Jedha

Day Ten, mid-afternoon

Aayla Secura brought her starfighter to a lower altitude, not paying much attention to the desert landscape around her as she flew closer to her destination. Somehow, despite her best efforts, her trepidation at meeting her master again had only grown during the hours in hyperspace.

She had not felt like this in several years – not since just after her first solo mission as a Jedi Knight, as a matter of fact. And yet, the reason she had felt so uncertain at that point had been entirely different. Then, it had been her fault; this time, she knew it was because she was afraid her master had changed.

Closing her eyes, Aayla sank into the Force, allowing it to guide her hands on the steering yoke as past happenings flashed through her memory.

Shortly after being Knighted, Aayla had volunteered to capture a dangerous criminal for the Coruscant Security Force, who were occasionally glad to have a Jedi's help. It had been her very first solo mission, and she'd done well – up to a point. She'd tracked the man down and been closing in on him when her Force-bond with Quinlan wavered suddenly.

Concerned, she'd slipped into an alleyway and reached out to him, but received no answer beyond a confused flicker of impressions that died away. As soon as she understood that he'd been overpowered – and most likely by the very men he had been hunting down, who were slave runners – Aayla abandoned her mission in order to help her former master.

It was only hours later, after the two Jedi had escaped to a safehouse and Quinlan was sleeping off whatever they'd drugged him with, that Aayla even thought about her mission again. Instantly, she'd rushed back to the upper levels of the city, where she'd left off in her chase; but the criminal she'd been assigned to capture had already fled the planet, killing three people in his attempt to steal a shuttle.

Unable to follow him directly, as she did not yet have a ship of her own, Aayla decided to alert the planetary security force. They set out after the criminal, and when he fired on them, they were forced to shoot him down. By the time Aayla received another communication from the CSF, she was back in the safehouse.

Kneeling in the middle of the cold duracrete floor, she closed her eyes. She knew she could have carried out the arrest by herself, if only she'd kept after the criminal; but because she had acted out of fear for her master, there were four people dead. Four dead, four people's families whose lives would never be the same again, and one of the security officers was so badly injured that it would be months before he could work again . . . all this, because Aayla had acted on her emotions.

Perhaps it was fortunate that, because it was not a Jedi mission specifically, Aayla had not had to report to the Council. She almost told Quinlan what had happened, but then decided against it, even when he returned to consciousness long enough to ask her what was wrong. Telling him would only be a way to alleviate her own feelings of guilt, and Aayla was no longer a padawan in need of his guidance . . . or so she had thought at the time.

In the end, she stayed in the safehouse only long enough to be sure that Quinlan would recover and be able to return to the Temple. Then, waiting until he once again dozed off, she slipped out. On the short table near Quinlan's head, next to his lightsaber, she'd left behind a necklace – the one possession she had kept ever since the day he'd found her, almost twenty years before. She knew that he would understand what it meant.

Then Aayla had returned to the Temple, quietly requested an off-world assignment, and been gone before Quinlan returned. It was months before she saw him again, between his missions and her own, and in that time, she had actively worked on muting her Force-bond with him.

When they finally met again, quite by mistake on the steps of the Temple, she halted in surprise, but her former master only watched her for a long moment, nodded ever so slightly as if confirming something in his own mind, and then proceeded to greet her in his overly rambunctious way, as if nothing had happened. He'd never mentioned it since, either.

This time, though, Aayla was almost more uneasy than she had been then. Then, she had known he'd been hurt by her actions, necessary though those actions were; this time, she was afraid he would be different – perhaps so different that she would no longer recognize him.

With a sigh, Aayla opened her eyes. It was ironic that she was so concerned about it, when she had been the one distancing herself, and spending the last few years attempting to let go of all her attachments.

A loud beep made Aayla blink as she withdrew her mind from the eddies of the Force. From the astromech station, Q-T let out another questioning warble.

Aayla glanced briefly at the screen, reading her droid's question. "I was perfectly conscious, Qutee," she said. "And I will take care of the landing."

