A kilometer out from the Hawk, Visas had seen something in the jungle.
It had been a flash of gray-blue in the distance, past the specks of light marking the life that thronged the gray jungle around them. As they wound their way through the jungle, it was a consistent presence — never approaching, always lurking. Watching.
She'd considered, along the walk, that more than one Jedi may have sought out Onderon — or, that the Master they were hunting thought his options better on the jungle moon. But the further they traveled, the less likely she thought that was. Another Force-user, then, and one of unknown motive. Once they had entered the Mandalorians' custody, she had almost put it out of her mind until she'd spotted the same figure standing to the side as they'd left Mandalore's command center. A woman, wearing the armor of a Mandalorian, her dusky-blue aura trembling with frustration, trepidation... and perhaps some curiosity.
Visas suspected she'd known she was caught. A camouflaging skill was only so immune to sight in the Force and, while the mystery woman might be skilled enough to avoid Trista's notice, a Miraluka could see through it. In fact, she was counting on the mystery Jedi knowing it.
The same flash of blue appeared across the camp, and Visas slipped through the growing shadows toward it. This was dangerous, of course. Force knew what they thought she was. But if they were a Jedi, they wouldn't attack first.
"Kemot." Visas turned toward a silver-armored Mandalorian. "Meg cuyir gar kemir par, jetaii?"
"I apologize, I have never learned Mando'a."
"Figures," he muttered. "Where you sneakin' off to, Jedi?"
She considered a correction, but it would not endear her to her hosts. That she was sure of. "I am looking for someone."
"Who? I don't like the idea of you sneaking off."
"Ni." This second voice came from behind her again, and she tilted her head back to catch just the corner of the aura. "Ni ganar ibic."
"Tayli'bac." The response was more aggressive than expected, his aura tinged with frustration. "Gar copad at koor ti kaysh? Koor ti kaysh."
He turned and stalked off, and the woman tugged her sleeve.
"Come with me." Her Basic was tinted with a peculiar accent, one Visas was uncertain she'd ever heard. With momentary hesitation, Visas followed her deeper into the settlement of vheh'yaims attached to the larger camp.
They arrived at one, set somewhat at the edge of the jungle, the trees waving the uppermost parts of their boughs over the walls like ever-present guardians against the dangers of civilization. Inside, to her surprise, another dimmer blue aura moved about the tent, busy with some mundane task or another. Her guide brushed aside the doorway, making the woman turn. "It is just me."
"And a guest." The other woman — human, most likely — did not share the other's accent.
"I did not expect to find..." Visas paused, then motioned rather than say the term, "here, of all places."
"Yes." The Jedi she had been following removed her helmet, and Visas got a clearer image of her features. Cathar, judging from the structure of her face, with hair pulled up in a top-knot at the very peak of her crown. That made the accent more sensible, as well. "I would ask what you are doing here."
"I am traveling."
"Clearly."
The other Jedi leaned down and whispered something to her companion before leaving. Visas followed her trail with her eyes, watching as she busied herself outside.
"But why here, of all places?"
"I presume a Jedi would know—"
The Cathar frowned. "We are trying to keep a low profile."
"Which is understandable. We are..." She hesitated a moment. "Being hunted by the Sith."
"And yet, you brought them here."
"We did not, nor was it our intention to come here. We are attempting to reach Onderon."
The Jedi paused, tapping the metal knee of her armor. "What is your name?"
"Visas Marr."
She was quiet for a moment, the aura undulating against the pale gray of the tent. "I do not recognize you."
"I did not come to the Force orders until recently. It is not something I wish to speak of, but if I were not trustworthy, they would not bring me into situations where my loyalties were at question."
For a moment, the Cathar's hand was creeping toward her belt, likely to a weapon, but at the last moment she seemed to think better of it.
"You must forgive me for mistrusting you."
"Of course." Visas tilted her head. "I met my companions as a Sith. I understand your caution."
She paused again, as if weighing Visas' words. "And you are no longer?"
"I do not hold allegiance to my master. And, when we are ready, and when he calls me, we will deal with him."
