AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Was having some serious problems writing this chapter - which I intend to be a segway into the meat of the plot. I just hope it didn't turn into what Episode II was to Episodes I and III (that is, a pretty sad bridge to Anakin's growth from cute lil' scruff to Sith Lord extraodinaire. I apologize to ardent Episode II fans in advance - I didn't think it was horrible, just a little disappointing). Anyways, I hope this chapter doesn't come out too wooden or tedious; I want to thoroughly start to establish the relationship between Elori and Atton here, and highlight their similarities and pretty evident differences. Yes, I know, I'm awfully big on character development, but please bear with me!

Thanks again for the reviews so far - very much appreciated. I think they help fix some of my flaws as an amateur writer quite a bit.

The cantina on board the freighter was surprisingly to Atton's liking. Even after extracting all the credits that he had in his account (which he had mistakenly believed to be quite a tidy sum), they had discovered that they could only buy themselves passage on this half-decent freighter. After Elori's and his brief run-in with Alderaan's authorities, Atton could not have been in more of a greater rush to get off the planet. He needed some time to relax, someplace spacious and, he thought – a little guiltily – a little more opulent. He was hoping then, to travel in slightly more style and comfort than to what he was accustomed. If anything, it would serve as a relevant distraction. But five thousand credits together with a short time span was only enough to get them on board a merchant vessel, its quarters mostly filled to the brim with cargo. There were living quarters with bunks and refreshers, however, but they only served the purpose for which they were built. Nothing more. Elori had decided to retire earlier, but the close confines of his own room seemed a little too claustrophobic for Atton's momentary liking. Being quite restless, he decided to scope out the ship for a bit of activity.

Truth be told, given their initial introduction to their rooms and such, Atton only expected to find a grungy little nook, dimly lit and filled with acrid smoke and who-knew-what-else. Of course, it was those nooks that he was accustomed to and often sought solace in, but he felt a little differently today. It would be even better then, he thought, if life was more willing to cater to his needs.

Which was why he was delightfully surprised.

The cantina was cleaner than he had anticipated as well. Certainly, hazy smoke still wafted above the patrons, but it didn't seem as thick. The lights, too, weren't dangling from the ceiling by worn cords – they were embedded in the ceiling, their glow muted but warm. Above the bar hung an array of glasses, each one twinkling slightly from the soft incandescence. The bar itself was seated stolidly in the center of the room – the polished oak wood counter proudly catering to its clientele.

Atton stepped towards it and took a seat on a comfortable bar stool. The barman noticed him almost as soon as he had sat down, and approached him.

"Can I get you anything?" asked the barman.

"Give me a hit of Juma and keep 'em coming," replied Atton.

"Juma?" said the barman, his eyebrows raised. "My last customer who drank that had to be carried back to his room. You sure you don't want something lighter? I don't skimp on the alcohol when it comes to Juma."

"Do I look like a rookie to you?" said Atton, irritated. "I can handle myself. In fact, the more you spice it up, the better."

"You got it," grinned the barman.

Two minutes later, Atton beheld his drink and swirled it slowly watching the blue and violet colours infuse. It looked almost beautiful in this light, and he thought it a shame should he finish it. But then, that would only suggest that he get some more, wouldn't it?

He took a large swig of his drink, and licked his lips.

Four empty glasses of Juma sat on the counter, with a fifth ready to follow suit. Atton finished the rest of it and gestured to the barman to bring him some more. The barman acknowledged him and turned his back to Atton as he prepared the beverage.

He sure does make a wicked Juma, thought Atton. Pity it hasn't really gone to my head though. Atton was very aware of his tolerance for alcohol, and he certainly knew that his threshold was quite high for a man of his stature. He liked to think that it was a pleasing side-effect of his past career as smuggler, soldier, thief, murderer...but the real reason pulsed deeper in his veins. So deep in fact, that to unearth feelings such as those would prove to be true torment. But as immune as he was to the effects of alcohol, it always did seem to penetrate certain barriers. The barrier to emotional recognition, he thought. Part of him wished he could have come up with a better apology to Elori, not a stuttered explanation as to why he had chosen to take up his old career – even if for a brief time.

There are times, he realized, when everything ceased to matter. Gone was passion, desperation, humiliation...feeling. And during these moments, if death wasn't an option, there existed several ways to remain afloat. Reluctant as he was to help his old friend Ges, out, the job carried with it a semblance of his past. Not only did he excel at it, but he was aware of that fact. The chances of him getting paid a delicious sum of credits for the job rose dramatically, considering that he had had past experience. He ignored the downside of having accepted that opportunity, which in hindsight he recognized was foolish.

