Over two hundred unorganized men, brandishing weapons and full of bravado, were storming Khoonda. They were either going to take over the facility or die trying.
Eight of us, a Jedi thought to herself with anxiety as she watched the stream of bodies running through the fields at a dead sprint. A handful of Khoonda's soldiers, and Vrook. That's it. If my team can't take most of them out, we'll be overrun.
The Jedi was standing there, troubled, when a flash of green hit her peripheral vision. A dark-haired man with hazel eyes was looping his glowing weapon in the empty air. At the turn of her head, he smiled at her. "Nice-looking, isn't it? I clearly have the best lightsaber of the bunch. Can't imagine how many I'm gonna wipe out alone. You must be jealous."
When her worried look turned into an unimpressed roll of her eyes, the man winked playfully at her. Without her noticing, the uncertainty was gone.
Mandalore fired the first shot of the battle. Avery, Disciple, and Atton all heard the weapon discharge, and not a second later the groan of a dying merc. The surges of men were in range.
"Brace yourselves," Bao Dur called in the loudest voice he could manage. "It's about to get rocky!"
All six covered their ears as the ground pitched. Men ran directly into well-built mines that sent tremors through the fields, black smoke bursting from the detonations. The foolish stampede ensured that large groups were taken out at a time. If their leader had been alive, he likely would have tested the land before he sent them all out. Without the strategy, it was a massacre.
The dense air hadn't even cleared before Mira launched an explosive from up high, sending bodies flying to land with sickening thuds onto the scorched dirt. How she could see, no one knew, but she took out five groups before she stopped to reload. Meanwhile, Mandalore's shots echoed across the plains, some in such rapid succession that the blaster could have almost been an automatic. For a few moments, the Jedi and her two less experienced pupils could only stand and wait for the inevitable melee combat that would be required. The long-distance fight would take care of a lot of the forces, but some were bound to make it to the doors.
Avery was doing her best to send calming waves through the new bonds with her melee group of Bao Dur, Disciple, and Atton. It was tricky due to how out of practice she was, but she used to channel flows of courage and determination out to hundreds of men in war, so the four were peaceful and guarded by the time they heard the battle cries of men closing in. It had been a long time since Avery had fought against such odds. She'd learned from the best how to handle it.
"Never allow yourself to be circled," Revan says, his slate grey eyes stern. "If they have blasters, you can't defend your front and back while they fire. Don't be afraid to Push some back til you can handle what's around you. That way, you'll take out manageable groups instead of all of them at once. "
His rough, calloused hand drapes over hers, gripping the hilt of her lightsaber. "Hold at a slant until one moves in, and go horizontally along the throat, or dig into the torso and spin." The entirety of his body is pressed against her back, driving her right weapon forward, then pulling her back and around. "Pull out, drive across to your right, bring it back to the slant. Duck if you need to. Just beware of moving backwards."
A merc was rushing up to Avery, and as Revan had told her, she hit him with a stab through the chest. She spun, caught another with her momentum across the throat, and faced forward again to decapitate the next. "Locate each attacker with the Force so you're never surprised. These moves, with me, should be automatic. You need to be killing one and channeling to find the next. Use Force powers when you're physically tired, and revert back to your weapon when you feel drained. Balance it, or you'll burn out too quickly."
One to her left. She rammed her saber in, ducking down when she felt another slice parallel to her stomach, and slashed through the newest attacker's lower legs. Four were heading up. Too many. Avery sent their bodies flying as a man shot to her right, and the bullet deflected into his forehead.
She turned to see Disciple, his face impassive and still, pumping the Force through his movements to give him unnatural speed. He was cutting through ranks that barely saw him coming. The pile of bodies spread out over the stone ground, reaching to the fields before he slowed.
Revan's leg pushes at hers from behind, pulling her stance forward. His hands, steadying her hips, shift back to move her into him. "Never turn your back. Never get distracted. You can't keep an eye on your men and live yourself. If you must shift, your stance should be coiled. Otherwise you'll get tangled up in your own feet and," he snaps his fingers. "You're done like that."
