Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Awaken .

There was a void, and in that void was a breeze. Almost like a whisper in her ear, a kiss from the wind. It lifted her up, gentle yet stern, stirring her mind, and placed her gently on the ground. The floor was cold, so cold it seemed to burn her exposed skin. A light in the darkness. Not the harsh glare of a sun, but the dim glow of a lamp. The air was frigid against her wet skin, and something seemed to cling to her body.

Her head lifted. The world spun as her eyes struggled to focus. A gray blur stilled to a circular room. She was facing the exit, a hallway that extended up until a smoking door. With great effort she twisted around and hauled herself onto her knees. A ring of kolto tanks were behind her, all of them occupied except for the one directly behind. Her eyes drifted to the ground, where a puddle of kolto oozed from the tank. She shivered as a chill racked her body.

What is this place? Meetra Surik dragged her trembling body to the wall and hoisted herself up. Her legs gave out a few times before she managed to stand. Her head throbbed and her vision swam once more. Clutching her head, Meetra staggered down the hall.

There were two doors. The one on her right was locked, but the left led to some kind of medical lab. She stumbled to the computer. The people in the tanks didn’t look like they were alive, but if one of them was, maybe they could tell her where she was and what was going on. Clearly something was wrong here. The last thing she remembered was being aboard a Republic shuttle.

The computer confirmed her guess. EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN flashed across the screen. Her eyes burned from the bright light, but she willed them to focus. There were three medical log entries, the earliest being from three days ago, and there was a record of the people in the kolto tank. All of them were labeled deceased. She opened the oldest, and the hologram of a woman appeared. Maybe a medical officer?

“... still examining the survivors of the damaged freighter - looks like it goes by the name of the Ebon Hawk. Only one survivor, placed in the kolto tank for recovery. The carbon scoring on the vessel suggests it was in a battle, but no indication of who fired on it....

“...couldn't get much from the navicomputer, I'm surprised the ship was able to make it inside the Peragus asteroid field without the asteroid drift charts. Aside from the lone survivor, we recovered an old woman, no life signs. There was also a protocol droid and a utility droid on board - sent both down to maintenance while security sorts through the other items on the ship. It looks like the utility droid - a T3 unit - was able to get the ship working enough to get to the colony. We're prepared to…”  

The holorecord ended in static. Meetra accessed the log from two days prior.

“...could be a Jedi, but we won't know for sure until we get the transmission back from the Republic. If the survivor is a Jedi, that would account for the recovery rate…

“...but I'm more concerned that a Jedi here may cause trouble, some of the miners, especially Coorta, are already st-”

The holorecord broke in static for a brief moment before continuing.

“...another accident today, a detonation in the ventilation tunnels... if the lockdown measures hadn't activated, the whole facility would have been destroyed. Got most of the injured to the kolto tanks in time - but the rest had to go to the morgue. One of the wounded said a droid caused the accident, but we couldn't get any specifics…”

The woman’s image wavered before disappearing. Meetra accessed the log marked 253-18.

"...miners about the Jedi, a number of the droids have been acting oddly, and not even memory wipes seem to be fixing the problem. There was a detonation in another one of the fuel vents the droids were working in - we deactivated several of them and moved them down to maintenance, but we're still treating the plasma burns…

“...that cuts us down to almost half-shifts, and with the droids malfunctioning, we may not make the Telos shipment for this month. Fortunately, the detonation didn't cause a lockd-

“ WARNING: There has been a fuel detonation in the mining tunnels. Emergency Lockdown commencing. All personnel report to quarters and prepare for emergency venting countermeasures.

“...no, if the ventilation systems are malfunctioning...Evacuate the medical bay! Everyone, evac-"

Meetra grimaced as the officer’s image sputtered out. Great. The whole facility is in lockdown . She didn’t even know where she was. Meetra’s eyes drifted up to the door across the hall before she glanced to what she assumed was the storage room behind her. She opened the door to it. Only two plasteel cylinders were inside. One was jammed and the other was empty. Sighing, she glanced at the computer terminal again, then to the open morgue. The people in the tanks were dead. If she wanted to know what was going on, where she even was, she’d have to find someone else. Someone alive.

Meetra headed to the morgue, using the wall for support until her legs felt strong enough to hold her. The room was small, with only a few beds. As if they didn’t expect many to die here. Ironic, considering that, as far as she knew, she was the only living thing in the sector. Two bodies were set on the bed. An uncovered old woman was next to the door, dressed in robes eerily similar to a Jedi’s. Not a good sign . Meetra walked up to the other body. It was covered in a sheet. Lifting it exposed her to the distinct smell of decay. How long has this body been here? But she briefly brushed the thought aside and took the plasma torch from the dead man’s belt.

“Find what you’re looking for amongst the dead?”

A spear of fear pierced Meetra. She whirled around, plasma torch braced in one hand while her other curled into a fist. Slipping into a fighting stance was as natural as breathing, even after ten years of exile.

The old woman in robes was standing, hands clasped formally in front of her. Her hood came down low over her face, covering her eyes.

“I thought you were dead.” Meetra flinched at the sound of her own voice—hoarse from a lack of use.

The woman tipped her head in consideration. “Close to death, yes. Closer than I’d like. You have the smell of the kolto tank about you…how do you feel?”

She didn’t trust this woman. At least, not yet. But she had the feeling that she was both as clueless as Meetra yet more knowledgeable as well. No need to lie just yet. “A little disoriented,” she admitted. Her eyes narrowed. “Was it your voice I heard in the kolto tank?”

“Yes. I had hoped as much—I slept here too long, and could not awaken.” There was a pause as the woman seemed to consider their situation. “It may be I reached out unconsciously, and your mind must have been a willing one. Or perhaps you have been trained for such things?”

Another spike of fear. Meetra braced the torch higher, eyes narrowed. “So you can touch minds... and feign death. Who are you?”

“I am Kreia, and I am your rescuer - as you are mine. Tell me - do you recall what happened?”

“I'm the one asking the questions. How did I get here?”

Kreia’s lips twitched as if she found Meetra’s caution amusing. Her face became blank once more. “I confess I know little more than you do... I do not know where here is.” After a moment, she added, “I do recall rescuing you... the Republic ship you were on was attacked, and you were the only survivor. A result of your Jedi training, no doubt.”

Meetra stiffened. “How do you know I was a Jedi?” She hated how the panic inside her was starting to seep into her voice.

“Your stance, your walk, tells me you are a Jedi. Your walk is heavy, you carry something that weighs you down.”

Meetra lowered her hands, sighing. She weighed her options, but what good would denying it do? Clearly the woman’s insight was strong. Either she was more perceptive than she seemed, or she was Force-sensitive, and Meetra was more than willing to guess that the latter was true. She had no idea what that meant for her. She hadn’t touched, hadn’t so much as brushed the Force for the past decade. “The Jedi Order and I have a…troubled history.”

“So it would seem.” Kreia straightened. “Keep your past - and let us focus on the now.”

Meetra glanced around the morgue before returning her gaze to Kreia. “All right - what's going on? How did we get here?” Surely she had some answers.

Naturally, however, things were never that easy. “I do not know. I was removed from the events of the world as I slept. A survey of the surroundings may provide the answers we seek.” Kreia shifted on her feet. “The ship we arrived in must still be in this place. We should recover it and leave.”

“Care to explain why you're in such a hurry?” Meetra had gotten the feeling that something was terribly wrong here. She just hoped this old woman wasn’t the reason.

“We were attacked once, and I fear our attackers will not give up the hunt so easily - without transport, weapons, and information, they will find us easy prey indeed.”

“You seem nervous, worried. Is something wrong?” Kreia was still as stone, but Meetra’s intuition was still intact, even if she could no longer feel the Force.

“Even as I slept, I felt much unrest here - I saw strange visions, minds colored with fear - now, everything here feels terribly silent. I would find out as much as you can about this place quickly - I fear we will need to depart as suddenly as we arrived.” 

“We'll see. There's got to be someone left alive around here.” Meetra eyed the old woman. “The patients in the medical bay were dead. Know anything about that?”

Kreia remained stoic. “I do not know.” Her lip quirked. “For the time being, you may wish to extend your search to some clothes... if only for proper first impressions.”

That won’t matter if we’re the only people alive. Even so, Meetra mused at the woman’s words, glancing down at her undergarments. They were drying from the kolto, but still stuck to her skin. She was in a two-piece—not the most modest choice of clothing, but Meetra had a feeling the odds of finding anyone still breathing were slim. “Are you well enough to travel?”

Kreia let out a quiet snort. “I am not offering to help you - I am not so young as to leap from death's door as quickly as you.”

No help, no weapons, and no recollection. Wonderful. “I'll go look for our ship - and some weapons. I'll return soon to make sure you're all right.”

“I leave you to the explorations of this place... here I will remain and attempt to center myself.” Her legs folded beneath her as she positioned herself into a position of meditation.

She knew far more about Jedi techniques than Meetra liked, and she had a feeling that the events taking place weren’t a coincidence. Nevertheless, she would only get some answers if she survived long enough to get out of here, so Meetra left the morgue and ventured into the main hall, where a shuddering door blocked her progression. She used the plasma torch to cut through the door and flinched when the cut piece fell over with a loud clang . She kept her hands raised, just in case a threat lay beyond, but all there was in the next room was a corpse on the floor, a broken droid that resembled a spider, and two doors.

Meetra sighed in relief at the sight of the vibroblade next to the dead body, though that was the only comforting thing about her situation so far. Still, there were no signs of life. She walked to the panel of the door on her right and attempted to open it, but a female voice—the same one from one of the medical logs—announced that the door was magnetically sealed. Meetra glanced at the other door and then the droid slumped on the ground. Inspecting it revealed slash marks and sliced circuitry. It was only equipped with a mining laser, and she took it and slipped it into the waistband of her slacks. She flinched at the sting of the cold metal. 

The other door appeared functional. With the press of a button it whooshed open, only to reveal two more of the droids. Almost immediately they fired at her, and Meetra managed to take cover behind the doorway before she could get blasted. She took out the pistol and willed herself to calm down. Plasma bolts spiraled into the room, one nearly singing her cheek when she attempted to peer around the corner. 

After the initial adrenaline spike smoothed over, Meetra listened for any evidence that the droids were approaching. There was no clang of metal on metal, but there did seem to be a pattern to the way they were shooting. Eight shots in three seconds. Two second pause to cool down blasters. Meetra let out a calming breath. After the eight shot cycle, she whipped around the corner and shot at the droids with the pistol. She only managed to hit one in the leg. Seething, she pocketed the mining laser and plasma torch, grasping the vibroblade with both hands. It wasn’t very well balanced or sharp, but it would have to do.

She’d always disliked blasters. Hate might’ve been too strong to use. It’d just always been frustrating how slow they seemed to solve problems compared to a sword, a knife, or a lightsaber.

A lightsaber…

Throwing the thought from her mind, Meetra waited until the droids finished their round of firing before she whirled around the corner and entered the room, bashing one droid’s head before running the blade through the other. It took considerable effort just to pierce the armor with the dull blade, but she managed. The droids fell to her feet, lifeless. 

Meetra surveyed the room and realized that she’d come across the Emergency Hatch. She lifted a hand to the panel beside the door when something began pressing at the back of her mind. Meetra clutched her head as something wormed its way into her head. The presence was both calm and shifty. She thought she might collapse when Kreia’s voice rang through her skull.

“ This is the exit... but it is sealed... strange... in my visions, it was open…”

“Kreia?” Meetra whispered, but she was only met with silence as the presence withdrew. Definitely a Force-user of some sort. Meetra ran a hand along the door of the Emergency Hatch. It’d be too thick and take too long to try and open it with the plasma torch. She sighed. Never that easy, is it?

Meetra continued down the corridor until she arrived in some kind of security room. There was a holodesk in the center, facing the door to her left. A footlocker rested straight ahead, and when she bent down to try and open it, the half-melted face of an officer stared right back up at her. The fried corpse lay on the floor next to the desk, reaching towards the locker. Pushing down the nausea in her gut, Meetra took out the plasma torch and managed to melt the lock. Inside was an ion grenade and a security tunneler. The only problem was she didn’t have anywhere to put them, and the clothes were seared off the corpses she’d found so far.

Meetra sat at the desk and attempted to access the holologs. EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN flashed across the screen, but she managed to access the safety holo-orientation. The holoimage of a security officer appeared.

"...is this thing on? All right - all hands, especially you, Coorta - listen up because I'm not going to say this again. The next one of you juma-heads to try and smuggle a blaster, or so help me, any sort of military grade frag weapons into my facility is going to take a long walk out the airlock.”

She would have laughed if not for the reminder that the officer was probably dead. He might’ve even been the corpse at her feet. Meetra forced down the bile in her throat.

"Why? Because in case you forgot, Peragian fuel explodes at high temperatures - that's what blasted that chunk out of Peragus II and created this asteroid field. So if I catch any of you with anything other than sonic charges or mining lasers, I'll burn you and your contract. Security out."

So she was at a mining facility on a part of Peragus II. That explained the droids, and the fact that she was essentially on an unstable rock that could explode at any time explained the low-grade weaponry.

I need to get out of here . She paused. I need to get us out of here , she corrected, remembering Kreia. At this point, she prayed there was someone else alive that could help her find the ship she’d arrived on. If it’s even still here.  

The next log down contained accident reports. The same officer appeared. 

"...and according to one of the miners, it was because one of the sonic charges went off prematurely. And like before, it was one set by a mining droid. The three idiots were grouped so close to the charge it might as well have been a grenade going off - the blast turned their bones to dust. The blast wrecked the internal components of the droid that set the charge, though, so we can't even dissect it to see what happened.

"I don't like what's going on here. Ever since that Jedi showed up, things are getting worse... it's not just Coorta and his miners, or the fights, but now the droids are acting crazy. Ah, if we don't find what's causing this - or who - this facility's going to be space dust by the time the next Telos freighter arrives."

How did they know I was a Jedi? Meetra stuffed down the panic clawing up her throat and accessed the mining droid maintenance logs. This time the officer was speaking to someone else.

"...so you're in maintenance? Then maybe you can tell me what's going on with these droids."

TERMINAL: "Sir, I don't know. It's like their behavior cores are undergoing binary decay, but I can't find the source... this shouldn't be happening."

"Well, that's reassuring. It isn't happening. So the next time we nearly have a breach in the ventilation tunnels, I can just close my eyes and pretend it's my imagination. You better give me some answers - I want to know the damage these droids can do if they start mining us instead of asteroid rock."

TERMINAL: "Sir, these droids aren't combat models... their mining lasers are weaker and less accurate than blasters. I doubt those droids could even hit one of us."

"Are you blind?! What about the miners in med bay? It's sabotage - and it started right after the commander said we weren't going to sell the Jedi to the Exchange. So I want you to find out how these droids are being sabotaged. That'll tell me who's trying to clear a path to get that Jedi off the facility - and stop him. In the meantime, make sure the security's armed with all the ion and sonic charges you can find. If those droids start coming after me, I'm gonna need more than low-grade mining lasers to take 'em down. Clear?"

TERMINAL: "Yes, sir. Maintenance control out."

"Idiot."

Someone was trying to clear a path for her, and they were sabotaging the whole facility to do it. All for a bounty . Why? I’m not even a Jedi anymore. That nagging feeling, the one that whispered that something wasn’t right, was screaming now. Hand trembling, she pressed the administration control maintenance log.

"...I installed an override switch to shut down any droids on this level, just in case someone locks me out of the administration console. As added insurance, I tied the override switch into the circuits of the holding cell door. That'll make sure it can only be opened if all droids in the level are shut down. I doubt Coorta or any of his men have the skill to pull off something like this, but I'm not taking any chances while we're sitting in the middle of this asteroid minefield. Whoever's responsible won't be able to have the droids rescue him after I lock him up. Nothing'll cut through that door - he'll be trapped.”

The last log was registered as security storage room inventory. 

"...I secured the stealth field generator inside one of the footlockers in the security storage room. If I have the specs right, the interface field should be effective against the droid sensors. All I need to do is equip the belt in order to use it. As long as I don't get too close to the droids, they shouldn't detect me. If any more droids start 'malfunctioning,' the belt should buy me enough time to get to the override switch I set up in the communications blister console. I'd rather shut them down than destroy them - I want to find out how these droids are being sabotaged, maybe even turn them against whoever's sabotaging them.”

Unfortunately for him, he probably never got that chance, and Meetra didn’t want to stick around solving a mystery. All it would do is waste time better spent getting off this rock.

Meetra accessed the camera controls, switching between that of the main security office—where she was, apparently—the communications blister, holding cells, and the emergency hatch to the mining tunnels—where she’d just come from. The camera to the security storage room revealed three mining droids. They were still, and while she hoped they were offline, she knew they’d probably fire the second she got the door open. She glanced at the footlocker for a moment before crouching down in front of it, grabbing the ion grenade from inside.

Meetra was about to open the door when she felt that presence—Kreia—worming into her mind.

“...be careful... there is much energy in the room beyond... yet it stems from nothing that lives…”

“Kreia? Wh—”

“ ...can you not sense them... reach out... cast aside your sight, cast aside what you see, and instead, reach out with your perceptions…” A pause. 

Meetra stared at the door for a moment. She remembered the feeling of the Force, even after ten years. She remembered the way it soothed her mind, the way the wind would kiss skin during the summer. She remembered feeling the hurricane of Force energy around Master Vandar, around Master Zhar, and especially around Revan. And she remembered feeling the breeze of it around others, those who often preferred their lightsaber to the Force. She could remember seeing the glimmering threads that connected anything and everything around her, and she remembered the sight of tightly wound bond threads that tethered masters to their apprentices.

