."
"Now hold on—"
She shushed him and turned back to the holotable. After a couple seconds of ringing, Vogga — or about half of him — appeared above the table.
"What is it." Well, he didn't sound happy. Trista crossed her arms.
"Trista Morace. I spoke to you a few days ago about dealing with Goto."
"Yes. I remember. I also do not see Goto chained in front of me."
Trista raised a brow. "But I'm sure you heard of his yacht being destroyed? I was unable to get his person before the ship was destroyed but, rest assured, he was on it." Or, so she hoped. "Either way, he will not trouble your freighters again."
"Hm." He studied her through the comm, flabby fingers tenting together at the bottom of the image. "I am surprised you were able to defeat him. Rarely am I so impressed by a human."
She smiled thinly. "Thanks, I think."
"I believe that means we have business to discuss."
"Indeed."
"My freighters have already resumed their work. I will open trade with the Telosians, but I believe they will be reluctant to listen to my offer... should it come from me."
"I will contact Lieutenant Grenn of the TSF and make the arrangements."
"Good." He made a sharp motion to someone off screen. "I am transferring a sum of credits as a reward for dealing with Goto. They should cover your expenses and a fee for services rendered."
"I assure you, that isn't—"
He cut her off with a short motion. "I expect to hear from the Telosians within the week, or the deal is off and I will sell to other buyers."
"I will impress the urgency of the situation."
Without signing off, Vogga cut the line. Trista frowned. "Force, I hate dealing with Hutts."
Atton had given up on pushing Mira out, and settled down on the sofa as she continued unpacking. "You and everyone else in the galaxy."
"Yeah. Go ahead and get the ship ready. We'll be leaving as soon as I've made this call." He nodded and headed toward the cockpit, and Trista sighed. "I'd make it from space, but I don't want the signal messing up."
She punched in Grenn's number. When he picked up and hovered over the holotable, there was a moment of confusion before recognition struck and shock bloomed across his face. She opened her mouth, about to make up some line about how sorry she was she'd escaped custody and—
"Well, it's good to see you're alive."
Trista closed her mouth and started over. "Uh... that is not the reaction I expected."
"While I was disturbed that you chose to defy our orders and obtain transport off Citadel Station, the matter has been resolved. Republic authorities decided your testimony would no longer be necessary, and thus you'd be allowed to go. I will be sending you a fine for escaping, though."
Trista shook her head, almost laughing. "Yeah, I'll get on that. Sorry that we left the way we did, but... it was more dangerous for us to stay, for us and Telos. And that's the honest truth."
Grenn nodded. "Honestly, in some ways, it was lucky for us. We avoided a possibly embarrassing situation."
"Why would the Republic just change their minds like that, though?"
"Why the hell does the Republic do anything? The head doesn't know what the feet are doing, the hands don't know they even have fingers let alone where they're at."
"Good point."
"My opinion is they probably finished their independent investigation and figured it wasn't your fault. Anyway, just be glad I'm overlooking this. Except the fine."
"I get it, you need the credits. There is a reason I'm calling, though — I have some news you may be interested in."
"I'm listening."
"I made a deal with a... someone. About fuel. Also, I took care of one of the bounties."
Grenn perked up. "I'm listening."
"Those criminals ended up in one of the restoration zones, courtesy of Czerka. They decided to try for the bounty on me while we were all down there. They're dead now."
"Hm. Well, you've certainly earned that bounty. You can confirm it was Czerka?"
"Yes, I was in Lorso's office when she arranged their transport to the zone. It was... uh... 0031."
"I'll have someone check it out. In the meantime, I'm sending the credits to your account. The TSF once again thanks you for your cooperation." He paused. "I'm just gonna hold the fine out of this. It's easier that way."
"Sounds good."
"And... the fuel?" Grenn was trying to hide it, but hope deeply infiltrated his voice.
"Yeah, uh." Trista rubbed the back of her neck. "I did a favor for one Vogga the Hutt. It's not an ideal situation, given it's the Sleyheron mines, but he's looking for markets. I have a standing offer from him to Telos."
"Sleyheron." Grenn had lost the note of hope.
"Yeah, it's not ideal. But, until Telos is in a better position—"
"We don't really have a choice, no. And our bargaining position is weak because of it." He sighed. "This is probably the best we'll get. Fuel's short everywhere, and I'm sure Vogga will demand—"
"If he does, he'll answer to me. I'm the only reason he can ship fuel to begin with. He owes me, and he knows it."