After another pause, the Cathar extended her hand. "I am Juhani." Visas took it. "I am sorry for what it sounds like you have experienced."
"It is... in the past." She withdrew her hand. She recognized the name from Atris' records. One of Revan's missing, then. Trista would be relieved. "But I assure you, I am no threat, and neither is she."
"You mean to reach Onderon?" Visas nodded. "For what reason?"
"We believe there is a member of the Jedi Council there, and Trista must meet with them."
"Oh." Juhani sat back on the stool. "Who?"
"I doubt I am at liberty to say." Visas tilted her head. "Why did you come to the Mandalorians?"
Juhani glanced toward the command center, almost furtively. "It was not my first choice — we should have left when Jolee anticipated the need to flee Coruscant and sheltered with him. But, once our suspicions began, Belaya and I believed it was best to leave. The storm was easy to see coming.
"Mandalore and I have a... history. Despite our personal grudges, I knew he would give us shelter." She paused. "Do you know how many are left?"
"In the Order?" Juhani nodded, and Visas thought for a moment, turning over what they knew. "The last I knew, twenty and an unknown number of children."
Juhani sighed. "You believe that is accurate?"
"It is. We found the number in Atris' records."
She nodded, setting the helmet down on a small table. "It is likely accurate then." A frown tugged her lips down, almost unnoticeable in the relative grayness of her form. "Though I must admit, a small part of me hoped her disappearance would be more permanent."
Visas felt her lips quirk to the side. "She seems to have that effect."
"She is dedicated to presenting a certain image of the Order. One I, and precious few of my friends, fulfill." A waver of conflict flickered across her aura, and she looked away. "May I at least ask?"
"Yes."
"Who is still alive?"
Visas turned over how angry Trista would be if she told this random Jedi who among her Order still lived and, after a moment of contemplation, nodded.
"Of the Council, Vrook, Atris, Vash, Kavar, and Zez-Kai Ell."
Juhani nodded. "And those not on the Council?"
"There was you, and your companion." Visas' head turned to where Belaya was still busying herself outside. "Jolee Bindo—"
"Left with five others four months before we did," she interrupted.
"Did he say anything?"
"That these attacks on the Jedi were not random, and must be an unknown threat our weakened Order could not fight. He... insisted we come with him, but—"
"You did not believe him?"
"I did, but she still believed we would be safe. After a few more assassinations—" She spat the word. "—she became concerned for our safety. That is when we left."
"There are also the three who took the children, though we know not where. Then, there is Bastila Shan."
"Bastila is still alive?" For the first time, Juhani's voice bore a hint of hope.
"She is on a Republic ship and staying hidden, to the best of our knowledge." Visas paused, studying Juhani for a moment once again. "I believe she is sheltering with an admiral. Onasi."
The woman sighed, almost in relief. "Then perhaps there is hope for the Order yet." Juhani paused, her aura wavering with uncertainty as she looked away. "And I suspect there is no further news of Revan."
"I am afraid not. You do not believe she is behind—"
The venom in Juhani's answer said enough. "Absolutely not. Even if these attacks are a Sith remnant, they are not under her banner. She has changed, even if those on the remaining Council may believe otherwise."
"I do not believe Revan is behind this, nor do I believe that the one I travel with does."
"Good. I have no reason to doubt Revan at her word."
Visas paused before speaking again, weighing Trista's current mood and opinion against her practicality. "If you wished to leave, the Exile would not turn away your help."
Juhani was quiet, looking past the wall to where Belaya was busying herself.
"As much as I detest this moon, and the company it has forced us into," she said, "there has been a presence here of late that I hesitate to leave unchallenged. I am not sure what, or where, it is, but I could not leave this camp unprotected."
"A presence?"
"There are many things on this moon that lie dormant. I could not tell you what is causing this, even if I were to try. But when it reveals itself, I will be ready." She turned back to Visas. "It may not seem as important as the threats that face the galaxy, but I fear they are linked. I may later, at some future juncture. But for now, my place is here."
Visas nodded. "Do you have any insights into Mandalore?"
Juhani tilted her head. "How do you mean?"
