3951 BBY, Beyond the Unknown Regions
Revan
If you're watching this, then I'm already gone, she'd uttered in a goodbye message meant for Carth.
She'd done it as if she might die, in preparation for an untimely demise. It was more so out of a desire for it to be true than out of any premonition that any such thing should come to pass, to be rid of this body and the shell of memories that came along with it.
Revan was not so lucky.
She'd never sent the message. Instead, she watched the recording every evening before drifting off to sleep, eventually, after much convincing.
I love you; you know, she'd said casually through a glimmer of a laugh. Whether that means a damn or not.
She knew it didn't. And it's why she'd never sent the message. And why she watched it night after night after night.
It was subpar. Vainglorious. Whether foolhardy and self-assured as Revan had been, or unsure and self-sacrificing as Nevarra more recently was. Either version of herself felt thirsty for the attention of it. For having loved but never the ongoing act of it - more comfortable with the idea of it, like a dream, than the notion of inhabiting it, like a house. She'd never been good at doing her feelings justice. Whether it was of gratitude towards her teachers or appreciation for her friends. There was always something satisfying about the idea of appearing not to care. As if the thought alone were a weakness.
Part of her still believed it was.
It's why she'd gravitated towards Kae as an instructor, at first, never feeling as if the woman desired anything from her in return for her guidance other than her own smug sense of self-accomplishment. Or from Alek, who seemed to make up for any and all sentimentality Revan appeared to lack out of an ever penchant desire to be admired by everyone, at any cost.
It wasn't as if she denied it. If such a reciprocity were expressed, she would say so. But if no response was demanded of her? She'd say nothing. Nor was she ever the first to betray emotion, or acknowledge its presence even if it stared her right in the face.
It had been that way with Carth. She'd known she loved him from their first argument on Telos, finding herself internally laughing at his exasperation before he even thought to consider that she might be pushing his buttons on purpose. But she'd still waited. Carth was the first to admit his feelings, the first to say I love you. She'd felt it, but she hadn't let the pattern of the phrase even cross her mind until Carth uttered them into being first, as if his saying it finally gave her permission to commiserate even if the thought had been with her far longer than she would like to admit.
And yet even now, lightyears away, she still felt uncomfortable steeping in her own sentiments but forced herself to heed them anyway. It might drive her mad, but it would remind her of why she was here this time. She wanted to roll over and surrender to sleep but she resisted one last time. She rewound. She hit play.
Revan would mind the door until it was ready to be opened. But this time, she would not forget.
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 084, Back Alleys
Atton
"So, who exactly are you expecting a message from if not the esteemed Admiral Onasi himself?" Atton asked with an air of sarcasm, hoping his half-whisper was audible through the hazard suits the TSF so graciously gifted them only hours ago. "They said the message was from him, right?"
Eden shook her head as they meandered the back alleys of their new residential module, no doubt acquainting herself with the new routes around the station should they need a quick exit. Atton had already scoped out the area somewhat before Eden's timid intrusion, wondering if Luxa had left a message for him or any other sign that the Exchange had already scoped out the place. While Eden was now memorizing an escape route, Atton was still looking for any sign of his blackmailer's activity, and so far coming up empty.
"It very well could be, but you saw the readout. I won't find out whether his voice was fabricated or the file was intentionally corrupt until I get my hands on a cracked datapad." Eden groaned, shaking her head again as she almost took a hard left before she realized their reorientation and corrected it into a soft right. "The biggest clue was stolen sandcrawler."
"Stolen sandcrawler, really?" Atton asked, scrunching his face. "I thought that was just some backwater expression or something."
"It's a callsign," Eden said, "A phrase I agreed on with the people I traveled with last."
Eden hadn't talked much about her time in exile, only briefly mentioning Tatooine and droid repair but little else. Atton said nothing, hoping it relayed a quiet interest should Eden decide to elaborate.
"Kreia told me his name the other day," Eden continued in a low voice. "Darth Sion is the one after us. He's the one that hunted everyone down on the Harbinger and came back to Peragus to finish the job since that HK did hack work of it."
Darth Sion. It didn't ring a bell, though part of him felt it should have. With so many wannabe Sith Lords thirsting for power on Korriban when he was first stationed there after the Mandalorian Wars, Atton felt that more than a few names would have stuck around his sloppy excuse for a brain - but few did. Though maybe it was more a testament to the fruitless pursuit of greatness than any failing of Atton's neural pathways…
"Anyway, the people I was with brought me to a dig site not long before I… left Tatooine. We tried to bring it to someone in charge, someone who might know what to do with it."
Atton was already bubbling with questions. Who were you with? What did you find? Who might know what to do with it? But not wanting to appear too presumptuous or interested, he remained silent, waiting for Eden to continue of her own accord. Only she didn't. Atton couldn't read her expression, her face mostly eclipsed by the hulking orange hood of her hazmat suit. The alleyways were growing busier now, which meant they were encroaching on the entertainment district, a few other nondescript hazmat-wearing construction workers passing them just as the alleyway grew narrow before it opened up again at the next junction. Once they were clear of any interlopers, Atton cleared his throat and hoped that the nearby thrumming of the cantina drowned out his next question to anyone that might be listening other than Eden.
"That's why you were on the Harbinger," he said, piecing it together. "And that's why you were set to meet with Admiral Onasi, isn't it?"
Eden nodded.
"It's not just that he's Republic," Eden muttered as they ducked out of the entertainment module and on towards the edge of it where the TSF met the junkyard. "But because he traveled with… with her."
"Her?" Atton echoed, failing to connect the dots.
"Her," Eden whispered. "Revan."
Revan. Oh, right.
A shiver ran down Atton's spine and he almost took a step backwards, ready to run back towards the new apartment - or hells, anywhere but here. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the tentative way Eden approached the next causeway, ever cautious as she led Atton onward to what he hoped wouldn't be his untimely doom. Or maybe it was an undeniable sense of curiosity. What did Eden find on Tatooine? What did this have to do with Revan?
Eden found the coast clear and beckoned Atton onward. They weren't far now. And as he followed her at a light jog, swiftly closing the distance between them and the sea of city garbage, Atton knew it was his instinct. It was so good at telling him when to quit, when to leave, when to save his own skin. He would, that was for sure. Just not yet. He thought back to the disappointingly empty alleyway outside their new apartment, void of any evidence of the Exchange ever having been there on his behalf.
Once he cleared his name and made good on his debts, he was out of here. And whatever it was Eden was going on about simply wouldn't matter.
3951 BBY, Malachor V, Trayus Academy
Erebus
"Please tell me you found something interesting," Erebus groaned as he entered his study proper. Uruba only stared at him, unblinking, awaiting his arrival at the archival console stationed squarely in the center of the room.