It brought back too many memories; many of them too vivid to for his liking. His plans and protocol were still too familiar to him, he remembered the detailed steps involved in capturing Jedi...what to look out for, what not to do. It was almost second nature to him now. Atton recalled a situation in which he was instructed to travel to Telos shortly after the Mandalorian Wars. The Telosian Jedi Academy was no more, it had seemed that the Jedi had decided to relocate their institution elsewhere. At any rate, he was given information to follow two Jedi who were conducting an investigation into corruption of some sort or the other. At the time, all he had been instructed to do was to lay low and trail the pair, and report back should the situation warrant it. It was a little too easy for him, given his natural abilities to avoid suspicion and detection. But later he was given new instructions – ones that he knew would test his mettle – he was to capture one of the Jedi, and do away with the other. The problem was that the younger of the pair was a Padawan, she could not have been more than ten or eleven. His superiors expressed no interest in her; they had advised that Atton could do whatever he pleased with her, provided that she was terminated eventually. But the latter was to be apprehended alive without a public commotion. A dead Jedi would mean no credits, and a public commotion would mean...well, unabashed punishments for him.

Initially, this prospect seemed too intimidating. It was true that he had a personal taste of war; he had, in fact, fought both Republic and Sith forces. But that was war, and war was permanently shackled to murder and death. This type of stealthy assault had been new to him, and he wasn't quite sure that he liked it. Atton had just gathered up his courage to suggest that someone else undertake this task, when the makings of a plan had slowly crept into his mind.

Knowing full well that there was often a bond between a Jedi Master and a Padawan, he saw an opportunity. An opportunity to exploit that connection. He laid low for a few more days, analyzing and evaluating their routine, trying to determine which moment would prove most opportune. When it did arrive, he had managed to lure them into an empty Pazaak den with a false lead playing the dangling carrot. Atton had gone through a lot of trouble to ensure that the lead did not reek of danger, that it tread the delicate line of unimportance and relevance. Fortunately for him, his "lead" had provided tempting enough for the Jedi to follow. Unfortunately for the Jedi, however, they had been enticed into a trap. And it wouldn't be long before they recognized it for what it was.

At first, it had been easy for him to engage the Padawan alone, while she was out of her Master's line of sight. But their Force connection soon told all, and within the span of a few minutes, her Master was brandishing his lightsaber all but a few feet in front of Atton...and truth be told, he was as scared as hell. Not many choices flashed before his eyes, but of the few that did was that he had the one bargaining chip that could save his life. Atton had held the Padawan firmly but not unkindly at first. However, seeing as how the walls were closing in on him, a more ruthless side of him began to take over. He had shoved the butt of his pistol harder into the Padawan's temple causing her Master to heed Atton's warning, and back down. Atton had nodded in the direction of the Jedi's lightsaber, which then lay in the grip of its owner, indicating that it should be tossed aside or else. The Jedi had done so.

All the while, Atton could feel the invisible reach of his opponent, trying to creep his way into Atton's mind; attempting to decipher his thoughts, read his plans. But pazaak numbers trafficked within Atton's head, rendering his adversary's probing useless; an effect that served to confuse the Jedi more than it aided him. It was very tiring for Atton, however, and despite his success at luring the pair into his trap, he found it very difficult to seal the deal. That is, capturing a Jedi took some serious improvisation. Finally, he quickly snatched up a syringe out of his pocket, opened its cap with his teeth (all the while keeping his eyes on the Jedi), and demanded that the Jedi jab the full dose of the syringe's contents into his thigh. The tranquilizer had been a plan B of sorts; he had taken it along in case his captive regained consciousness after a fight, or who knew what else. As it turned out, it had come in very handy. The Jedi, fearing for the life of his Padawan, reluctantly accepted the syringe, and slowly plunged the needle into his flesh, watching his Padawan's fearful face as the liquid began to seep into his bloodstream.

A minute into the injection, the Jedi's eyelids began to droop and he staggered around woozily – finally collapsing onto the floor. Unconscious that he still had the butt of his pistol pressed up against the Padawan's temple, Atton bided his time for several moments to ensure that the Jedi was truly knocked out. He knew the Jedi were trained to resist a variety of poisons and such, and Atton certainly wasn't prepared to take a chance merely based on impatience. But the tranquilizer was dutifully true to its reputation – potent and effective – it had done the job well. Atton only hoped that it hadn't done it too well; and that the Jedi was still alive – it was quite possible that he had received a larger than normal dose.

But now, fully aware that he had a Padawan to deal with, and a traumatized one at that, he lost his cool. Part of him needed for her to be let go; it was the right thing to do considering her recent experience. But his rationale insisted that this would only lead to more trouble, that if he started the job then he ought to finish it, and finish it well. Night was morphing into morning, and he had to make a quick decision. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his grip on the trigger and pulled it. He listened for the sound of the laser bolt, but nothing came out. The damned thing hadn't been charged!