The pink astromech beeped disapprovingly, and more text appeared on the screen: Response time indicates distraction.

"Yes," Aayla replied. "I was remembering something."

Clarify.

"It was something that happened a few years ago," she answered.

Evasive response, the pink astromech diagnosed promptly.

Aayla shook her head. From past experience, she knew that Qutee would keep questioning her until she gave some kind of answer. Quinlan and Kit Fisto, who'd purchased the droid just a couple weeks before Aayla's Knighting, had named it before gifting it to her – much to Aayla's chagrin, and Anakin's never-ending amusement.

"A cute pink droid named Q-T," Anakin had laughed, patting it on the head. "They couldn't have picked something more cliché and unlike you, Aayla. It's absolutely perfect!"

Aayla had definitely not thought so, but the name had stuck despite all her efforts to change it. "Cutie, indeed," she scoffed under her breath, but was unable to hold back a hint of a smile.

Her droid beeped a questioning, Yes?

"I was not speaking to you."

You used my designation, the text on the screen said. I conclude that you are about to answer my question from forty-three seconds ago.

In Aayla's less tolerant moods, she was convinced that her master and Kit had picked Q-T out for its programmed tenacity. "We are nearing our destination," she said.

Evasive response, Q-T answered again. You are still distracted by your previous thought process.

Aayla huffed lightly as she checked her altitude. "If you must know, I was thinking about my master."

Quinlan Vos, chirped Q-T promptly, and continued to chirp while the words appeared on the screen. Your facial expression one minute and twelve seconds ago indicated concern or possibly sadness. Did he make you sad?

Aayla thought back to the news about Zenaya. "I suppose you could say that."

Affirmative, said Q-T, the beeps taking on a lower-pitched, somehow disapproving tone. Quinlan Vos. Status: enemy.

"No," said Aayla, surprised. "He is not an enemy."

Correction, the droid answered. Jedi Council records indicate he Fell for a brief period of time. Falling, according to Jedi records, indicates an enemy.

"He did Fall," she agreed, surprised that her droid knew about it. "But not for long, and it does not mean he is my enemy."

Q-T appeared to consider this. Clarification. Quinlan Vos – status: temporary enemy, regardless of current affiliation.

"Why?" Aayla asked curiously.

The little dot on the screen blinked for a moment before a line of words appeared again. QT-KT: primary function – to serve and protect Aayla Secura in any and every way possible. Therefore: if Quinlan Vos made you sad, he is my enemy."

Apparently, Qutee's definition of protection extended to mild revenge, which was a bit concerning . . . but not surprising, considering who had purchased her. "Qutee," Aayla said. "That is not –"

She paused, wondering why in the galaxy she was attempting to teach a droid the Jedi way, and cleared her throat. "Qutee, I want you to erase all your records of Quinlan Vos, immediately. And in the future, do not access Temple databanks without my explicit permission."

Affirmative, the pink droid chirped cheerfully. Erasing. . . Data erased.

"Thank you," said Aayla, just as she caught sight of the city of NiJedha. "Ah, we are nearly there."

There: Destination, reported Qutee unnecessarily. Flight logs indicate we are approaching the Catacombs of Cadera, and that we are en route to meet with Quinlan Vos. Who is Quinlan Vos?

Aayla rolled her eyes, wishing she'd been a bit more specific in her instructions a moment ago. "He is my former master, and a friend," she said firmly, and was a little surprised to notice that her worry at the upcoming meeting had faded. Wondering, she reached out into the Force and nearly smiled with relief.

She must be close to Quinlan's position, because she could sense him through their bond more clearly than she'd been able to in months . . . and he did not feel truly different. There was a hint of darkness, of course, his Force-bond with her had always had that muted touch of shadow, but what she sensed now was only a bit darker than usual.

All her worry and trepidation, it seemed, had been for nothing. As a result Aayla was both relieved and annoyed. Relieved, because her master had not drifted away from the Light again as she had feared he would, after Malachor. And annoyed, because she had spent so much time and energy in unnecessary emotional turmoil when she should have known better than to allow herself that.