The place was just as he'd left it, if not only slightly more pristine. Rows of glowing datapads lined the room, though the master console in the center of the space acted as the main source of light. Erebus fought the urge to look around and re-acquaint himself with the person the last time he stood in this room, who he had been before landing on Tatooine, which already felt like a decade and an age ago all rolled into one.
"I'm afraid I have," Uruba muttered as Erebus neared, eyeing him suspiciously as he did so. The blue-white light of the computer shone on her ultramarine face, casting her gaze in a light blue and pink haze, her abstract tattoo almost shifting between two and three dimensions as he stepped closer. Uruba had yet to blink even when he sidestepped beside her, her brown eyes watching for a reaction that had yet to take place.
"That bad, huh?" he asked.
"Not necessarily bad," she began, urging that Erebus look at the screen. "But not quite welcome, either."
Uruba typed in a command and a series of windows appeared in sequence upon the screen. At first, Erebus was pleased. The first few windows that popped up displayed archival logs from the Trayus Academy itself, proving that there were entries for objects matching the exact description of the pylons Master Vash managed to recover from the Rakatan ruins. But the next few that followed were from the holonet, but not just from regular public-access forums - they were from the darknet.
"Wait, wait, wait," Erebus said, though the windows did not heed his command and continued to prop up before his eyes. "What's all this?"
"That's what I was about to so generously explain," Uruba muttered again, this time clicking on the first window that appeared so that it enlarged, its image and adjoining entry taking up the entire screen. "There were a few hits from the archives, but all three are locked behind an account wall."
"Whose account?" Erebus demanded, spying the small red flag that adorned the corner of each log, as if they were mocking them en masse.
"Darth Revan's."
Erebus paused, all thought stilling within his head until it echoed with almost nothing. He thought back to the ruins and the placement of the pylons, wondering if…
"Revan had visited the ruins I found," he said, lying a bit to cover up his state of being while there, "But the pylons were planted afterwards, I'm sure of it."
There was no indication that the pyramidal structures were inherent to the Rakatan design, instead hastily hidden in alcoves clearly meant for outdated light sources. A few of them still existed throughout the temple, as Erebus remembered from his midnight jaunt about the place. It didn't add up.
"I don't think her being there had anything to do with it," Uruba surmised. "This last entry is locked mostly behind the same access wall, but look here."
Uruba pressed an indigo finger to the screen, turning to meet Erebus' gaze with raised brows.
"Revan created the log just prior to her leaving for the Unknown Regions, which is when many assume she found evidence of the Star Forge in the first place before going to look for it, but perhaps Darth Malak's records are wrong. They are hearsay, anyway."
Hearsay. Darth Malak's logs and access codes were all accessible, likely because the man had not intended to die and because Malak was never one for computers - much like Sion. Leading up to but especially in the wake of his betrayal, Malak had started a smear campaign against his old friend and mentor, going so far as to alter the record where he could to make it appear as if he had always been the smarter, cleverer, and more capable of two. Many believed him, or at least pretended to lest they were killed otherwise. But Erebus was never one to believe the lies, as was Uruba, knowing it was all simply how the game was played. A game Erebus and his acolytes were still playing.
Eventually, Uruba sighed and shrugged.
"There's more, but you need Darth Revan's login to continue," she said, moving the cursor across the screen until the prompt to provide a password emerged, barring them any further access. "There are hardly any other items in the archive requiring her login, though interestingly enough some logs on the Star Forge are still password protected even after Malak took over, like a failsafe of some kind, as well as some file called The Unknown World."
The Unknown World. It seemed like a rudimentary, if not vague, phrase. But something about it triggered a memory, or perhaps a dream, in Erebus' mind. Something about a serene ocean, lapping waves massaging a white-sanded beach, a towering monument looming in the distance like a volcano or a nearby moon. But as soon as the image had entered his mind's eye, it was gone again, and Erebus was left with the feeling of not being at home in his own skin.
"What about the other hits?" he asked instead. "What's this darknet nonsense?"
At this, Uruba sighed again loudly, her mounting frustration apparent in the discovery as she knew it would be as soon as Erebus pieced the puzzle together himself.
"Not the worst thing I've ever come across on the black market, but they are certainly concerning nonetheless," Uruba said as she opened three forum posts side-by-side. "Each of these entries are from a buyer, not a seller. The language is decidedly different in each, but I have a feeling they were penned by the same person."
Erebus leaned in close - not that he needed to in order to read more clearly, but something in his brain told him that he needed to see the words up close in order to decipher their intent.
"I think you're right," Erebus mumbled. He pointed at a few words shared across all three entries, and turned to Uruba to gauge whether she knew where he was going. "Each one uses the word artifact, which isn't weird I think, but look here - acquire? As a verb? Strange, and oddly sophisticated, especially considering that the middle entry is so poorly written…"
"It's almost as if these were each generated by an algorithm, not a person, with certain information plugged in as needed." Uruba surmised, biting the back of her index finger as she stood in thought. "Look here, they also use the same sort of sentence structure. One long sentence with no breaks, followed by another with two. Over and over again. Until the final sentence which only lists the credits the buyer is willing to offer in exchange."
"It's got to be the Golden Company, right?" Erebus asked, "We know they're looking for items like this on behalf of some buyer. Are there any other requests from these accounts on the darknet forums?"'
Uruba began typing again in lieu of answering him and another series of windows appeared on the screen, one after another, after another.
"Each one hails from a different IP address," Uruba said, her eyes scanning the monitor back and forth as more and more entries popped up, seemingly ad nauseum. "But I fear you're right, this must be either the Golden Company or whoever's hired them in search of such objects. And it would appear they have no preference for Jedi or Sith items."
As if to punctuate her last statement, Uruba paused on one of the last windows to pop up, this time from a buyer asking for anything pertaining to Darth Revan or Dark Malak. Someone with a default username replied simply with an image of a tight red suit of armor fully outfitted with a half-cape and a piece of detached metal. Erebus froze.
"That's Darth Malak's armor," he whispered, moving Uruba aside so he could take command of the console. After some more typing and scrolling, Erebus found that the item had been purchased. The transaction was complete. "Who would want this?"
Uruba shrugged again.
"I wish I knew," she said, her lack of insight on the subject sounding sour in her voice as she said it. "Though it looks like this transaction has already been completed."
Uruba scrolled to the bottom of the last purchase request until red text sprawled across the bottom, claiming the petition was closed.
It was strange to be here now, speaking of this. Uruba and Mellric had been just as wry yet cooperative as they'd always been, eager to learn more but subservient nonetheless, similarly married to the quest for knowledge as Erebus was above all else. Or were they? Erebus eyed Uruba now and wondered just how many signs he may have missed or even if there had even been any at all. Would anyone know how much he'd changed in the last few weeks just by looking at him? Was he selling this I have a Jedi slave now thing at all or was he fumbling at that, too?