The Padawan wasted no time in seizing her chance. She struggled and quickly broke free – running flat out towards the nearest exit. Panic seized Atton and like a starving predator after its prey, he threw himself bodily onto the Padawan, knocking her to the floor. He pressed his entire weight on her much smaller body, allowing for her only the freedom to writhe and let out muffled cries for help. Out of the corner of his now-bloodshot eyes he detected some movement and it wasn't long before he recognized the Jedi's lightsaber slowly but assuredly moving towards him. Atton yelled out in anger and viciously turned the Padawan onto her back. She had lost her focus on the lightsaber – there was no danger now for him now. He stared at her face, her chin was grazed and there was a slight trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. But her eyes...her eyes, surprisingly, were not fearful.

And that angered him.

After all he'd done, after all he'd inflicted on her and her master, why wasn't she trembling before him? Why wasn't she begging?

He would give her reason to, he decided. It made him feel powerful; the idea of being able to decide the fate of another human being. And a Jedi, at that. Unable to restrain himself, he brought his hands slowly up to her neck – whether he did this slowly or not, he could not remember; the moment itself seemed transient – and locked his fingers around it in a vice-like grip. He didn't really feel her movement underneath him – all his energy, all his hatred, was fixated on extinguishing the life in front of him.

And soon, his want was fulfilled.

"All I'm saying, son, is that that's your seventh glass, and I'm obligated to – for your best interest and mine – to tell you stop," spoke the barman sternly, but not unkindly. His face was passive – there were no visible signs of frustration or anger...and Atton felt that familiar spark in his temper; why wasn't this idiot throwing him out of this cantina? Doesn't anyone react to anything anymore?

Atton was about to spurt out a nasty little retort when he felt a hand on his shoulder. This only added more fuel to the fire, and he spun around on his stool, swiping the hand away. He looked up to see Elori staring at him in surprise. Her astonishment quickly dissipated and was replaced by anger of her own.

"You know, it's a wonder no one's flung you out of the airlock yet." she said.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant, but his frown remained. He swung his barstool around, deliberately turning his back to her and spoke to the barman. "I'm not paying you to stand there and breathe, keep those Jumas coming,"

Elori fixed her gaze on the barman and said, "He doesn't need anymore," and then on seeing the barman's confused face, "I'll take it from here, don't worry."

"Like hell you will." muttered Atton. He stood up straighter in his seat, and the corner of his mouth curled as he sneered at her. "General Mataki, former aide de camp to Revan. Always on top of things, always responsible, always in control...with that many commendations I'm surprised you're not weighted down with the medals you were given. Oh wait...you didn't receive any, did you? Because you refused...was that it? How very honourable of you."

Atton looked sideways at her, hoping his provocation garnered some kind of response. But as usual, she was –

Suddenly, Elori seized him by the scruff of his jacket and yanked him off his stool. Her grip was strong; stronger than he had anticipated. He didn't know if he should have been embarrassed or annoyed, but his thoughts weren't granted much leeway since she obviously wasn't through with him. He felt himself being thrust onto the cold floor and then roughly picked up again. Part of Atton wanted to resist, but whether it was the effects of the alcohol or something else, he found his ability to fight considerably diminished. He was half-dragged out of the cantina and through a myriad of corridors back into his room, all the while muttering obscenities under his breath as Elori hauled him along wordlessly.

She flung him onto his bunk and shut the door. "Are you quite finished?"

Atton scowled back up at her. "Plenty more where that came from, sister," he said.

"Are you looking for a fight, Atton?" she asked, her tone dangerously calm now.

"That depends. Are you offering me one?"

"Are you looking for a fight or for someone to blame for your mistakes?" she repeated. He maintained his angry gaze on her, and remained silent. "Because within the span of a few hours, you've managed to tell everyone on this goddamned boat that I served with Revan and was a soldier in the Mandalorian wars. It won't be long before someone puts two and two together and realizes I used to be a Jedi."

Then Atton opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off angrily. "You shut up when I'm speaking to you!" His lips closed back together again and despite his stupor, he managed to fix his attention on the skinny woman before him. "And those aren't the least of your mistakes either! You chose your path, you chose to kill...you chose to destroy lives. Force knows, I did the same thing. But there's a pretty large gap between you and me Atton. I'm paying for those lives I took. Every single day. Maybe...maybe until the day I die. I'm not looking to pin it on someone else."

He started to rise from his bunk, summoning up a coherent rebuttal. "You think I haven't paid?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Do you honestly think I haven't suffered for the things I've done? What do you want me to do, Elori? Cut off a bit of my heart every day until there's nothing left? Someone who I thought could actually love me...hell, you know, I think she really did – left me because she couldn't stand for what I'd done. Things so repulsive; I'm so filthy that I have to make it through each day as another person. There's just no tolerating who I really am."

"You want sympathy then, Atton? You won't get any from me. And you know Yustan left you because of her commitment to being a Jedi. I tried to tell you earlier that she was unhappy with her decision, but you...you would have none of it. If you want to believe what your head tells you, then you go right ahead."

