3951 BBY, Beyond the Unknown Regions
Revan
It was never quiet here.
Even though her companions rarely spoke - and even though it was a stretch to call anyone who shared her immediate vicinity anything close to a companion - the place was always brimming with sound. It was almost like music, but of the drawling variety. It was melodic, certainly, but its song was less like instruments playing and more like ruhau-whale song. Slow, drawn out, and monolithic, somehow. Engulfing. Endless and ongoing. All encompassing. As if this entire place were a ship capsizing beneath the immeasurable weight of an angry sea in slow motion, ready to collapse in on itself and drown in the inevitable flood to come at any moment.
It was both beautiful and terrifying.
And yet to soothe her mind, to keep her from falling under the same tempting spell as those around her, she found herself thinking of cantina music. And not just any cantina music, but the slow jazz they played at the Upper Taris cantina specifically, back when Carth didn't know whether he could trust Nevarra as far as he could throw her (which wasn't very much, nor very far if she had a say in it).
It was a comfort, but an odd one at that.
You actually like this sorta music? Carth had asked her, also side-eying her choice of drink on their very first night scoping out the local scene, hungry for any word of a crashed escape pod but coming up empty.
I don't hate it, she'd replied with an easy smile. It was innocuous then, her mind swimming with memories both old and planted, but in hindsight she knew smiles had never been easy for her. Had she known then, she would have predicted falling for Carth right then and there, having never felt so easy-going in her entire life - prior or following. He'd tsked, surprised, but tickled somehow. She sensed it then, not knowing what to make of it. She was only curious as to why this man wanted to prove she was a liar so badly, desiring to prove him otherwise to her later chagrin. Everything about her had been a lie, but something about the music that night calmed her in a way many things in all her life failed to.
It hadn't even been particularly good. She'd seen far more talented musicians play, especially on Coruscant, and the courts of Alderaan were on another level entirely. Yet it was something about the calming melody at the cantina that night that struck her then and stuck with her now. She'd even ordered a second drink as an excuse to stick around and hear more of it.
Revan was not one for drinking, and yet all the bustling scholars did here was drink. It was not quite alcohol, but something just as intoxicating. It kept them afloat, mentally and spiritually, intune with the Force in a way Revan had never seen nor thought possible.
Alek, if only you could see this, she thought. The room she sat in was near empty save for three others poring over old tomes - or tablets, as they were here. This place predated both datapads and paper, and while some documents were scribed in crystal, most were hammered into stone and piled into decorative patterns Revan found difficult to unfurl, no matter how curious she was to examine their contents.
Alek had only been here once with her, though on the fringes of this place. They'd never stepped foot in the sanctum proper. The two of them had met with the Emissary on the outskirts and given enough of a royal tour to sate their tongues, sending them on their way with grandiose dreams. They had both been so enthralled then, awestruck with all that was terrible and beautiful of what they saw and heard. And while they were in sync when it came to their shared interest, Revan made the mistake of assuming that meant they were on the same page about all things.
If only I'd told you, she rued night after night after night here, even though the sun never set. Twilight reigned supreme here, no sun quite strong enough to survive. Part of Revan's personal brand of rebellion involved adhering to her internal clock, one that no one shared in this place, honoring the sun and moon of a star system lightyears away.
But you were never meant to get it, were you? she thought of Alek as Malak, wishing she'd seen the change then and anticipated the change yet to come. I should have told Eden. It should have always been her.
Alek had been her brother in spirit. Her childhood friend, her confidant. Her soul mate and her other half. But Eden was the one that always understood. Alek was the one to argue. At first for fun, and then because it was the only way he knew how to feel. He let it get in the way of everything else; his ambition, his moral compass, and his every personal relationship. Alek always needed coaxing from the brink, but Eden was forever the level-headed one. A silent observer always in-the-know, even if she didn't mean to. And even if she was never quite sure of herself. Yet she was the one Revan could always trust… until she didn't. And it cost her everything.
Eden always knew, somehow. Yet she did not always listen. And it was for that exact reason Revan condemned the girl to die, knowing she would never follow in her hollow footsteps. Which is why she should have been the one I let in on the plan in the first place.
So the cantina music stayed. Replaying over and over in her mind - as she roamed the halls, explored the ruins, as she woke, and as she prepared for sleep. Even now, as she was reading, the music lulled her into a false comfort as her eyes skimmed over glyphs she'd never seen before yet somehow read familiar.
I've been here before an inner part of her sensed, though she knew it was not true.
Perhaps some part of her had, once. In her mind. The day her father took her out into the middle of the desert with the hopes of finding their fortune and not his untimely death, leaving her alone and without the words she needed to return home again. Revan swore she felt him here, in this place. And perhaps she did. Not quite his ghost but still living somehow, reanimated in some other form. Wishful thinking aside, it was a theory she was not willing to let go of yet, knowing there was some unseen connection between then and now. She just needed to find it.
But then the door would open. And Revan would have to deal with whatever lay beyond…
Until then, she would hope that her final unsent message was delivered somehow, T3 smarter than she often gave him credit for. The girl loved droids, right? Revan thought, hoping Eden had not changed much from girlhood to womanhood, even though another part of her hoped Eden had managed to escape all of this, gone off to live a quiet life on some backwater planet instead of getting caught up in another one of her schemes. If anyone will find her, he will.
Revan smiled to herself, an easy smile like the one Carth inspired in her what felt like eons ago, the cantina music still playing soothingly in her head.
3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Khoonda Headquarters, former Matale Estate
Mission
"How are we looking?" Mission asked, out of breath as the sun began to rise behind Zaalbar, the blood-soaked fur on his back beginning to glow both gold and scarlet with the growing light. Big Z grumbled before groaning and falling to one knee, similarly out of breath.
"That bad, huh?" Mission sighed looking around at the damage. The sprawling lawn of the Matale Estate had certainly seen better days, but Mission ventured this wasn't the worst the Golden Company could do.
"That was clearly not the bulk of their force," Adare said from somewhere behind her. Mission spun around again, only stopping once the Administrator's harrowed form fell into focus. The woman was covered in ash but still standing, and not injured from the looks of it. With a blaster held firmly in her grip, she extended a hand toward Zaalbar, offering to help him stand. The Wookiee obliged and mumbled an earnest thanks. "This was only a warning. Much like the body we found, but clearly worse."
"Worse how? What could be worse than all-out attack?" Mission asked. Despite whatever damage the grounds sustained, no life had been lost. Unless…
"Because it means next time they will stop at nothing," a man Mission was only just introduced to as Zherron cut in as he stepped beside Adare. The Administrator's head fell after acknowledging the man's presence, allowing him to place a gentle hand on her shoulder in consolation.
