ONE
Pellek Tran concentrated only on the angle of her blade as she slashed through the jungle. Upper left to lower right, spin to upper right, down to lower left. Spin back to upper left and repeat. Keeping the pattern was harder than it looked because of the dangling vines and low roots that caught at her clothing and feet. Sweat dripped down her neck and collected unpleasantly in the small of her back.
"Lovely technique, Pel. If the Jedi needed a lightsaber form for brush clearing, I'm sure they would name it after you."
"Bugger off, Atton." She didn't even look in his direction, just kept her eyes on her work. The clearing was supposed to be only meters away.
Atton jumped into her path, and she jerked her blade away out of habit. The pilot stood there with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face. Pellek sighed. "What?" she asked finally.
"We've been out here for days. What are we doing?"
"I told you, some kind of monster attacked a team of Queen Talia's explorers. She wants to colonize Dxun, but she can't get anyone to volunteer because of the attack." She pushed past him and started slashing toward the clearing again.
Atton fell in behind her. "I can think of someone who wouldn't want Talia poking around on the planet," he began.
"It's not Mandalore. I already asked him. Hey, I know," she said with false cheer, "why don't you go bother him for a while? His camp is only ten klicks from here."
"Please. Mandalore wouldn't see me if I brought him forty virgins for his clan." He pushed ahead of her again. "Pel, seriously. When we left Malachor V, I didn't exactly think we'd be wandering around for a year on the Outer Rim, doing dirty work for whoever can pay us."
"We're not doing anything. I am. You can leave whenever you want."
Atton's eyes narrowed. "Have it your way, then," he said stiffly, and disappeared into the brush ahead of her.
Pellek sighed and went back to her work. Things had been rocky with Atton for the last several weeks. He was bored, maybe, or neglected. She'd spent the better part of the year moving from odd job to odd job, doing work for anyone who needed the skills of an exiled Jedi. She earned enough for beer and bread and stayed in one place just long enough to buy fuel to get to the next. And if she was too drunk or tired at the end of the day to think about things, then all the better.
Pellek suddenly had nothing left to slash and stumbled into a wide clearing. Yellow light trickled through the trees and painted the clearing pale green. She extinguished her blade and sat down on a warm flat rock to take several long pulls from her canteen. She could cure a hangover with the Force, but only water cured dehydration.
"Hello, General," a soft voice said.
Pellek looked up and grinned at the figure entering the clearing. "Bao-Dur!" She didn't see him very often these days. "You're not the monster attacking explorers, are you?"
His look told her he was not, and was not amused by the suggestion. Pellek was suddenly embarrassed by his calm gaze, and tore her eyes away. She sighed. "What do you want, Bao-Dur? Atton been complaining to you about the hours we're working?"
"Atton doesn't come to me, you know that. I'm here about you."
She took another pull of water and wished it was something stronger. "Oh, yeah? Let me guess how it'll go." She mocked his soft tones. "General, I'm worried about you. You used to be such a good little Jedi, but you haven't been the same since your murderous rampage on Malachor V." Pellek laughed hollowly at her own words just to counter the quiet disapproval from the Zabrak.
Bao-Dur didn't rise to her bait. "What about Revan, General? Have you found any trace of her?"
The name alone made Pellek grit her teeth. Redeemed Revan, feared and loved by the Council, envied and respected by Kreia, pined over by Fleet heroes and Mandalorian warlords. Yes, Revan got all the second chances. She shrugged. "Haven't seen her. Unless, of course, she's that monster Talia has me looking for."
"Have you been looking? You told the Admiral you would, remember?"
"I told the Admiral I'd pass along a message if I saw her, but I haven't seen her, so I can't have passed along the message. I'm not a bounty hunter. If Mira were here—" Pellek choked on the words. It was no good wishing for what she couldn't have.
Bao-Dur crouched in front of her where she couldn't avoid looking at him. His dark eyes were creased with worry. "It's not your fault," he said quietly, urgently. "All three of us chose to go down to the planet. What happened was because of what we chose to do." He put his hands over her knees. "Your aura used to be so blue, General. When you showed me the Force, I remember that it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. All of the color has gone out of it now, like the sky before a storm, and I'm worried about you. Atton and I both are."
Pellek looked at the Zabrak for a long moment. She wanted to believe him, wanted him to be right, but the hole in her where the Force lived told her otherwise. She jumped up and walked through him to get away. She made her voice hard. "I don't need the pity of a couple of ghosts, thanks."
