3951 BBY, Beyond the Unknown Regions
Revan
It had all started before she knew how to form words.
Memories were still an ephemeral thing, certain information sticking where others refused. She had just learned to walk and her parents were thrilled. Her father especially.
"She can come to the university with me," he'd said, beaming. "The place could use a little lightening up."
Part of her remembered the faces of who must have been her father's colleagues and students, some blurry and others in great detail, their fates already clear to her then at such a young age before she even knew what gift she was given. Before she had any life experience to give it context. Before she had the words at all to describe what she saw.
"Visions," Master Kae had announced brightly when Revan finally told her teacher about one of the most important aspects of her waking life that she'd yet given a name to, years later. "What you see are visions."
It was more complicated than that, she would come to learn. But to have a word at all was something. She no longer felt untethered, both empty yet somehow too big for her still-growing body. As if she were herself as well as someone else on the outside looking in. But the beings were not separate. And it wasn't just that, either. There were others in her visions, people that were decidedly not her. In the visions she both was and wasn't them, inhabiting their body like a ghost but only as a visitor, never looking to put down roots or impose her own consciousness.
As a child, it was simply the way she saw the world. She knew it in the here and now, but she also knew it as it was before, as it had yet to become, and what it might be.
"She's a natural," her father had bragged after a day at the university when Revan was learning more words, collecting more labels for thoughts and feelings and things she knew. "Maybe it's just because she's my daughter, but I swear she's the brightest child I've ever met."
Her mother had indeed written off her father's admiration as the latter, but there was a reason for him to feel the way he did. When presented with several artifacts, Revan had been able to tell apart the originals from the replicas. Her father thought it was her sharp eye, a scholar in spirit just as he was. But in truth she only knew the answers because the pieces told her so. She couldn't explain how, but she could sense whether an item was old or old, glimpsing bits of memories and flashes of the past that felt more distant depending on how heavy it felt. Heavy wasn't even a good word for it, but it was the closest thing she had.
She was content with her gift. At least in the moment, happy to see her father beam with pride - the whites of his teeth gleaming from just beneath the ridges of his tanned, angular face, a face that she still saw when she looked at herself in the mirror to this day as if his ghost haunted her reflection instead of having simply lent his genetic material to create what would become Revan even if that was not always her name... Yet while she could remember her father's face in great detail, the truth of his own name had slipped from her memory. Entirely. If she wanted to find any record of him, she'd be lost, not knowing where to start. And for all her vivid visions, so much of her childhood memory was spotty. She'd forgotten both the name and the face of her mother, the name of the planet they lived on, the university she visited with her father before he brought her out to the desert with instructions to follow the visions she had but didn't yet have a name for in search of some lost settlement he'd been tracking down for nearly all of his adult life in search of… something.
Revan always felt as if she were perpetually on the cusp of remembering. As if all it took were one word, one recollection, and finally the entire puzzle would fall into place. She'd felt it when tasked with handling the situation on Serroco. An overwhelming rush of knowing overcame her at the thought of stepping foot there, instead delegating the operation to her then Padawan, Eden Valen, who was more than happy to take on the challenge. But Revan had felt that same disconnect with her old student in the flesh, too - when training Eden one morning, the girl's face caught the light in such a way that suddenly Revan was transported to her childhood home, asking her mother if she could skirt chores to run along and play outside - catching a glimmer of the woman she'd failed to recollect but could almost touch again, momentarily, before the memory and the idea of her slipped away again like dissipating smoke.
Revan had recoiled then, from Eden as well as the memory, yet none of it fell into a proper enough place for her to make sense of it. Not that she allowed it the time to do so. Without context it felt like a ghost in haunting only, the memory absent from its errant wandering. But she had seen Eden's future in another glimpse of a moment - time collapsing in on itself, the Force void and empty, hollow and quiet. It was a feeling more than a vision, and it was something that hounded Revan enough in the back of her mind to suddenly retract her newly minted mentorship with the gifted Jedi to pawn the girl off onto Alek instead. It was enough for her to assign Eden to Malachor with the hopes that she might die along with that Maker forsaken moon and everyone on it. Only Revan had stupidly not considered that act to be the catalyst for the death in the Force she sensed in the aftermath…
But Alek. Oh, sweet Alek.
They'd been friends, then. Always friends. From the moment they locked eyes from across the padawan circle in Master Vandar's initiation session to the moment they actually first exchanged words - they'd been friends. Kindred spirits. Platonic soulmates. Twins in another life. Always.
But there was an image that occasionally hung on the periphery of Revan's thoughts about him, an image that stuck with her the moment she first laid on him. In the moment, he was tall but timid. But still young, like her. Yet in her mind she saw the sight of him superimposed on himself as a man, much larger and hulking, standing on the bridge of what she'd assumed was a starship.