Avery slashed across the stomach of a soldier before plunging her saber into a distracted merc's back. As his body fell, Atton was in front of her, lightsaber outstretched at the now-dead man. The scoundrel gave her a cocky smirk. "Thanks, Kess. My body count is high enough that I'll let you keep that kill."
She would have nodded, but Atton suddenly pivoted and swept his weapon out, deflecting a line of blaster shots back out to the senders. He was clearly using the Echani training to pull the Force into his weapon, giving him the speed and accuracy Avery was channeling. Bao Dur was just around the corner, using Mandalore's covering fire to take close combat advantages with the mercs. His swings weren't practiced, but the constant Force supply guiding his arm was enough to keep him fighting. Avery turned back to a large group- far too large- who were broadcasting their plan to all attack her at once.
He's chuckling at her edginess as she sends another wave of cardboard figures back, hacking at the ones he's flinging towards her with the Force. She can feel the vibrations against her back. "How many times will we do this before you're satisfied? Do you really have to be perfect?"
"If I'm not, I'm dead," Avery retorts.
"Can't we continue tomorrow?"
"You're here today. I can practice on my own when you leave." She shouts something unintelligible as another six figures crowd around her.
The two of them don't openly acknowledge the tension this lesson is bringing, but Avery inhales sharply when his body pushes her in a step forward. His breath is quick, warm in her ear. "If you're overwhelmed, there's one last trick. It may drain you, but if you can manage it, you'll give yourself some precious moments."
It's clear, through their bond: he's thinking the same things she is, but he's ever the professional mentor. He'd never take advantage of her, despite the growing darkness spreading in his Force energy. He respects her, for one. He wouldn't compromise her mentality as a general in the War, for another. It would be a strictly physical session (or a few) that Avery knows wouldn't amount to anything and bring a form of attachment to her Mentor she doesn't want.
Avery had never been touched by a man without the emotionless barrier of the Light side shielding against any thoughts or feelings. Now, with Revan breaking down any personal barriers and fully acknowledging sensations like lust and frustration, it's problematic. This is how a fall to the Dark side can be so tempting, so easy.
It's hard to remember all that, though, when Revan murmurs for her to focus. As her eyes close, his voice shifts from her ear to her mind. If you sense the Dark side around you, pull it in. It doesn't have to be in a Sith. It can be in a normal human's intentions, in the bloodied past of a planet, in the violence of a battle. Bring it to you. Siphon it. It hurts, I know, he tells her in amusement as her protest rises up, but you'll survive. You must survive at all costs.
Avery's eyes snap open while Revan draws her lightsaber into her hilt, interlacing his fingers into hers and stretching her hand out toward the oncoming figures. "For this, siphon through me. Pull the energy out of me. Send it out to them."
The sharp, stinging withdraw leaves Revan gasping at her neck, his hand weakening around hers as she draws more and more from him. The build-up of the acid, bile overflowing in her bloodstream violently cracks the air around them. Avery's insides are screaming, filling her up with pain and loathing until it bursts as streams of lightning jetting out from her fingers.
The men were charging, blasters firing and swords glinting in the sun. Without much time, the Exile flung her senses out, finding tendrils scattered in the mercs of the battle. They were afraid, full of hatred and the goal of domination. There was a great deal of the Dark side to bring in.
Her head began to throb, the rush of the vicious Force cutting into her skin. As the group rushed in, her arm shot out. Electricity flew out in a violent charge to bring the mass of men into a blackened heap of scorched flesh. With that, it was over.
The few mercs who had managed to slip past Mandalore had been run through by Kreia and Visas before they even stepped two feet into the building. Vrook hadn't even needed to take out his weapon. Though bloodied and drained, the melee teams were merely scratched up, while Mira and Mandalore were only low on ammo. Avery, however, was again experiencing the depressing loss, the exhaustion from pulling that much Dark energy in.