"Can we look into this?" Erebus asked, swallowing his uncertainties and putting on a face of utter vexation, one he wore often and well. "They might just be bots, but-"
"I can try," Uruba offered, shaking her head. "But none of this bodes well."
"No," Erebus said, just as an errant vibration thrummed against his thigh. He reached for his comm, almost expecting a message from Mical. His heart almost stopped, his eyes unable to focus on the screen once he retrieved it, though a certain disappointment sank from his throat to his stomach to see that it was instead a communication from one of Sion's acolytes. The readout said: Darth Sion will be arriving shortly and he awaits your audience. Erebus sighed and closed his eyes. "No, it does not."
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 084, Apartment D1
Eden
It's good to see you, she'd said to Asra as her face flickered uncertainly via their hackneyed holomessage.
It's good to see you, too.
Eden replayed the moment in her mind as she rushed about the apartment, doing her best to remain as quiet as possible, using Kreia's meditation techniques to stay silent as well as keep her heart rate in check. Part of her felt guilty - she was indebted to Kreia for teaching her, but now she was using a method meant to steady her mind to muffle her movements and shield her mind from Kreia's. The woman knew very well what she was up to, but Eden wasn't in the mood for another lecture just yet and she sure as hell didn't want to share her most recent memories with the woman either.
Not to mention she'd dreamt of the door again, its haunting image this time accompanied by memories of Malachor's stormy expanse. At least whatever she had seen felt like memories, though they certainly weren't hers. Eden wasn't eager to find out or have Kreia weigh in on the matter either.
We've ended up on Dantooine, if you can believe it, the recent memory of Asra had continued in a half-laugh, half-sigh as Orex leaned into view and grunted in shared bemusement at the predicament. It's all connected - what we found beneath the settlement and what we found here. It'd be great to link up again, to finish what we started.
Eden gathered up the remainder of her things, scrounging around the apartment for her left boot longer than she wanted to before she glanced back at the immaculate space and the closed doors that met her gaze. If all went well, she'd be out of here and en route to Dantooine before the morning shift swarmed the residential modules. She paused. Despite their differences, Kreia had offered Eden more sound advice than any teacher she'd had at the Academy, save for maybe Master Sunrider. And as much as her Force bond with Kreia intrigued her, it also frightened her enough to leave. The woman could always follow their shared tether and track Eden down again, of course, but maybe if Eden put enough distance between them…
And then there was the matter of Atton. He'd been a bigger help than she'd ever imagined, especially when she thought back to the shrinking thing he was in that force cage back on Peragus, all hungry eyes set in a hollow face. He'd somehow managed to both defy and exceed expectations, proving to be more a pillar to lean on than a thorn in her side as she'd originally predicted. But it wasn't like Eden was great at reading people from the get-go. Example number one being Alek. Example number two, though perhaps he should have been number one, being her brother… though the less she thought of him, the better. And then there was the matter of Revan...
Eden shook her head, centering herself before finally exiting the apartment - hoping this was the last time she would see it. For good.
3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Jedi Temple Ruins
Mical
At first, he was floating.
It was sky, and then sea - his back to the ocean and the sky above. Both endless and blue, all encompassing and threatening to swallow him whole.
There was no want. No thought. Just being. He was a part of it - of everything - for the briefest of moments. One with all living things. Everything the universe ever birthed and saw decay until new life formed again. Everything held in a tenuous balance as a bubble drifting weightless through air and sky, time and space collapsing until neither mattered, definitions losing meaning as all words evaporated from Mical's mind and memory.
Until….
It popped.
And then he was falling. All of a sudden and all too quickly, gravity weighed on his corporeal form which had not existed moments ago and now felt all too real and all too heavy, plummeting him down towards the ever expanding ocean below - at first bright blue which quickly turned greener and then brown and finally a frothy foamy cerulean-white upon impact growing darker, and darker, and darker as he descended to the depths, his body weighing more and more as he dove deeper, air escaping his newly shaped lungs and forming fast retreating bubbles in the miles he swiftly left behind as he made it closer to the ocean floor… only the floor never came, and he just kept falling, and falling, gasping and gasping for air but finding only water and salt and brine and fish until his lungs were heavy and his mouth full.
He was still choking on water when he awoke, the ruined Jedi archives half-lit around him like a beacon beckoning him home again.
Don't wear yourself too thin, the ghostly voice he'd grown uncomfortably accustomed to assured him. Save your strength, I'll keep you safe.
Mical spun his head around, finding no one there. Instead, all that was different about the room from the last he'd seen it was a new ration pack left lovingly at his doorstep - his doorstep being the dilapidated wall of the archives fast growing with errant ivy.
"Thank you," he said, to no one, though if anything he hoped whatever laigrek was instructed to leave this here for him heard or at least felt his gratitude. He'd finally smoked the raw hunk of meat he'd been given the day before after also being gifted a pile of dry wood and a flint found from seemingly nowhere, and among his new ration pack he found was yet another piece of raw flesh for the cooking. What it was, Mical did not know, but he had the forethought to realize it was likely rude to ask. "You're too kind."
Kind.
The word echoed in his mind as he scurried back to the archive's lone working computer console, realizing that he'd been both too kind and rather neglectful in sending a message to Erebus - only to find his inbox empty.
"Of course," Mical mumbled, cursing under his breath as he examined the logs and realized that his message hadn't gone through at all. "He meant for me to comm him not message him."
Idiot, Mical berated himself internally, feeling sour with hunger despite the food he'd been blessed with as well as the food he now held it tow. It was generous, yes, but it wasn't enough. And after a few days it was evident that he wouldn't last much longer lest he grapple with the idea of losing a lot of weight, very quickly. Muscle included.
It won't be long before I lose my mind down here.
He'd managed to get a message to Zayne, assuring his friend that he was alright and in no immediate need of saving, though Mical was quickly reassessing that statement…
Just ask for Aiden, Erebus had stupidly said, as if he expected Mical to blindly call into the void of the holonet echoing his name. But just as Mical tsked, his cursor hovering over the delete button of his undelivered message, a thought occurred to him.
The last time he was here with both Erebus and Vash, they discovered that someone had been using Erebus' login to enact a series of archival transactions. And now that same login flashed almost innocently back at Mical stating that it hadn't received the message he'd so stupidly sent. But it did list that the user had last been active just a few moments ago.
Mical scrambled about and produced a near-blank datapad he'd been using for his personal notes since arriving here a couple of days ago, holding it aloft as he accessed the user's history, copying down the latest login dates and times as well as the IP address into his own datapad before they would both inevitably delete themselves automatically on the hour. Mical could only see the logins for the last twenty minutes or so, but Erebus' account had been used seven times in that frame…
If Vrook knew anything about who had done this, the Jedi was tight-lipped about it. Judging by Erebus' account, and the old man's demeanor back at the ruins and the woods beyond during their escape, Mical had a feeling that Vrook was just as unsettled by the possibilities as they were.