Atton swallowed, unable to hold back his bitterness; that which he was so accustomed to. "You should have left me on Alderaan."

"But I didn't, did I?"

"I don't need any favours from you or anybody. I don't want to have to owe anybody anything." he retorted.

Elori pursed her lips together. "The gesture was a gift. From one friend to another. Not a loan."

"Yeah...well, you don't choose your friends well – that much is obvious."

"Nonetheless, it is my decision. And I'll suffer the consequences, if there are any." she said, almost on the verge of another outburst. She watched quietly for a moment as Atton's face fell, and then spoke a little more gently, reigning in her temper. "Look, it's just that...well, I'm doing this because it's what I would have wanted someone to do for me."

"And no one did?" he asked, momentarily intrigued.

"No, someone did," she said smiling, as her thoughts turned to Yura, "And she taught me...so many things. I wasted too much time, Atton, waiting for something to change. I expected ridiculous things. I thought the Council would help me, forgive me – that they would let me off with only a warning. And when it didn't happen, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. It's just...hard to explain. I didn't have this sense of belonging. It was as if the past had ruined my future, but the worst thing was that it was all through my own doing. Now that was a bitter pill to swallow." She sat down on the edge of the bed as her shoulders drooped. "But meeting you, Yustan, Javin...it seemed like I was handed a clean slate that I obviously didn't deserve. I'm not about to throw it away on account of indulging in self-pity." She turned to Atton, her eyes looking pleadingly into his, hoping to appeal to his gentler nature. "And you've been given that same chance, don't you see? And for some reason, I can't just sit idly by and watch you throw it into the gutter."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Of course."

He took a deep breath. Half of him wanted to prolong this argument while his other half urged him to pour out his soul. About Yustan, the Jedi, the Sith, everyone. But an offensive front was one which he had known his entire life. It made people back off, it made them realize he was certainly not worth the trouble. It made him tough. He had known kindness; but its touch was fleeting – almost like dappled sunlight. It was too evasive, and frankly, if it did not want to come to him, then he certainly wouldn't come to it.

He shook his head, still mistrustful. "Nah. I appreciate you taking on this charity case, Elori, I really do. I think you should be commended for putting up with me for the short time you did. But let's face it, deep down, you're still a Jedi. Once you've used me, once you've got what you want...then you'll just let me hang for all you care."

She leapt up quickly to her feet, and stood directly in front of him. Her eyes pierced his own, and even though her body was a shadow of her former self, he had no doubt that she derived her strength from elsewhere.

Just as he revved himself up for another war of words, he felt a heavy blow to his stomach. His breath rushed out of his lungs quicker than ever as her knuckles dove into his flesh, and he crumpled to the floor. After several seconds, he managed to hoist himself onto his knees, one hand still on the floor and the other holding his injured abdomen.

"Get up, Atton." came her voice. Damn, it sounded cold, he realized. "Get up or I'm going to hit you again."

He staggered to his feet, his pride wounded. But he managed to meet her gaze nevertheless. This time he saw her fist swing towards the side of his head, and this time he was able to stop it. He thought he detected the hint of a smile on her face, but he was still rather inebriated and was able to only concentrate on one thing at a time. Elori took advantage of this momentary loss of focus, and directed a blow to his left cheekbone. His head reeled with the impact and for a second all he could see was blinding white light.

She wasn't fighting like a Jedi, he realized. If she was, there was a chance he could've previsioned her movements. But he couldn't sense the Force, and it was obvious that her actions were more offensive and less defensive – the latter very characteristic of Jedi in most situations.

In the next moment she had yanked him forward by his arm, pulling him in front of her. Within seconds, she had him half-standing before her, her arm choke-holding him. Whenever he tried to react, the hold grew stronger and his sight grew dimmer.

She snarled at him. "What's the matter Atton? Cat got your tongue?" He let out a heaving rasp, and she laughed sardonically. "I thought you were tough, I thought you were a survivor." Another heaving breath emanated from his throat. "But look at you. You're about ready to drown in your own vomit. What's that?" she asked, allowing for Atton to let out some ragged words.

"I...know..."

"You know? What do you know?"

"Air...Elori..."

"You mean you want me to let go?" she asked. Atton attempted to nod, but his body wasn't responding appropriately. "Why should I?" she asked again.

"Don't...wanna die..."

She lowered her mouth to his ear, and whispered softly but clearly into it. "I'm just offering you a one-way ticket to where you want to go – albeit a faster route. But the choice is yours. And frankly, I'm in no mood to help someone who doesn't want to help themselves." She relaxed her grip on his throat somewhat, "If you want to go your own way, then go. But make sure you do a better job of hiding than the last time. There's no chance in hell I'll stick my neck out for you again. Now what's it going to be?"

"...I don't want to die," he murmured.