"Noted. I'll bring the matter to the Telosian Council and urge them to broker a deal." He paused and covered something. She presumed it was the microphone, as he was clearly conferring with someone she couldn't see. "I'm told the matter will be dealt with, and we should be contacting Vogga shortly."
"He said you have a week."
Grenn consulted with his invisible guest again. "It should be in the next day or so."
"Good."
"Now I believe I gave you my word on a finder's fee—"
Trista held up her hand. "Absolutely not, don't even offer it. I didn't cause the Peragus incident, but I was certainly a factor. Knowing Citadel Station is safe is fine with me."
"Understood."
"Use it to take a vacation or something, Grenn, you probably need it."
He chuckled. "If there's nothing else, I should be going."
"That's it."
"Signing off."
He disappeared, and Trista sighed and let her shoulders sag. Exhaustion had just decided to rejoin her, with the pain and discomfort of adrenaline's absence and almost two days of action.
"Atton!"
"Yeah?" he called back from the cockpit.
"Get us up." She rubbed the side of her face and started back towards the engine room, pausing briefly in the medbay door. Mical was there, putting away supplies and sorting everything into immaculately-labeled trays. "Do you still have to report back to your superiors?"
He nodded. "I do, but that system is reliable in hyperspace. There is no reason to wait on my account."
"If I gave you a message, could you attach it to yours?"
"Of course. I can send it when you're ready." He glanced over. "You look like you need rest."
"Thanks."
"Are you feeling any ill effects from—"
"No, no, just exhausted."
She smiled, thinly again, and headed into the engine room. Really, she should shower, but that felt like too gargantuan of an effort to muster. She didn't even take her outer robe off, instead wrapping it around herself as she settled into the cot and fell asleep almost instantly.
#
A few hours later Trista awoke and forced herself out of bed. The engines hummed in the gentle rhythm of lightspeed, and she took a few minutes to write out a message on her datapad.
She left the engine room while putting the final touches on it, and only looked up once she'd started into the medbay hallway. Trista jerked back against the wall, a startled gasp breaking from her lips.
A bulbous, round interrogation droid slowly bobbed its way down the corridor, seemingly unaware that her reaction was a response to it. It stopped, and she stared at it almost blankly, still half-asleep and trying to figure out if this was a hallucination or there was actually an interrogation droid on her ship.
Steps sounded to her right, and Bao-Dur appeared. "Trista, are you—" He spotted the droid and threw his arm in front of her, stepping between her and the droid without questioning it.
"This is quite unnecessary," the droid intoned, and Trista straightened up.
"Goto?"
"Indeed." The crime boss' voice carried a distinct displeasure with it, one she was acutely familiar with. "I suspect you believe your assault on my yacht was successful. However, that is not so."
"What the fuc—" Trista started to breathe.
"As a token of my goodwill, I present to you a gift: this droid. It will serve you well on your journey."
"Uh, that's... lovely," Trista said, nudging Bao-Dur's arm down. He stepped back, still keeping a wary eye on the droid. "But, uh, you could have asked first."
"It would not be a gift then, would it?"
He had a point. "Uh, yeah, I guess not. How'd you get on my ship?"
"I entered it as you were leaving my vessel."
Made sense. "Okay, so... what does it do? The droid, that is."
"The droid will remain with you, and guard you. It will also serve as an effective voice for my orders during your journey."
"Your... orders?" Bao-Dur asked. Mical stuck his head out of the medbay, then jerked back inside.
"It's all right," Trista said, "we're just talking. And you're not gonna try to kill me?"
"I cannot harm you. You are the key to saving the Republic."
"No pressure," Bao-Dur muttered, and Trista half-nodded.
"Pray that you do not prove yourself otherwise."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks?" She held up her hand as the droid began to float away. "On one condition."
The droid turned back. Or, she thought it was turning back. The red thing that looked like an eye had rotated back to her, at least.
"You're on my ship, so you abide by my decisions. This droid, and by extension you, will be on my crew. If I make a call in the field, you abide by it, or I'm putting the droid out the airlock."
The droid paused. "Understood."
As it drifted into the main hold, Trista released the tension in her shoulders. "Why is my life like this?"
"Like what?" Mical stuck his head back out the door.