Revan is on his knees in an instant, his arms tense around her, rocking her as she shakes violently. She won't cry- she never does- but she feels terrible.
"I know, I know," he soothes, the firm Master in his tone gone. His voice is unsteady from her swift drain of his energy. "It's hard to channel. It's agonizing, the feelings of weakness and despair. But you'll survive. You must, Avery. You're my general. You're the beacon of hope for my men, and for the innocents being slaughtered by the Mandalorians. You can't seem weak."
Despite her trembling, her face rises, cheeks coloring in oncoming outrage. He cuts her off before she can object. "You're not weak. I know that better than anyone. I reacted this same way when I first used a Force power with this influence. Just don't show any of your followers how painful it is, how difficult. You're the leader who paves the way for all of them. If you can do anything, so can they."
The old stubborn mentality comes in, and Avery haltingly stands, leaning heavily on Revan for support. "Just this once," she tells him, "I'm using your help. When you're not here anymore, I'll do it all myself."
Blue-gray eyes watched his new leader, standing on trembling legs, smiling shakily at her team members as they crowded around her with congratulations. It was apparent that she was barely standing, but she stood anyway. The setting sun brought out the chestnut and black in her hair, her eyes fading from brown and silver to her normal dark color. She didn't want to smile, but she smiled anyway.
He'd always loved her, from when she first taught him. Now she was guiding him into deeper understandings of the Force, both consciously and unconsciously. Just as beautiful as he'd remembered, just as powerful as he'd remembered: she was a walking risk, a passionate and difficult Jedi. She made him feel he could take on any challenge. This identity he'd taken on, "Disciple," was difficult to keep up…but from where he was standing as Avery recovered from the battle, each lie was worth it.
Robes stained with blood, scorch marks imprinted on their skin, and loose, tired limbs dragging them along, the team came into the main chamber, where Vrook surveyed them. Surely now he couldn't accuse them of messing anything up. Surely now he'd agree to speak.
His haggard face was stretched back into the typical pious look Avery disliked so much. She could feel her companions practically brace themselves for another possible undeserved reaction. Instead, he merely inclined his head. "I may have misjudged you. Khoonda is safe in no small part due to you."
Avery started, but he only continued. "I'm free to talk about whatever it is you came all this way for. Apparently it was something quite important."
"I need to assemble all the remaining Jedi," she said at once. "Here. The Sith have revealed themselves. They have already attacked me."
"You? With your past, your temperamental nature? You are no Jedi. You cannot even feel the Force."
"I don't know why they did it." She shrugged her thin shoulders helplessly. "I guess they believe I am one."
"Mmph. Still," the Jedi Master mumbled, almost to himself, "this is more knowledge than I had before. We must find where they are striking from. And that means the Jedi may gather." He looked up again. "If you can find others- or find some trace of this Sith threat, then we shall gather here on Dantooine.
With this, the Exile turned to leave, but Vrook spoke up again. "Before you go, I suppose there is something I should show you and your companions. I noticed that a few of them were wielding lightsabers who hadn't the faintest idea of what they were doing. The forms I can teach will keep them alive long enough to prove useful."
Avery glanced behind her, and Mira, Bao Dur, Disciple, Atton and Visas walked up, weapons in hand. Vrook, never one for encouragement, was stern and cutting, picking at each form. For Visas, Disciple and Avery, it was fine, but he was far too intimidating a teacher for inexperienced Force users. The Exile was the first to pick it up, so she used her bond to flow direction to everyone else. Vrook watched her momentarily and then stood in front of her. "I don't know how you learned that so quickly," he said accusingly, as if he'd caught her cheating somehow. "You lack the discipline for this. It's considered the pinnacle of Force Mastery."
"Remember? I could always channel higher levels if they were near me."
