Daiyu was an unsettling place. Some would have said it was the general populace of the city that made it so, but Ahsoka was long familiar with seedy and disreputable worlds. While she didn't feel at home in them, per se, they never gave her the creeping, unsettled feeling that Daiyu did, with its artificial lights and its dissolutes, its attempts to bury hopelessness. It reminded her too much of Coruscant's lower levels, and of her time dwelling there, and every time she came, she felt so very young and small and alone. Echoes of that distant time whispered at the base of her skull, and she had constantly to mind her posture, lest her shoulders should attempt to creep up for a rendezvous with her jawbone.

Daiyu, however, made for a suitable location for the handing over of Force-sensitive children. Its haze of apathy and desperation, thrill and spice, effectively camouflaged the rampant fear or sadness or excitement of children yanked from all they had ever known, on their way to a new life.

For parents who feared their children would be taken by the Empire sometimes gave them up to Rebels, to be ferried to worlds less in the Imperial eye, where they would be raised by surrogate families hindered, in some way, from partaking in a more active from of rebellion. In theory, it was a temporary arrangement, and the children would be returned to their own families when the threat of the Empire was gone. But how very broad was the gulf between theory and practice.

Ahsoka squared her shoulders firmly and continued through the dim streets, to the marketplace where she was to meet with her contact. There was an unsettled feeling in the Force; it buzzed like a hive of insects preparing to swarm, so she kept her hands at her waist, ready to draw either the blaster she carried overtly, or the sabers secreted within slits in her skirt. It was difficult, however, to discern whether the tension was warning of a specific threat, or merely the general seaminess of the city streets. Her contact was late, but no threat materialized as she dallied away the time by browsing vendors' stalls, and she eventually heard a pattering of footsteps behind her, and a rough whisper hissed, "Fulcrum!"

She whisked around to see her harried contact, tousled and bruised, and generally out of sorts.

"There's some sort of trap, isn't there," she said.

"Yes. One of the Jedi hunters—she took the kid. Roughed me up a bit, but didn't kill me—obviously, I guess—don't know why she let me get away. Must've thought she'd scared me off, so I wouldn't tell you."

"Maybe," Ahsoka said. More likely, though, the Inquisitor had somehow learned about the youngling-smuggling operation, presumed that a Jedi must be involved, and concluded that said Jedi, informed of the child's plight, would be unable to resist going to their aid. She was, unfortunately, half-correct.

"Where are they?" she asked.

Her contact tilted his head. "You aren't seriously thinking of taking on a Jedi hunter, are you?"

"No, I've decided on it. Where?"

"Fulcrum, she's probably trying to catch you, hoping you can lead her to some Jedi. This is a trap!"

Ahsoka's lips twitched as she recalled a favorite lesson of her master and grandmaster. "So I'll spring it."

"What? No! You can't—"

"I can, and will. If the Inquisitor wants a Jedi—" she reached into her skirt pockets and pulled forth her sabers—"she can have one."

For all intents and purposes, anyway. Likely, the Inquisitor suspected her quarry to be a half-trained padawan, like most of the Purge survivors. She would not be prepared to meet a warrior with the training of a full knight.

Ahsoka's contact frowned. "A couple of lightsabers won't make much difference against a Force user."

"We'll see."

He huffed. "This is no time to be getting delusions of grandeur!" Then hesitated just a moment before he added, "I'm going with you."

"You don't have to," she insisted. "It's dangerous. I'll be fine on my own."

"'It's dangerous. I'll be fine on my own.' Is that supposed to make any sense?"

"From a certain point of view."

"Well, not from mine."

Ahsoka sighed, but relented. At the very least, he might be able to escape with the child while she took on the Inquisitor.

"Let's go, then."

He led her down one street, and another, street after street, each a little dimmer, a little seedier than the last, until they arrived in an alley to which all the neighboring buildings had their backs turned. Most were vacant. Those which were not were tenanted only by the sorts of businesses and residents who were disinclined to take an interest in the shady dealings of their fellows.

