Mira was a quick study — though Trista couldn't be surprised, given her choice of career. Adaptability was tantamount to a bounty hunter, after all, and Mira rapidly adapted to her new reality.

Once Mira kicked her out of the storage room "for a little peace," the rest of her day was taken up with the same as her last several: training, avoiding G0-T0 at all costs, and trying to relax if the opportunity presented itself. As with most days, it didn't until she made her way to the cockpit to turn in for the night.

She had settled into what she expected to be another Malachor dream — most of hers were, so it was always a good guess even if she hadn't reached the punchline. So when she awoke without seeing the pain-wrought world filling her vision, she almost didn't register that the source was Atton, somewhat uncharacteristically, thrashing next to her.

Trista rolled over, mumbling his name and touching his bare arm as she realized he was deep in the throes of a nightmare. She shook herself further awake and debated waking him for only a few seconds before he jolted and grabbed the hand on his shoulder hard. He snapped out of it when she gasped — more out of shock than pain.

"Shit," he breathed, swinging his legs off the cot.

"Atton—"

He didn't answer, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on as he headed out of the cockpit. Trista sighed, tucking her knees up to her chest as she listened to him walk halfway down the hall and pause.

"Fucking G0-T0," he grumbled as he re-entered the cockpit, closing the door behind him.

"Atton?" she repeated. His only response was a long exhale as he leaned on the center console, diligently not looking in her direction. "That didn't hurt. I just wasn't expecting it."

He exhaled again, still not looking at her. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"I've hurt myself worse coming out of a nightmare. Come back to bed." Atton drew his thumb across the console, his breathing still measured. Trista sighed. "Well, um, I'm going to just go back to sleep, then?"

When she didn't get a response, she settled back into the bench seat and closed her eyes. It seemed to work — the seat depressed as Atton rejoined her, burying his head in her hair. Trista rolled back over and pulled him into her arms.

"Do you need to talk?" she murmured, trailing her fingers through his hair. He didn't answer her at first, so she figured the answer was no.

"Nightmares," he mumbled into her chest. She nodded. "Usually have 'em, but they got real bad right after Korriban."

"Last night?"

"Better. Tonight…" He shook his head. "Not as bad as when you were in medbay, but…"

"What changed?"

"That damn cave, probably."

"Mm."

They were quiet for long enough that she was dozing off.

"What I did was always a choice," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "It never is in these. But…"

"But?" she prompted after a while, wondering if he'd fallen back asleep on her.

"These are the first you've been in."

"Oh," she said, after what he'd said took a moment to sink in. Atton's arms tightened around her.

"I never would, Trista." Any trace of drowsiness was gone from his voice.

"I know."

"Good." He finally pulled back, meeting her eyes, and she ignored the fact that they were misty. "Because I need you to know that."

Trista trailed her thumb along his cheek. "I do. For one, you used my name."

"What? Oh, yeah." He chuckled, though it was rather mirthless. "I guess I am serious."

"And because I trust you, even though I probably shouldn't."

"After I bared my soul to you there, too."

Trista pulled him back into her with a small smile. "They're just nightmares, Atton, they rarely mean anything."

"Yeah." He didn't sound convinced, though she didn't expect him to be. She hadn't asked him about the details of his previous career, and she doubted she wanted to know. But from the little she could surmise… they were no doubt much worse than he was admitting.

"You're right that it's probably Korriban stirring things up. I don't think you have anything to worry about, I promise." Atton sighed, but relaxed nonetheless. "Should we try to get more sleep?"

"Probably."

Trista waited for him to drift off first, his breathing leveling out and one arm slinging protectively across her waist. As soon as she was sure he'd fallen back to sleep without heading back into a nightmare, she closed her eyes and let herself follow.

Both jolted awake a few hours later to the sound of rapid-fire, alarm-volume Binary chirping right next to their heads. Atton grabbed a blaster from the holster hanging on the arm of the bench seat; Trista had her lightsaber in her hand before she was even aware she'd grabbed it.

T3 cocked his head from the side of the cot and chirped, at a normal volume this time.

"Really?" Atton groaned, re-holstering the weapon. "Frakking trash can."

"T3…" Trista rubbed her eyes. "Was that necessary?"

