Avery was far too warm. She was sluggishly waking from a deep sleep with someone very firm and masculine pressed up against her back, and he was radiating heat. Again? I told myself this wouldn't happen anymore, not in camp…the men don't need to see their General and their Master curled up with each other for Force's sake. Even if it is comforting.
Her eyes opened, not to the hard ground of a new planet, but the smooth walls of the Ebon Hawk. It dawned on her slowly that it wasn't Revan nestled up against her, but Atton. It had been a long time since she'd woken up next to anyone.
The hard planes of his face are lit in the fire. The battle today has taken a toll on him, just like everyone. Many deaths, necessary for what he has to do, but the loss is an acute wound in the Force, growing larger every day. Avery is taking it especially hard. She's too sensitive to the lives of her men, too in-tune with thoughts and feelings of those around her to be able to handle the losses. She's a marvelous general, but she'll pay dearly for this.
She sees him watching her and frowns a little, using the unspoken communication the two had built up over time. A corner of his mouth pulls up in a wry smile and he shakes his head, but she gets up to sit next to him anyway.
"What is it?" she says softly, trying not to wake the sleeping soldiers around them.
"You look ill."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
"It's getting better."
"It's getting worse."
She blows out a breath in exasperation and runs a hand through her tangled mass of short brown hair. "It doesn't matter how I feel."
"You're very brave. I know I picked correctly. I just wish there was some other way."
Perceptive as always, Avery knows Revan is not discussing the War against the Mandalorians. Every once in a while, he hints at something else, something greater and more far-reaching than anyone else in the battles can imagine. He is always one step further in his thinking, like a dejarik player who's a turn ahead of his opponent. Now, though, it seems whatever strategy he's using is five turns sooner. He's setting many things in motion for reasons that span the distance of galaxies, actions that will send ripples of change far beyond the Mandalorians or the Jedi.
Avery is aware, but she cannot fathom the consequences or the purpose of it all. There is no point in asking, because he won't tell her. She has to play her part in his plan; that's all.
But when he looks at her like he is now, with a regret and sadness he thinks he's hiding, she knows that the part will be very difficult.
"I'm frightened," she almost whispers. Stars, it was difficult to admit that.
Revan knows that Avery is not speaking of the War. It was foolish of him to think he could keep it from her.
"You want to know something? Don't ever tell the men this- or the Jedi, or especially Malak- but I am, too."
"It's going to be hard for both of us, isn't it?"
He traces her smooth cheek with a finger, remorse plain on his face now. "Yes. It is."
She's watching him gravely as he continues his light travel over the lines of her face. He wants to remember her like this, before the essence of who she is has to be broken down and repaired, before she goes down a path no one ever has before in order to help him. She's the only one who can play this part.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't say that," she replies quickly. "Even if it is hard, I'd rather go through it and do something vital for the galaxy than be comfortable and do nothing. I'm glad to help you." Her face twists up a little, she almost smiles. "I may not feel that same way later, but it'll be too late to quit then."
Despite her confident tone, when she lies down on the cold ground and curls up, the weight of her impending pain pressing her fears into a tangible thing. Whatever it is that's coming, she doesn't know if she'll be strong enough.
Even as she tries to quell the worry, she feels arms encircle her, pull her close into enveloping warmth that steadies her breathing. His heart is beating hard, too.
Finally, the anxiety in them both fades enough that his tight grip on her relaxes. Avery, for the first time but not for the last during the War, falls asleep curled into him.
Atton surfaced from a deep sleep to his senses flooded. There was someone's naked back against him, and she felt wonderfully soft. He took a deep inhale of her smell, a mixture of soap and warm girl and faint activities from the previous night. Best of all, he opened his eyes to messy dark hair and curves he knew better than anything. He took a few languid minutes to run through each detail of what had happened before they'd fallen asleep, feeling her gradually shift awake next to him.
This was how every morning should be.
Avery untangled herself from him and stood, which gave Atton an even better view while she stretched. This certainly beat regaining consciousness next to someone who seemed far more attractive the night before, then sneaking out of a room to wander through unfamiliar neighborhoods until he could get back to a street he knew. He wasn't even hungover. It looked like there was merit to this whole commitment idea after all.