He frowned. "Yes. You and your…connections were often a subject of debate in the Council. Still, your form is sloppy. Keep practicing to tighten it up."
Only when each of them had the form down pat did Vrook let them go. The moment they was out of earshot down the halls, Atton blew out a breath. "That was rough. If he's the kind of guy who usually trains Jedi, I can't imagine how you survived your upbringing."
"They're not all that bad," Avery replied. Disciple, next to her, nodded in agreement, and Avery watched him thoughtfully for a moment before she spotted a sign on the wall. "Oh. Hold on, everyone. If you don't mind, I need to see if they have…"
Her voice faded off as she entered a little robot shop, and Bao Dur faced Disciple. "Have you had Jedi training at the Academy?" he asked conversationally.
"Ah, well, yes," Disciple answered haltingly. "In fact, Avery was one of my teachers."
"What?" Mira burst out. "She didn't tell me!"
"No no, she wouldn't remember me. I was young when she taught- probably eight or nine."
"Then she must look very good for her age," Bao Dur remarked.
"Actually, she was only just thirteen at the time. She's not much older than I. She was such an exceptional student, with such evident leader qualities, that she was allowed to teach younglings. She was certainly an excellent alternative to Vrook." He chuckled a little.
Visas was looking up from her red hood, and she made a small gesture with her hand, as if raising it for a question. "Was she a good teacher?"
"Yes," he said at once. "Young, but passionate; she knew how to guide instead of criticize, and she connected with each student in a style that best suited the way they learned. The only problem was how little patience she had." His gray eyes were focused on the end of the hall, and a corner of his mouth was pulled up. "If a child had a temper tantrum or got frustrated, she got frustrated right back. One time she-"
"I can't believe they had it," the Exile said as she walked out of the shop, a little brown hunk in her hand. "I'm all ready if everyone else is."
A few of the crew started guiltily, but she was oblivious to anything except whatever little part she had. Ready for a change of clothes and some time off, the eight of them left for the docks and took off in the Ebon Hawk. Only Avery knew where they were going, but for now, in the aftermath of a big battle, they didn't care where it was.
The moment the chassis was installed, an orange flicker lit the dark storage room, silhouetting the two humanlike figures inside. A low hum started up. Avery's hand went directly to her lightsaber, her stance ready in case the droid should attack. She couldn't risk anything.
The droid bolted upright, its eyes the only visible thing in the room, and it scanned the environment quickly. "Diagnostic: HK-47 activated. Running checks through primary systems."
Avery gave it time, waiting for the first sign of aggression, but the droid only looked down at her. "Assessment: it appears I have suffered considerable damage and dismemberment. I can feel all the cracks in my motivators. And," it said after a moment, "my central control cluster seems to have taken several repeated blaster shots at close range. How crude."
"Why were you in this room?"
"Answer: I do not know. It is curious that I was here, although this place does seem familiar." It reached out with one long arm and flicked the lights on. Avery was illuminated in her tense attitude. "Reassurance: You need not take up a fighter's stance, Master. If I were out to kill you, we would not be speaking."
As Avery relaxed bit by bit, the droid continued. "Extrapolation: Perhaps someone was already in the process of rebuilding me. It may be I was needed for some task. My memory centers are experiencing some setbacks. Reflection: Of course, for some reason, that does not alarm me. I suspect I have suffered such repeated memory failures before."
"I take it you don't remember anything about your previous owner?" Avery said disparagingly.
"Answer: No, master." The droid went silent for a second; then its voice filled with disgust. "Oh, how I hate that term."
"Hmm? Owner?"
"Answer: No, 'master.' Ah," it gasped in alarm, "I said it again."
Avery's face split into a wide grin. "Well, you'd better get used to it."
"Disinclined Answer: Yes, master. HK-47 is ready to serve."
The doors opened, and Avery and her newest team member walked out to a wide-eyed Bao Dur. His hand was reaching for his lightsaber when Avery ran up to pat his arm reassuringly. "It's a friendly. A unique model. If it were going to attack, it would have in the room. Don't worry."