"/ sorry /" T3 chirped in a not-sorry way. "/ Khelborn = call + ship / + message (FOR) = Jedi + Candalore / = urgent! /"

"Urgent, my ass." Atton swung his legs off the cot. Trista followed suit with a sigh.

"What is it?"

T3 chirped, sat back on his motivators, and projected a small image of Mandalore's second-in-command on the floor. Khelborn saluted.

"Mandalore. Jedi, I received an urgent communication from a man named Kavar on Onderon. Return to the camp as soon as possible, and I will relay it. He said it should not go out over open channels."

"That's it?" Atton groused. "I'm getting some caf. Do you want some?"

"If you could."

Atton pushed past T3 with a grumble and headed out of the cockpit.

"You could have used a little more subtlety, you know," Trista said. T3 verbally shrugged. "Is everyone back on the ship?"

"/ crew = present / Candalore = returned = last night + late / (OR) = morning + early? /" He verbally shrugged again.

"Great." She sighed, dressed, and grabbed her caf from Atton on her way through the main hold. "Give us an hour unless I say otherwise, then get us into the air."

"Sure." Atton pulled her in by her waist, kissing her as briefly as he ever did when someone could walk in. "Um, about last night—"

Trista smiled and ran her hand through his hair. "I meant everything I said."

Fortunately, given she was a little concerned, he responded with a smirk. "Well, good, 'cause it'd be awkward if you didn't."

She tousled his hair in response, making him groan, and pulled away. "I'm going to let everyone know we're leaving."

In making her rounds, she inevitably found herself in front of the closed port bulkhead.

Trista wouldn't say she'd been avoiding Kreia, but she hadn't been looking forward to speaking with her, either. She'd organized almost everything on Korriban — from who she took with her, to them fleeing Sion, to going into the cave. Had it been the only way around? She didn't think they'd had another choice, but Kreia had been so quick to interject.

Too quick, perhaps.

Trista raised her hand, hesitated again, and knocked.

"You may enter."

She opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind her. Kreia continued to meditate, not moving as Trista settled down on a bunk with a heavy sigh.

"The events on Korriban trouble you," Kreia finally said.

You think? "Yeah."

"What have you learned?"

Trista pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "That I don't trust caves." Displeasure radiated through their shared bond, and Trista's frown deepened. "I have questions."

"I am sure."

Kreia was still an impossible read.

"Sion. I—"

"You do not trust my judgment?"

"We could have tried, Kreia."

"No," she said, softly. "You do not yet understand how such a thing can be defeated, and to try in the middle of Korriban would have been disastrous. But you learned from the encounter, did you not?"

"That he can regenerate? Yes."

"Then the encounter, albeit brief, was not in vain. You have learned of your enemy, to better prepare for your next meeting."

"But we could have actually tried."

"And you would have lost."

Says her. Trista drew a deep breath. "Fine. He seemed to have quite the negative opinion of you."

"I have little doubt. Would you weigh his words against my own? Would you choose the one who seeks to destroy you over the one who has only ever aided you?"

Trista closed her eyes. "I didn't say I was. It was an observation. Did he collapse the canyon walls on us?"

"I assume so." She scoffed. "You did not think it was I?"

"No." Maybe, somewhere back in her mind, she had entertained the idea, but not seriously. "But you seemed eager to get us into that cave."

"And you emerged unharmed, did you not?"

"You have a curious definition of 'unharmed.'"

"You are alive, and you are not weakened. If nothing else, I would say the experience has strengthened you… and perhaps given you…" Kreia trailed off for a moment. "Perspective."

"Perspective?" Trista snapped, then drew a deep breath. "I was unconscious in the medbay for six hours."

"Confronting oneself is not a task easily done. Had you emerged unscathed, I would doubt your success."

Yeah, coming in here had been a mistake.

It was almost odd, like her wariness was back up — like something either in the cave forcing her to confront her crew, or in Kreia's reaction to the experience, had her guard back up. Trista drew a deep breath and stood.

"I came in to tell you we're returning to Dxun," she said. "The Mandalorians got a message from Kavar."

"Did they? And what was said?"

"Just that they'd relay it to us once we arrived. I'm hoping he figured out a way for us to meet." And, given the questions she had, it was just in time.

"Hm, we shall see. But if it is answers you seek, know that Kavar will have few to give."

"We'll see about that," she replied, heading back out the door.