It had been so long… Yet it was still so easy, so natural to just…reach out.

An image of the next room flashed in her mind. Not the one from the security camera. No, she could envision the three droids poised and still, saving their energy for the next target. The energy inside, that she witnessed stored in their chassis’s.

“...ah you can feel them... the droids you cannot perceive, but the small oscillations of energy... that you can feel... echoing outwards…”

Yes, she could sense the energy inside the droids. It was just a small flicker, but it was there. 

Meetra pressed a button on the panel, ion grenade poised and ready. Just as she’d expected, the droids began firing immediately. As soon as they fired off their shots—twelve in total—Meetra hurled the grenade into the room and covered her ears, letting her vibroblade clatter to the ground. 

It wasn’t as loud as she expected. All she could hear was the sizzle of energy as the droids’ circuits were overloaded. She peered into the room more out of habit, even as she felt the energy within the droids die. Inside, there were two more footlockers, and opening them revealed two more ion grenades, a medpack, and the stealth field generator mentioned in the storage room inventory holovid.

Meetra clasped the belt around her waist. Thankfully, it had clips and even a small pouch, but the generator wasn’t working. Regardless, she slipped the medpack and grenades inside the pouch and took a moment to gather her bearings, going over the information she’d learned in her head. Pergus II mining facility. Sabotage. Bounty on Jedi. The Exchange. Meetra grabbed her vibroblade and kept it tightly grasped in a hand. She was going to have to move fast.

Kreia entered her mind again. “Ah... you hear it. It is faint... but it is there.”

“I do,” Meetra confirmed. But there was something off about the way she felt it with the droids. She’d always felt the Force as though it were wind, but now… “But it doesn't feel like it did... it feels like it is coming from across a great distance.”

“Do not turn away from it. Listen... feel it echoing within you.” Meetra would’ve thought Kreia wasn’t there if her presence hadn’t remained. “Come. I shall guide you down familiar paths - you will need it if we are to survive and escape this place.”

Before she could protest, Kreia’s presence retracted, leaving Meetra mercifully alone with her thoughts. Meetra continued through the door and recognized the next room from the camera—the communication blister. It was more expansive than the claustrophobic corridor. There was a door to her right, but naturally it was locked. She couldn’t see any droids, but she did see another closed door, this one surrounded with a force field. Her heart pounded. Is someone inside?  

Meetra’s head whipped around, and she almost let out a cry of relief at the sight of the administration computer. She hurried over, her bare feet slapping against the frigid metal floor, and plopped down in the seat, her fingers running over the console. 

Remembering the security officer’s mention of a security override switch, she activated it. SECURITY OVERRIDE ACTIVATED; ALL DROIDS ON LEVEL DEACTIVATED; HOLDING CELL DOOR FORCE FIELD DEACTIVATED flashed across the screen. She slumped back in the chair, exhaling a sigh of relief. She was almost tempted to take a few moments to rest, but the prospect of someone else being alive nearly made her giddy.

She rushed over to the door that had been blocked by the force field. Kreia’s presence made itself known once again.

  “...ah... beyond this door someone yet lives... be mindful... his thoughts are... difficult to read…” Her voice trailed off. “...but you have nothing to fear from this one... and he might yet prove useful…”

He? Meetra’s thoughts drifted to the security officer from the security room’s logs. If he were still alive, she might be tempted to kiss his boots out of gratitude. Even so, Meetra could feel that kernel of energy from inside as she neared the door. A small smile stretched her face. The door whooshed open.

“Nice outfit,” someone drawled. “What, you miners change regulation uniform while I've been in here?”

Meetra’s face fell. That was definitely not the security officer’s voice, nor his face. No, this was a jail. The man inside was trapped in a force cage, the flickering energy crackling as he moved to stand. He was a few inches taller than her, sporting a rectangular face and brown hair swept to the side and out of his face. His cheeks were slightly sunken, and purple rings lined his eyes. A small amount of stubble dotted his face. She would’ve thought he was handsome, if not for the derogatory comment about her lack of clothing.

“Uh oh. You don’t look happy to see me. Expecting someone else?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Meetra shook out of her stupor and subconsciously covered her chest with her arms, her eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t sure who to expect. I'd keep those eyes up, and tell me who you are.”

“Atton... Atton Rand. Excuse me if I don't shake hands. The field only causes mild electrical burns.”

Meetra entered the room and moved closer to his cell. Briefly she wondered if he was one of the men who wanted to sell her to the Exchange. But he wasn’t in any kind of uniform, just a ribbed jacket, a simple white shirt, trousers, boots, and fingerless gloves. He raised a brow when she raised her eyes to his. 

“You just gonna stand there checking me out, or are you going to introduce yourself and let me out?”

“I’m Meetra. Meetra Surik,” she said slowly. “Care to explain why you’re locked up?”

He waved his hand nonchalantly, lips twisted to the side. “Security claimed I violated some trumped-up regulation or another - take it up with them if you want, but they stopped listening to me shortly before they stopped feeding me. Now that's criminal.”

Meetra stared at him for a moment. Three days? No wonder he looked terrible. “This facility's deserted. What happened?”

Atton let out a snort. “You mean, before or after that Jedi showed up? Either way, it's a real short story. You see, this Jedi shows up, and you know what that means - where there's one Jedi, the Republic will soon be crawling up your ion engine in no time. 

“But the story gets better. See, some of the miners get it into their ferrocrete skulls that since the Jedi's unconscious, they can collect the bounty the Exchange has posted for live Jedi. Well, what passes for the law here didn't like that idea, so the two groups started fighting.

“Then there was some big explosion, I was sitting here for a long time, then you showed up in your underwear and things got a lot better.” He smirked at her. 

He had a bit of a lisp, now that she noticed. She bit her lip. Running through the information in her brain, she decided to ask, “Why would they offer a bounty on Jedi?”

He shrugged. “Don't know much about it. Maybe the Exchange wants one as a trophy, or somebody's got something against Jedi and is looking to collect.” He pursed his lips, looking at some other point in the room. “Not many Jedi left... wouldn't surprise me if the bounty's pretty high.”

Not many Jedi left? A spear of shock pierced her. What’s happened since I’ve been gone? She swallowed thickly. “Did the Exchange wipe them all out?”

Atton shook his head, giving her a peculiar look. “I doubt it. No, it was war that thinned the Jedi, not the Exchange. The ones that weren't killed in the Jedi Civil War ended up switching off the lightsabers long ago. Word is, there's not even a Jedi Council anymore, but who knows?”

A war. She’d only known of the Mandalorian Wars as of recent. The war that she served in. “Was it caused by the Mandalorian Wars?”

“Yeah. Revan, Malak, and the Jedi that went to join them in the Mandalorian Wars. They turned against the other Jedi and had a scrap that almost laid waste to the galaxy.” He looked at her strange. “Heh. Where have you been?”

“Just tell me what happened next,” she snapped. Instantly she regretted her tone, but he didn’t look bothered.

“All right, all right. Well, I wasn't there, but like all Sith, Revan and Malak turned on each other. After they turned on the Jedi, of course.”

She remembered hearing something about Revan’s redemption, or something along the line that Revan had returned to save the Republic. “I was led to believe that Revan saved the Jedi - and the Republic.”

Atton shrugged again. “I guess... there's rumors all over space about it. All I heard was Revan returned to pay Malak back for trying to kill her in the first place.” He gave her a wry smile. “You know women.”

Meetra’s nostrils flared, but she schooled her features. “I had heard Revan's redemption involved her stopping Malak, and she had no choice but to fight him.”

“Well, I wasn't there, thankfully. But I heard what she was like during the Mandalorian Wars, and it sounded like she was quick to wipe out anyone who crossed her.” He grimaced. “Dark Jedi are bad enough, but when a woman falls to the dark side, you better space yourself before they catch you. Uh, no offense or anything.”

They were wasting their time talking about Revan, time better spent getting out of there. She opened her mouth, prepared to ask him questions regarding the facility, when he held up a hand, stopping her. 

“Look, not like your half-naked interrogation isn't a personal fantasy of mine, but...“ His eyes widened. “Hey, wait a minute - you're that Jedi the miners were talking about. Where is everybody?”

Meetra put her hands on her hips, careful not to dislodge her stealth generator. “Don't you know what happened to them?”

He gave her a pointed look. “From my beautiful view in this security cage? Look, I heard some explosions, some emergency alarms, some toxic gas pouring out of the vents… Maybe none of them survived whatever happened. And if they're all gone…”

Realization dawned on Atton’s face, his eyes widening as they returned to her. Meetra didn’t like the way he was looking at her, how a sheepish smile seemed to overcome his face.

“Look - hey, let me out, and I can help you. I can. I've gotten out of trouble countless times.”

With crossed arms, Meetra sniffed, “Seems to me you were locked up for a reason.”

He waved his hand, his tone carefree. “It was a misunderstanding, trumped-up charges. I could clear it up if I could just speak to somebody in charge, but seems to be no chance of that happening... unless you let me out.”

“I don’t know…” Meetra drawled. She wasn’t going to lie, she liked how he was squirming.

“Just in case you don't understand the trouble we're in, let me lay it out for you.

“This facility is a series of mining tunnels dropping kilometers into the asteroid's core. Every worker and droid here has been cleared, then triple-cleared, for hazardous operations.

“This facility has an operational threat level so high they don't let un-cleared starships in system out of fear that an accidental engine discharge will create a very brief, very hot new sun in this sector. You know why? Because every asteroid in this orbiting minefield has deposits of Peragian fuel within it - that means when one decides to pop, its brothers and sisters are going to come along for the ride.

“One explosion - you might survive. But a hundred? A thousand? You'll be riding out of here on a comet trail, Jedi. So if something's gone wrong here, you can cling to the Force all you want, but nothing'll stop this place from going critical.”

Meetra raised a brow, staring him down, weighing her options. Kreia said there was nothing to fear from him, but also that his thoughts were difficult to read. She didn’t know whether trusting him would get her captured by the Exchange, but it couldn’t be worse than getting blown up, gassed, or shot down by mining droids. 

“All right,” she relented. Relief washed over his face. “I suspect I can trust you…” Well, enough to escape here. “What is your plan?”

“This facility isn't a military installation, which means we may have a chance. You shut down this cell's security field, and I can reroute the emergency systems so we can get to the hangars. We grab a ship and then we fly out of here.”

“I might be able to fly a ship out of here without you,” she warned.

He snorted in response. “Well, go ahead and burn your thrusters. If there's been a lockdown, you're trapped pretty nicely on this level. You're going nowhere.” Atton tilted his head, considering her for a moment. “Oh... except I have clothes, and this security field is protecting me pretty well from any more outbreaks of poison gas.”

“Fine,” she said stiffly. “I’ll let you out.”

He grinned. “Great - now to business. Let's get to the command console.”

Meetra moved to the control console and found the button that would release Atton. Her finger hesitated over it. She almost glanced back at him to see his expression, but feeling his gaze on her, she pressed it, releasing him.

Atton stumbled out of the cage. “You wouldn’t happen to have any water, would you? Or food? 

Meetra fumbled for the medpac in her pouch and opened it. Inside was a small array of kolto sprays, stimulants, and synthflesh. She tossed him the small bottle of water. “You’re lucky I found this.”

He lifted his brows in agreement before tossing his head back and draining the bottle in two gulps. Atton tossed the bottle onto the floor and walked—well, staggered—out into the communications blister. Meetra followed close behind.

Meetra stared at the back of his head, willing him to look back at her, but he carried on. She cleared her throat. “You wouldn’t happen to be generous enough to donate your jacket to my…half dressed cause?”

His broad shoulders lifted. “Nah. If we both die by the end of this, at least I’ll be looking at something pleasant before I go.”

She was tempted to smack the back of his head, but he shot her a look over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. He sighed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I won’t lie, I’m pretty attached to this jacket. We’ll probably be out of here before we run into anyone else anyway.” At her glare he pursed his lips. “Look, I’m not judging you. Better me than anyone else, I say.”

Meetra let out a quiet sigh as he jogged the rest of the way over to the console. Why couldn’t it have been the security officer? Instead she had to get stuck with…with a scoundrel.  

Atton plopped down in the seat she had been in earlier. “All right, here we are. Now this console is set on automatic hail, you may have heard it when you came in. The asteroid drift charts are constantly being updated, so it sends out a transmission to incoming vessels so they don't get crushed into space dust.

“The hail warns them to keep their distance until orbital drift charts are transmitted, and then provides docking instructions to incoming ships... usually freighters.

“Thing is, you can bounce that same transmission back to the comm here... and suddenly, you've got access to the communications system from the inside.” He fiddled with the computer, muttering to himself. Suddenly he straightened, and Meetra caught a glance at the pleased smile on his face. “Pure pazaak - the console's ours. Now, all we need to do is re-activate the turbolifts, cancel the emergency lockdown... hey.” Atton stared at the computer. She looked over his shoulder, managing a glimpse at his furrowed brows.

“What's wrong?”

He glanced back at her. “This system's been severed from the main hub - after it was locked down from remote. You can't even reroute the system, it's been cut clean.”

Meetra took the seat next to him. “That wouldn't be standard procedure in an emergency lockdown.”

“No,” he agreed. “Someone tried to lock down this whole level tight, and leave us here. Trapped.”

“Is there anything else we can do with this console?”

His lips pursed. “I doubt it. All we have is communications back, for all the good trying to shout in a vacuum will do us.”

“Maybe there’s others trapped like us. Can we contact the miners?”

He swiveled his chair to face her, the purple rings under his hazel eyes more vibrant under the harsh glare of the lights. He scratched the back of his head and shrugged, looking off in the distance. “We could try. But if the miners were trying to trap you up here and probably kill you, why not call them and chat? I don't think a friendly call is going to wake them up.”

He feigned innocence at her flat look. Her mind worked through their options. “Maybe there's something logged in the terminal that can give us some answers,” she decided to say.

Atton stood again, gesturing to the console with his hands. “Be my guest - not much else we can do. The comm's all yours.”

Meetra gave him a suspicious look before slipping into his chair. “Hey, there’s logs.” 

“Yeah, but they probably won’t help much unless they tell us how to get out of here.”

Ignoring him, she opened the one from three days ago. The image of who she assumed to be an administration officer appeared.

"...tractored the freighter in... it was lucky it wasn't destroyed when it drifted into the asteroid field.

"Not much on board - one damaged droid, one annoying protocol droid, and a lot of bodies. Sent the survivor to medical, and the others to the morgue. Didn't recognize the ship's ID code, so we transmitted it to the Republic for some answers..."

There was static for a brief moment before the recording continued.

"...questioned the protocol droid about what happened. Says his master, the survivor I guess, was on a Republic ship, the 'Harbinger,' when it suffered an engine failure. 

“...he says the survivor was a passenger on the vessel and a Jedi. If so, that's going to mean tr-"

It ended in static.

“You have a protocol droid?” Atton asked from behind her.

Meetra shook her head. All she remembered was being aboard the Harbinger . She had no idea how Kreia could have “rescued” her, or even how Kreia arrived. She assumed that the ship the old woman came in was still here. But if not… Well, they’d probably have to wait until a ship from Telos arrived, and she doubted they’d find enough supplies to keep them alive for that long. Meetra opened the next holovid, not wanting to dwell on that thought.

 "...inventoried the bodies and cargo - everything matches the protocol droid's story.

"The T3 droid had seized up, so we left it in storage in standby mode. Don't know what code will access it - it could be it's voice-activated for all we know.

"...we put the protocol droid to work in maintenance, sorting the mining droid comm routines and updating their recognition sensors... and to shut him up. When the survivor recovers, hopefully we can get them off this station before there's a ri-”

“That’s strange,” she muttered.

“What is?”

Meetra opened her mouth and then closed it, her mind processing the information. She turned the chair towards him. “When I was on my way here, I found a med lab with holorecords like these. The woman in the vid mentioned that there were two droids on the ship with me—a T3 unit and a protocol droid.” Her mind sorted through the records, though some of the information was starting to blur. She’d been pretty drowsy when she watched the medical officer’s holovids. “I think she said they sent the protocol droid to maintenance.”

Atton’s face scrunched up, as if considering her words. “That’s a coincidence if I’ve ever heard. Sounds like you’re what all this fuss is about.”

“Sounds like it,” she muttered. “Either someone else is alive on this ship, someone who wants to sell me to the Exchange, or it has something to do with the droids I arrived with.” She eyed him up and down. “And you’re not out of the realm of possibility either.”

He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Look, I’m just as clueless as you are. All I know is that once we get out of here, I’m never taking a mining job again.”

“You were a miner here?”

“Work is work.” He grimaced. “Though now I’ll have to be more careful to not take a job where I can blow up any second.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know a ‘Coorta,’ would you?”

No expression. Nothing that would hint suspicion. “Should I?”

Meetra shrugged. “You tell me.”

Atton matched her suspicious expression. Then his face bore a look of exasperation. “Are you going to access comms or not?”

“Fine.” She turned back to the console and accessed the comm system. She patched to the dormitories, but there was no response. She switched over to Hangar Bay 25, and she almost cried when a series of beeps and whistles responded back. “Can you read me?”

She felt her chair dip as Atton presumably grasped the back. She could feel him hovering over her shoulder, but she was too excited about the prospect of hope that she didn’t care.