She didn't hear a response, and when she turned, Bao-Dur had disappeared. Pellek took a deep, shuddering breath. It was better this way, better not to have the ghosts of her dead friends trailing her around, reminding her that she was still alive. It was better.
A rustle came from the brush before her, and Pellek quickly ignited her blade. Talia's men hadn't survived to describe the monster, but the group sent to find them said their bodies were mangled and broken, like it had shaken them in its teeth to kill them. She had no idea what to expect. "Come out!" she shouted. She felt for the creature with the Force and was shocked by the wordless anger and fear the creature projected. It didn't feel like an animal—
She was suddenly knocked backward across the clearing and landed with a crash against the heavy vines. She gasped to get her breath back and slowly got to her feet, this time projecting a shield against Force attacks. No animal could attack like that.
A man stumbled into the clearing. He was dirty, clothes torn and bloody in several places, beard at least a few weeks long. His eyes were wild.
Pellek lowered her blade a fraction. "Do you need help?" The man threw his hand toward her in response and she felt a Whirlwind gust against the edge of her shield. It was powerful, but her shield held.
The man blinked, then shook his head and yanked something from his belt. A brilliant green blade appeared and he stalked toward her slowly, like she was prey. Pellek felt a ripple of fear go through her. This was no wild Force-user, but a Jedi or Sith, and judging by the way he was holding his saber, well-trained. "I don't want to hurt you," she called. "I'm a Jedi—let me help you."
The man grinned ferally, and Pellek was suddenly reminded of someone. "I want your ship, Jedi," he growled, voice rough like he hadn't used it recently. "You're going to take me there and unlock the nav system."
Pellek found herself agreeing with him for just a second before jerking her mind clear of his Persuasion. The fear in her chest got stronger—this man was powerful, and Pellek had depleted her Force reserves curing her hangover this morning. She wasn't sure she was in good enough shape to beat him one on one—she'd have to find another way to escape. She let her blade sag and blinked slowly. "I'll take you to my ship," she said dazedly, like his Persuasion had been effective.
To his credit, the man didn't drop his guard. He smiled just a fraction. "I thought you would," he said. He gestured out of the clearing with his blade. "Let's go."
Pellek extinguished her blade and put it in her bag, reaching as she did so for the restraining collar she had brought with her. Pellek let him approach and take her by the arm. The man was younger than she had first thought, perhaps not yet twenty-five. She let him push her out of the clearing, then pretended to stumble. He reached to catch her and she swung toward him, collar in hand.
He shouted and ducked, Pushing her away from him. He strode toward her with blade up, eyes flashing yellow. Pellek scrambled backward.
"Hey, haven't I seen you before?" a voice asked behind the man. Atton stood across the clearing, arms crossed against his chest. The man snapped his head around, and that was all the opening Pellek needed. She Boosted herself to him and shoved the collar around his neck. It locked with a click and the man dropped to the ground. He tried to throw Lightning toward her, but it bled through his fingers and trickled harmlessly into the soil. He groaned and put a hand to his head.
Pellek caught her breath. "Thanks," she said to Atton.
He smirked at her. "I guess you needed my help after all." He strolled over to the man, who was now kneeling on the grass, hand outstretched to keep himself upright. Atton peered down at him. "I was serious, though. I've seen this kid somewhere."
The man looked up at Atton. "You're—you're not real," he mumbled drunkenly. He tugged futilely at the collar around his neck, then reached out and put his hand straight through Atton. "Just a ghost."
Atton grinned and mimed patting the man on the head. "Just as real as any living person, kid. Don't let her tell you I'm not."
Pellek had gotten the restraining collar on Nar Shaddaa two jobs ago and knew it was built to keep Jedi from using the Force in addition to physically restraining them. Still, she carefully deactivated the man's green blade and stowed it securely in her pack. She kept hers out and between them as she knelt before him. His eyes had returned to a normal dark color and were now heavily glazed. "What's your name?" she asked sternly.
He blinked at her for several moments while her words got through the fog created by the collar. "Dustil," he slurred finally. "Dustil Onasi."
Any hope of getting the twins to stay down for their nap was shattered when the doorchime sounded. Caele shrieked and ran for the door while Tar, a little more restrained than his sister, tottered behind her. Mission sighed, but she should have known better than to leave the doorchime on audio when she was trying to get the twins down. Whether it was Kaxtrax coming by to chat or more anomalous readings from the polar region, any issue with the Telos Reconstruction Project seemed to find its way to her door.
She hauled the twins back by their shirts and flipped on the external viewer. Citadel Station was safe enough, but she'd been more careful since the Exile came through last year and brought all that Sith trouble with her. Her concern evaporated, though, when she saw who was standing in the doorway. "Carth! Come in!"