As the two Rebels approached the end of the alley, an inky whirlpool appeared in the Force. A slight, darkly-garbed figure stepped from behind a stack of crates, hauling a young Zabrak boy, about Luke and Leia's age, along by the wrist.

"Ahsoka Tano. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist, if you thought the child was in danger. Even now, you're still the same padawan you were so many years ago."

Ahsoka's skin crawled as the Inquisitor spoke, for underneath its smug purr, her voice was familiar—once that of a friend, and then of a traitor.

"Barriss," she said. There was a great deal of ice in the word, but no astonishment. Really, the Inquisitor's identity made a great deal of sense. Barriss, slated for execution as the perpetrator of the Temple bombing, had slipped out of the public eye not long after the trial. Palpatine, who seemed to be an indifferent teacher and something of a parasite besides, had probably deplored the waste of a pre-trained darksider, and so had kept her alive in the shadows, until his empire was begun, and he could bring forth the Inquisitorius, with Barriss as the first of their number. First Sister.

It was a bad combination, meeting with Barriss on this world that recalled all the emotions of the interval following her treachery. Resentment that Ahsoka had believed laid to rest turned out to have only been in hibernation, and it began to slink forth, all tangled up and gnarled from its long repose.

Peace, she told herself. She couldn't afford to let ire cloud her judgement.

"Let the boy go, Barriss."

Barriss, retaining her grasp on the boy, adopted a mocking smile. After a moment's consideration, Ahsoka turned on her heel and began a measured return back through the alley. Her contact made a sound of bewilderment and hustled to keep up with her.

"So now you've changed your mind?"

"No," she replied, lowly. "She used the kid to lure me here. She'll let him go if she thinks keeping him will mean losing me."

"I know you're bluffing, Ahsoka!" First Sister called after her.

Ahsoka continued her retreat.

"Don't forget, I know your grandmaster was the Negotiator!"

One more step, three, five, and there was a quiver of uncertainty in the Force. Another five paces, and First Sister gave in, abandoned the child, and sprang after her true quarry.

Ahsoka, hearing the ignition of sabers behind her, lit her own and spun, bringing the blades up to block Barriss' strike. Satisfaction gleamed in the Inquisitor's eyes as she disengaged and moved to strike once more.

"Get the kid!" Ahsoka shouted to her contact, as she positioned herself between him and Barriss. He hurried off, and she turned her focus to the duel. Barriss had been formidable enough of an opponent after her Fall that Ahsoka had mistaken her for Asajj. Additional years of training had further sharpened her skills and deepened her connection with the dark side, so that she was far more skilled than the Inquisitors whose crystals Ahsoka had acquired. She was probably Palpatine's backup apprentice, in case his current attack dog's ambitions began to pose a serious threat to the Sith Master.

First, for her part, was for once glad that Vader was harsher on her in training than on any of the other Inquisitorius (which really said a great deal), for Ahsoka was more skilled than she had expected a dropout padawan to be, even one as talented as Ahsoka had been during the war.

They were a decently matched pair, Rebel and Inquisitor. Almost every strike was blocked, every feint recognised. Ahsoka managed once to slip past Barriss' guard, but succeeded only in singeing her robe over her hip, while once the tip of Barriss' blade scorched Ahsoka's gauntlet. She couldn't safely take her attention off the duel for an instant, and so could only hope that her contact had been able to find the boy, who had probably bolted the instant of his release, and escape with him.

A sudden shriek told her otherwise. Risking a moment to reach into the Force, she felt a second dark presence in the alley, and cursed once, then twice, as one of her opponent's sabers grazed across her thigh, burning through the fabric to sear the skin underneath. Disengaging with Barriss, she leapt toward the new presence, making out another dark-cloaked figure through the gloom of the alley, a smaller figure at its side. Blaster shots fired from behind a crate, where her contact had taken cover, but the second Inquisitor raised his free hand, and the man rose in the air, hands scrabbling at his throat, as he was pulled toward his captor. Ahsoka shoved the Inquisitor with the Force, knocking him off balance, which broke his hold on both the other man; he did not, however, release the Zabrak boy, and she had to turn away from them as Barriss descended upon her once more.