“ Dwoooooooo... deet? Beep ,” came the response.

“Are you operational?”

“Beeee-weeeet. Bee-deet.”

“We're trapped up on the administration level. Can you unlock the turbolifts?”

“ Doooo-reep. Bee-wheeep .”

“Is there some other way out of here besides the turbolifts?”

“Bee-deeeet? Dwoooop-Beep!”

“I'd rather risk it than be trapped up here.”

“Dwooooooo.”

The connection died. Meetra leaned back with crossed arms, chewing on her lip. Atton plopped down in the seat next to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So, uh, how long have you been a Jedi? Must be tough, you know…no family, no husband…”

Meetra snorted. “No tougher than enduring your false sympathy while you’re staring at my chest. Are you volunteering?”

He protested, “Hey, I wasn’t try—” He paused. “I might be,” he retorted, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Everybody needs someone to keep their head on straight,” he muttered, sniffing. Atton looked at her, his nose scrunching. “And right now, that person is me.”

“Mhmm.” She glanced at the comm, but there was no sign that T3 was trying to reach out again.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he drawled. “Look, once we get off this rock, you’ll never have to see me again. But until then, you’re stuck with me. Hate to disappoint.”

Meetra raised a brow at him, about to retort, when the console blinked not even a second later, letting her know that the Emergency Hatch had been opened.

“Hey, what do you know—that little cargo cylinder came through,” Atton said, leaning back.

“It looks like it. But it’s strange he didn’t contact us on the comms.”

“If he got the turbolifts working, then we should have a clear run to the hangar.”

“The turbolifts are locked down manually, so I had him open the Emergency Hatch.”

Atton stared at her. “Wait, wait.” He leaned forward, brow drawn. “Don’t tell me you’re taking that hatch down into the mining tunnels—are you?” He ran his hands through his hair, the longer locks sticking out. “The explosion I heard came from below. There’s probably nothing down there except superheated rock and collapsed blast tunnels. You’d be an idiot to go down there.”

Meetra sighed. She didn’t like the idea of going down there either. “Maybe, but it’s the only way out. Someone’s got to save our skins.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re either really brave or really crazy—or both.” He stared at the computer for a moment before his eyes flicked up to hers. “All right. I’ll try to monitor things from up here. Be careful—the only thing moving down there is likely to be mining droids, so don’t be playing hero too hard.”

Atton suddenly blinked. Meetra didn’t know if her eyes were working right, but she could’ve swore he was flushing.

“Uh, not that I care what happens to you or anything. I just don’t want to be trying to get off this rock by myself.”

Meetra stood, smirking to herself. She patted his shoulder as she stood, almost convinced she could feel the tension of his shoulder underneath her hand. “Your concern is noted. I’ll be going now.”

“I’ll keep the comlink open. I may be able to guide you through the tunnels from up here. Don’t know if the signal will hold if you get too deep, though.”

She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Not only did she have to get Atton out of here, but also Kreia. Atton stood with her and held something out to her. A comlink. She took it. Meetra fiddled with the stealth field enhancer and took out her mining laser, handing it out to him, but he only shook his head.

“You’ll probably need it more than me. Good luck.”

She nodded in response.

Chapter Text

Meetra headed back the way she came, through the corridors and past the security desk. Further down the hall in the next room was the open emergency hatch door. The air was cold and thin. Benches lined the hall, but she passed them and took the turbolift down into the tunnels, praying they’d all get off this volatile rock and live out the rest of their days in peace.

The minutes dragged on until the lift finally shuddered to a stop. The comlink in her pouch crackled to life, and she fished it out.

“Can you read me?” Atton asked.

Meetra refrained from coughing as the smell of metal and dust clogged her lungs. “Barely. There’s a lot of static.”

“There’s a lot of interference down there—probably caused by that explosion.”  

No kidding , she almost muttered to herself, but he kept speaking.

“Still, it looks like there’s a route down to the Peragus fuel depot, if the passages haven’t collapsed. The explosion knocked out most of the sensors. There should be an emergency crate in the next room. Watch yourself. There’s a lot of droid broadcasts in that area, but I can’t pin them down.”

“I’ll be careful, then. If you detect anything, signal me.”

“Will do—and be careful down there .”

As she approached the door, it opened automatically. Inside was a smoking droid and a plasteel cylinder. She rifled through the cylinder’s contents and almost sang praise to the Maker when she took out a mining uniform.

“Find the emergency supplies?” came Atton’s voice.

“Yes…and it looks like there’s some clothes in here.”

“Dank farrik.” Meetra blinked in surprise. His voice came back in a rush. “Uh, I mean…good. Good to hear it. No sense in you running around half-naked. It’s…it’s distracting. I mean, for the droids.”

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Look, there might be some survey gear and a safety harness inside the crate, too. The miners wear them when staking claim on the asteroids. The survey gear is designed to spot and protect you against sonic mines, and the safety harness can be helpful if you try and disarm them.”

She had no experience with demolitions, but she kept the information in mind. “There’s some kind of mining energy shield in this crate, too.”

“Yeah, it’s like a military-issue energy shield, except it’s designed to protect the miners against lasers and heat. Should work against the droid mining lasers. It won’t last forever—and certainly not against multiple laser hits—but it may buy you some time if you get ambushed by a battalion of droids.”

She held up the shield, tilting her head. “How do I use it?”

“Just put it on your wrist and then you can activate it like a medpac. Again, it won’t last forever, so make it count.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

“Uh, just one more thing: I’ve narrowed down some of the ID signals, and if the numbers are right, you’re sharing those tunnels with a battalion of mining droids.”

Meetra glanced down at her stealth generator, remembering the security officer’s words about the generator. As long as she didn’t get too close, they wouldn’t notice her. If push came to shove, she could sneak up on them and destroy them with her blade. “Anything else?”

“There’s got to be some central controller down there. See if you can find a terminal by the main access shaft: that’d be governing intelligence.” His voice died on the comm with a crackle before silence filled the void.

Meetra slipped off the stealth generator and put on the mining uniform. It was quite loose, obviously fit for a man, but the generator helped some, acting like a belt. She fitted the mining laser into the uniform’s holster and then checked her pouch. She still had a medpac and the two ion grenades. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use any of her gear, but the power packs of stealth field generators usually only lasted about five minutes, and she had no idea how extensive the mining tunnels were.

Meetra went through a few doors before emerging in a rotunda that had a large, red reactor core in the center. There were a few corridors, so Meetra headed for the one on the right. It was blocked, though there seemed to be a broken droid. 

“One more thing,” came Atton’s crackled voice. “Watch where you step—I’m picking up a lot of sonic mines down there. Don’t run unless you have to. It makes them harder to spot.”

Meetra slipped on the survey gear, and sure enough she could see the dim glow of charges on the floor. She was about to respond, but Atton severed the connection. The next corridor was a dead end, and the third was partially blocked by a slumped and smoking mining droid. Meetra hopped over it, continuing further into the tunnel.

She paused. There it was, that small, almost imperceptible ring, as if from a bell, that signaled the electrical energy within mining droids. There were three around the corner. No, four . There were probably even more beyond that she couldn’t sense. A part of her still couldn’t believe that she could feel the Force again. It had been so long…

Shaking her head, Meetra eased to the entrance. She didn’t want to use the ion grenades if she had to, so she tightened her grip on the vibroblade and readied herself. She let out a steadying breath, willing herself to focus. One, two …

She whirled around the corner. The first droid was closer than she’d expected, but she managed to dance around its shots before slicing its head. She ducked, taking cover behind the broken droid as she waited for the others’ cycle of shots to finish. She fished out the mining laser and popped up, blasting two more of the droids. The last one was far, so she waited for the four shot round to cease until she did the same to it.

Meetra stood, peering further down the hall. It was dark, but the survey gear helped somewhat. There weren’t any mines in her path, but the tunnel was cramped, supported only by metal beams. A shudder went through her. She definitely didn’t want to be down here if something went wrong. Better to move fast than not at all.

She continued down the passage and entered a large room. A couple more droids were inside, some surrounded by the red shimmer of an energy field. She clenched her jaw. The mining laser would be useless against it. So Meetra activated her own shield and rushed for the droids. 

She swept through them like a whirlwind, ducking under swinging arms, sidestepping blaster bolts, severing chassises. Her arms burned as the last of the droids fell at her feet, smoking. If she was going to have to rely on melee combat, she’d have to pace herself. She had no food or water to replenish her energy. Meetra stilled for a few moments, trying to catch her breath, and surveyed the room. There was another one of those large reactor cores, and a corpse was slumped against the wall. All that was on the body were some credits, an energy shield, and a mining shield. She pocketed the contents and slipped the mining shield on her other wrist. The one she used still had a charge, so it still had some uses left. She prayed they would last her until she got out of here.

Meetra glanced around one last time before heading further. A spark of amusement lit her inside when Atton’s voice came over the comm again.

“Hey, watch out. That explosion has superheated the tunnels ahead. That steam’ll cook the skin off your bones. The mining shield should protect you against the heat if you move quickly enough.”

“I appreciate your concern, Atton,” she mused. She only heard a huff before the comm switched off.

Meetra glanced down at her wrist. The mining shield would last for another two minutes, and glancing down the hall revealed a short corridor. At least, that’s what she was able to see through the steam. But she had no other choice. She bounced on her toes, exhaling a shaky breath, and began to run.

He wasn’t lying about the heat. Even through the shield the air was suffocating. Sweat immediately broke out along her skin, but the shield was doing its job. Her eyes squinted automatically as she bathed in thermal energy. Thankfully, the passage wasn’t long, and she emerged on the other side with no trouble. 

She nearly skidded to a stop at the sight of sonic mines. They lit up along the floor like a beacon. Some appeared to have detonated, either because of the miners or the droids. The dust around them was strewn. Meetra hopped from space to space, pausing only to catch her balance when she tipped.

There was another core in the room. Passages were carved from the wall ahead, but around the core were more halls. She investigated the rotunda first, only finding more mines and another corpse with nothing of value on it.

The tunnel was guarded by more droids, two surrounded by shimmering red energy. Meetra didn’t have any time to gather her bearings or come up with a plan when the closest droid spotted her and scuttled over, arms raised and ready to strike. A spike of fear drilled into her gut as her own shield sputtered when a bolt struck it.

Meetra braced the vibroblade and raced towards the approaching droid, managing to bludgeon its arm before burying the blade in its chassis. She zig zagged towards the droids shooting at her and struck one, knocking it aside. A sweep of the blade and the other went down, before she stabbed the first one. She took a moment to catch her breath, wiping the sweat from her forehead as her energy shield sputtered and winked out. 

Something was still here, though. She could sense the energy inside. It was small, much smaller than the mining droid’s. Sure enough, a small spherical maintenance droid floated to one of the slumped droids further away and fired a beam of energy at it. The mining droid powered up, and Meetra could feel the energy growing inside of it. It turned towards her, almost seeming to examine her before it charged, arms raised.

She swore when the maintenance droid did the same to another mining droid. She dodged a swing from the droid that had charged, but it managed to knock her over with a strike to the knee. She cried out as pain rocketed up her leg and barely managed to block another blow from the droid. The droid’s joints groaned from the effort of pushing against her, but then its other arm reared back and struck her in the ribs before she could even blink. The air whooshed from her lungs, and she doubled over. Panic flamed in her chest.

Meetra dragged her body backwards, trying to get some distance as she fished out an ion grenade. An army of mining droids was waiting at the opening. Meetra gathered her remaining strength and ducked behind an offline droid, chucking the grenade over her shoulder.

The droids whirred in protest before the energy inside died. She couldn’t feel any more of it nearby, so she quickly stood and limped to the maintenance droid, driving the vibroblade through it. 

Her arms and legs burned, and she was pretty sure that droid had bruised a rib. Nothing seemed broken, not even her knee, thankfully. Meetra fished out a healing stim and injected it into the side of her thigh, sighing in relief at the coolness of the drug. She rested for as long as she dared, until her rib and knee were only sore to the touch, before she kept moving.

There was a large room ahead, with some kind of giant contraption in the center. Atton’s voice crackled over the comm. “You’re getting close to something big. I think it’s the main ventilation shaft. If so, the central droid controller should be nearby. Keep an eye out for it.” His voice crackled again. “I’m picking up a lot of droids, though. If you still have an energy mining shield, I’d switch it on.”

“Yeah, I ran into some more mining droids and a maintenance droid.”

“It’s odd they’re still active after the explosion. They don’t have the same shielding as the mining droids. Watch out for them especially. I don’t like this. And be—”

“Be careful,” she finished, smirking slightly. “I got it.”

“Atton out.”

Meetra entered the room fully. There were four cores in each corner, surrounded by a shield. A large hole was in the center, and there was a catwalk suspended above it with some kind of console. Corpses littered the floor, and even though the smell of burnt flesh made her sick, Meetra still rifled through them, picking up a few more ion grenades and medpacs.

Then she headed for the catwalk, swallowing as she glanced over the side down into the drop. Why are there no rails? she seethed in her mind. One wrong step and she’d plummet.

There was a locked cylinder, so she used the plasma torch to open it. Inside were a few adrenal stimulants and more grenades. Then she turned to the computer. She called up droid command functions. There were commands to turn the droids away from shooting organics, and even to start mining the sealed doors, but the commands were locked, and she had no spikes or tunnelers to bypass it. She ran a droid function schematic. The droids relied on thermal sensors to detect fuel deposits—and people.

There was a command to raise the temperature in the tunnels. If she could do that, it’d blind the droids, and hopefully she’d be able to get past them. She glanced down at her stealth field generator. If the droids rely on thermal sensors, does that mean they’d be able to see me even if I activated the belt? She chewed her lip. There weren’t any options other than to go through with the command, so she punched it into the computer.

The temperature was immediately noticeable. She began to sweat through the mining uniform. Using her sleeve to wipe her forehead and the back of her neck, Meetra watched as the containment fields deactivated. There were cameras and even a holorecording, but she didn’t have time to go through the rest of the available computer functions. Already she was getting drowsy from the heat.

Meetra could see two halls in the rotunda of a ventilation shaft, so she jogged over to it. Thank the Maker—the mining droids in it didn’t even flinch as she went past them. Atton’s voice crackled in and out, and she pulled out the comm.

“What?”

“The containment fields in the mining tunnels are shutting down. You need to get out of there before they vent fuel to the surface of the asteroid through the tunnels.”

No other choice, she reminded herself. “How much time do I have?”

“I may be able to keep it contained until you get to the turbolift to the fuel depot, but not for much longer.” More static, and then he said, “I’m locking down the turbolift to the administration section now to keep the blast from spreading.”

So now she was going to be trapped until she got to the fuel depot turbolift. Great.

“If you’ve got anything left to do down there, make it quick, because where you are is going to get real hot, real soon.”

Now that she wouldn’t have to fight her way there, Meetra walked as fast as she could. Her mind and body felt sluggish from the heat. Sweat poured down her face and back, but she trudged on, nearly crying out at the sight of the turbolift door. The heat was swelling now, so Meetra hurried inside. The lift shuddered the moment the door closed, and she let out a breath, trying and failing to shed the anxiety curling in her gut. The cool air of the lift was a blessing compared to the stuffiness of the tunnels. Meetra slumped against the wall, pocketed the survey gear, and slid down to the floor, sighing at the feel of cool metal against her back.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, and on more than one occasion her eyes fluttered closed. Eventually the lift began to slow and eventually shuddered to a stop. Meetra stood and hurried out of the lift, feeling slightly more rejuvenated.

Her relieved feelings only lasted for a moment when she peered into the open door to her left and spotted the corpse of a red-headed man with goggles on his forehead. He couldn’t have been dead long, and he wasn’t fried like the others. She crouched down next to him, searching his clothes to pocket the only thing on him, when she felt a flicker of energy behind her. Meetra whirled around, only to be faced with some sort of humanoid-shaped protocol droid. It was the color of chrome and sported two narrow yellow eyes.

“Greeting: It is a pleasure to see you alive, Master, provided my receptors are not off-focus. How may I be of assistance?”

Meetra got a weird feeling, and she didn’t like how excited the droid sounded. The hairs on her arms stood up. There was something familiar about him though… “What are you?”

“Proud Answer: I am an HK series protocol droid, Master, skilled in trans-organic relations and communications. This model has been responsible for the facilitation of communications and termination of hostilities across the galaxy. I am fluent in over six thousand forms of communication and am also capable of nuances of expression ranging from irony to veiled threats.”

Meetra narrowed her eyes. Was this the protocol droid she’d supposedly arrived with? Judging from the fact that it kept calling her “Master,” that might be the case. Even so, she asked, “What’s a translation droid doing on Peragus?”

“Irritated Explanation: That question has been looping through my query module with alarming frequency, Master, and no satisfactory answer has been forthcoming. As a result, I have chosen instead to turn my efforts to answering the question as to how I may depart this drifting disaster as quickly as possible.”

This droid sure liked to talk. Maybe it’d give her a clue as to what exactly had been going on behind the scenes. After all, it had been sent to maintenance to oversee the mining droids. “What have you determined?”

“Answer: It is only a matter of time before a ship or freighter docks with the Peragus facility. When that occurs, we shall depart this place…forever.”

She suspected he was with her on the ship, and she had never owned a droid like this before. Meetra scoffed. “Wait all you want, but I’m getting out of here on my own.”

“Condescending Retraction: I believe you will do your best, Master. This facility would have to be nailed down with droid-level precision to prevent your escape.”

