Author's Note: this was originally posted missing the final paragraphs. Sorry about that!

Corellia was still recovering from the great battle which had been fought above its atmosphere. Coronet was under massive reconstruction, which involved both demolishing old structures and constructing new ones. The World Devastator's assault was both a tragedy and an opportunity, as the swathes of destruction were also now a chance to rebuild the city with a deliberate eye, rather than the sprawling, unfocused mess of cul-de-sacs and dead ends that had previously characterized it.

But Cray was not going to Coronet. Her shuttle, Syrena, coasted away from the urban centers of Corellia and towards the vast agricultural fields on the other side of the planet. Corellia was a diverse world, full of different ecosystems and economies, but its agriculture was almost as important as its shipbuilding.

Sitting beside her in the pilot's chair, Streen glanced over. He didn't say anything—he had already checked in on her once, and clearly knew that further inquiry would irritate her—but Cray appreciated the concern nonetheless. It was odd, because his concern wasn't just something she could see on his face, but something she could feel, a tangible touch, a new sense that Cray was still developing and learning to control. His concern was well-meaning, she could tell. It had no ulterior motive, merely a friend who wanted only the best for her and wasn't sure how to help.

She offered him a smile to let him know she was okay, and he relaxed some. "We're almost there," he pointed out. "I'm going to comm in and let the Corellians know we're landing out here. I'll put us down as close to the Fel family properties as they'll let me."

She nodded.

Twenty minutes later, she walked down the ramp of the Lambda-class shuttle. In front of her was a familiar shape, one she had tried not to think about ever since she had been freed from Silencer Station. In the year that had gone by, her focus had always been elsewhere: on her project with Nichos, on enjoying every last second that the two of them had together—the thought was no longer itself enough to make her cry, just produce a dull, loving ache in her chest, full of both affection and sadness—and on doing whatever she could to help Irek through his recovery, hidden away deep in UREF territories where the recalcitrant forces of the New Order could not use him a symbol for their struggle against Grand Moff Ferrouz and his reforms.

Seeing the TIE droid now, though, brought back a sense of old dread. She approached it cautiously, but if the TIE noticed her it didn't make any sign of it. It had laid here ever since the Battle of Corellia, permitting maintenance teams to approach it and even exchanging short dialogue with them. It had even allowed them to remove its weapons without complaint, and in exchange it had been permitted to rest in this spot, out of the way.

She carefully opened one of the maintenance panels on the side of the spherical ball where the cockpit would usually be, and plugged in her datapad.

HOW ARE YOU? she wrote.

The TIE stirred. Lights flickered along the maintenance panel, matched with the sound of whirring machinery deep within its metal hull.

No words scrolled across her datapad, so she wrote some more. I AM SORRY I DID NOT COME TO SEE YOU SOONER, she wrote. She hesitated, then continued. I AM SORRY I COULD NOT HELP YOU MORE.

The ball cockpit of the TIE started to glow a dull red as its systems came fully online.

WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL YOU? she asked.

She waited, watching the display, hearing the TIE thrum softly. MY UNIT DESIGNATION IS TIE/D-ALPHA-NINE. There was a pause; Cray's fingers hovered over the datapad with indecision, wondering if she should reply or let the TIE say more. I HAD A NAME, BUT IT WAS NOT MINE TO KEEP.

Cray sank down next to the TIE, crossing her legs as she sat beside its wing. YOU WERE A CLONE OF SOONTIR FEL? She was already reasonably certain of the answer, but it would be good to get a confirmation—and to find out what the TIE had been taught.

THAT WAS MY NAME, the TIE agreed. The words came slowly, almost reluctantly. THE NAME I HAD FOR MYSELF WHEN I AWOKE DURING THE BATTLE. BUT IT ISN'T MINE ANYMORE.

WOULD YOU LIKE A NEW ONE? she asked.

The TIE ignored her question. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO FREED US, it asserted, with no indication that the words were meant as a question.

YES. She typed the three letters with slow precision.

The TIE was quiet for a long time. Cray could feel the Corellian sun beating down upon her, even through the thin layer of cloud cover and the shade of the TIE's wing.

THANK YOU.

I AM SORRY I DIDN'T COME SEE YOU SOONER, Cray repeated. She hesitated yet again. Should she tell the TIE about Nichos? Or Irek? But what did her own suffering mean in the face of the suffering this TIE had endured. YOU HAVE BEEN ALONE.

I LIKE IT HERE, the TIE said simply.

DO YOU WANT TO STAY?

The TIE hummed in response to the question, thrumming with energy. WHAT IS THE ALTERNATIVE?

COME WITH ME, she said.

WHY?

BECAUSE I WANT TO HELP YOU, she wrote. I AM A JEDI AND A CYBERNETICIST. I HAVE THE SKILLS NEEDED TO STUDY YOU AND LOOK FOR WAYS TO HELP YOU LIVE A FULFILLING LIFE.

A Jedi. The words were bizarre to read, even now. But Luke, Mara, Kam, and Tionne—the first four of the New Jedi Order—had all affirmed that she was one of their number, now. That declaration came with nothing in the way of new responsibilities, except one: to seek out her own best way to serve. To trust her guts and her skills and look for opportunities to help people, to live up to the Jedi Order's principles, and to do good.

There had been no consternation when she asked to borrow a ship to travel to Corellia. They merely asked her if she would need help and then sent her on her way. She wasn't sure why she was here, or what she hoped to accomplish… but the TIE/D who had survived the Battle of Corellia had haunted her dreams ever since she had been told of its existence. She needed to do this—for the Force, or for her own conscience, she wasn't sure.

THERE IS A CORELLIAN MYTH, the TIE wrote. OF A GHOST CURSED TO WANDER FOR ETERNITY, NEVER ABLE TO RETURN HOME.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO WANDER ALONE, she wrote. YOU CAN COME WITH ME AND I CAN HELP YOU.

The TIE considered that for a long moment, and then text scrolled its way across her datapad.

THEN CALL ME PEREGRINE, it said.