In the moment, she thought it was a promising premonition. He's destined for great things, she remembered thinking instantly. She didn't want to believe that was the reason she was initially drawn to him, the image of him as a man grown with the galaxy at his back returning to her time and time again, even after they became friends, even after years had passed… But it soon became an unspoken promise on her part. We can do this, she'd think whenever her ambitions outgrew her current standing, pleased to find Alek by her side all the while. I'll make this future real for the both of us.
It was what sustained her upon finding that Mandalorian mask in the sea of Cathar. It was what sustained her when they found the ancient mechanism in the depths of the mountains of Dantooine, showing them an uncharted corner of the universe that was now only theirs for the exploring, for the taking.
But it wasn't until the end that Revan realized where the vision came from.
"Savior, conqueror, hero, villain-" he'd sneered, looking out at the starry expanse as if it were empty. "You are all things, Revan… and yet you are nothing."
Revan had stilled. Her first true, solid memory returned to her in full at that very moment as she stood aboard the Starforge, her new saber alight in a hue that wholly did not suit her but hadn't seemed so until the very moment Alek - no, Darth Malak - uttered those words. It should be violet, she thought stupidly, suddenly hating the color green entirely as Alek - no, Malak - stood with his arms crossed as he stood before her, looking every part the truth of her vision as well as everything far from it.
In the initial imagining, Alek still had hair - jet black and shining with starlight. She hadn't noticed it at first, but the vision changed with each iteration. First, Alek's hair was replaced with Captain Malak's blue streaked tattoos. And the next, he was turned away from her whereas before he was facing her proudly. And upon the third iteration, or perhaps the fourth, the words came into the picture though only in part - conqueror, hero. And with the next…
She'd known. She'd always known.
Upon first meeting her closest friend, she had always known how it was meant to end. Only upon first seeing the vision, she did not know it was an ending. In her young mind it was a possible future, a beginning…
If only she could go back and change things, to choose things differently…
But what, exactly, would she change?
Nothing.
She'd change nothing.
Revan would go back to her nameless self as an infant with the knowledge of the universe in the palm of her miniscule, reaching, pudgy hand. And she would do nothing to alter it. Nothing to stop her father from departing for the desert. Nothing to stop Eden from decaying and taking the fringes of the known universe with her. And nothing to stop Alek from becoming the demise he so feared.
And here she stood. Revan. Keeper of all things, hopeless witness to time as it passed.
She could have changed things. She might have.
But she didn't. And she wouldn't.
This is just how things were, and how they would always be. They had to be.
No matter what.
3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 082
Atton
"So, are we even or what?" Atton spat.
The room reeked of blood, and he wanted to be rid of the place. His mind raced, for once too busy to even need hyperspace routes or a winning Pazaak hand to keep his neurons firing, his fight or flight response pumping enough pent-up adrenaline through his veins to fuel him for days. Not that he would let his current company know that. So instead of doing anything about it, he stewed in silence, awaiting a reply.
"Sure," Luxa huffed eventually as if she'd forgotten Atton were even still there, wiping the end of her blaster as she eyed Slusk's lavish desk hungrily. "For now."
Atton furrowed his brow, about to round on Luxa were it not for Kuna standing between them, trusting his bulk alone to dissuade Atton from making any sudden movements. And the Gammorean was right.
"Your debt is paid in full," Luxa sighed, walking towards the chair beside Slusk's opulent workspace, running a hand along its onyx surface. "So long as you make sure General Valen does a few more errands for me."
At this, Luxa actually sounded pained. Her face didn't betray what inner feelings her voice had, though, and as if she hadn't said anything at all she shoved the body of one of Slusk's men with the sharp heel of her shoe and ceremoniously pulled out the now-dead mob boss' gleaming gold-limned chair. With another swift motion, she lowered herself onto its velvet cushion, her face scrunching up as she tested its give.
"Not nearly as comfortable as it looks," Luxa clicked her tongue, disappointment painting her features as she threw her head back, leaning further into the chair anyway and propping both legs up on the desk as she placed her hands behind her back and swiveled slightly until she looked towards the far wall. Her bloodied heel pressed a discreet button on the desk's side before resuming its lounging rest, ordering several panels to slide out of place and reveal the whole of Citadel Station beside her. "View's nice, though."