"Oof. That is so much better." She whirled to face him. "You're hot."
He winked outrageously at her, hazel eyes sparkling. "You're not bad yourself."
She only rolled her eyes and started looking around for her clothing, causing the man in her bed to look sulky. Yes, they'd arrive at Malachor V soon, and yes, their long and difficult adventure would finally end, whether in death or success. But he would have liked to stay in bed with her a while longer.
Bao Dur hardly looked up from the keyboard he was typing away on to ask his question. "So what's our plan? Do we just rush into the rebuilt Academy like a pack of kinrath and hope that she only flings most of our bodies away so one of us can stab her?"
"Of course," his General replied loftily. "Isn't that normally the plan?"
"Well, if that's what we'll be busy doing, I'll need to send out my remote. There's a droid on the planet giving off some interesting signatures- it's the same pattern as one I saw on Goto's yacht. It looks like a droid of his is on the planet for some reason. He's large and round, not one I've seen before."
"Statement: I have. It is quite familiar to me."
Bao Dur looked at HK with no small amount of curiosity. "Really? How...actually, it's probably best if I don't ask. It's unclear whether Goto is controlling him. I could have sworn we killed that guy."
"I've been thinking about that," Mira piped up. "Did any of you ever notice that we only ever saw Goto in a hologram, and activity under him hasn't stopped since he supposedly died?"
"What are you saying?" Bao Dur responded. "He doesn't exist at all?"
"Not necessarily. But it's strange. What if who we thought we killed wasn't the real Goto?"
"What would he be doing on Malachor, though?"
"Well I don't know. I'm not a criminal mastermind. It seems like a lot of the shit he did wasn't based solely on profit, or status, or other gains criminals are usually after. He had other reasons. I can guarantee, though, whatever he's doing here, he's up to no good."
"So now we need to worry about a Sith Lord who's waiting for us, another Sith Lord likely working under her who Kess barely escaped before, and some supposedly dead mastermind's droid up to something sneaky? Not to mention the Sith men who will be guarding the Lords?"
"Cheer up, Atton." Mandalore reassembled the last piece of his rifle with a click. "Isn't it great that we know exactly what to expect?"
"I am glad you're still with us, Canderous," Visas said quietly next to him.
"O-of course. I couldn't leave you all to fight the old woman without my help. You'd have no chance." He turned to the Exile, obviously flustered. "So? What's the strategy here? I'm expecting something pretty impressive, seeing as Revan held you in such high regard."
What would Revan have done? She was picturing him, his gray eyes taking on that odd sharpness when he was thinking of a strategy. One turn ahead…
"I'll go in alone," she said aloud, causing the arguments around her to stop.
"No," Mical said at once.
"Wait. Let me explain."
He eyed her doubtfully, but she plunged ahead. "If I go in alone, fight my way up to the Academy, Kreia will be focused on my progress. Just my progress. Meanwhile, Bao-Dur and his remote can fire the sequences properly so that Malachor can be destroyed. Mandalore, I'd appreciate it if you'd escort him for safety's sake. Additionally, Goto's droid will likely try to make sure that Bao Dur is unsuccessful, and that's where you come in." She nodded at the red assassin to her left.
"Query: You mean that I am permitted to destroy the fat one, Master?"
"Yes, HK. I need you to make sure it doesn't go through with what it wants to do."
"Enthusiastic Assertion: I would be delighted to foil its plans, Master. In as painful a manner as possible."
"For once," the Exile replied grimly, "I'd appreciate that."
"What about us?" Mira asked.
Avery turned and looked over the remainder of her new Jedi, all full of nervous anticipation. "You all have something else to do. I realize it's risky, and I'm asking a lot of you, but…well..."
She sighed. "You did sign up with me with the understanding that I'd eventually make you do something stupid."
All that she'd worked so hard for was finally about to happen. Darth Traya stood in a hall of her Academy, waiting for the girl.
