"Fine." "Well." And then silence again. Bao-Dur rolled his eyes. Ever since the crew had split on Citadel Station, there had hardly been three sentences spoken between the three of them. Not that you could ever expect much from Visas, of course, but Mical had been uncharacteristically quiet. Been that way since Malachor, come to think of it.
He pushed Malachor from his mind. Being there the first time had been bad enough, returning... enough of that. He missed his remote. Couldn't say so, of course, but he missed that little ball of trouble, the same way he would have missed a dog. It would have been nice to have it here now--heck, even T3 wouldn't have been unwelcome. Droids could be so much more sensible than sentients sometimes. Most of the time. And Bao-Dur had had many years of dealing with both to form that opinion.
The polar region loomed up in the window, a stark end past the scorched pink. Bao-Dur began the descent, and the planet's surface began to move faster and faster beneath them--pink and green blurred together as they dropped lower into the atmosphere, then a giant blank sheet of white. "Transmitting the codes," he said as he tapped the appropriate buttons on the panel... and he might as well have been talking to himself, he thought. The plateau loomed up ahead, and he slowed the shuttle. "Looks like they've been accepted," he added as the violet forcefield dropped from the docking bay. "Taking her in to land."
"Do you believe anyone is left here?" said Mical, finally giving some sign that he still existed. "The Exile did not say what happened after she had defeated Atris."
"I do not believe this place has been abandoned," said Visas. "I sense... a darkness here, but it is not from a living being."
"I would guess that it comes from the holocrons," said Mical. "Atris horded dozens of Sith artifacts here. It is no wonder they corrupted her," he went on, warming to his subject. "To seclude oneself, to build up a shrine to a false ideal and allow the passion of it to rule you--that is a sure path to the Dark Side. Such arrogance is what led the Jedi Order to its fall. The Masters were not truly Masters."
Seemed like Mical was still his usual self, Bao-Dur thought. Albeit a bit more cynical than usual. "I never met Atris, but the General seemed pretty unhappy about meeting her again," the Iridonian said, making his contribution to the discussion. This could lead to a decent conversation, he realized as he set the shuttle down and pressed a button. The door clunked, stuck, and slammed open. Bao-Dur only shook his head as he watched the performance. He would need to take a look at this thing later.
They debarked, and Bao-Dur's hopes were realized. "I am not surprised," was what Mical said as they started towards the bay door. "The knights themselves, the Watchmen and the Weaponmasters were able to keep themselves to the Jedi Code, but for whatever reason, the Masters and the Council had a difficult time practising what they taught."
"Hypocrisy is always found at the highest levels," said Visas. She looked at Mical--Bao-Dur guessed she was looking at him, at least. "Perhaps you are not as naive as I thought you were."
"About the Jedi Order? No. I have seen their hypocrisy firsthand, both before and after traveling with the Exile."
Bao-Dur stopped suddenly. "What was that?"
Visas stepped forward, looking through the walls. "Someone is coming this way," she said.