She eyed the droid, and he tilted his head in response. “I had some other questions.”

“Of course, Master. How can I be of assistance?”

“Have you seen a T3 unit?”

“Hesitant Answer: Ah, a T3 utility droid would be a common sight in this facility. It is indeed curious that I have not seen one since my arrival.”

Very curious , she thought bitterly.

“However,” the HK unit continued, “I feel I must inform you that—droid prejudice aside—T3 models exhibit excessive individualism when not routinely memory wiped. The individualism can become such a nuisance that even a droid such as myself is tempted to reduce them to their base components, if not crush them into slag.”

“The unit was last seen near the hangar.”

“Answer: Ah…then that would explain why such a T3 unit isn’t here, Master. I believe my photoreceptors are functioning adequately enough to verify that.”

Meetra tapped her chin with a finger, shifting her weight. “Then maybe you could answer something else for me.” 

“Of course, Master.”

She glanced at the dead body behind her. “What’s that body there?”

“Answer: That is all that remains of the maintenance officer, Master. At the end, he was quite incoherent from the pain, and attempts to facilitate communications with him proved useless. I heard his dying screams as the droids he tended turned on him, mining him like a piece of asteroid rock.”

“Did he say anything at the end?”

“Recitation: Oh, yes, Master. The record of his last moments were: ‘ ...five droids…burning through the outer door…they’re forcing their way into the bay…please, someone, they…oh no, they’re through! Aighhh! My leg! They’re burning through my leg! I…Oh, stop! Stop, please—’”

Nausea roiled in her gut, but HK continued, unbothered. “Addendum: His reasoning attempts at communication are variations in decibel, Master, ranging from frenzied screams to gibbering, inarticulate attempts to beg for his life.”

Memories raced in her mind. Revan’s confirmation over the comm. A single, firm nod to the tech specialist beside her. The ships—both friend and foe—dipping towards the planet’s surface. The screams of the dying through the Force—

With a shaky voice, Meetra held up a hand. “Thank you. That’s enough for now.”

“As you wish, Master.”

Meetra stared after HK as he walked into the corner and powered down into an energy-conserving state. She could still feel his energy, like the drip of water from a faucet rather than the whir of life. Trembling, Meetra crossed the hall to the other room, but the only thing inside was a workbench and a pile of broken droids.

Do I really want this? she asked herself. Do I really want to feel the Force again…and everything that comes along with it? Kreia had seemed willing—almost eager—to train her in the Force again. Meetra couldn’t help but suspect that the woman had her own reasoning behind it, and the goodness of her heart was probably not it.

There was a datapad on the workbench, so Meetra opened the only unlocked entry—marked “Sonic Imprint Sensor.”

“With the protocol droid’s help, I’ve finished work on the sonic imprint sensors. I’ve installed them in the mining droids, but I’m locking up the original here to prevent the other miners from using its ability to record and playback voices to override the droid’s voiceprint protocols.”

Meetra wondered if the extra security of the sensors was because of Coorta’s supposed insurrection to try and sell her to the Exchange. Then again, the security officer had said that Coorta and his men weren’t skilled enough to pull off something like this, and something told her that Coorta was among the corpses scattered around the facility. She glanced back to where HK was standing, his eyes blinking every twenty seconds or so to signal his hibernation state. Meetra pocketed the datapad and went back into the hall, towards the closed door across from the turbolift entrance.

It whooshed open when she pressed a button on the panel in the wall, and on the other side—naturally—was a mining droid. She lunged at it, spearing it through its chassis. Shots whizzed past her face, one even hitting her in the arm and thigh. She ducked back into the hall she’d come from, seething from the burn. It was only a mining laser, and all it left was a shallow hole, but it still hurt. Meetra fished for the kolto spray. She could hear the hurried steps, the clang of metal on metal, as the mining droid approached her hiding place. She’d managed to grab it at last, but the droid was already here, so she ducked under its raised arms and buried the vibroblade into its frame, pushing against it with all of her weight.

She heaved for breath, letting the adrenaline flood from her system, and peered around the corner. No more droids. She’d have to be more alert next time. She’d been too distracted to sense them.

Meetra sprayed her wounds and then headed to the right, managing to catch a glimpse of containment fields blocking the way to the hangar bay. Maybe there was a way to the dormitories? Where other miners might be? There was a damaged door further down on the right wall, and she pried it open with the plasma torch. The door was about finished when the other door—the one at the furthest end of the wall—whished open, revealing two giant, humanoid droids. Their steps rattled the floor as they stomped out of the room. When their eyes found hers, they advanced.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered. I don’t have time for this .

Meetra grabbed an ion grenade from her pocket and hurled it at the two, and before they could even raise their arms and fire off a shot the grenade went off, disabling them. She exhaled a sharp breath and turned back to the jammed door. Her eyes flicked between the jammed one and the open one. While the other door was open, she may as well explore that area first, so she entered through. Mercifully, she found a computer on the other side of a door instead of more droids. 

If she was being honest, it worried her how long ago Atton had contacted her. Either he hadn’t because he knew she was in the fuel depot, or he was in trouble. Meetra fished out her comm, but the line was dead. She pocketed it again, pushing the thought from her mind. Right now she needed to focus.

She accessed the console with little trouble. In it was various logs, emergency subroutes, the comm system, and cameras. The comm system had been sliced clean, so there was no hope of contacting Atton. Accessing the emergency subroutines revealed that she’d need the maintenance officer’s voice recording to open the airlock. Of course, since he was dead, that wouldn’t be possible. Meetra went back to the hall, to another door, and realized that it was a turbolift to the administration level. That wouldn’t be much help either, especially since the door was jammed. Pursing her lips, Meetra went through the cameras, flicking through the containment field, the maintenance level, the airlock camera…

The fuel line sensor camera revealed a broken T3 unit, the one she assumed had opened the emergency hatch in the first place, the one she had arrived here with. Now, since the containment fields guarding the hangar bay were in the way, she assumed she’d have to go through the airlock and outside the station. Meetra groaned in frustration.

She took a few steps back. If she couldn’t get the voiceprint, her only other option was to destroy the console. If that didn’t work…She’d just have to wait for another ship like HK had said, if she even managed to live that long.

Meetra raised her blade above her head and then began bashing it. A few minutes later, the computer was nothing but scrap. Her arms burned, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, exhaling sharply. Meetra heard the faint whoosh of a door and sighed in relief. I can’t believe that worked .

She rounded the corner, only to come across a room with lockers. Opening one revealed a space suit. It was ridiculously heavy, and getting it on was such a hassle she musingly considered going out without it, but the humorous thought quickly dissipated from her mind.

Finally she managed to zip it on, forced to leave the stealth generator, vibroblade, and survey gear behind. She prayed she wouldn’t need the blade. If she came across any more mining droids, and—Force forbid—they had shields, she’d be forced to use her ion grenades, and she only had three left. She’d have to make it count.

Meetra waddled into the airlock, listening for the hiss that signaled air was leaving the chamber. A moment later, the door leading to space silently whooshed open. The spacewalk didn’t look like it was going to be too difficult. It was pretty much a straight shot, the only detour being a spiraling ramp that put her eye-level with the administration level.

It was eerily quiet. The void of space was to her left, lit only by the dim sparkle of countless stars. The actual mining station was to her right. About fifty feet up was the viewport for the administration level. Meetra waddled along. The suit wasn’t as heavy thanks to the lack of gravity. Her boots magnetically attached to the metal ramp, so she had to be careful not to move both feet at the same time, or else she’d drift off into space.

“It’s about time,” came Atton’s voice from the comm. “I lost your signal after you left the mining tunnels. Now you’re coming in clear.” Silence. Then, “...except I’m picking you up on the exterior of the facility, on the asteroid’s surface. That can’t be right.”

Meetra was now on the bridge in front of the viewport, and she paused, wry amusement blooming in her chest. “Really? Maybe you should look up.”

“Huh? What the—”

“I need to reach the miners in the dormitory section, and this is the only way to get there.” 

“You’re crazy, even for a Jedi. Look, you need to get out of there. Quick.”

“Something wrong?”

“What little is left of the facility’s venting systems have gone active, most likely from the explosions in the mining tunnels. They’re venting Peragus fuel deposits into space through the exterior vents—right in your path.”

She frowned. Glancing further down the ramp revealed an enormous opening. Every ten seconds or so, a plume of colorful fire and energy spewed out. Lovely.

“I can’t—I’m locked out of the main system here. I couldn’t shut it down if I tried. The vents look like they’ve been purposely rerouted to vent the gasses to the exterior, and only in the last few minutes. It’s almost as if…” His voice trailed off.

“If what?” she demanded.

He swore on the other line. “Oh, what now?”  he snapped, though it sounded as if he was talking more to himself than her. “I don’t believe this. There’s a ship coming in, sending a docking code. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Meetra turned as fast as she could as a shadow fell over the viewport. A Hammerhead -class Republic ship greeted her, looming. The ship’s presence instantly raised the hairs on her arms. Whatever was the cause of her suspicion, she knew that the ship’s arrival could in no way be a coincidence. Even without the Force, she could feel the bad vibes roiling off of it in waves. It moved slowly past her vision until it reached a docking extension.

“Hurry and get back inside, will you?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, returning back to her mind. She hurried as fast as she could, hustling down a ramp.

She finally reached where the vent was emptying out. She didn’t wait to time it perfectly. The moment the vent stopped, Meetra began walking. She barely made it across before the vent sent a jet of flame out behind her. She waddled faster, finally reaching the airlock to the Peragus dormitories, thanking the Maker that getting the space suit off was a lot quicker and easier than getting it on.

Meetra took out her mining laser and an ion grenade, sensing the small kernel of energy of two droids on the other side. The moment the inner airlock door opened she shucked it into the room. The only other thing inside was a corpse so she moved on to the next room.

Only to be greeted by another one of those giant, two-legged droids. The door opened and all she saw was a blur as the droid swung its arm into her chest, sending her flying into the wall with a crack . She wheezed, but it was almost as if no air was in her lungs. Gasping, Meetra raised her hand and shot at the droid, but the bolts were too weak to leave anything more than carbon scoring and a burn mark.

The droid stomped over, and Meetra managed to muster enough strength to move to the far side of the door, digging out another ion grenade. Her ribs protested at the movement and she winced. She barely managed to get it out before the droid grasped her by the throat and lifted her into the air. Gasping, she dropped the grenade as she clawed at its hand. She choked on her own breath as less and less air entered her lungs. Panic clambered its way up her throat and spine as she fished out the mining laser and shoved it underneath the droid’s chin, letting off a few shots that severed its head from its neck.

She was dropped to the ground and she held her neck, vomiting as the droid fell backwards. Meetra opened the medpac and jabbed her thigh with a healing stim, sitting back against the wall until she could catch her breath. Eventually the screaming pain in her ribs turned to an ache, and her wheezes became more steady. Meetra closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. With a shaky breath, she scooped up the ion grenade and stood, giving the droid another shot to the chassis for good measure.

The next large room had two automated fire extinguishers that immediately turned to her and fired. Annoyance curled in her gut as the extinguishing foam sprayed her face. Meetra wiped it from her eyes and kept going, ignoring the droids as they kept firing after her, one landing a generous hit all over her back.

The next room was some kind of supply hold. Shelves and boxes lined the wall to her right, though none of the contents on or in them were of any interest. She came across a computer, so she grabbed a metal rod and beat it until it was a heap of scrap. The dormitory door whooshed open. There was another hall past the computer, so she went down it. But once the door opened and she saw the dead bodies littering the floor, she turned back, dread pooling in her stomach. Anxiety was gnawing on the last bit of composure she had.

Meetra headed down the left hall past the door she’d opened by bashing the console, only to find more dead bodies and a turbolift to the administration level. A datapad rested in the cold hand of a man, and she pried it from his fingers. Plugging it into the computer revealed partial codes for the administration level, but no codes for the hangar. She sighed, heading back down the hall and went right. Scavenging the dead bodies in there, she found the dock officer’s datapad. She’d rather head back to the administration level and report what she found to Atton, so she pocketed the datapad and went to the administration turbolift.

The rumbling of the lift lasted only a minute or two. Walking up to the emergency blast door made it open, and Meetra nearly lashed out at the person on the other side, only to recognize the robed, wrinkly figure of Kreia. Meetra stood up straight from her defensive stance, lowering the mining laser as surprise spread through her. “Kreia?”

Kreia was silent for a moment, the lower part of her face stoic. Then she said, “I have felt a disturbance…our enemy is here. We must leave at once.”

Meetra narrowed her eyes. So her gut feeling out the Republic ship wasn’t without some merit of truth. “Enemy?”

“The one that fired upon the Ebon Hawk as we attempted to rescue you…and he will not let us go without blood being shed.”

Meetra’s blood ran cold. No time to question who this enemy was. They could all have a nice long conversation when they left this Force-forsaken place. “Then let's go.”

Kreia gave a single nod. “We need to make our way to the docking area on this level. I fear the airlock has already opened, and if so, we must be on our guard. If we cannot reach the Ebon Hawk , then we must find a way to escape on the ship that has docked here.”

Meetra and Kreia broke out in a run towards the communications blister. Even as her body protested, Meetra carried on. Anxiety was eating her alive now, and she couldn’t help but feel as if they were being watched.

Atton was sitting in the seat in front of the main computer, his hands behind his head. When he heard them approaching, he stood and turned, his eyes first finding Meetra before landing on Kreia with disbelieving analyzation. “What in space is going on? Another Jedi? What, did you guys start breeding when I wasn’t looking?”

Meetra shook her head. “Now’s not the time, Atton. We need to get out of here.”

His eyes found hers, unspoken questions swimming in them. Then he twisted his lips to the side. “Uh, all right.” He glanced back at the observation window, then to them, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m guessing that Republic ship that just docked isn’t carrying friends of yours.” It wasn’t a question.

Meetra had no idea. She just didn’t like the feeling emanating from it. To her surprise, Kreia interjected, her tone snide. “I hope your talent for understatement is offset by your skill with a blaster. If not, then I fear our time together will be short indeed.”

Atton snorted. “Yeah, and I’m also good at running and drinking, Your Majesty.” He looked at Meetra. “And even if you two aren’t big friends of the Republic, that warship’s the only way off this station.”

Meetra nodded. “Then let’s go.” The three turned and left.

“Good thing we have a clear run to the shi…” Atton trailed off and stopped, staring at something to their right. Meetra could feel the faint oscillation of energy and followed his line of sight. It was the HK. Meetra halted in her tracks.

“Threat: Master, perhaps I did not enunciate clearly the last time we spoke. I suggested you should shut down, stay put, and wait for rescue.”

The pieces began falling into place. HK put in maintenance. HK’s hesitant response when asked about T3. HK mentioning the termination of hostilities. HK telling her the facility was nailed down with “droid-like” precision to prevent her escape. She’d had a weird feeling about him before, but now bile climbed up the back of her throat. He wasn’t just a protocol droid. Whatever he was, what he truly was, whether that be a protocol droid or something else entirely, something told her that he was somewhat responsible for what had happened in this facility. “After all the deaths you’ve caused, ‘rescue’ is hardly the term I would use.”

“Exasperated Explanation: Master, your well-being is of the highest importance to me. I was forced to intercede on Peragus to ensure your survival.”

“You mean by killing all the miners?” she growled. She could feel Atton and Kreia’s attention on her, but all she could bring herself to care about was the needless slaughter this droid had caused.

“Indignant Answer: Master, the miners intended to place you in jeopardy. I could not allow that to take place, so I was forced to negotiate a termination of hostilities.”

There was that phrase again. It made her sick.

But HK continued on. 

“After reprogramming the mining droids to ‘mine’ any organics they perceived, they began to kill the miners one by one. Then a series of flawlessly-timed explosions drove the miners into their dormitories, where I was able to gas them all at once without wasting time hunting them through the mining tunnels.

“Of course, against my calculation, you awakened from your tank prematurely. I am ashamed by the inconvenience that caused for both of us.”

But she couldn’t understand the reasoning behind his actions, so she asked, “Why did you want to capture me?”

“Answer: It is beyond the scope of my programming to probe the motivations of my clients, Master. Suffice to say that I am being well compensated for my services. You have been a difficult target to find. 

“You have been wandering the galaxy since the Mandalorian Wars, leaving little record of your passage. It is as if you did not wish to be found…by hunters such as myself, or, more likely, the Jedi Order.”

“Well, you found me. Obviously I didn’t do a very good job,” she snapped. 

“Admission: It was a matter of chance, Master. I happened to be serving as a protocol droid on the Harbinger when you booked passage.” His voice almost sounded wistful. “After that, it was a simple matter to sabotage the Harbinger and call for a retrieval.

“Irritated Statement: However, when the Ebon Hawk appeared and salvaged us from the wreckage, I was forced into a series of rapid recalculations, culminating in our current situation.”

Fury burst in her chest. All those lives destroyed, just so she could be turned in to this droid’s client. All this trouble, all this death and destruction, because of her. There was a part of her that knew this was some sick coincidence, but guilt gnawed at her resolve.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Meetra turned to see Kreia. She expected the old woman’s face to be grim, but there was no emotion. “I suggest we continue on before our enemy seeks us out. There is no need to waste time here any longer.”

Meetra let out a breath, letting her anger dissolve as best she could. But it was still there, right under the surface, within arm’s length.