Elori let loose a heavy breath, and flung Atton away from her. He slid across the floor, his head hitting a cabinet with a thud. He grimaced in pain, and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he saw her silhouette in the doorway.

"Then start living." she said, before shutting the door behind her.

The following day found Atton sleeping heavily in his bunk, a pillow over his head, muffling his sporadic snores. As the unconsciousness of sleep dwindled, he became more aware of the throbbing pain at the back of his head. No, the side of his head. Within a matter of seconds, his whole body began to remember what his mind did not; steady aches swept across several joints and muscles - he felt as if he had been tenderized by a vibrostick. Damned Jumas – they were even more potent than usual. Suddenly it dawned on him that the alcohol wasn't the sole culprit, as the events of the night before slid back into memory.

If he had expected anything of Elori, that surely wasn't it. A loquacious lecture perhaps, but certainly not a pummeling. It was as if she had walked boldly into his thoughts, not his everyday memories or imaginings, but the thoughts that had been carefully sealed and tucked away. The ones that not even Jedi could get to. And, he thought sarcastically, it didn't take her very long to release those emotions. It made him feel terribly uncomfortable. If he'd thought her a Jedi before, she certainly wasn't anymore.

Before he could give any more thought to the matter, the door to his cabin hissed open.

Speak of the devil, he thought, as Elori strode in, her arms crossed in front of her. Her face wore an expression of concern.

"We've got to get off at the next port." she said, cutting through pleasantries.

Atton managed to prop himself up in his bunk, as he looked at her groggily, processing the implication of her words. "What? Why?"

"Because there's a possibility someone's figured out that I was a Jedi. Or still believes I am."

His mind laboured too sluggishly for his liking. "You mean...there's Sith on board?"

Elori shook her head and spoke slowly, last night's beating and this morning's hangover weren't doing Atton's senses any favour. "No. I mean there's quite a hefty bounty on my head. There are plenty of people on this freighter, Atton. Chances are that sooner or later, someone is going to collect."

Atton rubbed his midriff, grimacing at the recollection of his beating. "I feel sorry for them."

She couldn't help but smile. "Be that as it may, I would rather avoid any more...entanglements. We don't need any extra attention," she scratched the side of her head thoughtfully. "We were going to get off at Deralia, but seeing as how that's a good two days of travel from where we're at, I'd rather we left this boat sooner."

"Well, where's the next port then?" asked Atton.

"Naboo," she answered. "Republic-friendly territory, and seeing as how I had the intent of going there initially – "

"When?"

"Oh, about a year ago."

"Why?"

She paused, reluctant to offer explanations of her past and that of Javin's as well. "It's just...something that had to do with the Jedi before the Mandalorian wars." She studied Atton's face closely to see if he was buying it, but he remained detached to this piece of news. She continued, "Anyway, the way I see it, Naboo's a stop we have to make whether we like it or not."

"Do you think Alderaan's authorities are in cahoots with Naboo's?" he asked, worried that they might both be fugitives on this planet as well.

Elori shrugged. "Probably. But I doubt that Devon would put our faces out there next to some of the most wanted criminals. My guess would be that if we keep a low profile, we should be alright."

Atton demurred, "I suppose it's like you said. We don't really have a choice."

"Well, technically speaking, I don't have a choice. You do. You're free to do whatever you want. If you want to part ways, then this would be a good time."

He looked back up at her, trying to ascertain whether this gesture was bait to ensnare him into another argument – the consequences of their last one was particularly harsh, and he daren't tempt fate again. But it was near impossible to read her emotions at this instant, and he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt – perhaps her offer was genuine. "Nah, I think I'll tag along," he decided, "You gotta have someone to take out your anger on."

Elori couldn't help but feel embarrassed. She smiled, "I...owe you an apology for last night," and on seeing him smirk, "...the least I could have done is to wait until you're fully recovered from your hangover. Give you a fighting chance."

Atton massaged the back of his neck as he spoke, "I suppose. But I'd rather we not do that again. Drunk or no." He sighed, "But you know, as hard as you are to figure out sometimes, it's easy to see why you did what you did. I'm only surprised you hadn't kicked my sorry ass before."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she admitted.

"I'm sure," laughed Atton, "but seriously, I...I think I need to move on in a different direction. Maybe do something...uh...useful for once. You know."

Elori nodded.

"And...if there's a chance that we might see her again," Atton found it difficult to mention Yustan's name, "then that would give me even more reason to come with you."

"I have to admit, some company along the way is much appreciated," she said gratefully as Atton started moving around his cabin, placing what few items he had into a tattered rucksack.

As he busily packed his belongings, he asked, "So what exactly happened? Who tipped you off?"

Elori sighed and sat down on the edge of his bunk. "It's a long story."

Atton paused and turned, holding a white shirt in his hand. "Well, it's not like either one of us is gonna teleport off this ship this instant..."