Trista made her way back toward the main hold, her mind focused on why she felt so uncomfortable around Kreia now — whether it was a remnant of facing her fake crew in the care, or whether Atton's paranoia was getting to her. She almost missed a quiet voice as she passed the junction with the cargo hold corridor.

"Exile, may we speak?'

Trista stopped dead, her head jerking over to find the Handmaiden standing uneasily in the corridor.

"Are you planning on yelling at me again?" She was half-joking, and immediately felt bad as the Handmaiden looked away. "Sorry.""

"I owe you an apology," she started, staring at her hands. "I thought I had moved past my doubts, but... It was like I could not control them returning. They got the best of me, and I am sorry. I fear my anger was misplaced. And I—"

Trista gripped her shoulder, cutting her off. "Your apology is accepted, Handmaiden. You don't need to be poetic about it."

"You aren't... angry with me?"

"What? No!" Trista almost laughed. "If it helps, I was just confused."

She still wasn't meeting her eyes, but her relieved smile was apparent. "It does."

"So what does this mean? You want to train again?"

"Yes, if it is not too much trouble."

"Of course not. You should probably apologize to Visas, at some point." She held up her hand as the Handmaiden frowned. "At some point. Look, valuable life lesson time. Even in the Force orders, you'll have to work with people you don't like, or that you disagree with. You just need to do so."

The confused expression she received in return was quickly explained. "But... you left the Jedi because you disagreed with them."

Oh, for... "Okay, so I'm not the best role model. You don't need to rub it in."

"I still do not trust her," she said. "But I will try."

"That's all I ask."

As they prepared to leave hyperspace near Onderon, the long-hail system chimed. Trista looked over at Atton, who looked back.

"You gonna get that?"

She rolled her eyes and opened it.

"Alert," an automated system droned. "The Onderonian military has issued a Tier 4 travel advisory for all incoming and in-system traffic."

Tier 4. Trista frowned. If their system was, or was similar to, the Republic's, that was a "Do Not Travel" warning. She glanced at Atton.

"This should be good," he said, frowning. The ship shuddered as the hyperspace tunnel vanished ahead of them, and an unfamiliar man's voice picked up.

"The Council of Lords has decreed that Queen Talia has committed crimes against Onderon and her people."

"Well, shit," Trista muttered. "Civil Unrest" it was, then.

"Onderonian airspace is hereby closed indefinitely. Any approaching Republic ships will be destroyed on approach. Other ships should remain outside Onderonian airspace until this alert is reversed."

The automated voice returned. "This message will repeat. Alert, The Onderonian—"

Trista turned off the alert. "Get us to Dxun, I guess. Maybe they kept a shuttle warm for us."

Atton was quiet for a moment. "If they're alive," he finally said. "I doubt what's-his-face would reverse the alert, given how much he loves the Republic."

"Keep that up, and I'm going to think you're actually paying attention."

"We wouldn't want that."

Trista flipped open the shipboard comms. "FYI, it sounds like Vaklu started shit on Onderon. Get yourselves ready, because Force knows what we're dropping into."

She hung up, and Atton cleared his throat. "We could leave."

Trista drew her lips into a thin line. "With Zez-Kai staying mum, Kavar's my best shot at some actual answers — and if Vaklu gets to him, he's dead."

He sighed. "One day, I want you to respond with 'you're right, Atton, let's leave and not stick our noses where they don't belong.'"

"Someday, I'm sure."

The sound of heavy boots in the corridor announced Mandalore's approach long before he spoke.

"You heard from Dxun?"

"I was about to try Khelborn." He nodded, and she appreciated that he didn't stand behind her as she opened the comm to the Mandalorian frequency. "This is the Ebon Hawk calling Dxun. Do you copy?"

Fortunately, the reply was instant. "This is Khelborn. Are you in the system?"

"We just arrived," Mandalore said before she could respond. "What's the situation?"

"We'll fill you in when you arrive, Mandalore. The approach should be clear."

"Thanks, " Trista said. "Should be there in about thirty minutes."

Whatever threats Onderon made, they didn't seem interested — or able — to enforce the no-fly order. Nothing, not even Sith ships, were in orbit; so, nothing was there to shoot at them as Atton brought the ship down into the Dxun jungle. He parked the Hawk in their previous hangar, and the trio left the cockpit to find the rest of the crew waiting in the garage. The air was unusually tense, even for her collection of miscreants, but Trista merely filed it away for future reference.