Nej grunted in agreement and Atton felt sick. He glanced down at the body closest to where he stood - a human male with red hair - his eyes wide, bloodstained and staring. And just beside him lay Lopak Slusk himself, his head wound still slowly gushing a scarlet red, congealing before Atton's eyes. It wasn't the death that bothered him so much as the nonchalance. He'd taken lives before, gladly. But it was always work, something to be proud of in the completion but also something to move on from moments later. Luxa and her cronies made no motion of cleaning this mess up anytime soon and Atton wondered just how long it would take until he was just another corpse inconveniently littering the floor…
"You know who posted the bounty, don't you?" Atton asked, deadpan. "The one Slusk doubled down on…"
Eden would want to find out eventually, part of him knew that for certain, though how he wasn't sure. If she was willing to hunt Slusk to near-death for putting her and the entire station in jeopardy, what would she do to the person responsible for her quaint life in exile being suddenly upended with the entire galaxy after her head?
Luxa only smiled at him softly, saying nothing.
So be it, Atton thought with a huff, scuffing his boot across the floor and swiping a significant trail of blood from his soles. It wasn't the first time he'd done this - an image of him on Coruscant flashing before his waking eyes as if the memory were playing in real time, all scuffed boots and bloodied knuckles, still clad in that ill-fitting grey suit…
"You're free to leave, you know," Luxa said after a tense moment, now thoroughly examining her nails as if she were bored with him. And she probably was - probably had been for days now. "So long as you keep in touch."
At this, she smiled again - a more wicked one. And Atton felt even more sick.
"Whatever you say, boss," he said bitingly, turning on his heel. Atton placed a hand on his holster - not because he thought he needed it, but because he wanted the assurance that it was there. Just in case. Of what, he wasn't sure. But Atton thought he'd seen everything before tonight. Before this week. Before…
One year down, a million more to go, he thought sourly as he exited the way they came in, careful to step over the bodies and hold his breath, lest he commit this stench to memory. Maybe I was better off in my cell.
The street outside was quiet, but it wasn't empty. Eden stood not far off, unmoving, staring into the distance.
"Didn't expect you to still be hanging around," Atton called after her as he finally exited the restaurant, convinced he'd be turned off from eating anything for the next standard week at the minimum. He was trying to be cordial, to act as if nothing were wrong, when in fact everything was. The sight of Eden both soothed and sickened him. Not knowing how to temper the two feelings, Atton instead chose to do nothing other than talk his mouth off as he usually did. And as usual, probably to his own detriment.
Eden didn't move. Atton broke into a light jog to catch up with her silhouette overlooking the avenue, finding her gaze hollow and unblinking once he gained on her.
"You okay?" he asked, regretting it instantly.
Eden remained still. Atton was about to reach out and touch her, to make sure she was still alive, when she finally blinked herself out of her reverie and looked at Atton as if she were seeing him for the first time. Somehow, he knew her vision swam, her gaze swirling before her eyes finally settled on his, her energy careening from the uncanny to the overcompensating. Atton felt it in his bones, and he saw it on her face, feral yet exhausted, a predator finally sedated after consuming its prey. He knew that look well.
"I will be," she said. Atton had a feeling they'd had this very same conversation before, and just like last time, whether it was a dream or a memory, Atton had the feeling Eden was both right and wrong, honest and dishonest in her attempt to sound genuine. Though in which ways she was lying and in which ways she wasn't, he had no way of knowing.
We're the same, you and I, he thought for a moment, watching as Eden finally began to navigate the vacant streets of the station with blood still staining the lower half of her face, trailing down her neck. But before the thought could steep, his brain refuted the notion, thinking No, you stayed and fought. I would have run at the first sign of trouble.
Mere hours ago, the entire satellite was lit with a hungry fervor to trap Eden and cash in on her head. But now the streets were empty and she walked the avenues without fear, without repercussion, the blood marking her face a testament to what happens when you try to take on an unkillable Jedi.
Atton was sure that if he'd met her years ago, he would no longer be living. If he'd try to turn her, to break her, he simply would have ceased to exist before he knew it was over. And in a way, the thought comforted him, and he wondered what that alternate version of the galaxy was like. One without him in it. He imagined Eden wondered the same of herself.
He followed a step or so behind, watching and waiting as Eden helmed her body like a ship that didn't entirely belong to herself. Atton knew that feeling, too.
Had it been easy? He thought as they finally veered towards the main causeway. To make the call at Malachor?
Part of him wanted to hate her, and in a way he already did. He already had - years before he'd known her, never even imagining that one day he might. Yet here he was, contemplating the past as if it were the present and wondering how in the 'verse it so happened that the woman who saved him from the brink of starvation and at the edge of death (and in her underwear no less) happened to be the one Jedi, of all things, with the highest body count in the galaxy let alone the one responsible for the greatest crime against humanity in recent memory. The one Jedi that was responsible for his entire squad's demise at Malachor, turning him into what he became, or perhaps always was…
"You up for another little jaunt?" Eden asked innocently, as if there wasn't still blood streaking her otherwise lovely, if not intimidating, face. "I could probably barter you a way off this sorry station now, but it looks like my work here's not quite finished-"
Eden flashed Atton a sorry glance - both appeasing and apprehensive, everything opposite to what he'd just witnessed from her. Atton almost stopped in his tracks, fumbling slightly as he trailed Eden though he managed to not lose his footing as his mind recuperated internally by repeating hyperspace routes again.