"He has tasked us with—"
"—impressing him, yes. Mandalore has a sole dedication to two things. The return of the Mandalorian clans, and a single order he will follow until his last breath."
"What was it?"
"That is not my place to say, except that I know how it feels. Mandalore is loyal to loyalty, perseverance, and perhaps a snappy one-liner after doing the impossible. Or, at least, remaining flippant in the face of severe danger. The bigger the better."
"Thank you," Visas said, hoping her sincerity was clear as she stood. "I am sure that will help us."
Juhani joined her on her feet, re-securing her helm and returning to her sanctuary of anonymity. "I will do what I can as well, but the onus of proof will be on you."
"We expected nothing less. I will not mention your presence here to the Exile, or the rest of the crew."
"I appreciate it. And I will find you once the time is right, but no sooner."
Visas left the vheh'yaim and nodded to Belaya on her way past, picking her way back to their borrowed tent as she did.
Juhani stopped next to Belaya as the other woman straightened, and they both watched the Miraluka as she made her way back across the camp.
"Do you think they'll pull it off?" Belaya asked. Juhani thought for a moment, musing over her conversation, and what she'd witnessed in the jungle before.
"I believe," she said, reaching out for the tent's flap, "that I may feel a change in the wind."
Belaya sighed, setting down the bucket she was working on.
"Let's hope it's carrying us back to shore."
"Admiral."
Carth raised his head off his hand again as Bastila approached, still disguised under the square hat and uniform of a military aide.
"What is it?"
She handed him a datapad, and he switched it on. Staring back at him was a news report from Onderon.
In the latest news today, the Onderon Space Force has confirmed a Republic military craft initiated the space battle over our planet.
Carth groaned. "What idiot went off and started shooting at Onderon's blockade?"
Bastila shook her head and motioned to the datapad.
Sources inside the military say the first shots of the massive battle were fired by the Republic vessel, the Ebon Hawk.
There were a few times Carth could describe his blood as "turning to ice" in his veins. When he realized Telos was under attack; while Taris was being bombed; when Karath had whispered Anna's true identity to him as the bastard laid dying on the bridge of the Leviathan. Watching the rear lights of the Hawk disappear from his current flagship during the Second Victory Tour.
And now.
"What?"
Bastila motioned again.
This ship is a capital-class vessel, and it destroyed 15 Onderonian military fighters before being destroyed by Colonel Tobin 's forces.
"What the fuck?" Several of the soldiers on his bridge turned towards him and he waved his hand.
"It gets worse," Bastila murmured, just loud enough for them to hear. "Keep going."
We expect Queen Talia to make an announcement later today. Whether her support of the Republic will falter because of this attack is unknown.
In the Council of Lords today, Lord Dashel recommended a special commendation for Colonel Tobin for his brilliant command of our armada in the skies above Onderon. "Without him," Lord Dashel said, "the Republic attack would surely have done more damage. Tobin is one of Iziz's greatest heroes and deserves recognition."
"Did we have any ships in orbit?"
"A few. I'm trying to reach out to them."
"Do you think..." Bastila looked away. "Don't."
She frowned and closed her eyes before shaking her head. "I... I think it's just propaganda, sir."
"All right. Good." He handed it back. "Monitor the situation, I'll get in touch with Dodonna. Helm?"
"Yes, sir."
"Enter the coordinates for Onderon, but don't confirm. Just be ready."
Trista threw herself back against the outcropping, her head falling against the ridge's stone base as she gasped for air. Smoke was still heavy around them, but the slight rise gave them some clear air, some protection from the fumes burning off the command center they had just fled.
Alek almost collapsed next to her, leaning on his knees as his back heaved, gulping in air. Around them the command staff that had fled with them fell to the ground, coughing out soot and gasping for the small pockets of fresh air in the billowing black fog.
"What happened?" Alek coughed out.
"Must have firebombed the post." Trista drew her hand across her forehead, and it came away almost soot-black. Flames roared up the trees in the distance, crackling as it devoured the surrounding wood. "Where's Revs?"