"If you say so." Due to his trust in the Exile, Bao Dur immediately stopped worrying and started looking over the droid with a critical eye. "You're quite broken," he said at last.
The droid yanked its head stiffly from side to side. "Statement: I do not need repairs from a meatbag."
"Oh come on," the Zabrak cajoled. "Think of how much more efficient you'd be."
HK continued the odd motions with its head, and Avery had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
"I don't understand why you won't let me take a look."
"Statement: I have had quite enough tampering at the hands of unskilled meatbags such as yourself. I am not eager to submit to this treatment now or in the future."
"Unskilled meatbag?" Bao Dur echoed indignantly. "I'll show you unskilled-"
"Appeasement: I did not mean to imply that you were an unskilled meatbag, as incapable of performing rudimentary repairs as holding a hydrospanner. It is only that I am quite particular with my repairs."
The Zabrak left with dissatisfied grumbles, while HK looked as perfectly pleased with itself as a droid without facial muscles could. The Exile supposed she should inform her other teammates of the newest addition. Otherwise, there could be some surprise when they entered the main room.
Korriban was the last stop before Avery insisted on seeing Kavar again, and the remote planet was a long way away. When she tried to enter the cockpit, the door jammed. She knocked.
"Oof," her pilot let out as he stood. "Just a sec. I'm coming."
The hinges squawked in protest as Atton pulled the door. "Sorry about that. This thing's pretty busted. I- oh. Avery." He stopped short. "Were you…"
"Just wanted to tell you to head to Korriban," she finished for him. "It's a long route, so you'll have time to fix the door."
"Right. Uh, hold on." She turned back, dark brows raised, waiting. Atton had to take a moment to build himself up. If he was rejected now, he was really in trouble. "Look, Kess, I'm really sorry. About a lot of stupid shit I did. I mean, I have a list of stupid shit. Like eight things. I'm sorry for all eight. Really."
"I don't know what things you're apologizing for, but it's accepted. Did you write this list down? Maybe I could go down, tick each off."
"No. Got it memorized though. Will you talk to me again?" Wow. This was turning out to be a great apology. "Cause I'd really like that. I don't like the awkward not-talking. I get that it might take a while to be comfortable with me again but I don't mind."
She was watching him serenely, which he took as a good sign. "Later I was hoping you could help me mess around with my lightsaber. It's actually a pretty cool weapon and I've snuck into the workbench room to check out the various crystals so I have an idea of what I'd like to use."
When she didn't answer, he tried a different tactic. "Do you need a formal request?" Dropping to a knee, he took one of her hands and held it firmly in his. "Avery Kess, would you do me the honor of fixing my lightsaber with me? I can't imagine anyone else I'd rather tinker with." His face twisted. "Er, that is, tinker with weapons with."
Finally, her still face warmed. "I was already willing to talk to you. I just wanted to see how far you'd take this."
Atton looked behind her to see Mira and Kreia watching them. The old woman looked properly disgusted, while the bounty hunter gave him a pitying shake of her head.
Noticing he was still holding Avery's hand, he released her and stood quickly. "So, later on then. I'll set a chart for Korriban, then fix the door and find you when it's done. Deal?"
"Deal," she agreed brightly.
He was trying to close the door now, to hide his embarrassment, but of course it wasn't working. The hinges screeched more viciously than ever, and it took a long, long time to push the thing closed. In the meantime, Kreia had snorted, Mira cracked up, and Avery saluted until the door finally clicked into place.
After sessions with both Kreia and Visas in meditation, Avery headed to the bedroom off the med bay, where Disciple sat at a desk, organizing medical supplies. In one easy movement, she sat on the bed and tucked her feet under her brown robes. "Tell me about your past. How I know you."