"This will only escalate, and more lives will be lost," Adare continued, her gaze unblinking as she stared at the scorched earth beneath her. "Perhaps it would be best that we not wait and relinquish what we have. In the end, it's not worth it-"
"Wait, no!" Mission stammered. She looked from Zherron to Adare, both older humanoids with heads of grey hair, old enough to remember the last two wars that scourged the galaxy, if not the last three. While Adare looked resigned, Zherron looked Mission in the eye with a cold stare, his bushy eyebrows furrowing as he surveyed her. "I mean, yes, the most important thing is to save what lives we can, but what do you think they'll do once they get their hands on technology beyond their understanding?"
Mission wanted to add that the items below the estate were beyond any of their understanding, but before she could make a fool of herself, Big Z roared in agreement.
"The girl's right, Adare," Zherron said. "We at least need to make a stand."
"And why not try while you have a fighting chance?"
Now Darek approached from the tall grasses, his eyes sunken as he walked towards them with his rifle poised on his shoulder. Asra was not far behind, her blaster still at the ready.
"I suppose you're right," Adare laughed darkly. "Though, it would be more reassuring if the Republic were here to back us up. I do not mean to put you on the spot, Mission, but it would certainly put my mind at ease."
You and me both, she thought, swallowing hard. Asra walked further until she was side-by-side with Mission, placing a hand on her elbow while the others were still gathering around.
"Speaking of the Republic, you said Admiral Onasi was in contact with Eden still, right?" Asra's eyes were full of hopeful expectation, and Mission was reluctant to deliver the truth.
Big Z rumbled a reply, but Mission shook her head.
"Carth knows where she is," she translated, "That's all."
"But you can try and get in contact with her, can't you?" Darek asked. "We all started this journey together, maybe we can finish it, too."
Mission had only heard about what they'd found out on the Dune Sea what must have been weeks ago now, surprised she had been traveling with these folks for so long. She may as well have been there from the beginning, herself.
"Maybe," Mission offered, shrugging at Asra and then Adare. "Any help we can get, right?"
"Eden would want to see this through," Asra added, her bright eyes scanning the charred plains once last time before Adare ushered them all towards the confines of the front entrance.
"But should we really invite her to come here?" Mission asked, echoing back to something Carth said about Bastila's help the other day. "Perhaps she can help some other way…"
"Maybe," Asra shrugged. "It would be worth reaching out to her anyway, no?"
"Any help would be welcome, indeed," Adare added once they were all under the entrance's awning, "Though I fear we may be running out of time."
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 082, Apartment C3
Eden
It was even stranger returning to the TSF apartment after narrowly escaping signing her soul away in the depths of Czkera's corporate offices. Every mirrored surface had reflected some version of Eden she was not yet acquainted with or one that looked too uncomfortably like Revan, and whatever wasn't reflective glass either glittered gold or polished silver, unnerving her even more. Nothing on Tatooine had been nearly so shiny, and Eden was still seeing sunspots despite having returned hours ago.
Think of the alliance we could strike should you choose to change allegiances, Jana Lorso had smiled serenely at her over her gleaming fingers, each fingernail painted a striking cobalt blue to match the delicate pattern that painted her face. There is a great deal more money where that came from, Jedi. Surely more than enough to pay off the Exchange.
With the ghost of Lorso's face still haunting her thoughts, Eden sat on one of the couches in the common area, turning the ten thousand credit coin in her hand. Atton had gone to bed not long ago after coaxing her into a game of Pazaak that quickly turned into two, and then three, before he realized there was no shaking Eden's sour mood. Eden was still wondering if the coin were even real, admiring the cerulean blue of its coaxium center, when Kreia returned to the apartment.
"I hope your day was far more enlightening than mine," Eden said by way of greeting. Kreia shouldered off her outer robe and padded over to Eden's side, donning a thinner beige kaftan that was belted at her waist with a sash that matched the bronze clasps in her twin braids. Kreia only nodded towards Eden's hand, her Force-enhanced sight more palpable than she realized.
"It would appear that yours was quite eventful, I'd say," Kreia said, taking the seat on the opposite end of the settee. Kreia laid an elbow on the armrest, looking the most relaxed Eden had ever seen her, the empty sleeve of her shift sitting limp where a hand should be. "That is quite a bit of money."
Eden turned the coin over in her palm, examining the coolness of it as the hyperfuel caught the light.
"Can you tell if it's-?" she began to ask, before Kreia interrupted.
"Oh, it is very much real," Kreia affirmed, a smirk gracing her mouth. "It seems you are in quite the predicament."
Kreia smiled knowingly, and unlike the other day the woman did not seem bitter about it. Smug, maybe, but not angry.
"You were right." Eden sighed and shifted her weight, moving until both of her feet were tucked beneath her. She held the coin up until it caught the light again, sending shafts of luminescence throughout the room. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Kreia's right hand twitched, feeling the weight of the object in her own mirrored fingers. "Maybe this wasn't worth it."
She didn't have to voice exactly what wasn't worth it for Kreia to extract her deeper meaning. The woman exhaled slowly and turned further towards Eden, this time beckoning that she share her gaze. Eden put the coin away, burrowing it deep in her pocket, before obliging.
"Just because it is more difficult than you predicted does not mean it lacks the same worth you initially saw in the endeavor," Kreia said, her voice a calm husk of what it usually was. "Different, perhaps, but not entirely bereft of value."
"But you said-"
"It does not matter what I said, nor what I think," Kreia interrupted. "My opinion still stands, and I may believe in it more firmly now. But it is just that - my opinion. Clearly, helping the Ithorians means something to you. Had you not conceded on their behalf, you would have regretted your inaction. And while I may not understand the urge nor agree with the choice to do so, who knows what repercussions that would have had on your mind moving forward? Either way, regardless of outcome, I believe it is important that you see this commitment through to the end. It will put your conscience to rest on the matter. Eventually."
Eventually, Kreia said after the pause. As if the woman already knew it would not end well, regardless of whether Eden had chosen to act or not.
"Why do I have the feeling that you would have had yet another opinion to share about my inaction?" Eden accused, though a half-smile graced the corner of her mouth as she said it. She wasn't happy with her assertion, even if the idea that she knew she was right left her feeling a little pleased anyway. "C'mon, tell me. What would your lesson be, then?"
"You did not choose that path, so you shall never know," Kreia teased. It was truly the most pleased Eden had ever seen the woman, and far more at ease than she ever imagined her being. "I have many things to teach you, should you ever be of a mind, but once a path is chosen then all other possible futures disappear with that choice."
"That feels like a lesson, too, though," Eden said.
Kreia huffed a laugh and turned toward the open window.