Mical dug into his pocket and procured his comm, the one Erebus so casually threw at him back in the Rakatan ruins for keeps. It was a newer model, likely one of the merc's personal items and not something pilfered. Mical turned the metallic thing over in his hands, wondering just how dangerous it would be to heed Erebus' call for real this time, to leave a message the man might actually receive. But instead, Mical chose to enter a familiar code, a familiar voice answering on the other end - though not the one he expected.
"Mical?" Mission's voice answered instead of Zayne's. "Any updates on the state of the temple ruins?"
Mission sounded eager, anxious almost, but Mical only shook his head. He'd promised the Khoonda group that he would work on navigating a way out of the temple with the hopes of leading them down there to get ahead of the Golden Company. Only… Mical hadn't done any of that, finding himself glued to the archives as if he'd always meant to be here. And in a way, he had.
"Not yet," Mical sighed, looking down. The crystal Erebus had given him glowed from the depths of Mical's still open pocket, the fabric folding just-so to allow him a glimpse into its dark contents. "I'm working on it, trust me, but I have other news that could potentially prove useful."
"Lay it on me," Mission said with an air of anticipation that told him it wasn't of the excited variety but instead the kind that followed in the wake of dread. "I could use some good news."
"I may not exactly call it good news, but it's a potential lead," he said, before pausing. "Wait, have things gotten worse?"
"Master Vash might be gone, but Vrook managed to make it here in one piece," Mission said. "Not sure if that's good news or bad, maybe neutral if we're lucky."
Zayne had interrogated Mical about his escape from the Rakatan ruin when first they spoke, almost glossing over his own relief that Mical was even alive in his desire for any sign that Vash may have somehow helped Erebus leave the planet. As disappointed in the lack of answers the man had to offer in their short time together, Mical was at least glad Vrook had made it to safety.
"I'm not sure if I'd relayed this to you or Zayne already, or anyone really, about what we found in the archives prior to our meeting?"
There was silence on Mission's end, and in the pause Mical imagined the girl stilled in thought before shaking her head.
"Can't say you have," she offered, a shrug haunting her words even if Mical could not see her. "But even if you did, give me a quick reminder."
"Someone moved Jedi artifacts from the temple prior to Malak's attack, when you were there, as if they knew what was about to happen," Mical started, finally crumpling his pocket so the glow of the crystal housed there could no longer meet his eyes. "The logs suggest that the move was approved using Erebus' account, but according to him he'd already left the Jedi by then. Additionally, we found more activity from that account verifying items to be transported to Telos IV of all places just the other day, the day I barely escaped the destruction of Nespis VIII."
With the help of Erebus, Mical thought, thinking back to the hulking cruiser that eclipsed the moon as he and Erebus made a beeline for the man's ancient relic of a ship before Space City was obliterated in the cruiser's wake.
"Speaking of artifacts, did Vash-?" Mical started, only Mission interrupted him.
"Her room was empty, she left nothing-" Mission said as Mical nearly slumped to the floor. Kun's saber, he thought. All of that for nothing. "But wait, did you say Telos IV?"
"Yes," Mical affirmed, straightening up again. "A bulk of the more recent items were sent there, and if the older logs can be trusted then whatever was removed from the Dantooine archives six years ago were delivered there, too."
"General Valen's on Telos!" Mission said after a beat, her voice low in thought. "Asra just sent a message to her, asking if there's any way she can lend a hand here, but if she's already on Telos IV then it may be a good idea to ask if she can look into whatever it is you've found first."
General Valen. It was strange to hear the title even if Mical instantly knew who Mission referred to. Eden was once meant to be his teacher, still a Jedi Knight then but training to be a Master Historian under Atris. Only she'd instead left for war, unknowingly committing Mical to the same fate.
"Are you sure?" he said, even though it made the most sense to agree. He almost felt as if asking anything more of Eden would put him out of her eventual favor, as if there were any favor to begin with. Slapping a palm to his forehead and closing his eyes, Mical took a measured breath before answering Mission again. "I mean, if she's willing and able then-"
"I'll tell Asra right away," Mission said hurriedly. Mical could almost hear the pleased smile in her voice. "Finally, I feel like we're getting somewhere again! Over and out."
Before Mical could respond, the comm switched off. Mical bit his lip as he shoved the comm back into his pocket and looked at his blinking computer screen. Erebus' true name still shone up at him in orange aurebesh, indicating the recent account activity until it finally relinquished to light blue again.
He knew Erebus wasn't on the other end of the account, but Mical still imagined he was. They'd met before, when he was younger, but Mical's memory was not as sharp as he would have preferred - instead remembering more of Atris' stoic presence and Eden's easy-going demeanor upon their first meeting than the grumpy assistant that greeted him at the Coruscant archive's front desk.
Mical wondered how different Eden looked now compared to her brother, wondering where the resemblances both began and ended. And despite his errant curiosity eager to solve the riddle in the moment, Mical had the feeling that he would have his answer sooner rather than later.
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 082
Eden
"Are you sure there isn't anything else you need of me?" Eden asked, unnerved by the unending calm that permeated the space despite her inner agony at having to make this visit at all. Just as before, Chodo Habat had offered to heal her before she departed, only commenting that Dantooine was a planet in similar need of restoration and only wishing her well. "I'm not sure I'm ready to accept this."
Habat frowned, his large eyes blinking slowly as he processed her words, but also something deeper. He looked to Moza just beside him and nodded. After a moment's understanding, Moza nodded in return, bowed, and left. Eden watched him go, afraid to look Habat in the eye again because she felt the mood shift within the room as Moza departed - the calming sigh of the water beside her tensing like a seismic sea on the brink of a harbor wave.
"I sense much guilt in you," Habat revealed, steepling his fingers as he sat down on the plinth of wood beside the water. "In fact, I've sensed it since your arrival, but now it takes a new form. And I know why."
Eden swallowed.
"You know?"
Eden wanted to sit along with him, not that she thought herself his equal, but because it was something she'd done with Kavar after each and every saber lesson. She stopped, both at the memory and the action, unsure if she was welcomed.
"I do," Habat said, a light laugh gracing his Ithorese as he gestured that she sit down. Eden obliged, feeling awkward as she did so though finally calmed once she felt the cool earth beneath her legs and against the plush of her palms. "And while I understand your actions, I do not condone them. But that is not for me to judge. It is an opinion, yes, but only so far as it is not the path I would have chosen had I been in your position. Yet fate would have it that I would never be, so who is to say? We are different people, and we have had very disparate life experiences. We do not have the same reasons for doing things, so I cannot expect you to take my course of action any less than I can condemn you for yours."