Kreia’s hand remained on her shoulder, and Meetra felt something…something familiar. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in so long she’d nearly forgotten. It was that breeze, that current of energy and power and everything that made life. It was so faint, and her hold on it was so weak. But Meetra grabbed what she could and held up her hand toward the HK just as four maintenance droids appeared seemingly from nowhere. She redirected that current, pointing it towards the five droids in front of her, and the world seemed to fade. A flash of light lit up their corner of the communications blister as an arc of electricity left her fingers. HK and the maintenance droids fell to the ground, smoking as they short-circuited.

Meetra ignored Atton’s bewildered expression and turned to Kreia. “Let’s go.”

Kreia nodded, as if she’d passed some sort of test, as if she’d made the decision she’d expected her to make. Meetra didn’t dwell on it and led them on.

Chapter Text

The three entered the Harbinger through the docking port. They weren’t a few feet inside when Kreia suddenly stopped. Meetra caught a swirl of uncertainty from her, even though the old woman was still as stone.

“Something is wrong…” Kreia said slowly. She paused, as if listening—or sensing—for something. “I sense no one aboard.”

Naturally, Atton had to open his big mouth to respond. “You ‘sense no one on board’?” he repeated, voice disbelieving. “Sense any assassin droids creeping up behind us like last time?”

Meetra’s nostrils flared, but Kreia beat her to it. “Everyone here has been slain, yet there are few signs of battle. No carbon scoring, no blaster fire. This place has been hit by assassins of a different sort.”

Atton threw his hands in the air. “Then what are we doing here?” he cried. “We were better off in the facility! You two are supposed to be Jedi? You two are the worst Jedi I’ve ever met.”

Meetra gave him an annoyed look. “Maybe you’d like it better in your cell?”

“Maybe I would!” Atton retorted, crossing his arms. “At least I was safe in there!”

“We cannot go back into the facility,” Kreia said calmly, though Meetra suspected she was reprimanding him. “If the assassin machine was correct, then we cannot reach the hangar.” He opened his mouth but Kreia cut him off. “Be silent, I need some time to think.”

Atton tapped his foot in impatience, scowling at Kreia. Meetra’s thoughts raced. She’d seen this ship while out on the surface. She’d seen it dock. “I have an idea,” she offered. “We can bypass the force field to the hangar by getting to the engine room of this ship, then exiting through the fuel pipe.”

“Look, I don’t mean to cast another shadow on this, but even if you could reach the ship you came in on, it wouldn’t matter.” Atton tipped his head towards Meetra. “You’ll need the orbital drift charts to clear the Peragus asteroid field, unless you want to have the shortest flight out of Peragus ever recorded.”

“Then how did this ship dock here?”

“Well, of course they have the asteroid drift charts in their navicomputer. They’d have to.”

She thought through their plan for a moment and then gave him a firm nod. “So let’s get their codes, then. Then we can worry about reaching the Ebon Hawk .”

Atton rubbed the back of his head. “Well, we’d have to get to the bridge. I mean…well, that’s the biggest problem I can see.”

“That is a sound plan—for the moment,” Kreia said coolly. “Let us go. Our enemies gather while we wait here.”

Atton shrugged. “All right…but this won’t end well. Trust me.”

Despite her short time on the ship before Peragus, Meetra had a rough memory of the schematics of the ship. The bridge console should be to their right. Once they got the orbital charts, they’d have to go through the crew quarters to get to the engine deck. It wasn’t a straight shot, but it shouldn’t be too difficult as long as they moved quickly.

She relayed her thoughts back to Atton and Kreia, though neither responded. They followed her through the Harbinger , down the long hallway to their right. Up ahead was a locked door, and Meetra reached for the plasma torch, only to realize it wasn’t there. She’d left it with the vibroblade and stealth field generator in the facility.

As if sensing her thoughts, Kreia asked, “Is something wrong?”

Meetra frowned. “The door’s locked. We might have to take the long way.”

“I’ll handle this.” Atton fisted the sides of his jacket and then flared it, smirking. He nudged her out of the way, moving to fiddle with the panel next to the door. “I may not be a Jedi, but I am an excellent slicer.” After a few moments of him working on the door it opened with a whoosh. He grinned down at Meetra. She gave him the side-eye as she walked inside.

The bridge door opened to reveal the rotten stench of death and decay. Countless corpses littered the floor, some more decomposed than others. Many of the corpses possessed a singular hole in either the head or the torso. There was blood everywhere . The smell made her sick. Vibroblades and blasters were scattered across the floor, some still in the hands of the dead. Unease made her stomach flutter.

“We need to be quick,” she said quietly. Kreia was right. These were assassins of a different sort. And Meetra didn’t like how the evidence pointed towards a very specific kind of assassin.

Stepping over corpses, the three passed rows of computers. Their screens were yellow and unlocked, dimly lighting the dark room. The low light made the shadows seem depthless. Meetra half-expected assassins to ambush them, but the bridge was silent save for the hum of the ship.

Meetra accessed the navicomputer with little difficulty; however, it appeared to be damaged. She backed away and looked at Atton pointedly, gesturing to the console. “It’s all yours.”

He grinned, cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect, but he winced shortly after, shaking out his hands. “Ow,” he muttered before working through the computer. She hovered over his shoulder, watching as he downloaded the orbital drift charts for the asteroid field to a small drive that he’d seemed to take from nowhere.

Suddenly Atton went still. Meetra peered down at him, brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

He looked up at her briefly. “There’s logs. Four of them.”

“So?”

He met her gaze again. “One of them is titled ‘Sith Warship.’”

Meetra had suspected as much, but the confirmation still felt like a slap in the face. She was no longer a Jedi. So why did all signs point to the Sith chasing after her? Kreia clearly wasn’t a Jedi and Atton was only a worker.

“We do not have time to sift through holologs while the assassins potentially remain onboard,” Kreia said sternly. She touched Meetra’s arm. “If you wish to speak of how you ended up on the mining facility, we will have to do it on the Ebon Hawk , where our lives are not in immediate danger.”

I thought she said she didn’t know what happened. Even Atton was eyeing the old woman with contempt and suspicion.

“I think she deserves some answers, don’t you?” he said coolly.

Meetra let out a shuddering breath, opening her mouth, but Kreia beat her to it.

“I believe we all deserve to survive long enough to get answers. Don’t be a fool. Clearly there is a bigger conspiracy than we are all aware, but wasting our time trying to uncover it will only get us killed,” she said, her voice raised more than it usually was.

Atton stared at the old woman, who only remained stoic. Meetra could almost hear the workings of his mind as he processed Kreia’s words. His eyes flicked to Meetra’s, but he just as quickly looked away and back at the console. “Fine,” he sneered. “But as soon as we’re off this rock, you two are dumping me on the first civilized world we come across so that I don’t have to be dragged along on your little Jedi adventures. Got it?”

Kreia let out an almost imperceptible huff. “If it means being free of your unintelligent chatter and ignorant scorn, then we will do as you wish.”

Atton stood abruptly, pushing past Meetra and Kreia to grab two blasters from a corpse. “Great. I’m glad we’re all in agreement.”

She grabbed a vibroblade on the way out, surprised when Kreia did the same. But if the other woman had been some kind of Jedi, it’d make sense. Meetra felt tense, uneasy. Kreia, in contrast, remained at ease as Meetra led them back the way they came. 

They came at a crossroads further down the hall, and that’s when Meetra felt the air shift. She almost missed it, but then she saw the change, how the air seemed to warp in front of her. Surprisingly, Atton seemed to notice the shift too. He raised his blasters. Kreia lifted her sword.

Meetra startled when a gray blur seemed to come out of nowhere. Then it fell at her feet, dead. She realized it was a person. No, a Sith . A Sith assassin, laying face down. The man was dressed in gray robes. In his hand was a double-sided blade. Two blaster bolt holes pierced his back, leaving the body smoking. Meetra looked at Atton with wide eyes, but he only returned her surprised look with a grim one.

“Thanks,” she breathed. She had no idea where he’d gotten such quick reflexes, but she’d be dead if it weren’t for him.

“Do not be so quick to thank the fool,” Kreia remarked. “I sense there are more assassins dwelling in here than we know.”

“That’s right,” someone sneered. The warped air in front of Meetra materialized into another man. He was dressed in black, a vibroblade in his fist. He looked young, younger than Meetra. For a brief moment pity panged through her. For someone so young to be on such a twisted path…She didn’t want to know what had caused him to pursue such a perverse road.

The Sith assassin raised his blade. “Lord Sion will have your—”

The assassin’s eyes went wide, a burn hole in his forehead, and he fell backwards with a sickening crack . The pang of metal echoed for a few seconds before silence replaced it. Meetra stared at Atton once more, who lowered his blasters. He shrugged at her look. “What?” he asked innocently. “He was going to try and kill us.” He shook his head to himself, muttering, “You two really are terrible Jedi.”

Meetra sighed to herself and guided them to the door leading to the crew quarters. There were four rooms, two on either side of the hall, and Meetra couldn’t help but pause when she came upon the far right door. 

“Are you all right?” came Kreia’s voice.

Meetra looked up at the old woman. “Yeah. It’s just…These were my quarters.”

“This was your room? When?” Atton asked.

Meetra stared at the door. “Before I lost consciousness and woke up on Peragus.”

“We do not have much time,” Kreia reminded her. “Whatever you intend to do, do it quickly.”

Meetra pressed a button on the wall panel and the door opened with a swish. Inside were two beds and a couch. She briefly remembered the right one being hers. She remembered the nights she lay awake, either due to her bunkmate’s snoring or her own racing thoughts. She’d been tracked down by the Republic, supposed to be brought in to some Republic officer per his request. But, obviously, she never made the journey. There was a footlocker at the foot of her bed, and she opened it, her breath hitching at the sight of her armband and datapad. Her datapad’s latest entry chilled her to the bone.

Meetra Surik, you are requested to report to the Harbinger Medical Bay for routine examination. The routine is automated: simply insert this datapad into the medical computer to receive your injections.

She’d been sedated. That’s why she’d been unconscious. Someone had injected her with sedatives instead of her normal injections. And if she had to take a guess, the HK droid would be her first suspect.

“You good?” Atton’s voice tore her from her thoughts.

She turned to face Atton and Kreia, the pair looking at her expectantly. Atton’s brow raised when she met his gaze. “Yeah,” she responded, even as her voice shook. The other brow raised as well. “I’ll explain later.” Not that it’d matter when later arrived. By then, Atton would be on some other planet while Meetra and Kreia traveled…somewhere. Because if the Sith posed such a viable threat, Meetra wanted to do her part. She might not be a Jedi anymore, but if she could do something, anything, then she wanted to.

Just like the Mandalorian Wars all over again…

She shook the thought from her mind, slipped on her armband, and pocketed the datapad. “Let’s just get out of here,” she murmured. No sooner had she said that and walked up to the next door did Kreia stop her by resting a hand on her arm.

“I sense…something on the other side. Remain on guard.”

Meetra raised her vibroblade as Atton opened the door. It opened with a quiet swish, and she immediately caught sight of two spaces where the air warped. Atton immediately opened fire, but the assassins raised their swords and dodged the bolts. Meetra lunged for one, the movements coming back to her as if they’d never left. As if she were still a Jedi in the Mandalorian Wars, weaving and bobbing between the Mandalorians, cutting them down like stalks of grass. She dodged a swipe of the sword and blocked the next swing, grunting as the Sith pressed on her with all his strength. Now distracted and exposed, Meetra heard the firing of blasters and nearly swore when a bolt whizzed past her ear, hitting the Sith in the face.

Kreia had taken care of the other assassin. Meetra nodded her gratitude to Atton and then led the two on. They went to the right, as she vaguely remembered it being the shortest way to the engine deck. Corpses littered the hall floors. Blood was splattered across the walls. The smell was so bad she nearly vomited.

But they made it to the turbolift with no other trouble. It took a few minutes to descend to the engine deck, but now they should have a fairly straight shot to the fuel depot. 

They were halfway down the hall when Atton snagged Meetra’s arm, jerking her to a stop. “What’s wrong?” she asked him.

“I just have a bad feeling about this.” He snatched his hand away from her as if she’d burnt him. “Don’t you feel it? Something’s going to get real wrong, real quick.” His eyes looked past her.

She didn’t question his intuition, and Kreia must have agreed with him because she didn’t either. Meetra could feel the wrongness in the air, but she didn’t know if that was because of the actual ship. Still, it almost felt as though someone was…

All three of them froze at the same time. The hairs on her arms stood on end, and she turned to see Atton and Kreia doing the same. Down the hall, from where they’d just come from, was the figure of a man. Meetra squinted, but couldn’t make out any details. Dread pooled in her gut, and alarm bells were going off in her head. The lights from where they’d come were flickering, sparks flying from some areas in the ceiling.

Then he started walking towards them. Slowly, deliberately. The man was cracked. His flesh was gray and decaying, barely held together by some unseen force. The smell of rot filled the corridor, so strong it triggered her gag reflex.

Then a grating, accented voice echoed off the walls. “I came to warn you, Jedi,” he announced monotonously. “You know not what path you walk.”

Kreia turned her head towards Meetra, as stoic as ever. “This battle is mine alone. I am not defenseless. He cannot kill what he cannot see, and power has blinded him long ago. Run. I shall be along shortly.” Then she turned and ran towards the stranger before either of them could protest, or even process, what was going on. The hall door closed behind her.

Meetra turned to Atton, only to see an equally bewildered look on his face. When he caught her looking, he blew out a breath. “You Jedi sure are crazy,” he joked.

She might’ve been crazy for going down into volatile mining tunnels with dozens of homicidal droids, but she was not as crazy as voluntarily approaching a Sith assassin. “We’re going to have to open the maintenance doors with a console.” She furrowed her brow and walked up to the door straight across from the way they came. “If I remember correctly, it should be in here.”

Atton got the door open. Inside were a bunch of footlockers, most of them already open and empty. The console was in the back corner, and Meetra let Atton handle that as well.

“There. Now we should have a straight shot?” he asked her.

She nodded. “We’ll still have to activate maintenance procedure, and the good news is that I doubt the assassins tampered with it, seeing as they wouldn’t be able to dock here otherwise.”

“Sounds easy enough.” He followed her down the left hall. “You know, you’re lucky I’m such a good slicer, otherwise we never would have made it this far.”

“Remind me to thank you when we actually get out of here,” she snorted.

The hall snaked to the left, and the passage led to one of the enormous ion engines. It was warm and dark, the engine humming nearly deafening. Further along they came across another engine. In an indention in the wall was the main ion engine console. It wasn’t damaged, so activating the maintenance procedure was simple enough. She could hear the sound of a door opening from further down the hall.

Relief washed over her when they arrived at the entrance to the fuel depot. “We’re here,” she breathed. At last . Her mind wandered to Kreia. Whoever that assassin was, he wasn’t anything like the ones they’d encountered in the halls, she suspected. Even so, Kreia should be able to handle herself, judging from the way she cut down the assassin with ease—

Screaming filled her mind. A sharp, burning sensation seared its way through her left hand and up her arm. The pain was so blinding Meetra fell to her knees, clutching her hand. It was still there, but it felt as though it’d been burned off. Tears pricked her eyes as she cried out from the pain.

Atton whirled around from his place in front of her. His eyes went wide. “Wh—what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

The pain moved up her arm and into her head. She could hear someone screaming, but she didn’t know if it was her or if it was all in her head. The walls of her mind seized and spasmed as the burning worked its way through her brain. She held her temple, the tears now streaming down her face.

Atton collapsed to his knees in front of her, grasping her shoulders and shaking her gently. “Dank farrik, hold on! It’s only a little farther. Don’t give up on me now!”

The screaming faded, as did the pain. She let out a shuddering breath and massaged her arm, the invisible wound still lingering. It was only a dull ache now, but she hissed at the sharpness that sprang when she touched her hand.

Meetra raised her eyes to Atton, trembling in his grasp. He was wide-eyed, panic swimming in his hazel gaze. The worry was even more pronounced by the purple rings lining his eyes. He ran his gaze over her body, not to leer, but to check for injuries. 

“What happened to you?” he demanded.

Her voice shook. “My hand…it felt like it was being sawed off with a hot blade.” She grasped her head with her right hand, scrunching her eyes closed as a headache buried into her skull. “There was screaming…”

His eyes snapped to hers. “ You were screaming.” 

Meetra took in a few deep breaths. She had no idea what was going on, but she had a feeling that it was related to Kreia. “Kreia…” she said softly. “I think she was wounded…badly.”

An emotion she didn’t know flashed across his face. “How do you know that?”

Meetra swallowed, massaging her temples. “I think…I think it was through the Force.”

He pursed his lips. “Look, if she’s in pain, then that pain’s buying us time we can’t afford to waste. Especially if Sleeps-With-Vibroblades gets tired of playing with her and decides to use us for practice.”

He was right. She knew he was. Still, now the doubts were creeping in. Kreia had seemed to handle herself just fine before, but now…

Meetra threw the thought from her mind. They had to keep moving. If Kreia was dead, she’d know it, through the Force or whatever it was that seemed to be between them.

Meetra nodded weakly. “All right. I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

Atton stood and offered her a hand that she took. Her left hand felt numb and tingly, but other than being a little shaken up she seemed to be fine. Meetra let out a shaky breath in a futile attempt to calm herself as Atton opened the hatch to the fuel depot. The door opened soundlessly, and up ahead was a pitch-black tunnel that seemed to stretch endlessly. She had no lamp, nothing electronic to light the way. A cold, eerie wind whistled out the mouth. The entrance was two people wide. Staring into the yawning darkness sent a shiver down her spine.