"Perhaps," she said. Eden still wasn't sure just what Kreia could and could not see, and afraid to reach out through their shared bond to find out, she instead watched on as the woman glanced away towards Atton's closed door and back to Eden again. "I imagine you do not wish to hear my developing opinions on your entanglement with the Ithorians, however I suspect that you could do with some meditation at any rate."
Whatever inner parts of Eden still worried suddenly melted with relief as she nodded with tired resolution.
"I'd like that," Eden said. "I'd like that very much."
3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Khoonda Headquarters, former Matale Estate
Lonna Vash
It was a strange thing - to be both aware of the future as well as blind to it.
Lonna had seen a version of events yet to unfold in her mind's eye, once in the flesh and a thousand times more in the remembering of it. So far, each of her visions had come to pass as she had originally seen it. Save for one.
Everything had gone according to prophecy except for last night. In the vision, she saw herself standing in a field, surrounded by fallen droids. She'd been responsible for their destruction in the vision, too, but the how of it was different.
Harnessing the elements can be dangerous, she'd once told Erebus when he was still known as Aiden, a messy-haired boy still too bashful to speak up when his twin sister wasn't nearby to talk for the both of them. Electricity especially so. Much of our technology relies on it, should one errant current go astray…
The boy had been well-mannered then, if not shy, but even at a young age he'd had a propensity to delve into the darker side of the Force. As a child, mild shocks or sparks were not uncommon among Padawans first getting a grip on the Force. It was a frequent side-effect of the more common exasperations often felt by toddlers especially, still too clumsy and not familiar with enough words to explain their inner world, their too-big feelings turning quickly into overwhelming frustrations. But for most it was weeded out early, their inner anguish soon translating into lessons once they learned the necessary vocabulary. But Erebus was all of nine when Lonna had last reprimanded him for it. She'd excused it then, chalking it up to an accident rather than an intention. To see that his skill had evolved since then, now having sprouted and even grown roots in the decades since, she wondered if it was more than incidentally her fault that he was what he was…
But smoke rose from her fingers the night before as if she'd done it a thousand times. Disabling droids was one thing, but calling upon an electric current to do the job was another entirely.
"Master Vash?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. Startled, Lonna stirred, turning to find Zayne approaching her closet of a room tucked into the heart of the Khoonda Headquarters. "Do you have a minute?"
"Sure," she said, forcing a smile as she stood. She was ready to follow the young man wherever he wished, but instead Zayne shuffled into her cramped quarters and closed the door behind him. "What is it you would like to discuss?"
"I just… I dunno, I want to know if you're sure about this," Zayne said, a serious look overcoming his face as he leaned against the door. The fringe of his dark hair fell into his face as he regarded her, still looking very much the Padawan learner despite his years of experience. Perhaps it was the unfortunate side effect of being overlooked and misunderstood at such a young yet impressionable age, not to mention his other troubles. Lonna wondered what other ills the Order had inflicted on children like Zayne, now adults still recovering from the last few wars and the aftermath that followed.
"My visions tell me that it must be done," she said, knowing exactly what Zayne spoke of, the disappointment clear on his face once she spoke the words. "And besides, we will need him. You will need him."
Zayne, though not alone, had reservations about saving the Sith in their midst. People like Dillan and the Khoonda quartermaster saw no difference, thinking there was little dissimilarity between a Jedi and a Sith, their distrust originating from somewhere else entirely. And a few years ago, Lonna might have agreed with them. But Adare knew the difference, as did Mission and Zaalbar, and yet it was only Zayne that believed the man could not be trusted. On that note, the man was right. But so far as Erebus was useful? On that Zayne could not be more wrong.
"I was afraid you'd say that," Zayne sighed, shoulders slumping. "It's just… I have a bad feeling about this. I can't quite explain it."
Zayne pushed off from the door and began pacing Lonna's small room, running a hand through his hair.
"I met Malak, once, y'know," he laughed. "Introduced himself as Squint."
Lonna paused. I'd forgotten that name, she thought, her mind instantly conjuring up a memory of the man Darth Malak had once been. As a Jedi Knight, he'd been endlessly charming, but broodingly so. Terribly serious and stoic, yet always managing to get himself into a bit of trouble. Impossibly tall, dark haired, and with piercing ice-blue eyes, Alek Squinquargesimus had a way about him that made him unforgettable. And yet the version of the man that he'd become - the imposing Darth Malak, inked in blue and sporting a mechanical jaw - had quickly eclipsed the well-spoken student he once was.
"I can't say I felt any which way about him, at first, suspicious least of all. So it's not like I have a track record at reading people," Zayne said, laughing darkly at the memory. "But this? Erebus? I just… I can't explain it. Something feels… off, to me. Very off."
"I cannot argue with that," Lonna offered. She crossed her arms as she watched Zayne continue to pace, unsure if it would stop. "But that does not matter. He leads somewhere we need to follow."
"We?" Zayne echoed, pausing only long enough to look at her before huffing and shaking his head. "I don't know if you mean the Jedi, but I'm not-"
"The Jedi are no longer," Lonna muttered, the words feeling truer now that they passed her lips. Zayne froze. He didn't look at her, perhaps waiting for her to elaborate or even retract her statement. But Lonna did neither.
"But-"
"It does not matter how many are left. Regardless if any survivors still follow the ancient creed, there is no Order. The meeting at Katarr was meant to discuss such things, and while I do not believe in any way that the events were deserved, I do believe that the result was a message. Both direct and metaphorical."
At first, all Zayne could do was stare at her. Lonna could relate, feeling just as outside of herself as Zayne was as he stood before her, realizing that her confession had long been quashed deep into the very core of her until this moment.
"I… can't say I disagree, but-" Zayne shook his head, his eyes glazing over as he focused on some middle distance, perhaps too taken aback to continue looking at Lonna head-on. "But I also can't say I expected you to up and just… say that."
Zayne pursed his lips and nursed his jaw with his hand, a thumb kneading the knot over his chin as he considered his next words
"The thing is - and I'm sure you know the story - " Zayne began, finally looking her in the eye again, "Is that my Master also had a vision. And he wasn't the only one. He and the entire Taris conclave believed one of their Padawans to be a harbinger of death, so they slaughtered every one of them. Save for me. Why they hadn't thought to await my arrival, I'll never know. But what I do know, is that they were wrong, and that the person they thought they saw in their vision was the man that would become Darth Malak."
Lonna was indeed familiar with the story, though it had only been told to her in hushed whispers, rumors spread at the height of Atris' upheaval of the Order at the start of the Civil War.