Eden nodded, unsure if she was truly being reprimanded or not. Chodo Habat shook his head.
"I may be Force sensitive, but in this I very much disagree with the Jedi. They were always far too harsh on their students."
Habat closed his eyes and straightened his back, centering himself similar to how Kreia had taught Eden back at the old apartment. Eden mirrored him, marveling at how they opened their eyes in unison minutes later.
"Forgive my further judgment," Habat said. "I know you no longer consider yourself a Jedi, but there is no denying your Jedi conditioning regardless."
Atton had said as much, Eden thought bitterly, wondering if there was ever to be a future in which she could shake the entirety of her past off her shoulders.
"I understand you have made a deal with both the Exchange as well as the Czerka Corporation," Habat said, raising a calming hand once Eden tensed at the latter. "I know your reasons, and I trust them fully, however I know how this will all unfortunately end."
"End?" Eden echoed before Habat finished uttering the last word in his sentence. "Unfortunate?"
"In a way," Habat continued, his eyes glazing over as he looked inward yet somehow also faraway. "Perhaps you are right, then. I will not heal you now."
"But-"
Habat raised his hand again, Eden's tongue laying still the moment she saw movement.
"I did not say I would not heal you," he assured. "It has just become apparent to me now that you have unfinished business to deal with first. It would be best if we wait."
Eden nodded, swallowing her disappointment despite understanding, knowing full well that if she were going on guilt alone there was still an undeniable part of her that believed she was beyond healing, let alone worthy of the effort.
"But I do have a favor to ask of you," Habat said again into the silence.
"Of course," she said, perking up. "Anything."
"One of my key technicians has recently gone AWOL. I am sure he has his reasons, but while Jana Lorso has you traipsing about the planet's surface – she is the one who requested you leave the station, yes? - I hope that you might check in on my friend as well and make sure that he is safe."
Eden nodded fervently, almost getting up in her hurry to assure Chodo Habat that her agreement with Jana Lorso was in deceit only before she realized that voicing such a thing made her feel even guiltier still.
"You denied Lorso's initial offer to work with Czerka, and that tells me all I need to know," Habat said, as if reading Eden's mind. And perhaps he had. "But this is where my judgment pays no mind. Because had you not entered an agreement with her, in earnest or not, then you may not be capable of doing this favor for me."
Eden paused, wondering if Habat had meant for that last sentence to be relayed aloud or if he were talking to himself, a tumult of moral dilemma playing across his features as he considered his last words as well as his next.
"I need to know that he is safe. Can you do that for me?"
Eden nodded again, this time with not the fervor of excuse, but of repentance.
"Of course," she promised. "Anything to make this right."
3951 BBY, Malachor V, Trayus Academy
Erebus
Darth Sion will be arriving shortly, one of the man's acolytes relayed via pre-recorded message. Erebus played the message again, but now with an audience.
"He's coming here?" Vash asked over his shoulder, her voice already a husk of what it usually was. "That… the Sith Lord?"
Erebus nodded, turning from his computer back to Vash. She looked awful, but better for the sleep. He'd allowed his old teacher to take the bed that night, choosing instead to forego sleep himself and sit hunched over his console for the better part of the night when he hadn't been talking to Uruba, resting in his attached study when he couldn't escape the exhaustion of recovery. At first, Vash protested at the notion, but it wasn't long before the Jedi succumbed to the heavier energies of this place and finally closed her eyes, sleeping for nearly an entire day cycle since.
"Unfortunately," Erebus said. "He has every right to, though. I mean, he sort of lives here."
"Do you… do you all live here?"
The question was on the verge of absurd at the thought, though Erebus refrained from laughing. One, because he didn't wish to stoke Vash's ire any more than he had to, especially given the lie they were now saddled with selling. And two, being that he still found talking about the Sith to his old Jedi Master an incredibly awkward affair.
"Most do, for now," Erebus answered. "There was Korriban, but that place is abandoned. Many roam the galaxy, I guess, but both Nihilus and Sion are stationed here. Usually."
"Because of her?"
Her.
Vash spoke of Eden, of course, and Erebus swallowed at the thought.
"Yes, and no," he said, standing. He gently pushed back from his desk chair and walked towards the other wall where a series of datapads hung. Pressing the button of the bottom-most one, he instructed a series of maps to brighten up the space, illuminating the room in a diagram of the entire region both pre and post Mass Shadow Generator. "As you can see, there was a significant growth of activity out here, but this moon is more than just a font of pain the acolytes can draw from. The Mandalorians feared this place before the war, which is why Revan chose it for their last stand aside from the fact that it was simply poetic. She knew they likely wouldn't return after what happened here. That, and so far as the Jedi knew, this place didn't exist."
Erebus moved towards another map, illuminating it for Vash's reference.
"This is the view of the entirety of space as the Republic knows it. As the Jedi knew it to be, at least as of nine years ago. At least under Atris."
Erebus almost choked on his own spit after saying her name, his throat unwilling to utter it. The feeling in the pit of his stomach almost tasted like guilt or regret, though he knew not for what. If anything, he still held only resentment for Atris. Vash waited patiently, albeit with a raised brow, as she awaited Erebus to finish coughing before continuing.
"It… I dunno, it just made sense to set up camp here. The Trayus Academy was established just as the one at Korriban fell, so there is some contestation as to whether its construction was deliberate, though one thing I can corroborate is that Revan had stepped foot here at least a few times, while Malak had not."
Vash looked to be somewhere between touched and sick, a twisted smile overcoming her still delicate face.
"I know you don't like to hear this, but you really haven't changed much," Vash laughed a hollow laugh as she set herself down on Erebus' bed again with effort, doing her best to avoid putting weight on her bad leg. "As much as I never would have predicted this future for you, your demeanor is very much the same. Ever curious, forever the stickler for details."
"We could look into that too, y'know," Erebus offered, ignoring her comment and instead gesturing towards Vash's leg. "If you were still worried that-"
"That I'm still bonded through the Force to my dead Padawan?" Vash answered all too quickly, whatever affection painting her face quickly fading to bitterness. "Perhaps, though I am more interested in your connection to your sister and this place. I assume it is why you can tolerate it?"
Erebus swallowed. He'd wondered how he would broach the subject with Vash and while relieved he wouldn't have to be the one to bring it up, he still found himself reluctant to describe it.
"I always assumed as much," he confessed. "I can sense her here, but not quite like I was able to when we were children."
Erebus had always been able to sense Eden, and she him. From birth, and even before, until they were teens, their every emotion was shared. They could always tell where each feeling came from, where each memory belonged. An echo of each other's lived experience existed eternal in their minds. Growing up, it was simply how they understood the world. Somehow Eden could access memories Erebus had had with their father before he disappeared as if she had them herself, and Erebus could sense exactly how that memory felt second-hand to his sister. It was a strange feeling - being able to view your own life through your own eyes as well as an outsider's. But it was only strange once they'd been relinquished to the Jedi and viewed almost as test subjects, their every interaction studied to such great detail that it began to feel less like reality and more like something paranormal, especially where Eden was involved.