Carth didn't get two meters into the room before he was accosted around the legs by the twins. "Grampa Onasi! Grampa Onasi!" they cried. Without bothering to drop his pack, Carth swept the two toddlers into his arms and looked at them gravely.
"Well, now, who are these two monsters?" he asked, winking over their heads at Mission.
"It's Caele!" the little girl giggled. Tar didn't say anything, just grinned toothily.
Carth frowned. "Caele and Tar? I don't know—you two are awfully big to be Caele and Tar. Maybe a monster is just pretending to be the twins."
Tar took his head seriously. "No, Grampa. No monster."
"Hmm. I guess there's only one way to tell—" Carth flipped the children upside down and dangled them a few centimeters from the ground. They shrieked in delight, faces turning red. Carth lowered them carefully to the floor. "No, I think you're the twins, after all. Unless we need the tickle test—"
"No!" They tottered behind Mission's legs, giggling. In a smooth move, Mission picked up both twins and carried them into their bedroom. "Okay, you two, even monsters need naps." They were bouncing up and down excitedly in their beds when she closed the door and set the monitor.
She came back out to the living area and flopped down on the couch. "Whew! They might not sleep, but they'll at least stay in their beds for a little while."
Carth set his pack down but chose a plasynth chair instead of the couch, indicating his dusty flight jacket and pants. He grinned toward the twins' bedroom. "Those two are a handful, Mission—they weren't nearly as mobile last time I saw them."
She shook her head ruefully. "No kidding. It's like they figured out how to run before learning to walk. And two of them! When the orphanage said we had to take both or neither, Jan and I had no idea it was going be four times the work."
"I still think you're too young for all this," he said sternly, but there was a hint of a smile around his eyes. It had been an actual argument once, but now it was just a familiar basis for banter.
She grinned and played her part. "You just can't stand the fact that you're an old grandfather now."
"Old! Just wait until you're forty-four—you won't be telling me you're old."
"No, but you'll be ancient by then." She smiled up at him. It was just a game they played—Mission knew that in spite of some creeping gray around his temples, Carth was every bit as quick with his blasters as he had been when she'd met him on Taris nearly six years ago. "Any luck?" she asked.
Carth's smiled faded and he shrugged. "No. The Exile is still doing mercenary work around the Rim. My sources haven't heard any significant chatter from the Unknown Regions in months." He grinned but Mission could see that it was forced. "One of these days, someone from the High Command is going to ask me why I spend all of my vacation time trolling the Rim in a beat-up smuggler ship."
"Do you have any time left? Jan's squadron is on a local tour this fourmonth, so he's home every few days. We'd love to see you, and of course the kids would be thrilled." Mission knew Carth was fine most of the time—his work with the Fleet kept him busy, and she and Jan monopolized him whenever they could. But something had changed in the last six months, and Mission didn't like the way he looked when he came back from another fruitless search for Case and Dustil. It was like a little bit of hope died every time.
He was already shaking his head. "No, I should get back to Coruscant. We have that readiness project that I'm—" his wrist comm beeped. He flipped the Accept to audio only. "Onasi here."
A tinny voice came through the comm. "Private Rog of the TSF, sir. I'm sorry to bother you, but—" he trailed off.
"But what, Private?" Carth asked impatiently.
"The Ebon Hawk, sir. It emerged into Telos space an hour ago and a Pellek Tran is in Commander Dol Grenn's office. I knew you had docked, sir, and I thought you might like to know."
Carth leapt to his feet. "I'll be there in five minutes. Onasi out."
The hope that had reappeared on Carth's face was almost painful in its earnestness. Mission didn't think much of the Exile and her ragged crew—surely Case's crew hadn't looked that way?—and from Carth's stories, she knew he didn't think much of her, either. Apparently, she'd been some kind of general in the Mandalorian Wars. She'd promised to look for Case, though, and her arrival could mean only one thing.
"She's found something," Mission whispered.
Carth picked up his pack and she saw him check his holsters out of habit. "Lock your door after I leave," he said.
Mission realized suddenly that she'd expected to go with him, like in the old days. But then she heard someone—probably Caele—bouncing on the bed and smiled ruefully. These weren't the old days anymore. "You be careful, too, old man. Who knows what scruffy characters the Exile brought with her this time?" The bouncing and giggling got louder. "I should stop whatever's going on in that bedroom. Comm me later and tell me what she says, okay?"
Carth practically ran out of the door.