"Hello, Avery. It's nice to see you too. I've been fine, thanks for asking. Now, since we're done with greetings, I'm more than happy to answer the question you asked." He sat next to her, watching her intently. "It's a bit of a long story, though, so you'll have to indulge me. For one, my name is actually Mical. Forgive me for not being honest; I had to conceal my identity at first."
Whoever designed this place must have been a glutton for punishment. Three different types of wrenches for one door? As Atton grudgingly picked up yet another tool, he caught Avery's voice. When he peeked around the corner, there she was, in deep discussion with the blonde kid, reliving Academy memories and laughing at old jokes. The air of familiarity around them was impossible not to detect, Force sensitivity or not. As he watched, the two closed their eyes, and Disciple began to teach Avery some sort of Light-based healing thing. Fantastic.
"Meditation envy?" Mira's voice behind him made him jump.
"Why don't you go sit on a rocket?"
"Calm down! What is your problem?"
His tone was sulky. "I don't want to talk about it."
"All right. You know, Atton, sometimes it's no wonder you can't figure yourself out the way you lie to yourself all the time. Stop watching her. She's got enough problems."
Before he could throw out a witty comeback, she was gone. Atton sighed. Mira was right, of course, but that didn't mean he wanted to acknowledge that. He did take her advice, though, and left Avery to her private time with a genuinely good guy who loved her, despite the fact that all this private time wasn't helping with his growing unease.
Avery opened her eyes, now shot with silver, to see Disciple nodding. "Excellent. Just keep in mind that you're multitasking if you Heal in battle. Defending yourself and channeling the power at the same time is tricky. Try it again."
Eyes closed again, she sensed Mical's fist shoot out, and blocked with her forearm while trying to bring the calm draw of healing from the Force. He was right: it was tough to focus on the two things at once, but after exhaustive repetition, Avery finally managed to pull the soft bluish strands of smoke out, spinning them up from her feet to her head, even as she blocked.
"Later, can we try it with lightsabers? I'll make sure not to hit you."
"I suppose so," the Disciple replied genially. "But tomorrow would be best. Teaching you takes a lot of energy."
She looked disappointed, but agreed nonetheless. Waiting would be worth it.
Atton was just managing to replace the hinge on the door when Avery walked by, beaming at him, and -staring after her- he sliced his hand on the screw he was adjusting.
"Shit! I am such a-"
"Do you need a hand?" Mical asked politely as he came up.
"No, I don't," Atton said harshly. "Go back to your training. I'll call you if I need someone useless."
"Is there some problem? I was only offering to help."
Damn him. Always so mild and patient. Atton stood, looking down at the Disciple. "Problem? No, no problem. Just wondering how long you're planning to stick around."
"For as long as she needs me, of course." Neither of the men needed to define who 'she' was.
Damn him again. Atton heard the loyalty, and the other unfortunate tone that he was far too familiar with, in Mical's voice. "How heroic of you," he bit off. "Well, she doesn't need you. In fact, we were doing just fine until you showed up."
"Actually, there are times when it seems you could use some he-"
"Always with the details, aren't you? You can't fool me. You have some agenda, spying on her, watching her…"
"No, no I don't. I simply admire her. She has many qualities worthy of respect, and a strength that matches her beauty. Surely you've noticed."
"Yeah," Atton agreed bitingly. "And I noticed first. Get it? So cut it out."
"Unfortunately," Mical replied, "it will be…difficult for me to do that. Additionally, it's her choice, you know, and a lack of options will not ensure she does what you're hoping she will."
Atton huffed and rounded to the other side of the door. "It certainly doesn't hurt."
The Exile felt dread, so strong it seemed to seep into her bones, as the Hawk entered the arid, dense atmosphere of Korriban. When her feet hit the shifting sands, she struggled not to buckle under the weight of the planet's sinister power. Atton, next to her, wordlessly placed his hands on her arms and held her up. "I don't get it. Why would one of the Jedi you're looking for come here?"
"I don't know," she replied quietly. "But I know something terrible has happened to her."