You feel a pull towards her, yes? A now faceless Jedi Master had asked him upon his induction to the Order at the age of five. Against your will?
Looking back, that Jedi had put words in Erebus' mouth as well as in his mind. Still a child and so unsure of the reality of the world, Erebus had never once questioned his relationship with his sister until it was voiced and thus defined by someone aside from either of them, someone who fundamentally could never understand the intricacies nor the truth of what they shared. As he grew older, and as he grew jealous, Erebus began to believe those postulations and took them for truth, never once questioning the effect that he may have had on her.
"Interesting," Vash said eventually, taking a deep breath as if pressed for oxygen. And given the weight of this place, perhaps she was. "I would eventually like for you to tell me more, if you wish."
If you wish, she said, echoing in Erebus' mind. If.
"Perhaps," he said, feeling more like a promise than a possibility. His comm thrummed against his leg, just as it had in his study at Uruba's side. Only this time he didn't need to access it to know what message awaited him. "Though perhaps being in Darth Sion's presence will change your mind."
Vash suddenly stood, masking the limp as she put all of her weight on both legs without accounting for her unseen injury.
"Are you ready?" Erebus asked, brow furrowed. "We'll need to be convincing."
"Convincing is the last thing I'm worried about," Vash choked out, her eyes growing glassy. "I may not need to act as much as you suspect I do."
Erebus' eyes scanned his old Master, the woman now appearing far older than he ever remembered her being, let alone older than she looked yesterday.
"I'll be right there," he assured, not certain his word was anything to comfort her by. "Maybe… just stay quiet?"
"A slave is meant to be seen not heard," Vash corroborated. "Yes?"
Erebus choked back a sardonic laugh.
"I guess you're right, we should-"
But before Erebus could finish, a knock rap, rap, rapped at his outer door. He stood staring at Vash, the both of them wide-eyed, before Erebus finally put on his usual face of annoyed but cordial. He slipped into a cloak and rushed into the adjoining room, hanging on every step as he sensed Vash struggled to keep pace.
"My Master is ready for his appointment with you," Sion's shorter acolyte greeted with a low bow once Erebus answered his door. He glanced back at Vash, looking pale at his side, spying a peeking Mellric and Uruba just beyond her peering out of his study door like a pair of naughty children up beyond their bedtime. Before Erebus could respond, Mellric and Uruba disappeared and the study door closed, leaving him only with the option to nod at Sion's underling and usher the man inside.
"Very well," Erebus said, sweeping his hand out beside him. "Let Darth Sion know that I am ready to receive him."
The acolyte bowed lower, allowing Erebus only a view of the man's back before he disappeared, Sion himself stepping into view as if he'd always just been there. Erebus faltered back, bowing his head slightly as he held his hand aloft and welcomed his superior into the room proper.
"Darth Sion," Erebus muttered by way of greeting, knowing it fell short. "Come in, and please have a seat."
Sion swept into the room as if he'd been waiting for ages and did just the opposite. Instead of his usual garb, the man was hunched in an overlarge cloak, looking paler than usual, his eyes flashing a more menacing white than Erebus remembered. Vash retreated further at Erebus' back as the undead man stepped further inside the space and his acolytes disappeared, the doors closing once Sion began to examine the room as if he were here to rate Erebus on the amount of dust his chambers collected in his absence instead of anything else.
"Your Master suggested I speak with you," Sion eventually said, his gravelly voice far more grating than Erebus recalled as well, though it was likely because he was imagining hearing it as Vash did for the first time at his side than from his own memory, shrinking herself to the point that Sion might fail to notice her. "So here I am."
"And here I am to oblige," Erebus said with only the slightest hint of annoyance, doing his best to appear both amiable yet not so much of a pushover. "What is it you wish to know?"
Sion still perused the room, examining its every corner with a more discerning eye than Erebus liked or cared to wonder the motivation behind. But the man remained silent and seemingly agreeable, outwardly fine with whatever it was Erebus chose to do with this space even if it was not for him to decide.
"I wanted to speak of your sister," Sion began, pausing at the window. He pushed Erebus' drapes aside, letting in the harsh storm light from outside as if he were contemplating the poetry of it, though Erebus knew better than to think so. "But instead I wish to ask you about this."
Darth Sion, seemingly unaware of Vash's presence or otherwise unperturbed by it, turned back towards the center of the room and reached into his robes. And from its depths he procured an object Erebus had very much studied and oft dreamt of, even in the wake of everything that had happened in the last few weeks.
"This was delivered to my quarters, though by whom I do not know," Darth Sion revealed, watching as Erebus' eyes took in the shape and coloration of the item now laid before them.
It was beautiful. And far more mesmerizing than Erebus could have imagined. He had several sketches of this very artifact still hanging in his ship's cargo hold. And now here it was, glittering before him like the galaxy in miniature that it was.
He felt a pull towards it - a tug, like a magnet drawing him closer - but Erebus took a measured step back. If the Dark Side was the abyss, then this thing was the end of the universe at the very bottom of its infinite chasm. Despite the effervescent light glittering like moonlight on dark water emanating from within, the crystal was deep with a murky darkness, a void in the very center of the room now threatening to swallow it whole. The only thing Erebus could liken it to was being in Nihilus' presence when ravenous, near feral with hunger and desperate to do anything to sate it. Except this thing felt cold, distant, as if it were biding its time and knew it had all the time in the world because it existed outside it somehow.
"This was delivered to you when?" Erebus snapped, pulling himself out of his own inner reverie as his mind drew up a mental map of the last few weeks.
This is what he'd hoped to recover from the Dune Sea just outside Anchorhead. Before he grew too distracted. Before he became aware of the fact that his twin sister was very much alive and being very much not dead in a nearby droid repair stall just on the edge of the city…
"It arrived earlier this week, though I cannot say how long it sat here before my arrival," Sion growled, pacing the room as his eyes remained fixed on the crystal. "And I cannot hold it physically for long, so it shall return to the box in which it came, but I wanted to show you in case you had any idea what it might be or where it might have come from."
Erebus swallowed, dry spit forming a stopper in his throat. He wanted to look back, to glance at Vash, but he willed the instinct away as he forced his uncertainty down and cleared his throat before carefully choosing his next words.
"You were right to come to me," Erebus said. "I've studied totems such as these and they seem to originate in many older fringe cults, scattered throughout the Outer Rim. My working theory is that they were brought here by settlers, likely from a more ancient world since the composition is unlike anything found in our galaxy if the old writings are to be believed."