Atton appeared to square his shoulders, and he offered her his right arm. “I’ll keep my hand on the wall to guide us. Keep your sword out in front of you so we don’t run into any obstacles.”

Meetra grasped her sword in her right hand and looped her left around the crook of his elbow, all too aware of the way he seemed to tense under her touch. His puffed sleeves weren’t deceiving—he had the muscle to fill them. 

They left the hum of the engines behind, walking slowly and carefully. Their shoulders bumped into the other with each step, but neither said a word. Meetra kept the sword low to the ground and swept the area in front of her. Her arm burned from the effort, but she just grit her teeth and kept on. The only noise was the quiet clang of their boots and the sound of Atton’s hand sliding against the wall.

It seemed as though half an hour passed by before they came to any curve in the path, but all of a sudden Atton swore. She swiveled her head to look up at him, even though the effort was useless. She couldn’t even see her own hand if she waved it in front of her face.

“The wall ends. I think we’re at an intersection,” he said quietly. She heard the rustle of fabric as if he were moving his head. “Keep your sword up. See if there’s another wall in front of us.”

She did, and sure enough, the ring of metal indicated that they were at a three-way intersection. “So which way should we go?” she whispered.

“Do you sense anything?”

Meetra stilled, trying to reach for that jetstream of Force energy that surrounded them. As far as she could tell, there wasn’t anything around except for them. The only thing she could feel was the kernel of life in Atton.

“No.”

He was quiet for a moment, as if he were thinking. Then he tugged on her arm. “Come on. Let’s try this way.” Quietly, he added, “Hopefully this isn’t a dead end. Or a trap.”

She hummed in agreement. Atton pulled her towards the left. Meetra struggled to keep the sword lifted, her body beginning to want to sag from exhaustion. She prayed that it would all be over soon. All she wanted to do now was collapse onto a bunk and sleep for the rest of her life. She sighed softly. Just a little bit longer. And then—hopefully—we’ll all be safe and sound off this floating bomb.

“You okay?” Atton’s voice echoed quietly along the metal, startling her.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “If you want to trade off—”

The sword clanged against something, and it wasn’t a wall. Meetra removed her hand from Atton and stumbled forward, reaching out only to feel something round and metallic. She ran her hands down the object and realized it was a droid.

“It’s a droid!” she exclaimed. It must have been T3. She felt Atton kneel down beside her, his hand accidentally brushing hers as he did the same.

“A utility droid. Must have been hit with an ion charge and then was dumped here.” The sound of metal and plastic filled the corridor, and she could only guess that he was fiddling with it. “I think I can get it working—”

The droid’s ocular port lit up with a faint blue glow. Meetra felt the energy inside it pulse to life, and the droid whirred backwards as if startled, giving off a series of strangled beeps.

“T3?” Meetra inquired. 

A light blinded her, emanating from the droid. Atton and Meetra hissed, covering their eyes. Atton swore from beside her.

“Dank farrik, droid, stop zapping me!”

“T3! T3, it’s me! I was on the comm!” Meetra yelled, shoving him away before he could shock Atton again. T3’s light focused on her and he gave out an excited whistle, lunging for her. He buried his ocular port into her leg as if he was trying to hug her.

She let out a disbelieving laugh. “I don’t believe it. Are you all right?”

“Dee…reet. Dee…eet?” T3 rolled backwards and directed his light to the ground so that it didn’t blind them.

Meetra snorted. “I know. We ran into the ‘protocol droid’ earlier. He attacked us, too.”

T3 made a somber noise, his head looking down as if ashamed. Meetra twisted her lips to the side. “Don’t blame yourself. If you hadn’t gotten us out of the administration level, we’d have never made it this far.”

“I helped too, you know,” Atton grumbled. He sat on his rear, forearms resting on his knees. T3 wheeled over and zapped him once. “Hey! What was that for?”

T3 chittered in laughter, dodging the man’s attempt to swat at him. Meetra couldn’t help herself. She chuckled for the first time in who knew how long. But the laughter died when she was reminded of their dire situation. Meetra stood from her crouch.

“Come on, you two. We have to hurry. T3, you think you could light the way?” she asked as she helped Atton stand.

T3 whistled in affirmation and swiveled around, the light sweeping back and forth as he seemed to determine where they should go next. Meetra gazed down the hall, towards where they’d been walking and realized it was a dead end. Atton followed her gaze. 

“I guess we go back the way we came.” It wasn’t a question. Meetra nodded in affirmation.

The chill of the corridor was back without Atton’s warmth, but Meetra focused on T3, on his light that illuminated the tunnel for them. They passed the intersection, and Meetra only spared a glance at the light at the end before turning her eyes ahead. 

The trio wandered for what felt like an hour. Meetra tried to distract herself from the exhaustion wanting to claim her mind and body. T3 whistled excitedly, and Meetra looked up to see what appeared to be a door. Thank the Maker . But suddenly T3 stopped in his tracks. His domed head swiveled to her and he let out a series of beeps.

“A sonic mine?” Atton repeated. “Where?”

T3 shined his light on the floor in front of him, and sure enough there was a small, flat charge on the floor. 

Meetra glanced at Atton. “I’m sure you can handle this?” she inquired.

He met her gaze, narrowing an eye. “What, because I’m a scoundrel?” Her eyes bugged, and he huffed out a single, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I heard that snarky little bit you muttered under your breath when we first met.”

Meetra pulled her shoulders back, trying to will the flush in her cheeks to subside. Instead of blubbering like a fool, she managed to smoothly say “So you’re admitting to being one?”

“Nope.” Atton took the vibroblade despite her protest. He passed T3 and then paused, looking back at her, a coy smile stretching his face. “If you needed help, all you had to do was ask.” He lifted the sword above his head.

T3 beeped in alarm and bumped into Meetra’s leg repeatedly as if trying to nudge her out of the way. Meetra allowed the droid to direct her further down the hall as Atton brought the sword down on the mine, splintering it in two. Meetra gaped at him. If that thing had detonated, they’d all be deaf. Or worse.

“I thought you were good at that!” she exclaimed.

Atton handed her the vibroblade. “ I never said that, although I appreciate the non-compliment.” T3 buzzed him. “Cut it out, you pile of scrap!” He huffed. “Anyway, if you’re so adamant about knowing how I did this or how I know that, you’re more than welcome to ask when we get out of here.”

Meetra glowered at him, but he just ignored her, moving to open the exit door. It opened without protest, and Atton braced his blaster, peering around the corners. Meetra couldn’t sense anything, and poking her head out the door confirmed that there was nothing waiting for them on the other side.

She eyed his blaster as he holstered it. “You might want to refrain from using that if you can.”

Atton peered down at her from the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry, I’m not nearly as trigger-happy as you might believe.”

Meetra took out her mining laser and offered it to him. “Thanks for the reassurance, but here’s a mining laser just in case things get messy.”

Atton gave it a sour look. “That thing couldn’t pierce plastoid at point-blank range.”

She looked at him with flat eyes. “Then how did all the miners end up dead?”

He pursed his lips, eyeing her, and then he gave her a shrug. “You tell me. You were talking to that protocol droid as if it was its fault.”

“It was.”

T3 shuffled ahead of them, beeping and urging them on. Meetra followed the astromech down the corridor to the right of the exit door. The ceiling was high above, and Meetra realized that they were in the lower part of where she’d been with HK. There were no mining droids, broken or otherwise.

Atton kept by her side. She could feel his attention on her as T3 led them around a corner. “Then who’s to say that you aren’t responsible for all of this after all?”

Meetra didn’t look at him. “The same should go for you, then, shouldn’t it?”

He made some kind of dismissive gesture that she couldn’t see from the corner of her eye. “All I’m saying is that this whole situation is awfully suspicious.”

“It is,” she admitted reluctantly. “The HK wasn’t actually mine. I wasn’t lying about that.”

Atton was silent for a moment as T3 led them through doors that let them cross over an exhaust port. “What about the other Jedi? Was he hers?”

Meetra’s head snapped up. “What makes you think it’s hers?” She ran through all their interactions. “And what makes you think she’s a Jedi?”

He gave her a look that said Are you serious? “She’s weird. She acts weird, and she talks weird. And she has a Core accent. She even has the weird clothing you Jedi wear.”

Do I really act and talk weird? But she shook the thought from her mind. “I’m not a Jedi,” Meetra murmured to herself, but he heard it all the same.

“Then what are you really?” They stood there and waited for T3 to open another set of doors. His staring was starting to make her squirm.

All of a sudden he said, “Are you an angel?”

Meetra’s head whipped towards him and her face flared red. “Excuse me?” she blurted incredulously.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he snorted. Even so, his own face was flushed. “I have much better lines than that. That one would be the worst I’d ever used.” His words were rushed and flustered. He took a short, deep breath. “What I really mean is, if you aren’t a Jedi, then what are you? There’s nothing else that I could think of that would show up on such a backwater place where unexplainable coincidences occur.”

Meetra was still staring at him, wide-eyed. She didn’t know what else to say or even how to respond, either because of what he’d called her or because he had a point. No, she wasn’t a Jedi. But she couldn’t help but acknowledge that everything that was happening was unexplainable. The Force had always worked in mysterious ways, but after what happened at Malachor…She thought that the Force was done with her.

T3 beeped that he was going up the ramp to access the Emergency Field Station, leaving Atton and Meetra alone at the bottom. She stared at her feet and fiddled with the vibroblade. But, naturally, Atton had to fill the silence.

“So, who’s the old lady?” His arms were crossed as he stared up the ramp. 

“Kreia?” Meetra glanced at him. She shook her head. She wished she knew. “I…don’t know.”

His eyes swiveled to hers. “So you’ve befriended a suspicious old lady out of the blue who may or may not be a Jedi?”

“I haven’t befriended anybody,” Meetra retorted. “This is a temporary alliance between the three— four —of us. Don’t worry, Rand. As soon as we’re out of here we’ll dump you off first.”

Atton shot her a glaring look. “Fine by me, Surik ,” he said sardonically. “Sorry for being such a pest.”

Regret roiled through her. She shouldn’t have snapped at him. This place was keeping her on edge. Meetra held her arm and stared at the sword in her hand. She opened her mouth to apologize, but T3 rolled down the ramp and let loose a string of foul words.

“Slow down, T3,” Meetra soothed. The droid warbled something. “All charges have to be removed from the fuel station?” Her gaze drifted to a set of doors leading into the fuel lines. He beeped in affirmation. “All right.”

T3 opened the door to the fuel line. Atton reached for her sword, but T3 zapped him before he could even get close to it. He squawked aggressively at the man as if reprimanding him.

“Ow!” Atton kicked at T3. “Droid, I swear, if you do that again—”

“I don’t think he likes you,” Meetra deadpanned, trying to hide her smile behind a hand.

“That makes two of you.” 

Her smile fell. His gaze was heated and moody; frustration swam in those eyes for a brief moment before his face went blank again. She didn’t know how long they locked eyes, but he dragged his away and glared down at T3. “Can you disable them or not?”

The astromech whistled and wheeled up to a mine she couldn’t see. She couldn’t see what he was doing but a moment later he launched the disabled mine over the railing. Meetra blinked at the droid, who only chittered in laughter. She hoped he wasn’t programmed to be sadistic like the HK was.

The door in front of them opened up on its own accord, revealing a fairly open room. Blaster bolts whizzed past them. T3 shrieked and made to close the door as a towering mining droid stomped over. Atton swore from beside her, and the two ducked to the side to avoid the blaster fire. The door wooshed down, but right before it could touch the ground a mechanical hand slipped underneath and wrenched the door open. T3 backed out the way they came while Meetra lifted the vibroblade to slice off its arm. 

Faster than she could blink, it ripped the blade out of her hand. Something wrenched her backwards before she could even attempt to get it back as the mining droid reached out and delivered a gut-punch to Atton. He doubled over, coughing up blood. Meetra ripped a blaster out of his holster just as the droid grabbed her by wrist and threw her behind it hard enough that she slid all the way to the wall. She was dazed as the back of her head hit the ground, but she stumbled upright as quick as she could and fired off a couple of shots.

Shots that ricocheted off its armor. She glanced down at the weapon and realized she’d grabbed the mining laser instead of a blaster. Panic raced through her, her heart pounding so hard it nearly burst. But the shots got the droid’s attention. If Atton was going to be out of it, she’d have to buy enough time and get back to the sword.

Meetra backed up as it lumbered towards her, her limbs trembling. Her vision swam, and her balance teetered, but she kept upright long enough to draw it completely away from the door. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep conscious with the way her head was feeling.

The mining droid lifted its arm to fire, but nothing came out save for sparks. She could only guess it had been damaged from trying to open the door, but her relief was short-lived when it raised its other arm to swing. 

Meetra thought she’d judged the swing right, ducking to dodge it, but its arm connected with her chest, sending her back against the wall. If she hadn’t seen stars before, she was certainly seeing them now. 

She could only slump against the wall and watch as the droid approached, her mind barely even processing what was happening. 

The droid suddenly paused as if it’d heard something. Before it could even turn its head a blade ran through its chest. The droid shuddered, its ocular lights blinking, but then the blade disappeared and returned to sever its head from its body. The droid collapsed to reveal Atton bracing the sword in his hands. Blood trickled from the corner of his open mouth as he breathed heavily, staring down at her.

Atton dropped the sword and wiped the blood from his mouth, turning to look behind him as T3 wheeled up to them. “Thanks for the help.” She guessed he tried to say it sarcastically, but he was breathing so hard he could barely get the words out in the first place.

T3 ignored him and came up to her. He was nothing more than a gray blur with a blue circle. The light glowing from it caused her to squint, even though she vaguely remembered it not being that bright. T3’s head disk shifted, as if he was analyzing her. He then turned and looked at Atton, letting out a dwoo. 

She distantly heard him say concussion? as he walked to her, crouching down. Meetra briefly wondered if he’d just leave her there and be on his way. After all, he wouldn’t need her going forth. They were almost to the hangar.

His eyes roved over her, his face a pale blur save for the dark locks of hair atop his head. Where’s the medpacs? she thought she heard him say, but his voice was muffled.

Her lips parted. Wheezing, she said, “Pouch.”

Her vision was going in and out, but she felt him rifling around her belt and pouch. He took out something, and she expected him to pocket it and leave, but then something pinched her arm.

Her ears rang as the sounds around her became less muffled and distant. Her eyes focused, surprise widening them as Atton stood and refused to look at her. Warmth and coolness rushed through her body as the healing stim did its work, mending whatever injuries she’d endured from the mining droid. 

She let herself steady before attempting to get up. T3 wheeled over, and Meetra used the top of his head to push up. Atton grabbed her other arm and hoisted her to stand. “Thanks,” she mumbled to both of them.

Meetra fiddled with her pouch and took out another stim. It was the last one. She had kolto spray and synthflesh, but if they sustained any more severe internal injuries, it’d probably be a while before they could get medical assistance. Unless they backtracked all the way back to the kolto tank she’d awakened in, but going back that far probably wasn’t the best idea.

Meetra handed the stim to Atton, but he just shook his head. “I’m all right.”

She gave him a flat look. “You got punched in the gut by a mining droid and now you’re bleeding out of your mouth.”

“Trust me, I’m fine.”

Exasperated, Meetra gestured for him to take it. “If we run into more trouble, I’m going to need you functional.”

“ Functional? ” he asked incredulously, his brows shooting up. “So I’m a droid now?”

“You know what I meant,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Just take the kriffing stim.”

“We might need it later.”

“You need it now .”

They stared at each other for a long moment, trying to make the other back down. Growing tired of the stand-off, Meetra closed the distance between them and jabbed it into his bicep before he could protest further. Not that he made much of an effort to move away from her in the first place. 

They should be fine to continue, but Meetra had a feeling that as soon as they got off this rock, she’d be in a coma for a few standard days due to sheer exhaustion. She hadn’t been hungry or thirsty, but she had a feeling that all those pangs would catch up to her soon enough as well. 

T3 gave out a few boops, chattering absentmindedly about the Emergency Field Station computer. Atton and Meetra followed him up the ramp after she grabbed her sword and watched as he inserted his scomp link. A few rotations later and the glowing force fields further up the ramp wavered before vanishing.

Continuing up the ramp left Meetra’s calves burning. Her limbs and eyes felt so heavy. She was tempted to fish out an adrenal stim, but T3’s chittering confirmed that the entrance to the hangar bay was to the right of the force field entrance. The corridor was straight and short—thank the Maker —but the trek seemed to take forever, and her steps felt so weighted and slow. We’re almost there , she reminded herself. Her eyes began to burn as tears tried to push their way through. We’re almost there .

The three boarded the turbolift, silent on the way down. If they ran into any more kriffing mining droids, Meetra might just drop dead of sheer shock and disbelief. She begged, begged , the Force that there weren’t any more droids. Especially since she was so tired. She couldn’t even sense T3 right next to her. She hadn’t even been able to sense the mining droid waiting on the other side of the fuel line door.

She felt the turbolift slow and shudder to a stop. The door opened to a small room with nothing but a few empty crates. There was an open footlocker to their right, but it was empty as well. The next room was closed off save for the left hall. 

And one of those bipedal mining droids.

It whirled towards them, letting off a few shots. One grazed her arm and her side, another burying itself into her thigh, leaving her to swear and seeth in pain. She heard Atton do the same, while T3 let out all kinds of alarmed noises. The droid didn’t even stop firing when they ducked back around the corner.