Alek's head shot up. "She was right behind us." He brushed soot off his head and turned back. "I'm going back."
"No!" Trista grabbed his arm, stopping his charge back toward the flames. "We're her seconds. If she's—"
He interrupted her with a toneless laugh. "If she's gone, we should give up."
"I'll go."
"No."
Something crashed in the trees next to them, and Trista and Alek went for their lightsabers. A second before igniting them, Alek stuck his hand into the smoke and pulled a small, masked, and hooded figure out of the darkness and in front of them.
"What kept you?" he demanded, holding her shoulders. Revan held up a finger, ripped her mask off, and coughed for an uncomfortably long time. She was covered in soot, turning her brown robe nearly black. Part of it was still on fire, and Trista stomped it out.
"Battle plans," Revan said, holding up a satchel in her hand. "If they'd gotten these, it'd be — excuse me." She coughed again. "It'd be bad. Ugh. I didn't think our plan would go this badly."
Alek coughed as a breeze blew smoke toward them for just a moment. "It was a good plan."
"A good plan?" Trista hissed, glancing at the command staff. They were recollecting themselves and trying to not look interested in the unfolding argument. "The plan was 'don't die!' That's a concept!"
"We're not dead," Alek said.
"And it's a perfectly good concept." Revan gestured around them. "Would you like to be dead?"
"Not the point! Force, you're impossible."
"I prefer irrepressible," Revan retorted. "All right. Alek, the right flank was faltering before the Mandos decided we were getting cold. Take Fenk, Aren, Berilyn, and Kalen and back it up. Tris, I think Daxar, Tel, Tarrex, and Cyrus are free. I'll—" She sighed and raised her hand to her ear. "We're still alive, Admiral. I—I don't think it's a good—Admiral, I, all right, fair. I'll be at the rendezvous."
Revan lowered her hand. "Tris, I need you to take Keldab'Bral."
Trista blinked, only partially because of the smoke still heavy in the air. "Revs, I — We need you here! This is the Mandalorian base, that's where their command is! What could be more important than that?"
"Something's come up. I'm sorry. I know you'll be able to do this." She clapped Trista on the shoulder and strapped her mask back on.
"But I — Revs, I could use your help. Do they have basilisks? Mines? Just soldiers? Or do we not even know? What am I walking into?"
"As soon as I can get fighters to do a sweep, I'll tell you. Alek?"
Alek leaned down and kissed the top of her mask. "I'll be fine. You be careful."
"Always am." The tail end of a cheeky grin echoed in her words as she slipped back into the smoke. It expanded in the silence after she left, enveloping Trista in its suffocating, black morass, sinking into her lungs, freezing her, even as the flames burned around her. It brought with it the screaming, the begging of the soldiers that had died on Keldab'Bral to mines or blasterfire or basilisk, all because of an impossible order that still rang in her ears like an annoying chirp —
—wait, that didn't make sense.
Trista jolted awake to the sound of her commlink. She fumbled for it, knocking something over. In a cot to her left, the Handmaiden sat upright, electrostaff in her hand in an instant.
"S'just me," Trista grumbled, finding her commlink and opening it with a pang of guilt. "S'ry, Atton."
"Stars' fucking sake, Tris." He did not sound happy. "I've been trying to get you for about two hours. You didn't come back to the ship."
"No, we ran into some issues." She rubbed her eyes with her hand as Mical and Mira stirred on their own cots. Visas had already sat up, staring out of the vheh'yaim as if she could see through it. "We're safe."
"Safe? You're in the frakking jungle."
"Yeah. Uh, turns out the Mandalorians are back." She rolled onto her back. "And, turns out their leader saw us land and desperately needed conversation. That outpost you spotted? That's theirs. So we've been here all night."
Atton was quiet for a moment as the others began waking up around her.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, we're fine. They just insisted it wasn't safe for us to leave after nightfall."
"They're probably right. The Murderbot's been sniping things since twilight. Need a rescue?"
She chuckled. "No, no, we're good. Mandalore's got a short range shuttle he uses to reach Iziz. If we impress him, or something, he'll take us there. It's safer than using the Hawk."