The Force has its ways, the young woman had said in response to the horrors that were later revealed to the Coruscant Council, her words sounding wiser beyond her years at the time. I believe Master Lucien Draay still has yet some part to play in bolstering our Order, and our wealth of knowledge regarding the ever-present Sith threat.
But shouldn't justice be exacted? Kavar had asked, to Zez-Kai Ell's disapproval.
The man should be allowed to redeem himself, Zez-Kai Ell had urged. Wouldn't we all desire the same chance at atonement should our judgment lead us astray?
"What I mean to say is," Zayne continued, "I don't want to discount whatever it is you've seen, but I want to express my concern, nonetheless. Visions aren't always what they seem."
"You may be right," Lonna said, wanting to laugh as she wondered what Zayne might say if she shared what had plagued her thoughts just before he knocked on her door. "But I am afraid that if any of us wish to move on then we must look to our past mistakes."
Zayne cocked his head, a question clear on his face before the realization dawned on him, his eyes widening as he eased into a solemn nod.
"Maybe you're right," he said, shaking his head after taking a moment to consider it. "No, you are right."
Zayne sighed again and slumped onto the cot Lonna had been calling a bed for the better part of the last two days. The container housing Exar Kun's lightsaber slid slightly from beneath it, though Zayne did not appear to notice, instead resting his elbows on his knees as he tousled his hair nervously.
"If Erebus is any example, these new Sith were like Revan and Malak, no? They were Jedi once. It would be stupid not to find out why if we had the opportunity."
And yet that is just the problem, Lonna thought. Exar Kun had once been a Jedi, too, as had Ulic Qel-Droma. And where has that brought us?
She eyed the demure container beside Zayne's feet, looking nothing but ordinary.
We ride the cycle thinking it will be different this time, but it never is.
"If you believe this is the right course of action, then… I trust you," Zayne said, standing up straight and looking Lonna in the eye as he moved towards the door, so sure of his sudden conviction. But now it was Lonna's turn to shake her head.
"I believe this will be worth it," she said, "But if I'm being honest, that does not mean I think your ill feeling is incorrect. And don't take my word for it. In fact, trust no one but yourself."
Zayne furrowed his brow, a new question forming on his face fast changing from confused to concerned, though the man voiced nothing. Instead, he allowed Lonna to walk him back to the door until he was in the Matale Estate's hallway again, his dark hair glowing a golden chestnut brown in the light of the sconces nearby.
"Lucien Draay already taught me not to trust anyone," Zayne said in a low voice, "What I really mean to say is that I trust your judgment, but I guess that's the same thing, isn't it?"
Zayne laughed a hollow laugh.
If a Jedi cannot trust their own Master, then who can they trust? Lonna thought bitterly, though outwardly she flashed Zayne a somber, empathetic smile. Had Aiden felt the same?
Lonna had been his first teacher, yes, but Atris had been his primary instructor afterwards.
What would Atris say if she knew what Erebus had become? Lonna thought as Zayne nodded at her before exiting. She watched his retreating back until it disappeared down the hall and around the bend, feeling more alone now than she had in recent memory. Or perhaps Atris did know, and that was why she struck the hammer down as hard on the rest of the Order as she had.
Either way, Atris was dead now. And there was nothing Lonna could have done about it.
All she could do now was ready her things and hopefully leave unnoticed, willing the next leg of her vision held true.
3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Rakatan Ruins
Mical
Mical should not have been surprised that he was as out of breath as he was. Nor covered in this much blood.
"Hurry," Erebus hissed at him, urging them both onwards.
But Mical couldn't help but watch as the pool of blood at his feet slowly expanded, finding traction in the delicate binary fissures of the floor and following them like a river forming on a new planet.
"We don't have much time," Erebus whispered, his eyes flashing some alarming shade of chartreuse as he grabbed Mical's arm. But there was warmth in the man's gaze, too, some brand of concern Mical was not used to seeing yet. "We won't make it out of here if we delay."
Mical's head was still spinning, a near faintness overcoming him as he dared look at the bodies that littered the floor.
We were provoked, he convinced himself as he trudged along behind Erebus, his head still swimming. It was all in self-defense.
Who knows what the next experiment might have done to us had we waited, Erebus had tried to argue earlier, somewhere between the third and fourth kick to the ribs. It was after that their fight was finally broken up, their force cage thoughtlessly deactivated in an attempt to break up the two prisoners lest they kill each other before the next round of experiments could commence. But it wasn't Golden Company mercs that littered the floor of their temporary prison. Instead farmers simply looking to protect their dying farmstead now lay dead, or dying. And Mical was not sure how to feel about it.
"You can still think through all of this?" Mical asked, sounding more annoyed than he let on. Erebus led him down the main hallway, edging along the wall so as not to be seen.
"For the moment," Erebus huffed, pausing along the way to disappear into an alcove. Mical watched and waited, not breathing for the entirety of his time alone in the hall, fighting the urge to look back and see whether the pool of blood had now entered the hall along with them. But before Mical could satisfy his baser fears, a hand appeared from the shadow of the alcove, insisting that he come take a look.
"Can't we just… leave?" Mical asked with a frustrated whimper, glancing towards the currently-unmanned front entrance before doing just as Erebus asked of him.
"I know you're more interested in this than you're letting on," Erebus said, annoyed. Mical rolled his eyes before his vision adjusted to the gloom of the room, and when they did, his eyes instantly went wide.
"This is one of the pylons?" he mouthed wordlessly. Erebus nodded.
"It's…"
Mical was at a loss for words. The thing was strange but not completely unusual. Like the pyramids they studied both in the confines of Erebus' cargo hold and in the ruined temple's archives, this object was angular. But unlike the onyx objects they'd already seen, this one was swirling amber, as if a shimmering liquid billowed beneath its duraglass exterior. But it couldn't have been duraglass, could it? Instead it was -
"Salt?"
An unmistakable brine reached Mical's nose as the realization hit, as if he were breathing in the scent of the sea. He looked to Erebus for confirmation only to find the man trying to slip on a pair of unusual gloves.
"It would seem so, yes," Erebus murmured, willing the gloves further over his palms where physics would not allow as he wrestled with his own piqued interest. "I pilfered these from our captors back there. I grabbed a pair for you as well."
Erebus nodded at his hip, a pair of similarly vinyl-seeming gloves hanging from the edge of his belt, but Mical only rolled his eyes again.
"If you think I'm reaching for those of my own accord, you couldn't be more wrong," he said, though whatever mixture of annoyance and fear coursed through him dissipated the moment he looked at the pylon again, its oddly organic yet perfectly geometrical shape vexing his inner philomath.
Erebus laughed mutely, though a keen determination soon took over his face as his now-gloved hands examined the pylon more closely. It was much larger than the objects Mical recalled from earlier and far more complex.