"Sure," he offered, almost too quickly. The thought of Luxa and her half-hearted warning moments ago flashed in his mind between memorized coordinates. "What's in it for me?"
Like a fool, he was cracking jokes. Trying to make a walking hurricane laugh as if it might errantly choose to alter course and save his skin, though if he were being honest it was more so about tempering the storm that was her past and her future in a sorry attempt to make her like him. Though why Atton willed this, he did not know. All he did know was that he wanted more of Eden's earnest attention as much as he also wanted to be rid of her, the root cause of both being oddly the same thing.
But Atton had managed to disappear before. He could do it again. Right?
"I'm still working on that part," Eden laughed a hollow laugh, though Atton could tell that some part of it was genuine, the ghost of some semblance of mirth spiriting over her harrowed face as she shot him another sideways glance before all seriousness befell it entirely. If Eden felt like death before, she utterly inhabited it now. "Though maybe messing with the TSF is enough of an incentive?"
Before Atton knew it, they were at the intersection that led to either the docks or the Telos Security Force's headquarters. He and Eden had been here a day earlier in search of a hackable comm unit. Never in a million years, but especially not then, did he ever think that the past days' events would have transpired once they got a hold of such a device. Everything had seemed so easy in hindsight, though improbable then. Atton didn't know what to believe anymore. Yet the idea of following Eden only endeared her more to him, against his inner survivalist's wishes. Or perhaps it was because he had such a strong tendency to delay death that he was drawn to her, afraid of what came after but also not eager to find out what lay beyond.
Better to be the right hand of the devil than in her path.
He'd thought the same about Revan when one of her agents came looking for him after the war ended - the first one, the one against the Mandalorians. Even if the two wars now blurred in his memory in the aftermath. He'd never actually met the woman. He had an audience with Malak, though. Once. Atton felt that hardly counted, even if he was the one ultimately responsible for Atton's later station under Revan's Empire of the Sith. The man was only following Revan's orders after all.
And maybe Atton was only following Eden's orders now, even if he was only beholden to her because Luxa threatened his livelihood if he didn't. Or because Eden was asking nicely.
Nicely, he thought bitterly. As if that makes up for anything.
But blood stained both their hands. Only Eden owned up to hers openly, and Atton only in secret.
"Incentive enough for now," Atton conceded eventually before nodding his chin in the direction of the TSF station. "Shall we?"
3951 BBY, Dagary Minor
Sion
It was the second time Sion stood somewhere in the Inner Rim and felt as if he were far from it. Not just distant from the very center of the galaxy as he already was not accustomed to being, the energy here pulling differently than it did on Malachor and the space between stars, but distant from the present as well.
Like Serroco, the war was still current here in a way it wasn't on other planets even though it had concluded nearly a decade prior. But unlike Serroco, Dagary Minor had not changed much since it last saw devastation, razed fields still burnt black and demolished portions of the city still left in ruins.
On Serroco they tried to rebuild. Here, they made an active effort to remember.
And also unlike Serroco, Sion felt compelled to visit this planet on whim alone, the name of the place - Dagary Minor - echoing in his mind like a premonition. Suddenly and out of nowhere. Awakening him from troubled sleep.
Sion ambled past a cordoned off lot in the center of the city, boasting nothing but a plaque commemorating the monument that once stood here. One of his acolytes paused and actually read the thing, his head bobbing absently as he processed the information before rejoining Sion and his other attendant.
Sion wasn't used to being followed this closely, but he almost preferred it now. Still haunted by the object delivered to him in his quarters, Sion found the company of others oddly satisfying all of a sudden, knowing that whatever energy it housed was now far away from him but also should it find him again that he would not be the only one to sense it. Whether his acolytes sensed his distress over the mere thought of it now he was not sure. But it almost didn't matter. The apprehension heightened his senses, his faculties more open to sights, sounds, smells, in ways he was no longer used to, having no need of them for so many years, relying on the Force alone.
This is how she lived, Sion thought to himself, conjuring an image of Eden in his mind's eye as he walked the half-dilapidated streets of Dagary Minor's port city. Without the Force. Void of it.
Void.