The Mirialan now held the advantage, as phantom fire still burned in Ahsoka's thigh, and boy's whimpers harmonized with the renewed sputtering and gagging of her contact in a sordid symphony. Ahsoka needed to strike at the Brother, free the boy and her contact, but to do so would leave her open to Barriss. If Barriss killed her, there was no way under a million stars that either contact or child would manage to escape. So she remained in the deadlock, sparing a moment where she could to shove or otherwise off-balance the other Inquisitor, although she wondered whether it was only prolonging her contact's demise.

At one point, Barriss overreached and stumbled. Taking advantage of the extra seconds, Ahsoka withdrew and used the Force to fling one of the crates at the Brother, who let go of the boy to repel it.

"Run!" Ahsoka yelled, and the boy wasted no time.

Flinging another crate at Barriss, she risked engaging the other Inquisitor, and managed to deal him a rather nasty slash to the arm before she realised that Barriss had not yet returned to press her attack. Where—?

Her contact cried out, and she turned to see him fall, whisps of smoke trailing from a wound in his chest, as Barriss withdrew one her sabers.

She shouldn't have let him come. She shouldn't have assumed there was only one Inquisitor. The Alliance would have told her to back out, to save her contact and herself. It was the tactically intelligent thing to do. It wasn't worthwhile to risk a seasoned agent and power Force-user to rescue one child. But Rafa Martez' words came back to her, amidst the Inquisitors' blows.

You might not think of yourself as a Jedi…

Slash. Block. Counter.

… but you act like one.

Feint. Stab. Dodge.

She kept fighting, chasing the slim chance that she would be able to evade the Inquisitors, find the boy, and escape. In my life, when you find people who need help, you help them, no matter what. So the battle wore on, between the unbroken padawan of a fallen master, and the fallen padawan of a master regarded as the Jedi ideal. Against Barriss alone, Ahsoka probably could have won, given time. Against the Brother alone, her triumph would have been fairly quick—but he, combined with her injury, were enough to tip the balance in Barriss' favor. The two of them wore her down, and eventually, she found herself flat on the ground, three scarlet blades held to her throat.

She tried not to think of Rex, or Obi-Wan, or any of the family who would never see her again, instead meeting Barriss' eyes.

"You don't have to do this," she panted. "The dark side isn't the end. It doesn't have to be. Barriss—"

Barriss snarled, tattoos scrunching together as her nose wrinkled. "That's enough of your compassionate drivel."

Fifth shifted, impatient to strike the final blow, but she elbowed him roughly. "Enough of your bloodthirstiness, too. You forget half the reason for capturing her."

She leaned down, pressed a hypospray to Ahsoka's neck, and a moment later, the Togruta's eyes drifted shut, and her body went slack.

"I'll get her to our quarters," she told Fifth. "You find the boy. And while you're searching, try to impress it upon your mind that if you kill the Jedi, you will bear the responsibility for killing our best lead on Kenobi."

Fifth grumbled, but he complied and started off in pursuit of the boy, leaving First to haul her quarry back to the underground rooms they had been using as a temporary base of operations.

Landing her ship at a dock in the Ring of Kafrene (well, not her ship, but one from the Rebel fleet), Padmé tried to quiet the worry seeking to take over her mind. No one had heard from Ahsoka in a couple of weeks. It was an unusually long time for her to remain comm-silent, and they didn't even have the consolation of her name not having been removed from the Imperial wanted list, as it had never been there in the first place.

"She probably just had some ship trouble in a place with bad comm service," Ventress had said, a few days after Ahsoka was supposed to have returned to Yavin. "Wouldn't be the first time."