What day was that again? Mical thought again, as if they weren't running out of time, as if none of it mattered. A few days? A week?
Erebus's eyes glazed over as his concentration set in, a few stray hairs falling into his eyeline. He made no motion to adjust them or tuck them behind his ear, though it was clear in the look on his face that he wished they did not exist - but he dared not stall his investigation. First, his fingertips gently probed the pylon before he was all palms, the heels of his hands feeling for any internal mechanisms until -
A sigh echoed through Mical's chest and the alcove they both crouched in, as if a storm had passed, a relieved breath escaping this corner of the ruin.
"That's it," Erebus said into a smile, his face cleaving into a sinister smirk at his own ingenuity. "That's one of three."
"Three?" Mical echoed before the truth of Erebus' statement fully hit him. He already mapped out the grounds, he recalled. At great duress.
Erebus was still in poor shape to show for it, his nose freely bleeding being the least of his injuries as the man still ambled on with a more than incidental limp. And though he was motionless now, Mical still saw by the way the man held himself that he continued to endure pain. But before Mical could open his mouth to ask what their next move was, Erebus closed his eyes and raised a hand.
And suddenly - everything was vivid again. And slow. Slower than molasses. As if he might be crystalized like an ancient insect in languid amber.
"Follow close," Erebus said with a whisper. Mical nodded absently, watching as dust motes stilled in the air around them. The world froze while Erebus made a deal with existence to allow both he and Mical free passage, for the moment exempt from whatever spell befell the Rakatan ruin.
Mical swallowed hard and nodded, even though he knew Erebus could not see his physical response. The man slipped out of the alcove and back into the unmanned hall again. Mical's eyes slipped towards the open entrance a few meters ahead again as he followed, the whisper of a voice floating on the wind outside.
"Do you hear that?" Mical whispered. Erebus shot him a look, handing him the second pair of nullifying gloves as he awaited elaboration. Mical looked from Erebus to the gloves, back to Erebus again. Without thinking, Mical accepted the gloves, though his body felt heavy the moment they fell into his grasp.
"Hear what?" Erebus asked impatiently, his murmur no more than a rushed breath. "We're running out of time."
Erebus wiped his upper lip, his left nostril expelling blood again as they spoke, staining his gloves scarlet.
"I-"
He couldn't explain it. The muffled words he sensed felt like orders, but it also felt like a prayer. An invocation made on the behalf of someone yet unseen, but watching still.
I'll come back for you, the voice had said to him once, though now it uttered I am here and I am waiting.
"We need to keep moving," Erebus said, not betraying a lick of whether he actually heard what Mical was referring to or not.
When they reached the entrance, with the full intention of bypassing it of course, Erebus kept his sights ahead while Mical afforded himself a peek. And while he did not - for whatever reason - lose step behind Erebus, he did spy a sea of glowing eyes from beyond the ruin's entrance.
Kath hounds?
A chill coursed through Mical as he hurried after Erebus, crouched in the shadows as they navigated the ruin, coming upon their next obstacle.
"Look for the other pylon," Erebus ordered, "I'll take care of these pests."
"But-" Mical started, but Erebus had already slipped into the next room before he could ask what do I do when I find one?
He looked around and sighed. This end of the hall was oddly bereft of guards, though Mical figured whoever was supposed to man this area had likely gone to break up his and Erebus' mock fight. Trying not to think of which of those guards now lay bleeding out on their cell room floor, Mical swept the area in search of a hiding place.
Two pillars stood on either end of the room Erebus had just entered, yet neither housed a secret artifact. Mical tsked and turned again, his eyes laying further down the hall where Azkul had brought him the day before. A dread mounted in his chest at the thought, even though he knew he was safe for the moment.
I'll keep you safe, the voice said again, this time as if speaking in Mical's ear. He stilled, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he heard it. You can follow me out of here, if you wish. To the Jedi Temple.
Mical remained frozen, rooted to the spot. He and everyone at Khoonda headquarters believed that the entrance collapse to the dilapidated temple was the Golden Company's doing, but perhaps it wasn't their hubris that barred entrance to the academy now after all. Mical recalled feeling as if he were being watched when he first ventured there with Vash and Erebus what felt like forever ago, at the time chalking it up to being stalked by cloaked mercenaries. Yet if this voice dwelled there, perhaps they had been watched by more than mercs alone…
"Did you find it?" Erebus asked as he re-entered the hallway, now covered in more blood than earlier. Startled, Mical stammered before finally shaking his head with a disappointed no. Without thinking, his eyes glanced back towards the far end of the hall where Azkul and his attendants no doubt roamed, an errant fear gripping him at the thought of what awaited them there as well as what was speaking to him inside his mind from outside.
Erebus wiped his face again, his cheek streaked with blood, as his gaze followed Mical's.
"Don't worry," the man assured, placing a bloody hand on his shoulder before wincing and muttering a half-hearted sorry. "I won't let them touch you."
An earnest determination overcame his face, his bright eyes intent on Mical's. Part of Mical wanted to look away, uncomfortable to be this close, and yet… another part of him didn't want to leave. The discomfort wasn't entirely unpleasant, but instead almost thrilling, something Mical had no name for yet was not eager to define at the moment. Erebus' hand lingered a moment longer than it had to, and Mical considered placing his own hand atop it, as if to confirm the man's sentiment - when instead Erebus' eyes glanced slightly to Mical's left and went wide.
"There it is," he whispered, moving past him in a single stride. Mical spun around to find the Sith kneeling over a collapsed part of the wall, his hands already spiriting over what he could only assume was their second pylon.
"Two down, one more to go," Mical muttered, this time making sure to pay attention as Erebus disabled this pyramid. It was smaller than the other one, only slightly larger than the average holocron. Erebus lifted it up gingerly in his gloved hands, feeling the corners of the object until the inner amber glow dimmed. "How did you do that?"
Erebus shrugged, still holding the pylon aloft as something akin to affection crossed his face.
"I'm not sure, to be honest," he said, wistful. "The pyramid is almost entirely organic, so I think it just senses me, I guess? Or the pattern? Maybe it has something to do with body heat?"
Erebus' eyes sharpened as he examined the thing more closely, his brows furrowing as he brought it closer to his eyes. The man sniffed it, looking as if he might even go so far as to lick the damn thing, before placing it back on its hidden plinth in the ruined wall.
"I'll come back for you," he whispered - reminding Mical of the ghostly voice again, making him wonder if Erebus had heard it and was now only testing him - before standing upright again and squaring his shoulders. Erebus looked at Mical with an inquisitive nod. "You ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," Mical answered, knowing that didn't necessarily mean he was ready at all. Whether Erebus understood that or not, he did not say, instead starting again down the hall until he met the doorframe at the other end.