He felt cold at the notion, watching the buildings pass as he walked on, noticing which edifices the city chose to restore and which it chose to remain in discomposure, acting as a reminder of what happened here once. Serroco moved on, living as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile the jungles of Dxun swallowed whatever malice occurred there and replaced it with its own poison. Sion preferred the latter, believing it to at least belong to a system he understood, but this? This was strange.
"What have you discovered about this place?" Sion asked his nearest aid, bowing her head almost instantly upon hearing Sion speak from beneath his concealing hood.
"About the planetary history or the battle, m'lord?" she asked, head bowed even lower now. Sion shook his head.
"Whichever one," he said, trying to act normal about all of this despite the mounting dread taking root in his chest the longer he soaked in the energies of this place, "Planet first, battle next."
"As you wish," she whispered before glancing at her partner, still lingering a step or two behind, before admonishing herself on his behalf as if at Sion's request and relaying her findings.
"Dagary Minor lays in what are known as the Core Worlds of the Inner Rim, once simply called the Rim before more extensive hyperspace travel was-"
"Nevermind, just the battle then," Sion huffed.
"Dagary Minor was a loss for the Republic during the Mandalorian Wars," she whispered, as if worried they might be overheard. "It was the first in a series of-"
Sion sighed and simply held up a hand, urging silently that she shut up but also more tactically so, urging the Force to squeeze gently around his assistant's throat just tightly enough that she would cease speaking but not enough to damage her vocal cords should he have need of her later.
"Just send me a report," he muttered, rubbing his temples. He asked for it, after all, but another part of him felt as if whatever research he requested would never be enough for the kind of answer he actually sought. He wanted to glean memories from this place, memories of hers. But there were none. Not like Serroco.
"I could just-"
Sion stopped in his tracks and sucked on his teeth, closing his eyes as he gathered whatever inner strength he needed to not pulverize his acolyte's bones to dust at the mere thought of doing so.
"Don't," he ordered. "That's enough. Just… send the report. I'll read it later."
He knew how inane it was. He knew how pointless it was to ask her to write up and send him something to read when she could simply just tell him now. But the idea of skimming over a boring and likely lackluster synopsis seemed so much more palpable at the moment when his senses were otherwise on edge. At Dxun he'd almost felt suffocated. On Serroco it was as if he were drowning. But here… it felt as if he were being denied access to something simply because he wanted it so much. And it wasn't enough. He wanted more.
No.
He needed it.
The memory of what happened here was clear everywhere they went. But none of it sufficed. None of it spoke of her. None of it beckoned a vision of Eden or her time here, instead leaving Sion only with a sinking feeling and the odd notion that perhaps he'd forgotten something.
And then he thought of the crystal again. Triangular and familiar in its shape, but odd and off-putting in its energy, not to mention the man he left it with…
Nihilus promised Sion an audience with his eponymous apprentice, yet Sion's meeting with Erebus did not go as expected. He wished to speak with the man again, to ask more questions and hopefully glean more answers. Not now, the Force promised. But soon.
Sion blinked, relishing in the darkness found beneath his eyelids for the momentary second they were closed, imagining a place far warmer, far dryer, than here.
Korriban, Sion thought. Eden hadn't been there. Not yet. But she would be, the Force told him. And Sion would be there to meet her.
"Ready the ship again," Sion ordered, picking up his pace as he then turned on his heel and made for his vessel again. Both of his acolytes sputtered on the spot, their feet moving but their bodies motionless for the moment before they regained their footing and caught up with their master once more.
"Right away, m'lord," they said in unison, hurrying ahead of him.
Sion took one last look around Dagary Minor and the underwhelming whole of it. She was here, he ruminated. But the imprint is weak.
It had to be. He was sure of it. Why else wouldn't he have felt her here?
It wasn't as if the place were entirely void of memory, though.
Sion closed his eyes as he followed his assistants back to the docking bay, soaking in whatever else he could of this place and whatever else it had to offer. He gleaned something alright - surprise, anguish, resentment - but none of it felt like Eden's.
Eden's, Sion relished. Eden.
Repeating her name in his mind felt like a mantra, a spell. As if to summon her. Only she did not come. Instead, she remained both in the distant past as well as on Telos. His mind and the Force told him as much, the galaxy bending around the memory of her just as he was now, though it still denied him access to her personal recollection of this place. She must have remembered this planet and what happened here, Sion was sure of that, but there was a reason it was cut off from his prying eyes. Right?
The same reason why he felt her ghost on Malachor but nothing concrete. She'd been there, yes, but not really.
"She orbited this place, yes?" Sion asked errantly. His acolyte paused, falling out of step just as the question was asked. "General Valen never stepped foot on Dagary Minor, is that correct?"
Sion's acolyte paused before nodding emphatically.