"Qutee," she said. "Please take over flight controls for a moment."

She turned to her scanners, searching for her master's starfighter. He had told her to land in the Catacombs of Cadera, which meant he was most likely there – unless he was in the Holy City. Perhaps he had gone there to meet with his contact, or the Head Guardian.

A tiny blinking light indicated her master's tracking beacon. "There he is," she said confidently. When no one answered, she blinked and sat back, taking over the controls again. She was so used to leading missions and giving briefings that speaking aloud to clarify things was now instinctive, even though the hyperspace flight to Jedha had been long and silent.

Leveling her ship out as she neared the entrance to the cave system, she noted the position of Quinlan's starfighter. He had landed deeper inside the catacombs than she would have expected, which was perfect.

Cutting speed until the ship was all but hovering, she guided it through the entrance and into the catacombs. She would have had plenty of room to maneuver through the winding tunnels – if she wanted to fly to the cave where Quinlan had landed. But Aayla did not want to fly to the same cave.

Smiling to herself, she piloted to a smaller cave, a hundred meters south of his position. After landing, she shut down all systems, paused for a careful look around, then popped the hatch and vaulted out of her ship. It was cold on Jedha, and the caves were even colder, especially this early in the morning. She was glad she'd chosen a fur-lined coat and headwrap, because even with that on, she was starting to feel the temperature.

"Stay here, Qutee," she ordered, and turned away, casting her senses cautiously outward. Not a sound could be heard in the muffled stillness.

"All right, Master," Aayla murmured, taking a few steps forward. "Where are you hiding. . .?"

It was a sure thing that he would be hiding. Remembering the last time she'd played this game with him, Aayla removed her lightsaber from her belt and left it in the cockpit of her the ship. Jedi could sense kyber crystals, even from a distance, if they tried hard enough. . . which was exactly how Quinlan had found Aayla the last time she'd tried to sneak up on him.

Closing her eyes, she searched for another lightsaber crystal, and located it – in the exact position as Quinlan's ship. He had also remembered that trick, it seemed, unless he was actually inside his ship, or somewhere else without his lightsaber.

Aayla doubted it. Quinlan had known she was supposed to arrive this afternoon, and it was a four-hour walk to NiJedha; he wouldn't have had time to go there and return. He must be hiding. Early on, he had developed a habit of trying to sneak up behind her and catch her off-guard; he claimed that it was something all Shadows taught their padawans. Aayla believed him, because Master Tholme, who had been nearby at the time, had given an amused smile.

Quinlan is shielding himself, Aayla thought with a smirk. But that means he cannot find me through the Force, either.

The last few times, Quinlan had won their little game. This time, Aayla was determined to win. She had just spent several weeks on Felucia, and much of that time had been spent in hiding, leading scouting parties, ambushing droids, killing acklay before they could creep up on the camp . . .

I've learned a lot since my last meeting with you, Master, she thought. You won't win this time.

The fact that he was actively shielding his mind meant that he was not asleep, which was a pity. Her best victory to date had been the time she crept up on him while he was sleeping. She'd woken him by poking him in the back of the neck, and he'd sat up abruptly, upending the container of water she'd spent half an hour balancing on two sticks above his head.

Smiling at the memory of his surprised shout, she darted across the corridor and pressed her back against the rock wall. After waiting for several seconds, she peered carefully out into the cave.

There was his ship, black with red flames painted along the sides. There was his campsite, his bedroll placed near a crackling fire in a ring of stones. And there was her former master, sitting on the front of his ship and leaning casually back against the viewscreen, arms clasped behind his neck, eyes closed.

Just like that, all of Aayla's vague premonitions melted away completely.

He's falling asleep, she realized, then clamped down on her amusement before he could sense it. This time, she would catch him.

For a moment, Aayla thought about exercising restraint, and not creeping up on her former master, because after all she was a Jedi Knight who was thinking of looking for a padawan of her own, and therefore needed to practice giving a good example in all things. . .