“Are you all right?” Atton said over the blaster fire.

“Never better,” she growled to herself. “You?” A glance at him showed that a bolt had grazed his right cheek, and he was clutching his stomach, a blaster in his free hand.

Meetra tried to peek around the corner, but one bolt burned the bridge of her nose. She instinctively clutched it, ducking back to the safety of cover. This droid didn’t stop firing, not even to cool its blaster—

She was in the middle of coming up with a plan when T3 rocketed past them and around the corner, shrieking a war cry so shrill it made her ears ring. Meetra watched, slack-jawed, as the astromech launched an ion grenade from an open compartment in his head at the mining droid. Electricity danced along the outside of the mining droid’s body, and then it fell over with a sizzle.

She gave out a laugh in disbelief, turning her wide eyes to Atton, who was wearing the same expression. T3 assured them that the coast was clear, and Meetra hobbled over to him and patted his flat dome affectionately. “Thank you.” He whistled cheerfully in response.

“Where did you even get that from?” Atton asked him.

T3 chattered about finding it behind one of the crates. Meetra shook her head with a smile. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

Now she really did feel like crying. The long window to their right revealed a small freighter that she assumed was the Ebon Hawk . It was so close. So kriffing close . 

T3 whistled excitedly when they came to the control room, speaking so fast she could barely make out anything he was saying.

“Hey, slow down.” T3 gibbered at her. “The console?”

Atton came to stand next to her. “What is that piece of junk saying?”

Meetra glanced at the computer and then at him. “He said he can open the door to the hangar. He just needs to access the hangar terminal up on the platform.”

Atton gave her a peculiar look. “How can you even understand all that noise? Especially when it’s talking so fast?”

“I served with a lot of utility droids in the…well, many years ago.” She shook her head. “I’ll explain some day when we’re not being chased by a hundred or more stealthed Sith killers.”

He didn’t respond. She could tell that he was just as tired as she was. Even T3 seemed eager to leave as quickly as possible. The astromech zoomed up to the computer and inserted his scomp. Meetra expected it to take longer, but T3 wheeled up to them not even a minute later. One of the doors to the side opened, and T3 hurried ahead, urging them on with a series of upbeat beeps.

And then he just as soon stopped at the sight of standing mining droids.

Meetra was starting to get tired of all these inconvenient surprises. She held up her sword and charged ahead, sidestepping the droid’s attempt to swing at her. She let instinct take over as she brought the blade up to slice off its head. Meetra twirled around the falling droid on to the next one, using the vibroblade to block an attempt to hit her. She spun underneath its arm and ran its chassis through. 

Her body protested every single movement. Her arms nearly gave out from blocking each swing. Her legs buckled on more than one occasion as she weaved and bobbed through the droids, clearing a path for Atton and T3. And hopefully Kreia, if the woman had even survived her encounter with the decaying man. Because if she had to spend a second longer in this facility, she was going to lose it .

She channeled that frustration and anger into her movements, letting it fuel her strength and resolve. By the time she crossed down the hall, by the time she left behind a trail of broken droids, Meetra braced a hand against the wall and let herself breathe. Her limbs burned, and her strength waned. But she took out an adrenal stim and jabbed it into her leg. 

Atton and T3 caught up to her without saying anything, so they carried on in understanding silence. Those kriffing droids were all down the halls, all down the path towards the decontamination unit. But they fell to either Meetra’s blade or Atton’s blaster.

She was light headed from breathing so hard, and she braced her hands on the decontamination console while T3 rerouted the computer to shut down the system. When she felt some amount of energy, she took out another adrenal and injected it into her thigh.

Atton was looking at her. “Make sure you don’t take too many of those.”

Meetra only tossed him one in response. He didn’t comment anything else as he jabbed it into his bicep.

They went through the short tunnel system and came across a small storage room. T3 opened the next door and Meetra nearly cried out at the sight of the Ebon Hawk . Mercifully, the loading ramp was already down.

She hadn’t noticed the warped figures following her. Sith assassins materialized out of thin air. T3 scooted up the ramp as fast as he could, Meetra right behind while Atton provided cover fire. Once they were inside, he hit the control and the ramp closed faster than she ever thought a ramp could or should. Stalking past her, Atton barked, “Sit down and buckle up. I don’t know how long it’ll take this ship to warm up.”

Meetra struggled to keep up with his long strides. “What about Kreia?”

“I’m here.”

They were in what she assumed was the main hold, and on the couch was Kreia. 

Surprise and concern spiked through her all at once. Atton didn’t bother to stick around, heading to the right towards the cockpit. Meetra glanced over Kreia and noticed that her left hand was nothing more than a stump. “Kreia…Your hand. What happened?”

“There is no time,” Kreia said coolly. Her lips were downturned in what Meetra could only understand to be an expression of discontempt. The ship lurched and the engines’ hum grew to a roar as they lifted into the air. A few seconds later, the Ebon Hawk jerked again, and the force of acceleration caused Meetra to stumble into the wall. 

“Stay here,” she told Kreia, but the old woman just sat in stillness and silence. Meetra hurried towards the cockpit, where Atton was seated in the pilot’s seat, swearing profusely. T3 was next to him, squawking in alarm. “If they hit us, we’re dead! But if they keep missing us, we’re dead! That’s great odds.”

T3 shrieked in agreement.

“Somebody shut that trash compactor up!” he snapped over his shoulder.

Meetra grasped onto the back of the pilot’s seat as an explosion caused the ship to lurch. “Can you fly this ship or not?” she snarled. 

“What in space do you think I’m trying to do?” he shouted in response. Atton jerked the steering throttle, sending the ship careening to the left as a piece of asteroid exploded beside them. “I'm doing all I can, and that's not enough. What did you do to make these guys so mad?” Another boom rocked the ship. “Now either they hit us and destroy us, or they hit an asteroid and make the whole field go nova.”

Meetra stared out the viewport, her mind and heart racing as panic seeped through her veins. All things considered, he was doing a good job navigating them through the asteroid field. She guessed he’d already uploaded the orbital drift charts. She took the copilot’s seat and strapped in. “Just do your best to keep your distance. We’ll get out of this.”

His head whipped towards her, and she was struck to see the fear written all over his face and in his eyes. But the contact was brief and he turned his gaze back to the viewport. “We’ll get out of this,” she reassured herself quietly, ignoring the rapid thumping of her heart.

“What of the asteroids?” came Kreia’s voice from behind. “They can be destroyed by us as well as them, can they not?”

Meetra shook her head and opened her mouth, but Atton beat her to it. “That’ll take out the whole field, the colony, and maybe us. We might not even be able to jump to hyperspace in time.”

“Then we die here. Choose now.”

“ Dwooo, ” said T3.

She doubted there were any survivors inside the facility, but blasting at the asteroids could cause them to blow up along with the Sith. Then what good would their efforts have been?

“There’s got to be another way. Keep evading them until we clear the field, and then we’ll try to jump to hyperspace.”

“Then you all need to hold on. This is going to get a little rocky.”

She snorted to herself as Atton continued to veer around asteroids. There seemed to be a clearing up ahead that led to open space. The ship jostled and jumped, and Meetra wondered how much more tossing it could take. 

All of a sudden the ship shuddered and rocketed forward. “What was that?” Meetra asked, panic lacing her voice.

“That,” Atton said, meeting her gaze, “would be Peragus exploding.”

She shuddered, but his face remained blank as he pulled a throttle back. The stars stretched and glowed as they launched into hyperspace. Meetra sank into the back of her seat with a shuddering exhale, trying to let the fear and adrenaline dissipate. A headache burrowed into her skull. How long had it been since she’d sat down for more than a few minutes? Now that she was in a chair, however uncomfortable, her eyes wanted to close so bad…

Atton stood abruptly. Meetra watched him straighten and face the both of them with crossed arms, and leaned his hip against the side of a console. “Well,” he sniffed, “now that we were involved in the killing of a planet, maybe one of you can tell me what’s going on.” He stood up straight and took turns glaring at the both of them, his fists clenching. “Because between assassin droids, a Sith Lord that looks like he sleeps with vibroblades, and being target practice for a Republic warship, I was better off in my cell.”

Meetra wanted nothing more than to tell them that they should all just sleep on it before they talked, but Kreia beat her to it. 

“The Republic warship was the Harbinger . It was seized on its way to Telos by the Sith.” Kreia’s eyes were hidden by her hood, but she still turned to Meetra. “They sought you, Jedi.”

She knew that a Republic officer had requested her presence, but she had no idea where they were headed. She hadn’t been on the ship long enough to find out. “The Harbinger was on its way to Telos?”

“Yes...to aid in the recovery effort there. Many roads lead to Telos—including ours.

Atton glanced at the console. “Not like we have much of a choice, the Peragus astrogation charts being what they are.”

“It is where we must go...and where the Harbinger was bound before our unfortunate encounter on Peragus.”

Meetra narrowed her eyes at the old woman. “How did you know I was on board the Harbinger?”

Kreia appeared to take in a breath. “You were difficult to find, but... coincidence was on our side. When I learned that you were on the vessel, I knew the Sith would not be far behind. When we intercepted the Harbinger , it was crippled, drifting in space. It was a simple matter to board the vessel and rescue you. Unknown to me, however, the Sith were already on board. Just as we made the jump to hyperspace, they fired upon us, nearly destroying the Ebon Hawk .”

“How come I don't remember any of this?”

Kreia didn’t shrug, despite her words. “Whatever occurred on board the Harbinger had rendered you unconscious. Though your thoughts were faint, I was still able to find you... sealed in one of the cargo holds.”

“That's an unusual set of coincidences,” Meetra said. The Force isn’t done with me after all.

“True—but as one trained in the Force, you know that true coincidences are rare.”

“How did we get to Peragus?”

“I do not know how the Ebon Hawk was able to make it to Pe—”

T3 beeped excitedly, shaking like a leaf.

“Be silent! We're having a conversation here,” Kreia snapped.

T3 looked to Meetra, whistling. “He says he repaired the ship and got us to Peragus.”

Atton snorted. “Repaired this ship, my eye. Next thing you know it's going to claim credit for saving our skins. If that little noise maker says it repaired the ship once, then it can prove it by doing it again. Go on, get!”

T3 let out a dwoo and wheeled out of the cockpit. Meetra gave Atton a sharp look. “He did save our skins. More than once, actually.”

Atton lifted a brow. “Oh, really?”

She gave the direction T3 disappeared to a meaningful look. “Yeah. He opened up the Emergency Hatch and destroyed one of those mining droids.”

Atton opened and then closed his mouth. Soaking in her words, he finally scowled without another word.

Meetra turned back to Kreia. “So why are these Sith looking for me?”

“Because you are the last of the Jedi. Once you are dead, then they have won.”

The last of the Jedi . The words placed an unbearable weight on her shoulders. All of them, gone? All of them? She had friends in the Order. Her home was the Order. She’d been exiled from ever contacting them again, but the realization that she’d never again be able to speak to those she once knew even if she wanted to…

She tried to blink back the tears, push down the sudden rush of emotion, but she felt one drip down her cheek, stinging wounds she’d forgotten were there. Meetra sniffed and wiped her eyes with a sleeve, ignoring their stares. “I am not a Jedi, not any longer.”

“Whatever lies you tell yourself are of no consequence. The Sith believe you to be a Jedi Knight, and that is all that matters.”

Her voice cracked as she said, “What happened to them?”

“The Jedi Civil War destroyed the Jedi. By the war's end, barely a hundred Jedi remained. Many fell in battle...and many more were seduced by Revan's teachings.”

Revan…Revan had been her friend. She remembered all the Jedi that fell after Malachor, the ones that joined Revan in her Sith ways. Meetra hadn’t wanted any part of it, knowing what would probably happen, but hearing that the Jedi were destroyed because of it, because of someone she once thought of as a friend…Her gut roiled.

“What about those who survived?” Her voice was nothing more than a croak.

Kreia, however, was as calm and indifferent as ever. “Many Jedi blamed the teachings of the Jedi Masters for Revan's fall...and the civil war that followed. The Jedi Academy on Dantooine is nothing more than a crater that echoes with the ghosts of dead Jedi. And the Jedi Temple on Coruscant lies empty. The waters in the Room of a Thousand Fountains have fallen still, in reverence to the fallen Jedi...and those now lost.”

Her mind wandered back to the Dantooine Academy. It was—had been—her home. She remembered the wind snaking through the grass on the plains, the hum of the Force through all the plants, animals, and people around her. The wisps of the Force energy that traveled through the breeze and caressed her face, the way it rang as it collided with the Force energy that the grass emitted. 

Her home planet. Her people. All gone. 

Meetra sat up straight and cleared her throat, staring at everything except for the other two people in the cockpit. “Well, we got away from the Sith. Now how do we stop them?”

Kreia seemed to hesitate. “That…is not an easy question to answer. This threat is greater than you know…and I do not believe it is a battle that can be fought.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

Atton waved his hand. “Look—enough with the ‘we,’ already.”

She couldn’t see Kreia’s eyes, but she could feel the heat of the old woman’s glare towards him. Her tone was deliberate. “We cannot hope to triumph against them alone. To stop them, you will need weapons, allies, and…a teacher. In the end, I fear it may not be enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“You fought in the Mandalorian Wars, and it cost you everything. Are you willing to sacrifice as much again?”

A stab of irritation spiked her. She tried to keep her voice calm. “The Mandalorian Wars were my choice,” she said slowly. This time she looked at Atton, but he only looked bored. “If evil is not fought, then we sacrifice the galaxy.”

Kreia let out a huff-snort, as if she was irritatedly amused. “Your fool's words echo of a Jedi—you have much to learn.” But then she let out an audible sigh. “But we have spoken long enough—and my wound pains me. If you have other questions, find me in the crew quarters...there, we will speak more.”

Atton gave Kreia a coy smile, his arms crossed. “Hey, don't stop your long, boring rants on my account. I was just getting sleepy-eyed.”

“Also, in private, we will be mercifully free from the opinions of imbeciles and fools,” Kreia jeered as she left the cockpit.

Meetra slumped back against her seat before standing up. The crew quarters…Maybe she’d be able to finally get some much needed rest—

Atton snagged her arm before she could leave. “I know why you’re going to leave here, since you, you know, look like you haven’t slept in days, but, look, uh, not like I care or anything, but you might want to go check on our passenger—especially with that hand of hers.”

Meetra considered him for a moment, her eyes roving over his own exhausted features: his tired, hazel eyes; the purple bags; the sunken cheeks; the five o’clock stubble coating his jaw. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and the blaster bolt burn on his cheek still looked raw. Dried blood crusted around his mouth and on his chin.

To her surprise, he flinched under her studious gaze, but she pretended not to notice. He let go of her arm. “You're right, she may need help—can you handle things up here?” she asked as she took out a bottle of kolto spray and offered it to him.

He nodded, taking it. “We're on autopilot until we hit Telos. Until then, a droid could fly this thing. Besides, I think our passenger could use your help.”

She looked up at him. “Is there another reason why?”

He shrugged. “I think she was barely keeping it together—I'm surprised she's able to stand with all that pain rolling off of her.”

Meetra went through all her interactions with Kreia over in her head. “What are you talking about?”

Atton gave her an incredulous look. “Are you blind? If I were her, I'd be screaming like a stuck mynock.” He paused, blinking once as he processed his own words. “Well, I mean a very strong, manly mynock.” He shook his head. “But that’s beside the point. I think she's just too proud to show any weakness...especially in front of you.”

Meetra frowned. “That's odd.”

He raised his brows. “Is it? In case you hadn't noticed, she won't say two words to me, but she'll talk your ear off any chance she gets. What you think matters to her...a lot. She wants you to respect her. Besides, we haven't got much else to do until Telos.”

She gave him a small smirk. “When did you get sensitive?”

Atton rolled his eyes. “Oh, don't give me that. All it takes is being around people enough to read them. You should try it sometime.”

“All right. I’ll go check on her, then.” Meetra turned to leave, but Atton opened his mouth again.

“Hey, and seriously—again, not like I care or anything—but you should really get some sleep.”

Meetra gave him a reassuring smile. “Same for you.”

Chapter Text

Despite her exhaustion, sleep did not come easy. And when it finally did, she dreamed of the orange eyes of the HK gleaming in delight as he ordered the mining droids and Sith assassins to kill her. She dreamed of the smoking, bloody corpses of Atton and Kreia. And then she’d dreamed of the war, of the waves of Mandalorians assaulting her forces, cutting down her allies as if they were nothing more than stalks of grass. She woke multiple times drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. Eventually she gave up on trying to go back to sleep.

Meetra sat up in the bed. It was far from the most comfortable thing, but it was tolerable. She was sore, so much more sore than she’d hoped or expected. Standing was a chore, her legs buckling with each step. She used the wall to help her leave the starboard crew quarters. She headed for the cargo hold first and fished through supply cylinders, thanking the Force that there were rations, canteens, and extra pairs of clothes.

The only refresher in the ship was in the medbay, so she took the opportunity to take a shower and wash the blood and grime off of her. Meetra cringed at the smell of her mining uniform and disposed of it in the trash, changing into a fresh pair of pants and a somewhat clean smelling short-sleeve shirt. Both were two sizes too big, so she used a belt from the container to keep the pants from falling off her hips.