"Wait... Mandalore?"
"Oh. Uh, yeah. He... seems all right, for now at least." She wouldn't go further than that. It was already bad enough she felt like she understood him, to some point. "We'll be fine. Are the systems up enough the sensors can stay on?"
"Not quite. I only had them up because — well, I'm not worried about you. But I don't want you to get eaten by a jagrax either, you know?"
"I know. Turn them off as long as you need, Atton. Should we check in around 1800?"
"How about 1200, then 1800?"
"Fair. Talk to you then." Trista tucked the commlink back into her belt with a sigh. "Repairs still aren't done."
"It was too much to hope for," the Handmaiden said as she stood, shaking out her own cloak. "What is our goal for the day?"
"Hacking our way through impenetrable jungle to make the current leader of the Mandalorians happy, I guess." Trista stood. "Mical, you said there was a recruit missing?"
He nodded as he shook out his boots, checking for anything nasty that might have crawled in. "Name of Kumus. They're pretty sure he's dead, but want the gear back."
"Not surprised."
"There's also that guy working on their sensors," Mira said. "Zuka, I think. Said the cannocks ate the phase-pulse converter, but I don't know if you could figure something out."
"Our tech experts are down at the ship, but I'll look."
"The only other thing is the battle circle." The Handmaiden repeated Mical's ritual with her own boots. "However, when I offered to train with them, they insisted on facing a Jedi."
"Ugh." Trista scrubbed one of her eyes. Already, the jungle's humidity was soaking her skin. "We'll save that if we need it. I'm not in the mood to get my ass kicked in hand-to-hand today. Let's get moving."
They spent a good hour patching what she could of the Mandalorian systems — homesteading had left her with a few skills. But eventually they headed back for the gate, about to strike out into the jungle again. There they were stopped by the same ruddy-armored Mandalorian that had stuck his blaster in her face the day before.
"Morning, Jedi," he said. Trista forced her jaw to unclench. "We've called off patrols outside the camp because of the space battle. We usually get some entertainment out of clearing out the worst of the beasts. But without 'em, some of the larger ones might be around, and none of us will be there to bail you out of trouble. You've been warned."
"You called off your patrols for the battle? That was yesterday."
"Mm. Yes. But our sensors picked up three ships landing in the area right afterwards. We've accounted for two of them."
"Yeah," Trista said, "ours, and the Zhugs."
"The who?"
"The Duros — it's not important. What's the third?"
"Haven't found it yet. And if the Onderon military comes searching for them, we don't want them finding our base. It was some sort of freighter, didn't land in any of the usual spots. Knowin' the jungle, though, the crew's already dead."
Trista frowned, her eyes narrowing almost despite herself. "The Onderon military doesn't know you're here?"
"Nah. They're still bitter about the Wars."
"Ah. So what are these larger beasts we've got to worry about?"
"Well, we've got reports of a zakkeg wandering around here. They're an enjoyable challenge for Mandalorians." His head tilted, just enough. She knew goading when she saw it. "If you see one, stay out of its way. Without us to back you up, you'll be dead in seconds."
"It's been a while. What are we avoiding?"
"It's a huge, red lizard built like a Baragwin battle tank. Hide's so thick it may as well be durasteel plating. We keep clearin' them out, but they keep coming back. Like I said, tough opponents... for non-Mandalorians."
"Right, those things. What part of it do you want?"
He laughed. Trista raised her eyebrows. "Ha, you're serious? Strong words. It'd be amusing to see you try to kill such a beast — too bad I can't see it."
"More's the pity. Thanks for the warning."
I hate this place.
She took another step as the mantra rang in her head.
I hate this frakking place.
Trista swatted aside a branch, nearly snapping it in half.
So far they'd been successful, at the very least. Jerry-rig what they could in the camp, check. Cut a part out of a cannok? Somehow, check. Supply cache, check. Missing recruit? De-treed and returning. They'd even tracked down some scrap parts for Bao-Dur and Atton, and Trista had decided to head back toward the ship to drop them off, spend the night there, and make their way back to the camp in the morning.