Mical followed, looking back towards the entrance falling away behind them as they moved onward, wondering if the voice would speak to him again. It didn't.
"Okay, we need to find the last pylon," Erebus whispered, "And once we do, don't feel pressured to do, well, anything."
"What?" Mical asked instantly, the confusion settling in as he spoke. Erebus sighed, slumping his shoulders as he sniffled, blood still trickling down from his nose.
"You're inexperienced. Even if you feel the Force, don't feel obliged to use it. You can leave it to me."
He wasn't sure how he knew, having known the man for so short a time all things considered, but Mical felt that Erebus was trying not to sound condescending. And with concerted effort.
"If you see a blaster or something, then by all means," Erebus continued. "But don't feel as if you have to act. You didn't ask for this."
You didn't ask for this, echoed in Mical's mind, time stilling even further than it already had at Erebus' hand. Mical hadn't asked for a lot of things, and not once had anyone ever voiced it. Orphaned before joining the Order, rejected before he could be trained, and thrust into a war he was hardly old enough to understand, it was a wonder Mical had ever made it this far before expecting anyone to say they were sorry. Now he was hearing it. Finally - for the first time. And it was being uttered sincerely by a Sith, no less.
"I'll take care of this," Erebus said, taking a deep breath as he didn't wait for Mical to respond.
Mical opened his mouth to say something along the lines of thanks before thinking it utterly stupid. He was about to revise his statement of gratitude when Erebus went ahead and opened the door ahead of them, opening up to a scene Mical was not entirely ready to comprehend.
It was as if he were viewing himself from the outside - suspended upside down on the viewing table as tubes pierced into his body, running with a luminescent liquid while Azkul stared him down. Only it wasn't himself he was watching this time, but Master Vrook Lamar.
What little hair Master Vrook still had stood on end as he was held upturned, barely reaching the floor. Unlike Mical in the same situation, the man's face was placid, his eyes closed as if he were taking the calmest of naps. And before him stood the grizzled Azkul, looking more agitated than the man had ever been in his experimentation and interrogation of Mical.
"I can't say I expected… well, this," Erebus whispered.
No one in the room moved, each of them frozen by design. Mical looked on, wide-eyed, as Erebus began to scan the space before the man turned to him and asked, "Did you sense anything strange in here? When you were interrogated before?"
"Like what?" Mical volleyed, still surprised to find that no one in the room responded to their intrusion nor their speaking. He half expected their heads to turn, or their eyes to look in their direction at least. But the room remained still, as if frozen in an image.
"Anything… I don't know, antagonistic?" Erebus shrugged. "Or maybe just off?"
Mical glanced about, placing himself back in his memory. The only thing that stood out at the time was the modded merc, who he now noted was standing on a different side of the room with a clipboard in hand, his mechanical upgrade enacted and mid-scroll as a miniature amber screen flickered before his eye. Mical looked to where the man had been stationed during his own interrogation and pointed.
"There, if anything. Though I don't know if-"
Before Mical's own uncertainty could voice itself, Erebus was already across the room and crouching near the machinery stationed there, quickly emerging with an "Aha."
Mical expected Erebus to re-emerge, pylon in hand, but instead he remained crouched and quiet. Too quiet.
"Erebus?" Mical asked, his eyes unwilling to peel themselves completely from Azkul and the modded merc, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fi-"
The ghost of the word fine flitted through the space before Erebus collapsed and time resumed, the mercenaries around them coming back to life. They almost did not notice that Mical and Erebus were even there, going about their interrogation of Vrook, before the rebel closest to Mical glanced quickly at him in her peripheral vision, double-taking as the realization dawned on her.
"Hey!" she barked, fixing her rifle on Mical's form before her eyes glanced downward, her aim faltering only for a moment as she took in the sight of Erebus bleeding profusely on the floor. "Don't move!"
The rebel readjusted her aim and held it steady as the others in the room quickly became conscious of the interlopers in their midst.
What do I do? Mical thought, feeling utterly useless as his hands slowly raised into the air as a sign of surrender. The rebel in front of him closed one of her eyes, lining up her shot in case Azkul or anyone else gave the order to fire. Only none of them did. A laugh broke Mical out of his reverie, and he finally looked back towards the head of the room. The modded merc stood with his clipboard in hand and a blaster in the other while Vrook stared on as if all of this were boring him. Between them stood Azkul, the spirit of a laugh still clear on his scarred face.
"Cute," Azkul said, rounding on Mical. Like the rebel, Azkul merely glanced at Erebus before returning his gaze to Mical, taking step after step towards him until their noses were nearly touching. "How was this plan supposed to go, I wonder?"
Azkul did not blink. Mical was unsure if he did either, his consciousness now almost completely disconnected from the rest of his body.
Without breaking eye contact, Azkul side-stepped until he was hovering just over Erebus who was now struggling to get up. Just as the Sith propped himself up on an elbow, Azkul smirked and pressed his boot to Erebus' neck, sending him back to the floor with a crack. Mical shuddered, his eyes flitting from Azkul to Erebus and back to the rebel whose blaster rifle was still aimed at his chest.
Mical's head spun about in search of another exit though he knew he'd never make it far enough, even if he could run. He wished his back had been to the room's entrance and not the corner, thinking of the crystal cave Erebus told him of the night before and the fact that it led to the Jedi Temple. It would take him days to navigate it maybe, but it was worth a shot. His eyes glanced towards the door, doing the math within the span of a half-second.
Azkul's face split into a wicked grin as he followed Mical's questing gaze, barking out another riotous laugh as he pressed his heel to Erebus' throat.
"You're no Jedi," Azkul spat, though a smile still graced his cragged lips as he said it. "But the Exchange will still pay a pretty price for your head."
Azkul nodded in Mical's direction, urging the rebel beside him to take the shot. Both of Azkul's irises flashed white as the blasterfire shot through the room. Mical scrunched up his eyes, awaiting the pain, the impact. But neither came. Instead Mical opened his eyes to a room full of electricity, voltaic bolts snaking their way about the equipment around them and stunning every person in the room - save for Mical.
"Don't touch him," Erebus hissed from the floor, baring bloody teeth as he pushed Azkul's boot from his neck and sent the man backwards. The room went dark, illuminated only by the shower of electric tendrils pouring from Erebus' palms as he forced himself back up and sent everyone save for Mical towards the opposite wall. Vrook's eyes went wide and Mical ducked as if it would do him any good. Surprise gripped him as much as the fear of what Erebus truly was, as he watched on in congruent abject horror and fascination.