"Alright," she relented, "It probably happened a few hours after I left you last night..."

SIX HOURS AGO

Elori walked purposefully down the corridor towards her room. Her face was dark and she was in no mood for conversation or solace. Atton's recent behavior had pushed her steadily towards the brink of breaking bones. Which she had very nearly done, she suddenly realized. Letting go of the reigns as she had gave her a momentary rush; but it was only comparable by a trace to what she had succumbed to on Coruscant. Who she had become back then. Someone utterly capable of betraying and destroying her friends.

We'll have no more of those thoughts, she decided, snatching those memories away from the grip of self-pity. The past is past, use it only as a guide, not as a lash to embitter the soul.

Tired now, she unlocked the door to her room and as she was about to enter, the toe of her boot touched something, letting out a soft, unmistakable metallic clink. In the dim hallway, she discerned the rectangular outline of what appeared to be a datapad. She picked the datapad up and following a cursory examination of it, looked around the hallway for its owner. There was no one to be seen.

She strode into her room and sat on her bunk, her mind preoccupied by the presence of the new object. Elori switched it on and within a few seconds the screen flickered to life. Her eyes scrutinized the distinct Basic characters, as she read the note that she hoped did not spell trouble.

I mean no harm by leaving this message for you; in fact, I hope that it will cause you to avoid the dangers which you could possibly face if you disregard my warning. I have stood idly by for far too long – allowing for others to suffer as I focused on nothing but self-preservation. I suppose it is a culmination of past events that leads me to reach out to you. And I fervently hope that you will treat this as a serious matter. For once, my interests are not placed in front of another's. For the first time in a long time, my gesture will help protect.

Elori placed the datapad on the bed beside her, and began to undo her boots. Whoever it was, they were surely going out of their way to convince her of their legitimacy and sincere intentions. But there existed several who were assured that a lie was a truth, and who believed wholeheartedly that their ideals and motives possessed no flaws. It was these people, then, who one had to be most cautious about, not the swindlers or the liars. For while swindlers and liars would stop short of doing harm to themselves, true believers would endure severe trials to reach their ends. Often at the costly expense of others.

Pushing her boots to a side with her foot, she drew her knees up to her chest and continued to read.

There are many eager ears on this ship, and because of time's fleeting nature, I must be short and frank. Rumour, which of this moment exists as idle chatter, has it that you are a Jedi. There are many who remain unconvinced of this fact (for a fact is what I believe it to be), but news travel fast and I cannot hide that there are some whose attentions you have stirred. It won't be long before the pieces fall into place. Some of the people on board have some questionable and notorious connections, and sensing that you are someone who wishes to avoid undue attention, you would be well-advised to follow my counsel.

Oh boy, breathed out Elori. The warning appeared to be the ramblings of a deluded mind. In fact, it seemed to be almost drenched in the beliefs of semi-fanatic – someone who saw darkness and despair at every turn – who saw his life's purpose in thwarting it, and who lived in a fantasy akin to an overly dramatic holovid. Be that as it may though, she simply could not dismiss the matter for what it was. Something about her verdict did not smell right. Perhaps all they wanted was to be bothersome, until a sufficient amount of credits were thrust under their nose. Or perhaps the warning was sincere.

Either way, she thought, what was the harm in checking this out?

Maybe this is entrapment, prodded her conscience. Maybe by coming forth you're proving a point they had suspected for a good while now; that you were a Jedi and that the price on your head still carries good weight in these parts.

But given that she had already crossed the line of restraint (she couldn't help but cringe when she recalled her recent outburst at Atton), she wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to be overly cautious and read on.

I could tell you the reasons for why my fears are founded, and a large part of me wishes to do so, seeing as how you must already have come to a decision about my lucidity. (I doubt it's a favourable judgment, but no matter. You can decide for yourself.) But I cannot take a risk in allowing for prying eyes to stumble upon this message. It's best that you hear the truth from my own mouth and as soon as possible.

I will meet with you near the storage lockers on the fifth deck, and we can converse in relative privacy there. I will come to you, so I urge you not to approach any strangers with the belief that one of them might be me. When I see you, I shall shake you by the hand and call you "Captain" and that should spare the both of us some confusion.

I understand that all this must come as a bit of surprise and that you would be foolish to withhold skepticism, which is why you can bring with you any arms that you deem necessary for your own peace of mind. This will help convince you that I am not seeking your acquaintance to cause you any harm.

I hope, for your sake and that of your companion, that this plea reaches you.

A friend.

And it ended there, rather abruptly. Elori blinked her eyes in partial disbelief. Well, so there it was. The entire situation suddenly broke itself down into its elements – her so-called friend was either telling the truth or he wasn't. Should she choose to ignore his overtures, there would be no way of knowing if his appeals were honest or not. In foresight she knew that if she came to that decision, this night would prove to be a sleepless one.

Oh well, she decided, there's only one way to find out.