The moment passed quickly.

The temptation is too strong, she told herself gravely. If ever I am on a mission with my master while I have a padawan, I will be better. But for now . . .

Now, it looked like Quinlan was definitely falling asleep. Or he was doing a good job of pretending, which wasn't at all out of the realm of possibility.

He nodded off, jerked awake, slid off the starfighter to add a few more sticks to the fire, and then sat down on his bedroll. When he pulled out his datapad, Aayla winced. There was no way he had not heard her landing, and now he would probably locate her starfighter.

But he didn't look up, or narrow his eyes suspiciously. That could mean only two things: either he hadn't thought to look for her starfighter, or he had already found it and was trying some other way to find her. She pressed herself back against the wall and frowned. He wasn't supposed to use technology, that was cheating!

"Y'know," Quinlan's voice floated out from the cave. "There's a way to mask heat signatures."

Aayla glared through the stone wall, since she couldn't currently see him, and said nothing. It was just possible that he hadn't found her and was trying to trick her into revealing herself. . .

"Also a way to hide biosignatures," he went on. "But that's not really relevant, is it? Because I'm not going to cheat by looking for either."

Aayla felt her left eyebrow tilt in unsurprised irritation.

"Nope," he went on. "What really gave you away, Aayla, was the kyber crystal."

She smirked. So he hasn't found me, then. He is bluffing.

"Because you left your lightsaber on the ship," Quinlan added. "And it hasn't moved in, like, five minutes."

Oh.

"Which means you're trying to sneak up on me. But here's the thing . . . there's only one corridor that leads from your landing position to mine. No matter how stealthy you try to be, I know you're in that corridor."

She could feel him looking for her.

"It also means you can hear me."

Aayla kept her shields strong and ignored him.

"And that means I can just keep talking until you get so annoyed that you come out just to make me shut up. But I'll give you a few seconds to think it over, first."

Aayla pursed her lips, undecided. He'd be watching the entrance to the corridor now. There was no chance of her getting through that way unseen, unless . . . Unless she could distract him and make him look in the opposite direction.

"A few seconds and counting," said Quinlan.

Aayla eyed the corridor's ceiling thoughtfully – it was rocky and uneven, with plenty of protuberances. Perfect.

"Well!" Quinlan said brightly. "It looks like you've decided to make it painful for yourself, Aayla. Just yell at me when you want me to shut up. What've you been up to lately? How's Felucia? Glad I wasn't sent to that insect-infested swamp . . . But I hear you're doing well enough there. How's the war effort going apart from Felucia? How's Bly? I mean, Commander Bly? You know what, I got a comm from him the other day."

Aayla, who was currently occupied with climbing the corridor wall and trying not to be distracted, paused mid-step to wonder what in space Bly could have had to tell Quinlan.

"To be fair," said Quinlan. "Bly only called because he was answering a comm from me. I commed him because I couldn't reach you. And I couldn't reach you, Bly said, because an acklay had just stepped on your commlink and crushed it when you tackled it."

With an embarrassed grimace, Aayla swung her lekku over her shoulders so that they hung down her front. As she shifted one hand to the ceiling, feeling for a good handhold, Quinlan went on.

"Bly sounded kind of impressed about the fact that you'd tackled an acklay and only gotten your arm stepped on. I told him I'd forgive him for his carelessness in a similar situation but I wasn't so sure about yours. You should know better than that, Aayla. Hey, are you tired of listening to me yet?"

Rolling her eyes, she shifted her other hand to the ceiling – then one foot, then the other. Now, she was more or less lying down in the air, facing the rock ceiling.

"Guess not." Her master paused, let out a long sigh, and said, "So, what's the latest gossip from Coruscant? Yeah, I know, you're probably thinking 'but Master, you were just on Coruscant', and I was . . . but you never know – things change fast. It's always good to know what's been going on when you're heading back into the depths of crime central, wouldn't you say? I mean, it's not like I miss Coruscant or anything, but it's where all the interesting stuff seems to happen."