"Y-yes, that is correct," she affirmed. "Unlike the General's other battles, she did not step foot on Dagary Minor but instead orchestrated the affront from a distance. It was the first and last of its kind though, seeing as she physically led every other battle after, save for Mal-"
"I thought as much," Sion said, cutting her off. "That will be all for now."
"As you wish, m'lord."
And it was what he wished. For now. He would learn more of the exiled Jedi later, though he yearned for more of her and the pull she seemed to have on the Force itself. Even in memory. Even as a ghost.
Even as someone, who by all means, should not even exist at all.
3951 BBY, Telos, Citadel Station, TSF Station Headquarters
Eden
"Shall we?" Atton asked, more amiable than ever, even if Eden didn't deserve it.
A wave of cold followed by a warning sense of comfort followed in the wake of Atton's all-too-eager expression. Cold because Eden had garnered this sort of blind loyalty before. And comforted because despite its implications, at least she wasn't alone in this. At least not yet.
A moment too long passed between them and Atton's eyebrows shot up slightly into the mussed up fringe of his hair. He was doing everything in his power to appear agreeable, to go along with whatever was about to happen next, but it was all a mask. It had to be. And that's when Eden saw it - when she recognized it - the darker undercurrent of Atton that had previously only showed its rearing head in the face of certain death while still barricaded in the holding cells of the TSF, somehow both charming and terrifying at once.
Eden swallowed, trying not to think of Atris betraying secrets in the dark of their shared bunk on Dantooine or Alek as he held her hand in the aftermath of a witnessed genocide on Cathar, each of them innocent once but suddenly disobedient in her presence, as if she'd had something to do with it. Or as if they had something to hide from her, another self they couldn't touch, yet offered themselves up wholly still. She shook her head and looked forward, at least calmed by the fact that Atton had a right to look every bit attractive and equally terrifying in the wake of the mess she just made of the Exchange. Whatever terrifying quality he assumed felt warranted. Whether that was earned or bequeathed by Eden's overwhelming guilt alone didn't matter. As for the attractive part, well… She wasn't equipped to read into her feelings, either way.
It was only a few steps from the intersection to the station itself, the place oddly defenseless as Eden approached the entrance.
"Do you have an appointment?" the resident droid asked as they approached, its voice monotone. Without asking, Atton shot the machine point blank.
"Hey!" Eden shouted, shooting Atton an astonished glance. Atton only rounded on her with a look of utter confusion, glancing over his shoulder as if to insinuate the current state of the entirety of Citadel Station as an excuse.
"Of all the things to be upset about?" he whispered just as a door on the far end of the office opened.
"Look's like the protocol droid's malfunctioned or-" a hapless officer was muttering to what looked like a fresh-faced recruit behind her just as they entered the space. "... Something."
Within the span of a second, the officer's eyes moved from the now-smoking droid slumped over the front desk to Eden and then Atton, whose hand was mid-holster, his blaster half in his hand and half in its sheath just as the woman mentally connected the dots, swallowed hard and silently urged the new recruit to go get help.
Atton procured a half smile and a shrug just as Eden took another few steps towards the officer and looked her up and down before demanding, "Where's Grenn?"
"I don't know what authority you think you have here, but-"
Eden grabbed the woman by the neck of her uniform, holding her collar in as tight a fist as she could manage with her still-raw knuckles.
"Bring me to Grenn."
The woman's eyes went wide, looking from Eden to Atton, and then to the droid, as if either one might help, before shaking her head and raising her hands in surrender.
"Fine, fine, I'll-"
But before the woman could finish sputtering her coerced promise, a squadron of TSF officers arrived, out of breath, at the entrance behind them. And at the head of the group was Lieutenant Grenn himself. His slicked back hair was askew, his face ruddy and slick with sweat, and his entire crew a right mess. Eden assessed them over her shoulder just as she saw Atton draw his gun again in her peripheral vision, aiming at each of them as they approached, likely evaluating the unexpected situation at their doorstep just as Eden was.
"What's the meaning of this?" Grenn demanded as Eden threw the officer out of her grip, the woman falling to the floor, gulping for air.
"Give me a ship," Eden ordered instead of answering, channeling an older self. An older self that someone like Benok once willingly took orders from.
"A shi-" Grenn stopped himself and huffed a laugh as he looked about his advancing crew, each of them in various states of uncertainty and high-alert, some of them holding their aim on Eden or Atton while the others weren't sure what to do, likely taken aback by the sheer amount of blood that stained Eden's face and clothes. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Give me a ship," she said, rounding on him until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Grenn stilled, his eyes flashing as Eden neared, his gaze flickering down at Eden's blood-stained mouth as his nostrils flared, inhaling a sharp breath as he sized Eden up and considered his options. "Not sure if you've heard yet, but the Exchange is significantly crippled. Not eradicated, but weaker than they were. Oh, and Loppak Slusk is dead. So you're welcome."