Just as her messenger had promised, the storage rooms on deck five were devoid of bustling activity. Well, any activity, for that matter. As she walked slowly down the makeshift, interlocking passages lined with large, yet full, storage spaces, she kept a wary eye out for her mysterious friend. The rooms were unremarkable; each looked as banal as the next – save for the stacking of several containers atop one another, and the sour-metallic odour emanating from the crates. Through a gap in the stacks, she detected movement and made her way towards it.

A man, much older than Elori, emerged from the shadows almost as cautiously as she did. For a minute, his features were indiscernible in the dim lighting, but as the darkness slid away from his face, she noticed his weathered countenance, and met his tired eyes with her own.

"Captain?" came the voice, sounding unnaturally young for one who appeared to be so aged.

She nodded, recognizing that perhaps he may not be as old as his demeanor suggested.

He held out his hand. As she grasped it, she noticed that it was quite smooth, not weather-ridden or wrinkled. "Torus Reese," he said, as he introduced himself. "A pity we have to meet under such circumstances."

"Elori," she responded. "And what circumstances exactly are we um...under?"

Torus Reese's eyes darted about; as if they caught sight of invisible spies skulking about. "I could cut to the chase...would you like me to cut to the chase?" he offered, his voice wavering slightly.

If the man was anything, Elori realized, he was certainly paranoid. Either that, or he was waiting for reinforcements. Almost as if he could decipher her train of thought, he said, "There's no one else here, I promise. I've waited here about two hours straight. No one bothers with this place until after we dock."

Elori stared at him, her patience was wearing thin. If the man was indeed delusional, then she would prefer that that conclusion be reached sooner rather than later. At the same time, however, she didn't want to insinuate or let on that she thought him a little unhinged. Who knew what could ensue if that were to happen? "Torus, it's very kind of you to reach out to me and warn me, but unless you tell me what I'm supposed to be so frightened of, I can't...well, take any measures against this enemy."

Torus nodded and massaged the bridge of his nose. His voice sounded tired. "I'm being hunted, by cretins within Czerka, the Exchange...at this point it's hard to distinguish one enemy from the other. My sole purpose so far has been to stay alive."

"You're a Jedi then?" asked Elori, as a small piece of the puzzle began to orient itself correctly. Perhaps there might be a shred of truth to his anxious speculations.

"Yes. I've been on this freighter for a good week now. I was tempted to get off at Alderaan – so tempted...they have procedures by which they've set up protection for Jedi. But stepping into programs like that is like having a spotlight shone on you wherever you go. Those measures simply aren't enough."

"I can't protect you from bounty hunters, Torus," explained Elori gently, "But you can travel with us for a short while, if it'll give you some peace of mind."

Torus shook his head. "Where one Jedi is bad, two is worse," he said, refusing her offer.

"I'm not a Jedi,"

He sighed, displaying some frustrations of his own. "It doesn't matter what I think. People are beginning to figure out that you served Revan – and that means that you were a Jedi at one point or another. Chronology and technicalities are irrelevant. As far as they can see, or can accept, you're a Jedi."

She fixed her gaze on Torus, trying exhaustingly to mask her bewilderment. She certainly hadn't expected Atton's slip of the tongue to propagate news so swiftly. "It's just a rumour," she said, trying to dwindle his interests at least.

Her effort didn't dissuade him. "In my experience, those who try hard to stifle a rumour are those who're stifling a truth." Torus placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look, it's like I said: my opinions are irrelevant. Even if I'm convinced, there are others who will not be."

"I've evaded bounty hunters before," said Elori, her confidence evidently wavering.

"My dear friend, the bounty hunters aren't what I came to warn you about. There are...other elements playing a part in our lives." Torus gestured to a crate behind Elori. After she was seated on it, he continued. "Has it ever occurred to you why our numbers are decimating so rapidly?"

"Well I thought that with the prices on our heads that many bounty hunters – "

" – it would take an army of bounty hunters to cause such dramatic effects," interrupted Torus. "No, there are other factors at stake. The Sith, for example."

"The Sith?" blurted Elori. "Revan defeated them. Malak's armada...the Star Forge, it's all been destroyed."

"Let's just say that there's a more subtle force at work here. I've seen them..." he murmured, his voice tapering off into silence, as he walked into a memory he obviously did not enjoy. Elori thought she saw him shudder. "They travel in the shadows, take human form but yet...are not one of us. I've never even caught a glimpse of their faces. They're masked – they are. By a veil of black cloth," Torus swept his hand across his face, dramatizing his narration. "They're more prevalent than we had originally believed. And cunning. Whoever they take their orders from – it definitely wasn't Malak."

Elori leaned in closer. She toed the line tentatively between belief and disbelief once again. "They're not human?" she repeated, "How can you be so sure?"