For all her dismissive attitude, though, she had spent more time hanging around Padmé's apartment in the following days, and at one point had even let an entire afternoon pass without heckling Obi-Wan.

The only reason that Padmé was in the Ring now was Ahsoka's absence. Ahsoka had been intended to meet with a new long-term contact from Ryloth, who would provide information on spice mining activities. The Alliance was particularly interested in data on ryll kor, as changes in production of the medicinal spice might indicate that the Empire anticipated an altered level of fighting in the near future. Padmé usually accepted only short-term missions, to avoid creating traceable patterns of movement. With the younger woman unreachable, however, she had taken on the assignment—rather to Obi-Wan's dismay, but someone had to do it, and she was available.

She had been informed that her contact would meet her outside a specific building in Esk Sector, and that she was a turquoise Twilek who would identify herself as Ad'ika, and ask the way to Pesh Sector. The only Twilek present in the area, however, was a young girl, no more than fourteen or fifteen years old, who leaned casually against the wall, cleaning a blaster.

She looked up as Padmé approached.

"Hey," she said. "Can you tell a lost ad'ika the quickest way to Pesh Sector?"

Padmé looked askance at the slip of a girl.

"Ad'ika?"

"Yes. I was adopted by a pair of Mandalorian nerra when I was very little." She pointed to the yellow-orange stripe and the aurebesh characters emblazoned on her sleeve. "I carry them with me always. Do you carry such a reminder of your a'liit?"

"A revenant carries no reminders," Padmé replied, adding, "Aren't you a little young to be passing intel?"

Fierce brown eyes stared back at her. "I don't think so."

"You're only—"

"Technically, I'm older than the clones were," Ad'ika pointed out, "but at any rate, I'm just as old as some of the Padawan Commanders during the war."

"And none of them should have been fighting in a war!"

"I'm not fighting. I'm just trying to do my bit for Ryloth, and the galaxy."

"Which involves essentially acting as a spy! Espionage, treason—do you have any idea of the danger you're putting yourself in?"

Ad'ika raised her chin, and her lekku arched into a more offensive posture. "Of course. But just because I'm a kid doesn't mean I have to stay on my world and be useless. There was a Nubian queen who led her people through an invasion crisis when she was about my age."

Twenty years removed from the Trade Federation's blockade, Padmé wanted to protest that she probably shouldn't have been involved in that situation. Stars, how had her parents even managed to let her run for office in the first place? She couldn't imagine being willing to allow Luke or Leia to take on such a role in a mere seven years' time.

She opened her mouth to say as much, but Ad'ika preempted her.

"And if you send me home, I'll just find someone else who will be willing to work with me."

As a former senator, widow of a Skywalker, mother to two Amidala-Skywalkers, and a Naberrie in her own right, Padmé was thoroughly acquainted with the many faces of stubbornness. One of them presently occupied the Twilek's youthful features.

"You mean that, don't you?"

The girl nodded solemnly, and Padmé sighed. "Fine. I'll work with you. But you need to promise me that if there's any sign of danger—if you have any suspicion anyone's caught onto you—you will lie low until it's safe. Stop running missions for a time, or even permanently, if necessary."

Ad'ika seemed about to protest Padmé's terms, but evidently thought better of it, for she nodded again. "Okay." She pulled a piece from her blaster, revealing a cavity where its inner workings should be, and removed a datastick, which she handed to Padmé. "This is information on ryll kor mining quotas. We don't have any data on shipments compiled yet, but I'll give you that when we do."

Reluctantly opening her eyes, Ahsoka found herself on the floor of a small, dingey fresher. Even the dim light from the fixture overhead overwhelmed her eyes, and she covered them with her arm as she took inventory of her bodily ills. She had picked up several more saber burns during the fight, but they paled in comparison to the one adorning her leg, which had taken up a steady throbbing. The strange feeling in her head, meanwhile, she attributed to whatever drug Barriss had used to knock her out.