Grenn said nothing, breathing sharply through his nose as he watched Eden circle him, unblinking. Atton remained poised and ready to fire despite the squadron of officers that faced them down, about a dozen barrels all faced in their direction and ready to pull the trigger on Grenn's orders alone. Eden didn't take her eyes off the Lieutenant but watched the room from her periphery, relishing in the fear of Grenn's lackeys as they faltered slightly, their gazes torn between their leader and their targets.
Benok would have followed this version of me, Eden thought. And he did. Until I left him to die.
"I thought you lot were supposed to be protecting us?" Atton spat at her side. Eden huffed in agreement, urging an answer out of the still silent Grenn. The man only watched her.
"So much for that," Eden muttered. "So in recompense for the mess you let happen, I want a ship. Not to mention in exchange for the one you lost."
At this, Grenn's eyes flashed. Eden smiled a half-smile, none too happy but pleased nonetheless to get an answer of any kind.
"Glad you're finally admitting it then," she said. "And I know you don't want to upset big mister Republic or whatever, but I'd really like to get off this station. Today. No - now. Unless we want anything else to go sideways, hm?"
Grenn's eyes flashed again just before he winced, likely at the imagined implications of both honoring and dishonoring Eden's current wishes. He sucked on his teeth and raised a hand in surrender, his team exchanging a series of glances before they, too, lowered their weapons. Atton not only kept his blasters aloft but doubled down, if anything. Eden flashed him a look that hopefully conveyed cool it down over there, cowboy before redirecting her attention to Grenn who was now maneuvering his way around the ruined protocol droid at the station's front desk to access the main console.
"Head to deck module 004," he mumbled, shoving a hand through his disheveled hair. "And take this."
Grenn tossed an access chip over the shoulder of the slumped droid, aiming at Eden's head. She wondered if he meant for her to miss, instead catching it dead-on, of course, not missing a blink as she held Grenn's harrowed gaze. Eden nodded as if this were the most normal interaction in the 'verse.
"We'll be in touch," she said, shouldering past Grenn's crew towards the exit, Atton not far behind. "Or not."
Eden took a deep breath once she exited the station, inhaling a whole lot of smoke. Atton shot at the mechanical door upon exiting behind her, scoffing as if the last thing he wanted to see was a swath of officers watching their retreating backs, and Eden couldn't blame him. She glanced sideward at the whole of Citadel Station from their current vantage point at the apex of this section of the satellite city, watching as smoke rose from various points in the distance, traffic either stalled or nonexistent depending on where she looked.
Citadel Station would survive this, that was for sure. And it was more than what Eden could say for a lot of places she'd been.
"So, where to next?" Atton asked.
Eden glanced at him. He was unkempt, sure, but not unlike how she'd found him on Peragus. She wondered how much more the man was willing to endure before abandoning her entirely, not blaming him for it ahead of time.
"Now that we've messed with the TSF, how do you feel about helping me square things away with Czerka?"
"Czerka?" Atton echoed. Eden only nodded; her gaze still fixed on the more distant parts of the satellite.
"I have a datapad to recover," she said, "As well as a business deal to close."
Atton shrugged, though this time the man's cover was almost blown. Eden watched as Atton's brow twitched, far too tense for the sheer casualty of his movement as he tried to maintain her unquestioning acceptance of his compliance. Well, Eden thought sourly. So long as I have you.
Eden didn't have the luxury of a platoon, a pool of people from which to cherry pick her preferred allegiance as she was used to from years' past. For now, all she had was Atton and Kreia. And as end game as Kreia felt given the woman's insistence and her intrusion to Eden's own thoughts, Atton was still the most useful. For now. So, she would use him until the moment the man finally refused. Might as well, right?
"Sure, boss," he said, feigning a conspiratorial smile. "Whatever you say."
Eden bit back her instinctual reaction to call Atton on his bullshit and instead chose to smile softly, as if she were pleased.
It's only a matter of time, she thought bitterly. Like Benok, you'll be gone, too.
"Good," she both lied and didn't. Better make the best of you, then.
3951 BBY, Polar Plateau, Telos IV
Atris
She was beginning to prefer her chambers like this.
Quiet. Dark. Cold.
It kept her mind sharp. Her senses focused. Atris felt the Force flow through her more keenly now as if her mind were more open to it than it ever had been. She was more mindful of its every influence, more a sentient participant in its actions than merely a battery, a conduit for its more mysterious ways. The Force was still enigmatic, yes, but Atris felt more privy to its decidedly secret machinations - a secret she was happy to keep just as much as she was proud to share in its sacred confidence.