Zuka met them at the bottom of the ship's ramp, saluting as soon as he saw Mandalore.

"I've been told you know about the situation on Onderon," he said.

"We caught the alert on our way in," Trista said.

"Khelborn has more info for you in the command center. Follow me."

Even the energy in the camp had changed. A tension hung thick over it, as small bands of Mandalorians prepared weapons and armor in near-silence. Trista jogged forward, catching up to Zuka.

"Is the camp under threat?"

"Like I said, Khelborn has more information."

Khelborn was, as stated, waiting for them with several other high-ranking Mandalorians in the command center. All saluted as Mandalore entered. One of the gold-armored men nodded to her — Bralor, she thought. Khelborn wasted no time getting started.

"I see you already know about the situation."

"We caught the alert," Trista said. "What was Kavar's original message?"

"He said that the Queen had arranged safe passage to Onderon for you but, given the circumstances, I think the offer's expired."

"Probably."

"So what happened?" Mandalore asked.

"Well, this morning Vaklu met with the Council of Lords and declared that the Queen was guilty of treason."

"That isn't good," Mical murmured behind her.

"That's what we heard on the comms."

"If he defeats Talia and her guard, he'll be made regent. The military is divided on who to support."

Trista sighed, drawing her fingers across her eyes. "What are Talia's odds?"

He shrugged. "I doubt she'll survive until nightfall. The balance of power seems to favor her, the palace is highly fortified, and most of the soldiers are loyal to her."

She frowned. That sounded like a winning strategy. "Then why is she losing?'

"Well..." Khelborn exchanged a look with one of the gold-armored Mandos. "Mandalore, Vaklu has new allies: Sith soldiers, and their masters."

Immediately, she felt both her crew - and a number of Mandalorians - burning holes into her. She frowned.

"The conflict's also driven most of the beasts left in Iziz mad. All those factors together? Xarga and I concur — she doesn't stand a chance."

"You underestimate the power of the Force, Mandalorian." Kreia's voice silenced the command center easily, and Trista drew a deep breath as her unease continued. "I sense we may yet reach Kavar in time. However..." She looked around, but as if she were trying to see something far afield. "I sense something stirring on the moon itself. Tell me, have your sensors located anything here?'

Khelborn looked from Kreia to Trista. "How in the hell…?" Trista waved her hand, and he shook himself. "Yes, we picked up some transmissions from nearby, in the jungle. Zuka's satellite relay also picked up several shuttle launches with old Sith transmitter IDs. Some sort of staging base, perhaps."

Kreia nodded. "These Sith forces must be stopped, or the Mandalorian is correct - Kavar and Talia will not survive this day."

Trista looked at Mandalore, only to find him looking at her. "We do not have the numbers to split our forces at this time."

"And this is why a common soldier will never triumph against a Jedi. Your military tactics—"

Trista held up her hand. "Can we be mildly less antagonistic than usual, please? Mandalore, I assume your shuttle can't get to Iziz?'

"Doubtful. There may be another way, but it only seats about three. Unless we get... creative."

"Then division of our forces is inevitable." She pulled out her datapad and a stylus, chewing on her lip. "Give me a second."

Atton stole a look over her shoulder, but she knew what he'd see: vague lines and scribbles that seemed utterly incomprehensible to anyone but her. This was how most of Revan's plans had looked before military historians had cleaned them up and recorded how the battles had actually gone. No labels, all color-coded, the blocking and movement scratchy. Guesswork, at best.

No good plan really survived contact with the enemy.

They had two priorities: to reinforce Iziz, and to remove Vaklu's Sith support from Dxun. If they could figure out what the Sith were doing, that'd just be a bonus.

She had at her disposal, her crew and a camp full of Mandalorians that were no doubt itching for a fight. Not the best, but it could be much worse.

The fighting had started in the morning and it was pushing noon. Both sides would be tiring by now.

They'd have to start distracting the Sith before even attempting to reach Iziz. That way, the Sith couldn't reinforce the city. A dynamic enough entry into Iziz should draw their attention, but it would have to be dynamic.

That meant only one person could lead it: her. Someone already unfavorably regarded by Vaklu… and the person the Sith had been hunting since Peragus. So, someone else would have to confront the Sith here on Dxun.

Trista snapped the stylus back into place.