Barriss.

Oh, Force.

Any inclination she had had to try to sit up vanished. Barriss was an Inquisitor. Anakin had become a Sith, and Barriss had become an Inquisitor. Was Ahsoka some kind of Jedi poison? Maybe she shouldn't let herself be around twins. What if association with her caused them, too, to turn?

That's ridiculous, she told herself sternly. You've known plenty of other people who didn't Fall. Stop being superstitious, and clear your mind.

Yet… Barriss as an Inquisitor…. Ahsoka still felt guilty. Of course she hadn't caused the girl to Fall, but what had she done to prevent her? Hadn't asked how she was coping with the war. Hadn't noticed she wasn't doing well. Hadn't even thought to worry much, had just assumed that she was holding up as well as Ahsoka herself, if not better, since she didn't see the front nearly as often.

No amount of dwelling on the past is going to change it. Now, sit up, and start thinking about how to get out of here.

She hauled herself up with a groan as her stiff muscles made it known that they would greatly prefer to remain stationary. Her head still felt strange, and her surroundings were a little wobbly as she surveyed the room. The vents were too small to squeeze through, and there were no windows. She could be underground, or a hundred stories in the air. Definitely on-world, though; she couldn't hear the hum of a ship's engines, but there was the distant sound of music, the bass so low that it barely registered as sound. Probably still on Daiyu, then, near a nightclub, or a cantina, or maybe a spice lounge. That was good, she thought; it meant, at least, that they weren't taking her to Fortress Inquisitorius, which would be considerably harder to break out of than wherever she currently was. For the present, however, she could only stay put, for she sensed the Force signatures of both Inquisitors nearby.

Getting carefully to her feet, she limped over to the sink and turned on the water, but nothing came out. When she turned away, however, she spied a large jug of water on the floor on the other side of the 'fresher. She knelt beside it and drew out as much as she could hold in her cupped hands, but paused just before the water touched her lips. Might it be poisoned? But no, that made no sense. Why bother capturing her, just to poison her? So she drank deeply of the water, until she gasped for breath, and then she tore off a relatively clean piece of her skirt, dipped it in the water, and set about cleaning the wound on her leg. It had been cauterized by the blade, but had torn open during the fight. The result was a nasty mess, and she could practically see Kix's most disapproving expression.

The injury being cleaned and bandaged with another [mostly—sorry, Kix] clean piece of her skirt, she lay down on the unforgiving floor once more and tried to sleep. It had been one of the earliest lessons of her padawanship: rest when the opportunity arises, because you never know how long it might be before you get another. Her leg refused to allow the luxury of real sleep, but fitful dozing was better than nothing.

When she awoke, the world felt too quiet, like in the momentary lull after a ship lost power during a battle. The light overhead was still on, though, the distant sounds of music still audible. It was only when she tried to touch the Force and found it unreachable that the strange, dull stillness made sense. Someone must have come in and drugged her while she was asleep—although, light as that sleep had been, it should have woken her. Unless… the water? That had to be it, a Force suppressant in the water. The sink didn't work, which made the jug provided by her so-kind hosts the only water she could access. And so she would have to continue drugging herself to stay alive, and thus sacrifice her best chance of escape. Even if she abstained from drinking long enough for the suppressants already in her system to wear off, she wouldn't have the physical strength or endurance required to escape beyond her captors' reach.

All in all, Ahsoka Tano hadn't felt so much like hiding her face in her knees and crying for her master, like a very young, lost padawan, for a very, very long time. She hadn't realised, until now, just how well-off she had been back then. Sure, they had all been fighting for their lives, but if she ever got into a scrape, all she had had to do was tug on her training bond and hang on just a little longer, and Anakin would be there, or would at least send someone else to help her. Not that she had needed it all that often.