"Not so cute now, huh?" Erebus laughed as he walked casually over to where Azkul lay, now the one slumped on the floor in a heap, helpless. "Now tell me, who is it you so humbly work for?"
Azkul's face was a mess of blood and dust. Instead of deigning Erebus with an answer, the man attempted to spit in his face - though the spittle didn't make it far past his lips.
"I'll only ask you one more time…"
As if acting on autopilot, Mical was across the room and kneeling by Vrook's side, side-eyeing Erebus all the while.
"Are you hurt?" Mical asked, feeling stupid as he spoke.
Vrook only looked on with unending surprise.
"Are you fit to walk?" Mical asked again once the man's restraints were loosened. With an awkward nod, Vrook finally communicated some understanding before Mical helped the man to his feet. "Something tells me this is something you did not foresee?"
"I had plans for this endeavor," Vrook muttered with an annoyed air. "But that is clearly over."
Vrook looked from Mical to Erebus, who was now laughing wildly in Azkul's ruined face. Vrook shook his head no and tugged on Mical's arm.
"Come on, child, we can get out of this yet," Vrook urged, a wild uncertainty in his eyes Mical was not expecting. He was so unlike the man he remembered, as well as the one Erebus recounted meeting just the night before. And yet despite the alarm in his face, the old man seemed more annoyed than frightened, eager to be out of there if only to be rid of Erebus' presence. "It's best we leave now."
More than anything, Mical did want to leave here, more than anything. And yet he could not see himself going. Not yet.
"Wait-" Mical said, looking to Erebus, as if for an answer. But Erebus did not look at him, nor did he acknowledge the remainder of the room or the bodies piled up in it. Mical stilled, and instead of feeling the fear that coursed through him earlier, he felt-
"Look out!" Vrook ordered, pushing Mical sideways.
Whatever errant curiosity coursed through Mical dissipated entirely as his vision clouded, the wind knocked out of him as his sight went black. When he caught his breath again and his eyesight returned, the scene before him was not one he could have predicted.
Kath hounds.
"Stay back!" Vrook ordered, holding an arm out to keep Mical still against the wall.
Several kath hounds roared into the space, gnawing into the first bodies they came upon. Blood sprayed about the room, coating the equipment in a bubbling layer of crimson, yet Erebus and Azkul were immune to it all, duking it out as if on another plane.
"Erebus!" Mical shouted, struggling against Vrook's deceptively strong hold. "Erebus!"
The man froze and turned towards Mical, his eyes going soft before registering the alarm on Mical's face. His fist held Azkul up by the collar so the two men were eye-level, Azkul bloodied and black-eyed, limp in Erebus' grip as the man turned to see what Mical was screaming about.
Fuck, Erebus mouthed, the word clear on his face as he let Azkul fall to the floor. Turning, the room slowed again, the approaching kath hounds freezing in mid-pounce, a set of six amber eyes intent on Erebus' neck and the blood that flowed freely there.
Mical stilled, though this time of his own accord. He'd never seen this sort of ability in action before. When Erebus had slowed the world earlier, it was more like a magic trick, a sense of youthful wonder overcoming Mical as he watched the dust motes stop in their tracks. But this was something else, a manic wildness possessing Erebus's face and entire demeanor as he delved closer to the Dark Side, beyond the point of no return, instilling a deeper fear in Mical than he ever knew existed.
"Go," Erebus whispered, every fiber of his being poured into keeping the hounds at bay. "Go!"
Vrook took no time to obey. The old man scurried across the floor, still weakened by the experiments but too eager to heed his own body's limitations. He paused at the door, awaiting Mical to join him even though they'd only known each other for all of five seconds.
"But… what about our agreement?" Mical pleaded. Part of him wanted to move, to follow Vrook. But another part of him wished to stay. Not just to see things out between Erebus and Azkul, but to remain by Erebus' side. To see where that path led.
"Our-?" Erebus said, flustered before he remembered. Of course he remembers, Mical thought. How could he forget? It was all a show, the man suddenly a bashful child in Vrook's presence, Azkul looking on with utter judgment without a functioning bone in his body to act upon it. "Oh yes, of course."
Erebus knelt down and reached for Azkul's slumped form, plucking something small and metallic from the man's vest pocket. He examined it a moment before standing again and tossing it in Mical's direction. Without planning it, Mical caught the thing in mid-air.
"A comm?" Mical asked, turning the thing over in his hand.
Erebus nodded in confirmation before his eyes went wide with an unspoken Oh - his eyes now a more poisonous shade of absinthe than Mical recalled them being moments ago - reaching into his own pocket before producing something similarly small and gleaming. Like the comm, Erebus tossed it casually, as if the last few minutes of madness and mayhem had never happened.
"That's for you," Erebus said. "Something to remember me by."
Mical paused, considering the stone now housed in the confines of his palm. It was warm and bright, and when he opened his fingers to take a look at it, he found that it was a calming blue, like a sea after a storm.
"A kyber crystal?"
"If you ever need me, just ask," Erebus said, "I'll tell you about the crystal later. Maybe. Just go."
The room was silent. Even Vrook did not move, frozen as a statue at the room's entrance. It's just the two of us, he thought, staring at Erebus. His heart hammered in his chest loud enough to resonate in his ears, the only sound to let him know that time was moving and that, unfortunately, none of this was a dream. Mical could not even hear his own breath above the sound of his own heart beating, and by the looks on Erebus' face he could either hear it too or at least sense the fear coursing through him in the silence.
"Just ask for Aiden," he said, his voice soft and almost wistful. "I've checked the records. No one alive goes by that name anymore, save for a retired banker on Corellia, and he's nearing 95…"
Erebus laughed, a sad and almost pathetic laugh, still holding Azkul by the collar as he watched Mical and bade him go with nothing but wide eyes and a bloody nose.
"Our paths diverge here, but I will tell you all I know," Erebus promised, his word feeling stronger than their pledge the other morning. "I have a feeling we'll meet again."
Mical swallowed and nodded. At first, he did not know what to think, or how to feel, only that he wanted to be free of this place. He turned only to find himself eye-to-eye with a lunging kath hound still frozen in mid-air. Stepping back, he glanced at Erebus to make sure the man wasn't laughing, and upon seeing the man's gaze was already redirected at Azkul, Mical hurried out of the ruin with Vrook by his side.
It was night again and more quiet than Mical ever recalled this time of day being. The air stood still, no sound emerging from the underbrush as he and Master Vrook hurried towards the edge of the encroaching wood. Not even the wind caught up with them as they walked along, branches and leaves moving stiffly as if made of clay as the would-be Jedi and the Master escaped the doom of the old Rakatan ruin, with no intention of snapping back or acting natural just yet.