"Like... this." She motioned at the droid as it drifted through the hold. "Like, an interrogation droid from the crime boss that just tried to hold me prisoner, semi-permanently, snuck onto my ship off the yacht we just blew up. And then the crime boss told me that it's a gift and he's going to tell me what to do through it, and the only thing I can say is 'yeah, okay, I guess?'" Trista ran her hand down her face. "I need a vacation. I was a hermit for ten years, this is way too exciting for me."
"Hopefully you'll have a chance to get back to that." Bao-Dur retreated to the garage. "I'll check it out and make sure it's safe."
"Thanks." She shook her head and handed the datapad to Mical. "Here. It's for Bastila Shan."
"I'll send it." Mical took the datapad. "I'll make sure my message passes T3's—"
Trista shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Just don't tell them where we're going, or who we've found."
"I won't."
As Mical took the datapad and stepped back into the medical bay, Trista squared her shoulders. It was time for an uncomfortable conversation with her pilot. There wasn't any point putting it off. She wanted — needed — to ask him what he was hiding. About why people on Nar Shaddaa would be warning her about him.
And she'd get those answers, one way or another.
#
"Sir. Message for you."
Carth took the datapad from his comm tech as he left the Telosian Council room with Bastila and Dustil a few steps behind him. "Thank you, lieutenant."
The tech saluted and trailed behind them as they traced a familiar path to their shuttle. As usual, Bastila kept her head down. Stepping off the Sojourn was always a risky prospect, even with the notoriously paranoid Carth. She was certain he would spot normal threats, like bounty hunters, with ease — but they had already learned she was their best warning regarding the Sith. The hard way.
Some of the bruises from their Temple excursion still hurt.
They made it into the shuttle, and Carth settled into one of the seats for their trip back to the ship. She watched as he switched on the datapad, read the message, then handed it to her. "Second message is for you."
Bastila frowned. "From Mical?"
"From Trista."
"How does she know I'm here?"
"Made an assumption?" He motioned to the windows. "Bas, at least half the Republic suspects you're either on my ship or dead. We're just lucky no one's been able to get close."
She glanced at the lieutenant across the way, Carth's "real" aide. It was a good thing he trusted her.
"Fair point. Did Mical have anything to say?"
"Nothing more than the usual. They've made contact with another Jedi and left Nar Shaddaa, destination unknown."
"Not my first choice of a destination world." She turned her attention back to the message.
Bastila,
You said to contact you via Sinylea-Vao but, given my suspicions, I trusted our mutual associate was a more direct route. The supplies you sent via your friend have been received and are appreciated.
I can confirm Vrook, Zez-Kai Ell, and Atris are alive. I believe Kavar and Lonna Vash are as well. Unfortunately I cannot tell you their locations for fear of intercept. The situation is tenuous at best, and I would not wish to compromise their locations to the Sith.
That said, I am hoping you have information that may help me about a sensitive subject that I would not wish publicized. In Revan's absence, you may be my only chance at an answer. Recent conversations have indicated that, during the Jedi Civil War, a strong bond was formed between you and Revan.
"Oh, great."
"What's up?"
"She heard about the bond."
"With Anna?" Bastila nodded. "How'd she react?"
Firstly, my apologies for being saddled with any link to my monkey-lizard of a sister, especially this type of one.
"Predictably."
Secondly, I have a small issue that you may be uniquely positioned to solve. Recently I have found myself in possession of a similar bond. I'm not sure why, or how, it formed. To call the individual on the other end "cryptic" would be a great understatement — needless to say, she is not forthcoming. The bond itself is not concerning. I am quite familiar with bonds, given my penchant for developing them; the severity of this one is problematic. I fear that, were one of us to be mortally wounded, the bond could be fatal for us both.
Ell believed Revan had researched similar bonds before leaving for the Unknown Regions. With her clearly out of reach, I was hoping you might have some information regarding how a bond such as this might be broken, safely, without endangering either of us.
I'm including an address that should be secure. It won't be perfect, but you can reach me there.
Thank you,
Trista Morace
Bastila frowned down at the datapad, before looking up to see both Carth and Dustil watching her. "What?"
"What is it?" Carth asked. "Morace hasn't reached out to either of us personally before."
She downloaded the message to her own datapad, deleted it, and handed it back to Carth. "She's developed a Force bond to someone that sounds similar to mine and Anna's, and wants to know if she ever found a way to break it."
"Did she?"
Bastila closed her eyes, mentally brushing the warm, albeit distant, link that stretched far into the Unknown Regions.
"No."