Things were different now. Her contact had been the only one who had known where she was. There would be no help from him, certainly, nor from the Rebellion, nor from her friends, for her bond with Obi-Wan wasn't strong enough to reach across the distance between Yavin, or wherever he was, and Daiyu.

This depressing rumination was cut short by the yet more depressing opening of the 'fresher door to admit Barriss.

"Hello, Ahsoka," she said, in a voice almost as soft was it had ever been, and rather at odds with the title of Inquisitor.

"Hello, Barriss," Ahsoka returned, again stilling worms of resentment as they began to writhe within her. Peace. Serenity.

"So polite. I didn't expect that."

"It's not as though railing at you is going to do any good. What do you want, Barriss? To turn me? Or just to take out your frustration over framing me not working out?" She couldn't quite keep the sarcastic tinge out of that last question.

"How very self-important." Barriss tread a slow circle around Ahsoka, who kept her gaze fixed at a jagged crack in the 'fresher wall. "No… I wanted to ask you a question."

She paused, and an absurd little corner of Ahsoka's mind wondered whether Inquisitor training included classes in the dramatic monologue.

"Ahsoka, where is Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Oh. She ought to have seen that one coming. Barriss did, after all, work under Vader's command. It was a matter of course that she would be gathering information on the object of her master's obsession.

After a moment, Ahsoka replied, quite honestly, "I don't know."

"You're lying."

"You know I'm not."

"Twisting the truth, then. Where did you last see Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"I don't remember."

Barriss, temper shortened by the dark side, snarled. "On what world did you last see him?"

"You know I won't tell you that."

It didn't take the Inquisitors terribly long to discover that their target could withstand physical torture. Ahsoka suspected that Barriss had known all along, and had only undertaken the practice to indulge her enmity.

"Where is Kenobi?" Barriss asked for the umpteenth time in Force-only-knew how many days. "Where did you last see him?"

"I don't—" Ahsoka began, but she cut off abruptly as what sounded like a child's frightened whimper issued from somewhere beyond the door. "What's that? Barriss? What are you doing? What did you tell your… colleague to do?"

"We're doing our jobs."

The whimper advanced to a cry. Ahsoka started automatically toward the door, even as she knew it to be futile.

"Stop!" she cried, turning back to Barriss. "Whatever he's doing, make him stop! This isn't fair—you won't get anything out of him—that boy doesn't even know Obi-Wan exists!"

The Inquisitor met her pleading with frosty eyes. "He doesn't," she agreed. "But you do."

Ahsoka might have been turned to ice, so cold did she feel, and so brittle.

"You can't do that," she whispered. Voice gaining strength, she repeated, "You can't torture him to get to me, it isn't fair! It's wrong!"

Do I look like I care, Barriss' expression said.

You used to, she thought.

Like a small ship lost in an asteroid belt, she was buffeted this way and that by the boy's cries, by Barriss' coldness, and her own powerlessness. When you find people who need help, you help them, no matter what.

But what if you can't?

There was absolutely nothing she could do, robbed of the Force, weak, injured— Maybe if she had last seen Obi-Wan on a planet with no Rebels cells to compromise, she could tell that much—but they would just want to know more—and anyway, she had last seen him on Yavin, so that telling about him would also reveal the location of the Alliance's base. Besides, she knew better than to believe that the Inquisitors would stop torturing the boy if she gave them information. They would only want more. And they would still take him back their own base to become an Inquisitor—if he survived the training.

She strained for a moment against the binders, attempted to reach the Force through the suppressant fog, but to no avail. It had been silly even to try. So she resorted to the one tool she still had at her disposal.

"Barriss, please! You were a Jedi, a healer, you wanted to help people—even with the Temple, you did a horrible thing, but at least it was for a good reason—how can you do this?"

"I was foolish, then, like the rest of the Jedi. I thought something would change. Nothing did. They didn't learn. And now there's nothing left but scraps. But me? I'm still here. I won't let the Jedi come back and repeat their old mistakes. Only the dark side gives me the power to accomplish that."