Erebus almost winced at himself, hearing himself talk. He instantly mirrored his vocabulary to match the older variety of Sion's. It was something he did often, mirroring and mimicking others as both a means of impressing them as well as betraying them. The latter had been true for many of the more primitive tribes he'd come across in the Outer Rim and beyond. People untouched by the Republic were easy to manipulate, and in a way Erebus was doing the same with Sion. I am just like you, his matching diction said, both uttered and unspoken. You can trust me, his imitation lied.
Sion paused his pacing and considered Erebus, glancing briefly at the crystalline structure sitting oddly demure in the center of the room before his hard gaze returned to Erebus.
Sion asked, silently: Tell me more.
"All I know is that ancient Sith had scattered notes about these items, too, though not much remains. They were just as much a mystery to them as they are to us. Did Exar Kun ever mention such things?"
Sion paused, his eyes growing glassy and distant before shaking his head and looking at Erebus again.
"Never," the man said. "But there are more of them?"
Erebus wanted to hit himself but instead bit down hard on the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood. Shit, he thought. Pull back, pull back.
"Presumably, though Maker knows how many even remain," Erebus lied. According to his notes, there should have been three such crystals laid buried and venerated beneath the Dune Sea. Others were scattered about the edge of the galaxy, though he had hardly any evidence to back that particular claim up. Not to mention it was something he didn't want Darth Sion being privy to just yet, if ever.
"Interesting," Sion muttered. "So you have no clue who might have sent this to me?"
Erebus glanced at the crystal again, getting lost in its pyramidal depths. A clear prototype for what would become a traditional Sith holocron, it sat unassuming yet all consuming on his center table just the same.
"Not for the moment," Erebus admitted, though this answer was entirely truthful. The only other person he knew to have been out on the Dunes was his sister, but even if she was the one to find the crystal and its cousins he highly doubted she would have express-mailed her findings to a man that very recently wanted her dead. "But I can let you know when I have any working theories."
Erebus swallowed, unsure how long he would be able to keep this charade going.
"Very well, then perhaps a change of plans are in order," Sion announced, stepping closer now. His white eyes glanced towards Vash, lingering on her for hardly a second before his gaze bore down on Erebus. "I want you to study this and report to me - and only to me. Nihilus may do whatever he wishes with it afterwards, but I want to know who it came from. And why."
Erebus' eyes went wide. He tried to blink back his surprise, unsure of what to say. Sion wasn't his Master, nor had the man ever really spoken to him much before this moment, but he did have seniority and every right to give Erebus an order. He had no choice but to obey.
Eventually, he nodded.
"I leave this in your trust. Tell no one," he said, looking at Vash again. This time his gaze held, Sion's attention lingering over her as if he were only just now assessing who she was and why she was here. Erebus knew Sion wasn't that stupid. But then again, Nihilus always bemoaned Sion's brash tendencies, tendencies their old instructor Traya used to mention frequently if the rumors were to be believed. "No one."
"Understood," Erebus vowed, bowing his head briefly. He felt Vash bow in unison just behind him.
"We may need to relocate eventually, lest we draw too many eyes here," Sion said, shifting his gaze to Erebus again. Sion's murky white eyes almost bubbled beneath their tenuous vitreous, streaks of red breaking up the milky depths of his regard as if the capillaries might burst at any given moment and dissolve into jelly. Erebus did not look away. "Have you any access to the Korriban archives?"
"I do," Erebus said. "Though on that note, I have a question-"
"Then ask it," Sion spat, making towards the door but stopping with a dramatic halt, his cloak billowing behind him as he awaited Erebus' request.
"I know you are not one for machines, but some of the archives are inaccessible save for Rev-"
"Do not utter that woman's name here," Sion hissed. "And unfortunately I do not have any override. If we are denied access, I shall trust you to find another way."
As if it's just that easy, Erebus sighed before nodding in solemn understanding. And about as quickly as he had come, Sion was gone again. Vash stood breathless at his side.
"You can breathe now," Erebus said, sinking into the nearest chair. "I need to stop making deals."
"It doesn't seem as if you have a choice," Vash said, her voice raspy and low. "And neither do I."
Erebus regarded her as she meandered towards the chair opposite and collapsed into it, burying her head in her hands.
"What have I done?" she muttered.
Erebus stilled. He did not think he was meant to hear her words, her utterance instead unblocked by an internal filter disabled by her current shock and terror.
Yeah, you and me both.
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 082, Czerka Corporation Executive Suite
Eden
"You're here early," Jana Lorso greeted, finding Eden on her doorstep just as the receptionist was getting reacquainted with the front desk. "Eager to work, are we?"
Lorso beamed with a pride Eden didn't realize the woman was capable of. Before, all she'd expected of the Mirialan was cool poise, but now the woman was practically giddy. Eden could only nod, almost as embarrassed to be there as the receptionist who nearly shrunk behind her desk like a turtle retreated into its shell while side-eying her boss.
"Sure am," Eden said, squaring her shoulders. She gestured what she hoped was an indiscriminate shrug towards the receptionist as Lorso swept across the room and towards her own office, expecting Eden to follow. The receptionist raised her eyebrows quickly in response just as Eden passed her desk and Lorso's assistant Ithira materialized out of seemingly nowhere, suddenly present as if for the express purpose of escorting Eden to Lorso's office even though Eden could very easily follow the woman there herself.
"So, I take it you received my message?" Jana Lorso said through her still too-wide grin as she finally arrived at her office, spinning around as she walked so as not to miss a moment of Eden's expressive response from the time it took her to cross the threshold and sit down in her chair. Eden raised her eyebrows just as the receptionist had, hoping it came across as ambitious instead of reluctant. "Exciting news of this undisclosed military base, yes?"
"Absolutely," Eden swallowed unsurely. She'd glanced at Lorso's report earlier that morning, and while certainly intrigued by Lorso's corporate worries, she'd spent most of the early hours focusing instead on the details she could relay to her Republic contact in hopes of getting Czerka into some long overdue legal trouble.
"Good! Good," Lorso repeated, as if trying to convince herself as well as Eden. "I want someone to look into this suspicious activity right away. It would greatly help our restoration efforts and it will also prove to be a beneficial test run for our working relationship going forward. It will perhaps give you an idea of what kind of work you can expect from us."
Eden nodded, feeling foolishly out of the loop.
"I'll let you get reacquainted with B4-D4, he'll give you another run-down of the situation, and then you can bring him along with you to the planet's surface."
The planet's surface.
Eden froze.
"Will the TSF allow that?" Eden asked, trying to come across as calm as possible. "I'm still technically under surveillance-"
"Oh, I've already cleared it with them," Lorso waved her hand, "Or at least with an officer just below Lieutenant Grenn so he should be made aware of the situation shortly. Shouldn't be an issue though."