Aayla had about ten comments she could have made in reply, especially as concerned her master's usual bordering-on-deadly missions not being interesting, but she remained quiet. Closing her eyes, she felt in the Force for a loose rock she'd noticed on the opposite side of the room.

There was a sudden, suspicious silence. Clearly, her master knew she was going to try something, but he could not possibly know what . . .

Aayla located the rock and moved it. The instant she heard it scraping against the sandy floor, she gathered the Force around her and kicked off the ceiling, launching herself into the cave and corkscrewing in mid-air.

She landed facing Quinlan's position, not two meters from the fire – but he was gone. Before she could spin, a pair of arms closed around her waist and arms from behind and squeezed her in a hug, lifting her off the ground.

"Master!" yelped Aayla in protest, grabbing at his wrists.

"Good tactic you tried there," he said cheerfully, not loosening his grip in the slightest.

"Master, really!"

"But next time, you might want to aim the rock at my head. You know, to force me to duck or dodge or whatever so you could have another second to reach me."

"Quinlan!" Aayla stopped struggling, trying to maintain her dignity as a full-fledged Jedi Knight. "Put me down!"

". . . Aw, but why?"

Twisting, she stuck one foot between his knees, hooked it around the back of his right leg, and yanked, both physically and with the Force. They went down in a tangle, with Quinlan landing flat on his back beneath her.

Aayla rolled to her feet and hopped up, shaking the sand from her clothes, but Quinlan seemed quite content to stay where he was. Still lying on his back, he clasped his hands behind his neck, crossed his legs, and said, "Hey, former padawan mine."

"You," she announced, tugging her jacket straight, "are insufferable."

"No, that's actually my ship."

Aayla was not even surprised. She slowly raised both eyebrows at him. "You named your starfighter the Insufferable?"

"Why not? If Kit Fisto can name his command ship the Indomitable I can name my starfighter the Insufferable."

Planting her hands on her hips, Aayla gazed suspiciously down at him. "Why do I feel as though you made that up just now?"

He grinned a little. ". . . Hey, that's a nice coat. Good color on you."

"Thank you," she said wryly, glancing down at the dark brown material. "Speaking of coats, why are you not wearing one? It is extremely cold here."

"Yeah." He sat upright and brushed his arms free of sand. "The ground especially."

"Then perhaps we should move to the campfire, which you so thoughtfully lit?"

Her former master bounded to his feet and gestured towards it. "By all means. I made your favorite tea – help yourself."

While Aayla settled herself near the fire and held her hands toward the crackling flames, Quinlan puttered around in the background, locating and putting on his own jacket. When he returned to the fire, she realized why he'd not bothered to wear it earlier. A blaster burn had scored through the left side around the stomach area, leaving a wide hole.

Aayla lowered her cup of tea and gazed from the damaged jacket to his face.

"I wasn't wearing it at the time," he protested, reaching for the canteen he'd left near the fire. "I was trying to lure someone out."

"I see." She felt herself relax slightly. "Well, it seems to have worked."

"Yup." Quinlan fastened the coat up the front, for all the good that did, and poured himself a cup of tea. "I stuffed it with clothes and covered it in the bedroll. The assassin thought it was me, so he fired at it and then I jumped him."

"You have been here three days," Aayla told him, unimpressed. "And you already had an assassin after you."

"I'm just unpopular, okay?"

She sipped her tea and did not answer.

"Fine," he said at last. "I may have angered a few people."

Aayla swirled the tea in the bottom of her cup, then drained it. Hot drinks were always pleasant, but she enjoyed them most when she was on cold planets. Tea just did not taste the same on Felucia. Bly always said it had something to do with all the pollen and plant life floating around, and he was probably right.

"A few people?" she repeated.

"The thieves might have discovered I was after them," her master said. "And their leader might have sent someone to kill me."

Eyeing him knowingly, she reached for the canteen.