The Inquisitor was a twisted ghost of her old self, chasing a fragment of an ideal. Although she was dark, still that shard of an ideal shone out like a chip of duraglass by starlight.

"There are better ways to prevent mistakes from repeating," Ahsoka said.

"Like your way? Running away from it all? You could have at least tried to change things!"

"This isn't about me! Barriss, turn back—you could, I know you could—let me help you—"

What the kriff are you thinking? demanded her early upbringing, in chorus with the very sentient part of her that still wanted to give the traitor a sound walloping. But the woman who had lived in the world, and knew sentient behavior to be unbounded by the rules of a single sect, hushed them. This was no time to follow the directives of her own hurt.

Barriss, for her part, took on the aspect of a particularly menacing thundercloud. She inflicted no bodily harm upon her victim, however, and withdrew, leaving Ahsoka with a dubious hope that she might have started

It was a hope promptly dashed, however, when the boy's crying, which had slacked off, suddenly recommenced, as if Barriss was demonstrating to Ahsoka the depth of her fall. Or was the display intended more to persuade herself? Ahsoka didn't know, nor was she sure it mattered.

She tried to sink into meditation, to replenish her mental fortitude and strength her shields, but lacked the focus, for every sound from the child outside was a cannon shot to tranquility. Instead, her thoughts marched to a grim beat—Nothing I can do. I tried. Failed. If I tell, the Alliance could fall. It can't. Must hold out—

After Fifth unsuccessfully questioned Ahsoka for—was it the third or the fourth day in a row?—he left her prison in a foul temper, and before the door shut, Ahsoka heard him haranguing Barriss.

"She won't crack! Might as well be from the kriffing Council. We should just execute her and have done with it!"

Barriss' response being too quiet to make out, Ahsoka crawled haltingly to the door and pressed both montrals against it.

"Why are you so set on staying here?" she heard Fifth demand. "We should return to Nur, if you're so set on not just killing her now!"

Barriss' voice replied, "I don't want any of the others getting information out of her before we do."

"A lot you care about our gain. You just mean you don't want anyone else to get between the two of you. We're supposed to hunt Jedi, not pursue personal vendettas."

"I am hunting a Jedi, but if it happens to settle a score along the way—"

"I still say we need to take her to Nur. Seeking your own vengeance or whatever is it that you're after is only going to end badly."

"No! I am First, and we will follow my plan. If you don't like it, then you go can find your own Jedi."

"I found this one! So by rights—"

"No, you didn't. You showed me a holo of a group of people, at least one of whom was suspected to be a Jedi. I identified the Jedi. I tracked her down. If you're going to have qualms about this, you can go back to Nur like a good little crecheling."

To which the only reply was a series of indistinguishable mutters.

Ahsoka twisted to sit with her back against the door. The chill of the metal was a temporary relief to her sore body; it allowed her mind a little quiet space, a moment of clarity.

The tension between Barriss and Fifth was manifest. Ahsoka doubted she could do much to sway Barriss from her objective, but Fifth… if she could provoke him to greater suspicion or resentment, it might be enough to drive him away. He didn't seem to be the most contemplative of individuals, which ought to make him a decent target for a few pointed insinuations. With him gone, there would be only Barriss to deal with, before she could collect the boy. (And, Force help her, that was not a task which she looked forward to.) It was nothing even approaching a foolproof plan, and it wouldn't completely fix her situation, but at least it was a jumping-off point.

Thus, the next time Fifth came to interrogate her, she played her card, at one point asking, "Do you really even want to know where Obi-Wan Kenobi is? Because I don't think Barriss much cares. She just wants an excuse to torture me. She isn't the person I used to know. She was a good Jedi, once. But now…. She's ruthless. Ambitious. And clever. At first, I thought maybe there was some spark of light left in her, but now I see she's no better than the rest of you. Treacherous. Selfish."

Let that rattle around in his brain for a few days, and see where his conclusions led him.