I'm sure someone was paid handsomely for that, Eden thought as she smiled politely with an air of eager anticipation. She didn't have to act much - aside from the smile itself, she was eager now, unendingly curious as to what exactly Lorso wanted from her, what was going on in this abandoned military base, and just how far she'd get away with leaving the station while still technically under surveillance. Even if she was no longer under house arrest.
It's now or never, Eden mused as Lorso brought in B4-D4 again and instructed her assistant to outfit Eden with any other supplies she deemed necessary for such an expedition. If I can leave the station, maybe I can manage to leave Telos all together.
"Will anyone be coming with me?" Eden asked. At this, Lorso's assistant froze, as did Jana herself.
"Not for the moment, no," Lorso answered through a thin smile. "At least not yet. Whoever's down there may expect some of our employees to poke around eventually, but if you pose as a lost traveler, a researcher maybe-"
Lorso shuffled absently at her desk, clearly trying to appear more perturbed by whatever made-up thing she was pretending to look for than by Eden's question.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked one of your friends to come along with you," Lorso continued, "Though it is likely best if you go alone."
"I wouldn't exactly call them friends," Eden said, playing up the facade of the lone ranger she needed Lorso to believe for the moment, trying to believe more in it herself. "We're only together because the circumstances demand it."
"Well, if that's the case then, so be it," Lorso smiled. "Ithira, please show our Jedi friend to the private dock. If we can get a report in by lunchtime, I'd call this a win."
Ithira bowed, her yellow hair gleaming in the gilded light of Lorso's office as she clutched her clipboard to her chest and hurriedly escorted Eden out of the room again.
"We already have your requested items in hand, they should be loaded onto the shuttle as soon as we arrive," Ithira chirped proudly as she led Eden out a side entrance and into an alleyway unlike the others Eden had seen so far. This one was pristine and not shared with any nearby buildings or businesses like the rest of the city operated. Czerka certainly has made themselves comfortable, Eden thought. On the station as well as with the TSF…
"It's a bit short notice," Eden said, trying to act casually surprised. "Your people can do that sort of thing?"
"Oh, sure," Ithira shook her head as if it were dumb of Eden to even ask. "We have our hands in every industry around here. With our connections, we make things move rather quickly."
"Uh huh," Eden said, eyeing Ithira as she typed away at the miniature datapad attached to her clipboard. "The TSF wasn't as lenient with me, so I figured-"
"Oh, that's no problem," Ithira swatted a hand absently at Eden's comment, a smirk overcoming her young face. "Jana Lorso's a master salesperson, she can get anyone to sign a contract of ours. It's one of her strengths."
The girl practically beamed at Eden's side. Eden wasn't sure if she felt more sorry for Ithira or the technician back at Czerka, both so refreshingly optimistic but regrettably misguided.
"We should be coming up on the landing pad, now," Ithira cut in after another flurry of hurried typing. "We'll be good to go in a few minutes."
The empty alleyway eventually led them sideways until they came upon a gate. Ithira entered a code she tried to hide from Eden, though the dial sounds gave the password away (seven, six, three, two, three) and an access door hidden in the wall slid open. Ithira ushered Eden over the threshold and suddenly they were in the Entertainment District just where it overlapped with the docks. The door shut behind them.
"If you'll just follow me," Ithira asked, beckoning Eden to follow.
If they were planetside, the sun would be threatening to rise soon, but not yet. It was still too early to wake for most folk, but late enough to still party for everyone else. The music from the cantina nearby was muted, but Eden felt the beat thrum beneath them as if it were the floating city's heartbeat. She thought of Luxa's apartment and the refuge she found there, wondering where the woman was now.
"Ah, Benok," Ithira greeted with a fake smile and a halted wave as she walked towards the landing bay entrance. "Here to see us off?"
"Something like that," Benok smiled. Eden's gaze fixed on the man, and he stared back in return. He did not blink.
"Miss Lorso stationed us here to make sure you made it out safely," he assured Ithira with a bow. The girl smiled back politely, but confusion colored her face. This isn't like Benok, Eden surmised as her eyes darted between the two of them. But before Eden could read into the interaction further, Benok lunged and hooked Ithira into his grip, holding a blaster to her temple as he stared Eden down. "But I won't be doing that."
"Let her go," was all Eden could manage. Her hand rushed for the Echani staff clipped to her waist, her fingers bristling with electricity as her other hand reached for the blaster strapped to her opposite leg. Benok only pressed the nozzle of his gun further into Ithira's head and smiled wider.
"She doesn't care about you, you know," Benok cooed sorrowfully in Ithira's ear, his lips grazing her cheek. Ithira winced and whimpered. "Lorso or her."
Benok gestured with his wrist at Eden. From the depths of the landing pad's airlock entrance, two other men emerged, likely Exchange.
One of them held a gun on Eden while the other slammed a palm on the panel behind him. With a swoosh, the landing pad door opened as well as the door opposite, leading directly to the docking bay proper, bustling with hundreds of eager passengers.
"I would be careful if I were you," Benok said, this time at Eden. "If you thought you could get away so easily, you were sorely mistaken."
The man that opened the panel door fixed a blaster on Eden with one hand and raised a mini datapad with the other. The device fluttered with silvery static before the signal settled and displayed a Quarren sporting a sick smirk before uttering "As you all know, the bounty on Jedi is ten million credits."
Eden froze.
The words echoed not only in their lone hallway but in the docks outside, as if all of the display screens now relayed what Benok's goon was relaying to Eden via private showing. Eden's hand tensed over both weapons, her body and her breath growing hot, though she otherwise did not move.
"What you may not know," the Quarren continued, "Is that there is a particular bounty on the infamous veteran, Jedi General Eden Valen. And that it was once fifty million credits."
A series of Eden's past visages splayed over the Exchange goon's screen, and presumably the multitude of screens outside, before displaying a series of Eden's looks sported here on Citadel Station in the last few days. Even Ithira's handheld datapad displayed Eden's face back at her, lopsided in the Czerka assistant's limp wrist.
"The Exchange rate may be fifty million, but my rate is one hundred million."
Benok's smile turned into a sadistic grin as he pressed the barrel of his gun further into Ithira's skull.
"Bring the Jedi to me alive and I will not only pay you the unfathomable sum promised, but I will make all of your other errant dreams come true."
The club music nearby stopped. Every breath in the alleyway held in the balance as Eden's hands hovered over her only choice of weapons as Ithira looked on, hopeless and breathless. Eden's hand reached first for the staff, and then the blaster, but before her hands could reach either someone pushed her from behind and out into the docking bay just beyond Benok. Eden stumbled to a stop and stood staring at what felt like the whole of Citadel Station, every iteration of her own face staring back at her from each and every monitor that spanned the massive room.
"One hundred million credits," the Quarren repeated. "Go."