Regardless of whether the Exile was successful or not, under the guise of her former self Kreia, the old woman had managed to manipulate and lie her way through all of it to learn what she'd needed to. Now, she'd taken the mantle of the Dark Lord Traya, fulfilling the triumvirate as Nihlus had lost his place in it. Sion was the only Lord under her, but surely he would serve the purpose he needed to. She'd forced him into it.
Her student, Revan, had given her the girl quite by accident. He'd been thinking of what lay ahead, and knew that the girl would be the only one to accomplish what he needed her to. But he had not thought of how useful the creature, the leech he'd inadvertently created, would be after he left. Useful to others, with plans far different than Revan's. Traya had used Avery. The girl had been proof that one could live without the Force, be independent of it, but Traya needed to know one more thing: whether one could defy fate itself.
If Traya won, she'd know.
Mira stopped short as the team walked up to a heavy set of doors, where a dark ripple of the Force was pushing out steadily. There were several entrances along the sides of the room, and Kreia, or whatever she was, had to be inside. The bounty hunter's face looked ugly for once. "I say we open the doors, fire a rocket at her right now, and throw her screaming, burning body into the heart of the planet."
"If you want to kill her like that," Atton replied steadily, "you need something else to occupy her attention. Otherwise, you might just wound her. And then we'd all be in trouble."
Visas nodded somberly next to the bounty hunter. "This battle will not be decided by weapons. She has become the third of the triumvirate. She has taken the identity of the Betrayer. Darth Traya is in this room."
"Regardless of what she calls herself, she has not changed. Manipulation is Kreia's strength, not battle." Mical walked up and placed a palm against the intricate wood carvings of the door. "We have a chance. We just have to make use of it. For Avery."
The same girl the team was setting up their plan for was making her way through the dust of the former planet feeling ill. The wound of the place tugged at her center, gave her vivid recollections of what had happened here before. Alone, she barely had any strength to walk through the wasteland. The Jedi were right; she needed the strength of other people to survive.
Finally, pale and drawn, she walked up to the tall white columns of the Academy. Kreia wanted to end all the plans she'd worked so hard from the beginning to accomplish. The scale of what she'd attempted to do was awe-inspiring. So many lies, so much careful guidance and steering in the direction she wanted, just to come to a realization about her own nature, about how to abandon the Force. Hopefully Bao Dur could do what he needed to before Kreia was successful.
"We've come a long way, Kreia." Mira stepped through the main entrance, her hand at the hilt of her lightsaber. "Don't bother getting up."
The old woman did anyway. "Ah, the huntress. To come alone…you are braver than I thought."
Disciple's voice rang behind the old woman. "She is not alone. We stand with her."
"And with her," Visas said quietly to the right, "stand all the Jedi."
Kreia watched Atton stroll up lazily from the left, twirling his weapon. "And now I come in, saying something suitably heroic."
"Children with lightsabers. But not Jedi, I think. Come close. Let me look upon you all and see what the Exile's teaching has forged."
She studied each of them in turn. "An assassin, a blinded slave, a wasted pawn of the republic, and a fool. Which of you wishes to try yourself against me? As you can see, I am unarmed."
Mical looked to the others, and after they nodded their confirmation, Traya turned to him. "You, perhaps? You could have been so much more, even with your wide-eyed innocence, your naïve love for others. Love that is not deserved."
Mical charged her head-on, only to be blown violently back into a pillar. Traya shook her head in disappointment. "Think before you throw your life away for her! Think of everything you will lose by dying!"
"I lose nothing by dying for her," he managed to get out.
"You lovesick fools may think so. But are you so sure that you both love her for reasons that do not impose on your free will?" She gestured first toward Mical, then to Atton standing a few feet away. "Are you sure it is not simply that she is able to poison you, connect with you in that parasitic way that allows her to depend on you more easily? She feeds from the worship, you know. It makes her stronger. And just as she grows stronger while her host weakens, so has your love made her more powerful, while it weakens you."
"That doesn't matter," Mical replied instantly.
"But if you are too weak, young one, think of all the two of you lose. Would you both rather your lusts unfulfilled, a dance unfinished? Or a love requited? Think before you give it up so quickly!"