". . . and I definitely broke one guy's nose. And another guy's wrist, when he grabbed me." Quinlan squinted at the ceiling, nodded to himself, and said, "Yep, that's everything pre-assassination attempt."

Aayla poured herself a second cup of tea and took a sip, then put it down. "You are, according to multiple sources, the most competent Jedi Shadow to have existed in the past century," she announced.

"Ah," said Quinlan uncomfortably. ". . . I'm flattered."

"If that is the case," said Aayla, "then how is it that, if no one is supposed to know you're around, you got into so much trouble in three days?"

"Oh, no, all that was in the past day or so," Quinlan answered. "After Kit called me back to the Temple."

Aayla stared at him, then shook her head.

"What?" He grinned. "My cover as a pilgrim had no value anymore, and I needed to get some intel."

"And this leader you spoke of sent an assassin after you? He tracked you here?"

"No. I had a decoy campsite, between here and NiJedha. The assassin –" His voice lost its chipper tone. "He's dead. Which also means that the gang leader knows by now that his assassin failed. I did get the intel I needed, though."

She nodded. "Good, because Master Fisto wasn't able to tell me anything particular about the mission."

"That's because I didn't tell him much. But don't worry, I'll tell you everything I know, and there are a couple of contacts in town who will be happy to assist you. Oh, and of course you'll have a squad of commandos to help you."

"Yes, I heard." Aayla set her cup down. "The Delta Squad."

". . . No?" he said questioningly. "I called in the guys I worked with on Nar Shaddaa."

"The Bad Batch?" she asked, surprised. "But you told me that they weren't able to be reached."

"Not when I spoke with you, they weren't." He held up his commlink, wearing a slightly guilty grin. "And still not officially. Tech ended up getting a separate comm frequency."

"I see," said Aayla, a little confused. "Well, in that case, we might have a slight difficulty. Master Fisto also requested a squad for me – you were supposed to know about that. Commander Cody has already sent the Delta Squad to meet us here, and they have been given official orders."

Quinlan tilted his head, interested. "I knew Kit was trying to get a squad, but didn't hear if he'd succeeded or not. He must have tried to call me after I left the city."

"Most likely."

"Hm. . ." Her master thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, the Bad Batch are also on their way and you won't get any complaint from me about the Deltas being here. Instead of four hypercompetent commandos, you'll have eight. I think. At least, according to Kit, the Deltas are really good at their jobs. He worked with them on Vassek Three."

"Yes." Aayla nodded. "And Bly has also informed me that they are excellent."

"Oh, well, if Bly said it . . ." Leaning back on his hands, Quinlan grinned.

"Master." Aayla shot him a glower. "If you have something to say, perhaps you should say it."

"Um, what?" He blinked, sat up a little, and looked around. "Okay, so we know the Deltas are excellent. Yes. That's great."

"Mm-hmm." Aayla eyed him for a long moment before deciding to drop the subject. "And the Bad Batch . . .?"

"They're just about the best team you could ask for."

"You have said that before," she said thoughtfully. "But I don't believe you told me much about them."

"Really?" Quinlan squinted. "Yeah – I guess I wouldn't have. This is the first time I've really seen you in . . . a long time."

"Yes," she agreed. "You summarized the Malachor mission for me weeks ago, but I still have many questions."

"You and me both," he muttered, looking at the ground. After a moment, he glanced up again. "Well, we have time right now, I guess. Once I've acquainted you with the intel for this mission, I'll answer some of your questions about Malachor . . . if you answer one of mine about Felucia."

"Oh?" Aayla asked, a bit suspiciously. "And what might that be?"

"That time you commed me, when Bly had gotten himself shot . . ."

She frowned, the sharp worry of that time coming back to her. "Yes?"

"You told me that while he was in medbay, he nearly flatlined – and then, only a few seconds after you came in, his heart rate jumped back to normal."

"Yes," Aayla replied, remembering the rush of gratitude that had filled her.

"Okay." Quinlan nodded seriously. "So, here's the question: how likely is it that Bly recovered simply because he happened to see you arrive . . .?"

"MASTER!"