She walked the length of her storeroom to the far end of it, eyeing the glowing pyramid she'd uncovered the other day sidelong as she swept past it, relishing in the otherwise gloom of the room. What she sought was kept hidden in the far end of the space, in a place even her handmaidens knew not where to look. Atris called upon the Force, as if it were a friend, to uncover its hiding place. As if one day she might be asked to reveal its contents but not willing for the knowledge to be urged out of her by some unsavory means, trusting her mind to at least keep some secrets from her consciousness should she ever be tested. Atris closed her eyes and extended her hand, allowing the Force to flow through her until the weight of the object she sought dropped deftly into the palm of her hand. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and smiled.
It was something out of a fantasy-holo. An orb, opalesque and demure, sat in the crest of her hand looking plain and ordinary. Were it not for the things it could show her…
Atris retreated to the other far corner of her storeroom, ensuring the door behind her was well and closed before huddling behind her rows of shelves and into the darkest pocket of the space. She curled up beneath the lowest-most shelf, tucking her knees against her chest like she was a schoolgirl again swapping secrets with Eden.
No, she hissed internally at herself. The Jedi Exile.
Atris closed her eyes, counting her breaths until they were even again before opening her eyes once more. She glanced down at the orb in her hand and willed it to show her what she wanted.
It seemed so elementary - so stupid. An orb that could show her what she wanted to see. But the sphere was deceptively heavy, almost thirty pounds in total the last she checked, though the object was hardly larger than the dip in her palm when she cupped it. It was beautiful when out of use, but in use it would answer her every request. If she gave it what it demanded.
Being an exceptionally ancient object, the thing this artifact demanded in order to function was similarly primeval - blood. Atris revealed a sharp blade from her robe, kept close to her belt just beside the Exile's abandoned saber, and pressed it gently to the scarred crest in the pad of her palm, where she'd previously demanded this same sacrifice. She reopened the wound with ease, an unbidden sense of relief flooding her as the sanguine red flowed over her otherwise snowy complexion. And once the flowing liquid touched the sphere, all manner of images flashed before Atris' eyes as if she were watching a projector, the pictures it showed displaying slightly faster than real-time, as if she were hitting fast forward on a comm recording.
"Trouble is abrew on Onderon," Atris whispered to herself, as if to verify her vision, bringing it out of the visceral and into the physical world as if it solidified what she saw somehow. "And all is as it was on Nar Shaddaa."
Dictating what she saw calmed her. It soothed her nerves. Atris sighed and allowed her eyes to adjust unblinkingly to the remainder of the images the orb had in store for her.
"And Dantooine-"
Atris bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood.
The last she'd consulted the artifact, it had revealed to her that Master Lonna Vash was on Dantooine, following a lead. Though what exactly that lead was, Atris had no idea. The images the orb shared were not always complete, such was the quality and breadth of information bequeathed by items like this often were. Not unlike the Force, as she assured herself often. Before venturing to Dantooine, she'd spied Vash on Coruscant and then Nespis, thankfully making it off the planet in one piece if only it meant she still proved to be another point of interest for the Jedi Exile to follow once she got her bearings. Or so the orb had also prescribed, once upon a time.
"Korriban?" Atris echoed, images of ruins and sand replacing her vision of Dantooine's more picturesque grasslands though turned decidedly to ash, whether that be in memory or prediction, through the orb she was not sure.
Atris closed her eyes again and thought of the Exile, willing the object to show her what she demanded of it. After a few jittering moments, showing Atris flashes of Tatooine and Nespis first, the orb eventually betrayed an image of Eden traversing the polar regions of Telos, scaling the very mountain Atris sought refuge in now. She sucked in a breath, fear gripping her at the sight of it. In the vision, Eden was unimpinged as she scaled the mountainside, flanked by three companions as she encroached on Atris' position.
Atris suddenly stood; the orb almost deterred from its comfortable position in the curve of Atris' hand.
No, not Eden, Atris thought sourly. The Exile.
She closed her eyes and willed the sphere back to its place of hiding, only leaving the room once she felt it conceal itself within its hidden space.
It was her job to know such things. It was her duty to discover anything she did not already know. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make for the future of the Jedi, for the galaxy at large whether they knew it or not.
Atris already knew she would be forgotten by the history texts that would follow her eventual demise, a death she saw courtesy of the orb as well. It was a shock, at first. But now it was a truth she had come to accept. A truth she had come to emulate and honor with her every decision, making every bit of it count for something.
Eden would come here, yes. Eventually. And Atris would stand her ground. Just as she'd planned these last nine years.
And Eden would be the end of her. She knew that now.
Just as she'd been the beginning of her, too.