Mical watched her for a moment, and even in that short space of time, she began to cackle. "Now I see. I'd had no idea. No idea, until just now. You don't understand what is happening, so you have hope. You really believe she could love you once this is over. She didn't tell you."
"Didn't tell me what?"
Traya turned to Atton with a smirk wrinkling the corners of her black lips. "I'm not surprised that you didn't accidentally inform him. But I am amazed that she managed not to. She must have learned much more from you than I thought."
Mical didn't have time to demand more information from her before the Sith Lord was turning to the hooded Miraluka. "And you, blind one? Can you feel the Force running through me, even past the veil in your bloodied eyes? You know you cannot win."
"The Force runs strong within you, Traya, but in the howling of a storm, it is difficult to hear the whisper of a blade."
In a swift motion, Visas threw her lightsaber in an arc toward Traya, while Mira sent a wave of energy to attempt to disarm the old woman. Traya merely waved once, and both women went flying across the room.
Atton bent low, ready for the next part of the plan, when Avery's thoughts rippled along his mind. Something was very, very wrong. A variable they hadn't considered.
Go. Find her, Mira called to him in the same second. Just don't get killed.
Traya watched in surprise as Atton abruptly turned on his heel and rushed out of the room. She'd known he was a fool, and a coward from his own past. Still, she hadn't thought of him as a coward for his life.
A blow from the back knocked the breath from her body. She turned just in time to see the Zabrak swinging down with his lightsaber. She hadn't heard him. She'd never been able to read his thoughts.
He'd counted on that.
Traya Screamed, and Bao Dur faltered just enough for her to nimbly block his swing with her lightsaber. With impossible strength, she pushed against him until she stood, and suspended him in midair.
"I have no interest in killing you children. You have no chance of harming me. Then again, I cannot allow you to cause more distractions. The Exile is close, and I must go to the heart of the planet." She dropped Bao Dur, and the rage on his face was palpable as he struggled to get up.
At once, her voice became cold and vicious, penetrating each mind with an irresistible order. "Each of you go to a cell in the next room and wait for my men to lock you inside."
Traya watched with amusement as they all struggled, muscles in their legs straining and teeth gritted, trying with all their might to resist. With painful slowness, they all began to rise and walk.
"Faster."
They were groaning with the strain, but their feet kept moving. Forcing a mind was far more difficult than persuading, but it was much more satisfying for the mind to see itself controlled and helpless.
When they were gone and the room was empty, Traya made her way to the core. Sion was taking longer than she'd expected, but any amount he weakened the Exile only improved Traya's chances of succeeding.
Of having free will. Of changing fate itself.
Clearly, this place was not welcome to visitors. Atton knew that Avery was near Sion- the alarm bells going off in her head were loud enough to tell him even with all the interference- but it seemed like every room he burst into was just crawling with more Sith. Regardless of what happened, he had to help her. He knew her too well. If she survived dealing with the first Lord, she'd find Kreia immediately afterward. Sure, he could take on four Sith at a time, but it was too time-consuming. He had to run until he found her. He had to make sure Sion and Kreia didn't succeed.
He had to hurry.
Avery kept her back to the wall at all times, never letting her eyes leave the Lord of Pain. His shoulders were slumped, his posture defeated, but she didn't trust him. There was no reason for him to let her find Traya. The Exile was going to kill his Master, after he'd been given direct orders to stop Avery.
"Aren't you tired?" she almost whispered.
"Yes."
"Won't you let me help you? The pain could end, if you'd-"
"I do not wish to hear the Jedi nonsense about healing or the end of my suffering. I wish for you to kill Traya, and I wish for you to survive. Neither of us should exist- we are unnatural beings. Yet we have against all adversity. And I wish to see you succeed in this, in destroying the betrayer and living despite it all."
Avery hesitated near the door. Sion was trembling, resisting the manipulation of his Master and defying her. The girl was still there.
"GO!"
Immediately, the Exile left the room, straight toward the heart of the planet where Traya was waiting. As soon as she was gone, the orders began to pound in his head again. He was pathetic. If Avery didn't succeed, he would experience torture from the hands of the one he defied worse than he felt in his own body.