"We'll need a three pronged approach relying on a dynamic entry into Iziz as cover," she started, tucking her datapad back into her robe pocket. "Mandalore, your people are well-placed to deal with the outskirts of the Sith encampment. Play it right and they'll just think you're some cannoks. Don't push in until we've hit Iziz, then secure their shuttles and escape routes. That way, they can't reinforce Vaklu.

"Mical, take Bao-Dur, Mira, the Handmaiden, Visas, and G0-T0." The droid responded with an annoyed hm, and she almost threw him out of the base. "Can I finish? Force's kriffing sake. Mira, you'll handle any traps, mines, etc. Bao-Dur, deal with turrets and other electronic surveillance. G0-T0, droids. Disable them, turn them, I don't care. Secure a route to the camp and keep it under surveillance until you receive the go-ahead.

"I'll take Atton, Kreia, T3, and HK over to Iziz, if I'm understanding what Mandalore means by 'creative.'"

"It'll do."

"Once we get into the city, the Sith should focus entirely on us. By the time we get there, we'll probably be hitting the rear flank on the Skyway. Once we've landed, the Mandalorians move in to take control of the Sith shuttles, landing pads, and defenses. My crew will move in to go after the Sith. Take out anyone with a lightsaber and stop whatever they're up to. Meanwhile, we'll fight our way through to the palace and see what we can do about the Iziz attack." She looked back at Mandalore. "It's our best shot, given we have to split our forces regardless."

His voice carried a distinct frown in it. "It may work. I'll lend your jungle team a few of my people. Xarga, Taylire, and Aay'han—"

"Taylire has been scouting since we first picked up the signals," Khelborn said. "Aay'han as been assisting her."

"Then message them and tell them to meet the team. They'll be their best sources of information."

"Yes, Mandalore."

"Bralor, take over the groups on their flank."

Trista interjected. "Remember to wait for the go-ahead before doing anything more than positioning and hassling. You'll want them distracted."

"Understood."

"Xarga, you'll be responsible for field command. Head out with the other half of her crew. How far out is it?"

"About a half-hour."

"That close…" Mandalore shook his head. "Kex, contact Sinlyea-Vao at some point and tell them we need to upgrade those damn, cheap-ass sensors."

"Yes, Mandalore."

"Morace, have your second team meet Xarga by the gate. I'll check on the transport and send Zuka back for you. Wait here."

Without further explanation, Mandalore left and the command center drained of most Mandalorians. She waved everyone out — but it was easy to hold Mical back, as he seemed particularly reticent to leave.

"You'll be fine, Mical."

He shook his head, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "I fear I may not have the—"

"Experience is only half of what you need, Mical. And you have one very important quality that no one else on your team does."

Mical was quiet for a moment as he tried to figure out what she meant. "What is that?"

"Everyone on your team gets along with you, and they trust you. You're also the least likely to overrule someone else simply because you think you know better."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Atton and Mira in a tense discussion just outside the doors, but decided she probably shouldn't ask too many questions.

"Trust me, that's just as important. Listen to their advice in the field and you'll be fine."

"I-I will not let you down."

Trista smiled and squeezed his shoulders. "I know you won't. Just… keep an eye on Bao-Dur for me. He's doing better, but I'm still going to worry."

Mical smiled weakly and headed out of the command center, Mira trailing him to the gate. Trista stopped next to Atton.

"Everything okay?"

He shrugged. "Just complainin'."

"Well, your plan seems to have succeeded." Kavar threw the last switch to turn the throne room into a safehouse, turning back as Talia crossed her arms behind him. "Your enemy has indeed revealed itself."

"I expected the Sith. Those beasts… they weren't in my plans."

"Vaklu will use them to breach the Palace as soon as he can reach it. I will not surrender to that… usurper." She spat the word like a curse. "I would die first."

Kadron, the head of her guard, pressed a fist to his chest. "Every soldier here would give their life to stop that, ma'am."

Something twinged in the Force — an echo, familiar, resonating from nearby. Kavar looked up, almost as if he could trace its passage through Onderon's space.

"There is hope," he murmured. "I think they received my message."

Talia followed his eyes, only seeing the decorated ceiling of her throne room. "Message? What message? What are you talking about?"

He couldn't resist the small, but hopeful, smile that crossed his face. "An old friend is returning, and the Sith won't know what hit them."