If, well, the blasted jungle hadn't already grown back.
"Think we'll make it before sundown?" Mira asked, staring up at the canopy as it casts its shadows across the path. Trista sighed and drew her lightsaber, hacking through a vine ahead of them. It made her feel better.
"Here's hoping. If not, we'll be moving until we do."
Something growled in the distance, and she heard Mical's coat swish as his head jerked towards it. "Did you hear that?"
"Keep moving." She slashed a branch off a tree, where it'd broken to hang down across the path. "The stuff out here during the day is more afraid of you than you—"
"Cannoks," the Handmaiden said.
"Maalraas," Mira said.
"Those spider things we came across yesterday," Mical said.
"Oh, and the Duros brothers—"
"Okay, all right, I get it." Trista slashed another branch out of the way. "Nothing here is afraid of us, and everything wants to eat us."
With another hack, a confusingly fast-grown vine wall fell, and Trista stepped through into a clearing.
"This looks familiar, yeah?"
Mira glanced around for a moment."Yeah, that path'll take us back to the ship."
"Are you certain?" The negative energy Handmaiden had towards Visas was only slightly lessened for Mira.
"Yes, I'm certain." Unlike Visas, Mira wasn't content to be used as a punching bag. "Unlike some, I actually have a sense of direction."
"You two can bicker all you want back at the ship," Trista said, heading across the clearing. "Now, come o—"
She had half a second of warning as the Force screamed to her right, and Trista threw herself forward into a roll as she deactivated her weapon. She rolled back onto her feet as Mical yelled her name, and turned back — right into the face of a snarling, red, massively fanged, under-bitten maw, spitting bile and breath tainted by the odor of rotten prey.
Oh shit.
For a moment it felt like time stopped, like both she and the monstrously sized beast and her companions were suspended in time.
:For how infrequently you heed my counsel: Kreia said, :you require it just as frequently.:
:Little busy, Kreia.:
:And this is what I mean. When it suits you, you seem willing to listen. When it does not, I am interrupting.:
Nope, the zakkeg was definitely moving. It was just slowed, moving a centimeter every minute that this odd suspension lasted.
:Okay, okay, yeah. Go ahead, but —:
:This will hold until you release it. Consider that this conversation is happening quickly.:
Trista nodded, her eyes still on the microscopic movements of the zakkeg ahead of her.
:These beasts do not have the same higher order functions as sentients: Kreia continued. :Their minds are not fully formed, consumed with base instincts and urges, dominated by every breath and moment. Primal and unsophisticated.:
:Get to the point?: Trista asked, before remembering who she was talking to.
:Again, you remain ungrateful when—:
:Sorry, interior monologue getting the best of me again. Please continue.:
:Do you feel the creature ahead of you?:
:Yes.:
:Good. Beasts can be easier to affect than other sentients, but you must bridge the gap between your differences from theirs. Use the Force to create a barrier around its consciousness, with care and subtlety. Too heavy-handed, and you will anger it. Too light, and you will not control it.:
Trista focused, as well as she could with this creature so close to her. A wall, like a cage, around the bright spot of light ahead of her, separating it from her and her crew. Time snapped back into focus and she gasped as the creature's head whipped back. But the claws didn't descend on her, like she expected — instead, the zakkeg snarled again, sending small flecks of phlegm, slobber, and probably much worse over her. She winced.
:Good. Good.:
:Now what?:
:Whatever you desire... in reason. With practice, you might make any animal passive and pliable. But the cage you build is a fragile thing. Many things can break its hold — violence, orders that go against its instincts. For now, encouraging it to leave may suffice.:
:Sure. Sounds good.:
Trista drew a slow breath and sent a simple order to the zakkeg. Leave.
The creature snarled again, hissing, but then turned and stomped back toward the jungle, disappearing down a small wildlife trail. Trista released the breath she was holding, and that the rest of the world had returned to real-time hit her.
"Holy shit," Mira said. "You always been able to do that?"
"I have no idea," Trista breathed. "Let's, uh, let's just keep going until we get back to the ship, all right? Before it decides we did look like a tasty dinner."