They walked a ways in silence, Mical's nerves only growing worse the further they drew. He hazarded one final glance at the Rakatan construction before it was eclipsed entirely by the copse of blba trees they retreated into.
"We best get to the Matale Estate," Vrook sighed once they were free of the Rakatan structure, his breath calm in comparison to Mical's haggard gasp, still processing everything that had just transpired. "It's best we get as far away from this place as possible, tell Khoonda of what we've learned, and-"
"No."
Now it was Vrook's turn to balk. Despite his rugged breathing, Mical stood up straight, leveling with Vrook until he stood over the man, looking down at him slightly down the shaft of his nose.
"Son, we stand no chance of-'
"I heard something coming from the Jedi temple," Mical admitted, more easily than he expected. Vrook took a step back, though he was still careful to step further into the glen outside the ruin and not back towards it. "So I wish to go there."
"You heard-?" Vrook echoed, before sighing and shaking his head. "You are just as lost as he is."
Mical furrowed his brow, feeling another sigh as time resumed again, Erebus letting go of his hold on nature once more. Either that or they were finally out of his jurisdiction, the Sith's hold on the Force not as wide-reaching as Mical may have guessed.
"Regardless of where you will run, we must move," Mical proposed. "You're growing weaker, so choose carefully."
Mical knew not what overcome him, but Vrook stiffened at his words.
"Very well," Master Vrook grumbled, turning in the direction Mical only knew to be opposite of his own quarry. "I… I guess I must thank you."
"I did nothing," Mical said, feeling uncomfortable in the admission yet calmed by the truth of it. "I may have released your restraints, but it was the Sith that made your escape possible."
Vrook paused, looking Mical in the eye. According to Erebus, the man had a window to escape just the eve before, yet did not take it. Now why is that?
"Be that as it may," Vrook muttered, "yet you still did not have to release me. And for that, I must thank you."
Despite the annoyance painting his face, there was an unmistaken appreciation clear in Vrook's severe features.
"You can set your own path, you know," Vrook continued, though he began to walk backward in the direction of the Matale Estate, "It does not matter who offers you help or resources. You are not defined by others' actions."
In the moment, Mical was calmed by this, even as Vrook ducked out of their shared grove and into the night like a ghost. But once alone, he thought of the Jedi again, and how they'd more than coincidentally set him on the path he walked now. Did Vrook truly mean what he said? Was he perhaps exacting an apology on behalf of the Order for Mical's benefit? Or did the man not remember Mical at all and was simply hoping he would not fall under Erebus' influence?
He opened his palm, a swath of bright blue light filling the copse once he did. The kyber crystal was still there, held softly yet deftly in his palm, as one never had been in all his time as a youngling.
The man was right. Mical was the master of his own destiny. But that did not mean he shouldn't take inspiration from somewhere, right?
The crystal was strong. Its light pierced the grove like a dying star in miniature, yet the warmth of it steadied his hand. And despite the quiet of the night, it began to hum, almost like a quiet song, a battery thrumming in the cradle of his palm.
He would meet with Erebus again, perhaps, but not yet. Not for a while.
Not until he was ready.
3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Khoonda Headquarters, former Matale Estate
Mission
"I don't like the sound of this," Orex protested, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared Asra in the eye, his other eye glistening in the fluorescent light of Adare's office. As usual, Glitch sat hunched over a small computer set in her lap, typing away as if none of this were happening.
"We should at least reach out to her," Asra argued. "She should know what's going on!"
"Hm," Orex grunted, affording Darek a glance before sighing and looking at Mission who only raised her hands in mock surrender.
"Hey, don't look at me," Mission said, laughing lightly as she took a step back only to walk backwards into Zaalbar who half-grumbled, half-chuckled before setting her steady again. "I'm just the messenger. Both ways, I guess…"
"I 'spose."
Orex glanced between both Darek and Asra again, the latter widening her eyes as if it might sell her argument. Eventually, Orex nodded.
"We need to be careful about it, though," he warned before Asra could look too relieved. "There's an astronomical bounty on her head, after all."
"True," Glitch mumbled, hardly audible above the white noise of the lights overhead. Mission hadn't noticed that the lights even gave off a sound, only alerted to their presence in comparison to Glitch's whispersoft voice. "But I could provide her with a way to get here, that would offer safe passage."
Basic was not Glitch's first language, Mission knew that much, but the girl was well spoken for someone who spoke as if they hardly ever spoke at all.
"Really?" Asra asked, "How?"
"Doesn't matter how," Orex said, holding up a hand in an attempt to calm the Togruta down. "The girl has her ways, but even if she's successful we'll still need to be careful. The Golden Company're looking for Jedi and Jedi artifacts, no? So Eden will be prime real estate if she steps foot here. That should be our primary concern."
"Good point," Mission sighed, "Which means reaching her might be tricky, too."
"Not if we use a code name," Asra offered. "We have one, remember?"
First she looked to Darek, and once he nodded, Asra then turned to Orex who only sighed in response.
"You're right," he said, resigned. "Mission, think you'd be able to patch us through?"
Glitch looked up at Mission at the mention of us, her mechanical eyes peeking out through the long fringe of her hair. Mission looked to Zaalbar before nodding, though something in her stomach didn't feel quite right about all this.
"I can try," she shrugged. "I can at least ask for her info? No guarantee I'll get it, though."
"That'll have to be enough," Darek said, more so for Asra's benefit than anyone else's. Asra looked down, considering his words, before nodding and grabbing his hand with a soft, affectionate thanks.
"It will be," Asra said. "I'd feel better if we at least tried."
If we at least tried. Mission couldn't help but think of Adare, already so beaten down by years of opposition and now an all-out coup.
Adare had tried, and tried, and tried. And Mission had just accused her of not trying hard enough.
She looked up at Big Z at her side, and as if reading her thoughts Zaalbar grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close to him until they were torso-to-torso.
I'm here no matter what, Z's half-hug said, wordless but undeniable as he comforted her. Mission could only collapse a little into him and sigh thanks, before nodding at everyone in concert, hoping she could at least meet their minimum expectation.
"I'll see what I can do."
Notes: Like my other chapters, this probably needs another round of editing... but here it is anyway. One of my goals this year is to continue making serious progress with this fic. I've been on such a writing kick this last year and I hope it continues. The fact that it has taken me so many *years* of working on this fic to get to where I am now has been bothering me lately, and honestly there are so many cool scenes and end game ideas I have that I would love to share, but in order to get to that I need to write the rest first! I also hope to write more one-shots this year too, ideally ship related, so any ideas or prompts for that would be much appreciated. In any case, and as usual, thanks to everyone for reading :)