"No multicellular creature – sentient or no – can withstand what they did. I remember...when we were cornered, my companion lashed out – our enemy took a pretty hefty gash to his chest. But he just stumbled – enough for us to make our getaway. But he continued to pursue us, running as if he had merely been scratched."

Elori's eyes narrowed. He certainly seemed terrified of this new menace; but the threat seemed as if it fit into a good old fashioned yarn; not a recollection of reality past. However, Torus spoke earnestly, with fear evident in his eyes. The least she could do was attempt to comprehend both him and his warnings. "Where do they come from?"

Torus glanced behind him nervously, and then turned back to Elori. "We don't really know, but..."

"...but what?" persisted Elori impatiently. "Any information is crucial, Torus."

"There has been some mention of embodiment of the dark side – " he began.

" – the Sith'ari?" asked Elori. "Every Jedi knows about that,"

"No, no. The Sith'ari is the culmination of every Sith teaching – the perfect being of the Sith. It's what they strive to attain, but something that they have never reached. I believe it's more of a philosophical plain. This is different. I've heard my masters speak of some teachings in Sith holocrons. About how Exar Kun discovered paths to create a semi-being; borne of the dark side, with no will of its own save its master. Initially, we dismissed our speculations to hearsay – even our masters said that the information was never properly validated. But the more we studied these creatures, the more convinced we were that that was what they are. Or at least, that's closest explanation we could garner."

"Can they be stopped?" asked Elori.

"You can destroy one, yes." replied Torus. "But for every loss they suffer, it seems that more emerge. In different places, yes. They're becoming braver, if one could say that. They still dwell in the shadows but they don't retreat from a fight as much anymore. Or at least that's what I've heard."

"I see," said Elori, apparently still at a quandary over which of his declarations were truthful and which weren't. Past experience had taught her that no matter how tight the corner, one should always keep an open mind. Now that wasn't to say that she should swallow whatever came her way, but alternative choices were always handy to have. Perhaps this man was honest, or perhaps he wasn't. Either way, it couldn't do much harm to keep in mind his story – extra precautions on her part would serve to aid rather than hinder.

"What do you suggest I do then, Torus?" she asked.

He placed his hands on knees and looked at her square in the eyes. He spoke vehemently, "You should be vigilant, friend. Trust to no one. If you still have friends or loved ones, I suggest you remove yourself far from them. No harm will come to them if they're not in your presence. This threat seeks the Jedi only."

Elori couldn't help but sigh. "It's just quite a bit to take in...especially all at once. I suppose we could get off at the next port..."

"That's what I would do," concurred Torus. "I would seek refuge someplace; away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. I would seek exile."

Elori said nothing in response, her mind lost in turbulent thoughts.

THE PRESENT

"So that's it?" Atton almost yelped. "We're ditching our plans on account of that weirdo and his ghoulies?"

Elori held up her hands in pacification. "I didn't say I believed him, now did I?"

"You didn't have to!" retorted Atton.

"All I'm saying is that I have to make a stop at Naboo anyway, so this little direction we're about go in fits in pretty well." said Elori, trying to defend her decision.

"You still didn't answer my question. Does that kook have you going on about those Sith delinquents now too?"

She rose from the bunk, palms slightly cold. "Maybe...I...I don't know yet, Atton! For Heaven's sake! I don't know! I could ignore him and throw caution to the wind, but if...if he's right, then we've got a lot more to worry about than bounty hunters. And frankly, it makes better sense to keep his warnings in mind than to dismiss everything he's said just because we think he's the local nutter."

Atton breathed out heavily in frustration. And then more softly, he said, "He most probably is the local nutter. Now, I'm not denying that people on board are figuring out who you are – but that may be the only truth to his tale."

"Why would he lie, Atton? What does he stand to gain from it?"

"Nothing. That's why," began Atton, holding his index finger in the air purposefully, "he's the local nutter."

Elori rolled her eyes, evidently stymied at Atton's dogged attempts to disprove Torus' motives and his stories. Recognizing that no truths could be uncovered through this sort of back-and-forth banter, she said, "You can still stay here, if you want. Do whatever you please. I'm not your keeper."

Atton stared at her for a few seconds, before his deadpan expression broke into a stifled laugh. She almost looked as if she was about ready to sit down and sulk. "Now I didn't say that I wouldn't tag along." He paused briefly. The frown still hadn't left her face. "All I did say...and am saying, is that this whole Sith zombie thing sounds like a tale of yore. Fearful, loathsome creatures stalk the galaxy once more..." He stretched his arms out in front of him, and walked around the small room, mimicking an undead monster he'd seen in a holovid. "If you listen carefully, you can hear their whispers: Jedi, Jedi..."

She scowled at him; his dramatization drawing from her more ire. "You know something? I hope they are real. And if they are, I hope they come and get you first of all." She turned her back on him, and before walking out the door said, "We're leaving in three hours."

Atton gave out a victorious little chuckle.