Meetra sat on the couch in the main hold and ate and drank what she hesitantly called breakfast. She mulled over the events of the previous day. The last Jedi rang through her head as she screwed the lid back on a canteen. It was such a sobering thought, to be the known last being of a people. She hadn’t even gotten to mourn before she slept. Her mind and body were so tired already. Even as the thoughts crossed her mind, burning tears pushed their way through her eyes. She shoved down the emotions. There would be time to mourn in private. But it was not now. Now she needed to find a way to stop the Sith and reconnect with the Force. 

The ship itself was nothing too impressive. The air was stale, and it could use a good scrubbing on both the inside and outside. Still, it was good enough for the time being. She stopped by the cargo hold to grab some more ration bars and canteens, and then she headed for the port side crew quarters, where Kreia had made her resting place. Despite herself, she wondered if Atton had slept in the cockpit. 

The woman was sitting on the floor, still as durasteel.  Recalling Atton’s words, she evaluated her, but she didn’t appear to be in pain. Was he—? But she shook her head. He seemed to have a strong sense of intuition and perception. Not every strange or unexplainable thing was related to the Force.

“Have you come for more answers?” Kreia asked. Meetra lowered herself to the floor in front of her, and Kreia lifted her head. “There is little left to give.”

“Yes and no,” she admitted. “I thought we should talk about…various things.” She offered the elder a ration bar and canteen. Kreia took them and laid them on the floor next to her. “Our bond may be a good place to start.” Her eye flicked to the stump on Kreia’s left arm. As if sensing her gaze, Kreia covered it with her other hand. “Your hand…is there anything I can do? I can go grab a medpac if you’d like.”

“This wound is a physical thing, and will fade with time. It was necessary…Some things may only be learned from sacrifice.”

Meetra tilted her head at Kreia and then stared at her own hands in her lap. “When you lost your hand...I felt it, too.”

“That does not surprise me—any more than you hearing my thoughts when we were apart. The pain, however, was unexpected; if I could, I would have shielded you from it.”

“I-I'm sorry for your loss.”

Kreia shook her head. “Save your pity. I am here to save you, not the other way around.”

“But what if you had died?” Meetra suddenly asked. She tried to recall the information on the bonds between masters and their padawans, but she never recalled them being this intense, this…strong. Meetra herself had never experienced such a thing except for a small spark from a padawan she had left behind to go serve in the Mandalorian Wars. She had intended to return and train him. At least, before she’d lost her connection to the Force and was exiled from the Jedi Order.

“I do not know. I fear that the consequences would have been more extreme.”

“Like what consequences? Death?”

“Possibly, yes, and I fear it works both ways. I would not wish to test it…nor should you.”

She definitely didn’t want to either. The thought made her shudder. “Then we'll work together and try to be careful until we can fix this.”

“When battle is upon us, I suspect our minds are prepared enough to shield each other from the pain. I think we shall not have a repeat incident of what happened at Peragus.”

Hopefully. “I have never heard of a link like this before, in holocrons, or in the Jedi histories.”

Kreia let out a small sigh. “I confess its nature eludes me as well. But the bond is strong, and its roots run deep.” She was silent for a moment. Then, “It seems the Force flows easily between us—when one of us manipulates the Force to heal or strengthen ourselves, the other is aided as well. A powerful technique indeed—though, as we have noticed, it has its drawbacks.”

Meetra nodded absentmindedly, turning the information over in her head. “So what do we do now?”

“I do not know,” Kreia admitted. “The Sith struck more swiftly than I thought. And they will not stop until they have you in their grasp. If you fall, all the galaxy will echo it.”

Her heart thumped. “But there must be some place we can go.”

“It does not matter where we go,” she said matter-of-factly. “It is not the destination that matters, it is the journey. All paths will take us to the end, whatever it may be, and no matter how strongly we fight against it. For now, we are bound for Telos, and that is enough.”

The thumping became harder. “Enough for what?”

“Before the war, Jedi who failed their training were sent to the fields of Telos, to serve the galaxy...not as Jedi Knights, but as farmers and laborers. The destruction of Telos was complete—I doubt any Jedi remain. Yet there may be...echoes of their passing. We shall see.”

Judging from everything that Kreia had said, she doubted they had the time to try and scour an entire planet for anything related to the Jedi. “And what if we don’t find any trace of Jedi teachings on Telos to help us?”

Kreia took in a deep breath, the only obvious movement of her body. “Then I am left with nothing more than we had already—my faith in you, and your ability to meet what comes.”

Why me? “I haven’t been able to feel the Force for ten years.” She cleared her throat. “When we were on Peragus, I could feel the Force again.”

Meetra imagined that if she could see Kreia’s whole face, the woman would’ve raised a brow at her statement. “Indeed? And was it the same as before?”

She tried to find the words to describe how it felt this time. It’d always felt like the wind, like a fluid current. But this time… “No. It felt...different. Faint.”

“If my suspicions are correct, perhaps the damage the Jedi Council did was not as permanent as they thought. It is not an easy thing, to cut one off from the Force.”

Meetra’s head whipped up. “The Jedi Council?” They wouldn’t…Would they? “I don't believe the Jedi would do such a thing.”

“What did you believe? That you suddenly lost your connection with the Force without reason?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. It had been so long. She couldn’t remember when exactly she’d lost her connection. “I—I don’t know,” she admitted. Then she shook her head. “I don’t believe the Jedi would inflict such a punishment on someone. It seems…too cruel.” But was it really impossible? A flash of anger sparked through her.

“If not the Jedi, then what did you think was the cause of such a loss?”

Memories flashed through her mind. She pushed them all aside. “I had thought the Mandalorian Wars the cause…I did much that I am not proud of.”

“War leaves many scars, but rarely does it blind one to the Force. If anything, conflict and challenge may make the connection stronger, more intense. No matter what horrors you experienced in the war, no matter who you served, it is unlikely that the Force would be lost to you unless another factor was involved.”

Meetra thought for a moment. She’d felt the Force again on Peragus, but only for a brief moment. It had taken so much effort, and that effort had only come from her emotions and pure desperation. Even after resting, it would take an abysmal effort to even brush the Force. “Can my connection to the Force be healed?”

Kreia’s tone was considerate. “It is possible that such a thing can be undone. Still... even so, the chances of the Jedi undoing such a thing for a traitor…is a slim thing at best, assuming they yet live.”

“I would welcome whatever aid you offer.” Even on Peragus Kreia had offered her assistance. Meetra did not want to pass up the opportunity to feel the heartbeat of the galaxy again.

Kreia gave a single, firm nod. “Then our training shall begin. Whenever I travel with you, I shall impart what I can to you, through my words and presence.” Meetra nodded, her thoughts scattered from all the information she’d just received. She could feel Kreia studying her. “ As you know, Revan and Malak went to war against the Mandalorians…and you followed under Revan's banner.”

So Kreia was curious about Meetra’s involvement. The topic made her squirm, but if they were going to work with each other, she had every right to be curious about her past. No matter how desperately Meetra wanted to forget about it. “I did.”

Kreia nodded, as if appreciating her willingness to answer no matter how much the subject made her uncomfortable. “As Revan and Malak fought the Mandalorians in battle after battle,” she continued, “they grew to despise weakness, just as the Mandalorians did. In the end, the Mandalorians had taught them through conflict. Shaped the Jedi. And turned them into a weapon—against the Republic.”

“And that was the Jedi Civil War.”

Kreia nodded again. “Revan and Malak and all the Jedi that served them turned against the Republic and the Jedi Order. Jedi fought Jedi. Revan was ambushed by the Jedi and captured. Malak continued to wage war in his Master's place, inflicting terrible wounds on the Republic... wounds that bleed still.”

Meetra remembered Malak. She met him briefly once. Long ago. “What happened to Malak?”

Meetra thought she heard the woman sigh. “As all Sith do, without a strong enemy, the Sith turned on each other. Revan escaped the Jedi and returned to finish Malak...and that was the end of the Jedi Civil War.”

Her heart lurched. “Does Revan still live?” If Revan was still alive, if she had come back to the light, she could help them against the Sith. Then again, if she was still alive, and if she had come back to the light, Meetra would’ve heard about Revan fighting against the Sith.

“No one knows...certainly not I. Korriban lies in ruins, Revan is gone, and the blade of war she promised to stab into the heart of the galaxy has withdrawn.”

“Revan turned against Malak for the sake of the Republic?” She’d heard rumors. But she’d also heard rumors of droids running crime syndicates and Hutts trying to join the Jedi Order.

“It would seem that way...from a certain point of view, perhaps. The Jedi Civil War left wounds that have yet to heal...we shall see if the Republic has the strength to survive.”

Meetra’s brow furrowed. “So? What does it matter?”

“A culture's teachings, and most importantly, the nature of its people, achieve definition in conflict. They find themselves...or find themselves lacking. Too long did the Republic remain unchallenged. It is a stagnant beast that labors for breath...and has for centuries. The Jedi Order was the heart that sustained its sickness—now the Jedi are lost, we shall see how long the Republic can survive.”

“Can anything be done to help the Republic?”

“We shall see. The Jedi Civil War cost the Republic much—the resources of the Sith seemed limitless. The Republic's was not. Fleets of warships, soldiers and people were lost. Entire planets were decimated—their inhabitants dead...or refugees. It is a great burden for any civilization to bear. And this new threat...it is a quiet thing, unlike the Jedi Civil War. It drives at something deeper than the strength of the Republic. It is aimed at you.”

Her last sentence sent shivers down her spine. “Because they think I'm the last Jedi?”

“You see, the war, the true war, has never been one waged by droids, or warships, or soldiers. They are but crude matter, obstacles against which we test ourselves. The true war is waged in the hearts of all living things, against our own natures, light or dark. That is what shapes and binds this galaxy, not these creations of man. You are the battleground. And if you fall, the death of the Republic will be such a quiet thing, a whisper, that shall herald the darkness to come.”

I am the battleground . Meetra still didn’t understand her involvement in all this. Why now? Why was she left to scour the Unknown Regions and the Outer Rim trying to find a purpose for ten years? Why had she lost the Force if it could’ve helped her fight this threat against her? Why? And most importantly, why now? Why, why, why?  

The questions kept piling up, but Kreia seemed ready to end their conversation. “But that is all I can offer you at the moment.” Her voice became snide. “I would see to that fool in the cockpit—and remind him of our destination. I would not want him attempting to veer from Telos.”

Meetra’s eyes narrowed. “He has a name, you know. I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you start using it.” She thought for a moment. “Besides, Atton isn't so bad, just…” She cringed as she thought of their first encounter, of his awkward attempts to…flirt? She truly had no idea. “Well, maybe he is.” Her voice became hurried. “But still. There should be mutual respect between the three of us if we’re to work together.”

Kreia shook her head slightly, her voice becoming sharp. “He is a fool and an imbecile, his potential lies downwards, not up. Watch that one. His thoughts are slippery…I do not trust him, and nor should you. Such a man serves himself first and his ‘allies’ next.”

Meetra had no idea how she felt about Atton, so she said “All right” to prevent Kreia from wanting to insult him further. He was a strange man, for sure, and it was even stranger how he ended up being the only survivor of Peragus. Why him? she asked herself. But it wouldn’t matter once they reached Telos. He’d probably ditch them once he got the chance.

She was tempted to go back to the other crew quarters and try to get a few more hours of sleep, but she may as well offer him some of the ration bars and canteens. She hadn’t even reached the back row of seats when he spoke. 

“Sleep well?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and watched as she took the copilot’s seat.

She took in a deep breath. “I’ve had better nights.” Even as she spoke, her eyes felt heavy, the same heaviness one felt when waking from a restless sleep. “You? Did you really sleep in here?”

He was practically slumped in the seat, his arms crossed. One leg rested on the other by the ankle. He was looking out the viewport, a tendon in his neck pronounced from the position. His eyes flicked to her after a silent moment, as if it’d taken him that long to process her question. “Call me used to it. I slept well enough.” He took the food and water she offered him. “What about our passenger? She still aging?” he asked dryly. 

Cryptic as always . But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of gossiping about her. “She…says a lot,” she said hesitantly. 

He snorted. “Yeah, to you, maybe. I don't usually hear much beyond 'fool' and 'imbecile.'” 

He took a swig of water, watching her with an eye. Meetra hurried to say, “She seems fine, though. I think she just needs some rest.”

He gave out another snort-laugh. “Well, she sure could use it. It might do wonders for her mood, too. She's lucky she's a Jedi, or someone would've killed her years ago.”

Meetra sat back in her chair and thought for a moment, absentmindedly opening a ration bar. “I don't think Kreia is a Jedi.”

Atton huffed. “Then she must be royalty, because she's got to be Queen of the Galaxy to bark out orders like that. Or maybe she's senile.” He took a bite of a ration bar. “I mean, how old do you think she is? She may have been good-looking once, but it takes some hard living to make creases like that.”

Meetra considered his words for a moment and then laughed. “‘Good-looking?’ Are you that desperate?”

He gave her a flat look. “Hey, I just got out of prison. If we had a decent navicomputer, trust me, we'd be dropping out of hyperspace into the Nar Shaddaa Red Sector right now. After spacing that old witch of course.”

Meetra laughed again. “I am not going anywhere near Nar Shaddaa, and certainly not with you.”

She only just realized that her words sounded like an insult, but he only shrugged. “Your loss. It’s not so bad.” He wrinkled his nose. “Actually, you’re right. Nar Shaddaa isn’t exactly rich with sparkling personalities. Her Majesty would fit right in there, though.” He stopped to chew for a long moment, staring out the viewport. “Canto Bight would be a much better place to waste credits.”

“Right,” she drawled. Maybe he isn’t so bad? “Perhaps you’d learn a more successful way to polish your own radiant attitude there.”

Atton dropped his ration bar in his lap and raised his hands in surrender. If she didn’t know any better, she might think he looked like he wanted to laugh. “All right, cut it out, I get...I get it, I get it. The last Jedi in the galaxy, I get the comedian who runs around in her underwear. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.” He smirked at her, but she only gave him a withering look despite the flush crawling up her neck and cheeks. Atton leaned back in his seat with a shrug, taking another bite of the bar. “I mean, compared to the Jedi queen of the galaxy back there, I'd rather be stuck in an escape pod for a year with you than her.”

Meetra let out half a laugh. “Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?”

He shrugged again. “Only if you think of it that way.”

“All right,” she murmured with a huff. “Look, ease off the insults. She was wounded helping us escape, remember?”

He gave her a defensive look. “Whoa, all right, all right! Don't get mad at me. Hey, I didn't ask her to stay behind and get her hand cut off, okay?” He gave her a pointed look, brows raised. “I mean—I appreciate what she did and all, but she could stand to lay off the insults herself, you know?”

He had a point. Even so, she couldn’t help herself from dryly saying, “Getting empathy from you is like squeezing water from a stone.”

“Oh yeah? Well, how much water you get from a stone depends what planet you're on, sister.”

She rolled her eyes again and glanced out the viewport, at the spiraling vortex of hyperspace they were hurtling through. Kreia’s words flashed through her mind. “Are we still on course for Telos?”

His brows shot up again. “Like we have a choice? It's the only place Peragus had logged in their astrogation charts.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, his eyes flicking to her. “If you thought Peragus was dead, then Telos is a dying world they're trying to breathe back to life. We should be there before too long. You can check our course on the galaxy map if you want. It's on the wall behind you.” He jerked his chin in its direction.

She stood and walked over to the map, giving it nothing more than a brief examination. She was about to tell him that she was going to get a few more hours of sleep when he spoke up again.

“So...what happened?”

Meetra paused, her heart starting to thunder. “What are you talking about?”

He swiveled his chair around to face her, all of a sudden holding a pen. “Don't give me that. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been helpful. So—where's yours?”

He was clicking the pen repeatedly, looking at her so expectantly and intensely it was starting to make her uncomfortable. Meetra shifted on her feet and crossed her arms. “A Jedi is not defined by their weapon,” she said firmly, though her voice sounded more soft than stern.

“Oh, yeah? I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber. Guess I heard wrong.” He stared past her, thinking. Then his eyes flicked to hers, and he looked like he was evaluating her, trying to figure her out. Chewing on the clicker, he asked, “Were you a single hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?”

Meetra hesitated. It wouldn’t hurt to tell him, would it? Of course it wouldn’t. She was being ridiculous. “It was a single hilt.”

“Huh. Figures,” he grunted, his voice and eyes going lower. Those eyes returned to her face. “It wasn't red, was it?

Now she was the one smirking. “Actually, it was. The crystal was redder than a laigrek's eye.”

He took a deep breath and swiveled the chair back to the viewport. “Great. Maybe you and that Sith Lord can have a party after we're dead.” 

“Atton.”

He turned to face her again.

“I was just kidding.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Very funny.” He clicked the pen again. “So…?”

She settled her weight on a hip, thinking. “Both the blade and crystal were unique.”

“Yeah, unique how?”

She might have forgotten some aspects of her life as a Jedi, but she would never forget her lightsaber. “Silver, like the streams in the Room of a Thousand Fountains on Coruscant,” she said softly.

Atton was studying her again. “Must have been something. It’d sure be nice to have it now—might make those Sith think twice before coming after us.”

Maybe so, but it’d also paint her as a target. “I think having it would just drive them to hunt me harder.”

He pursed his lips. “Yeah. You’re probably right”

A silence filled the cockpit save for the hum of the ship. Atton had even stopped clicking his pen. She didn’t know whether to call it neutral or awkward. She should probably try and get a couple more hours of sleep, and he should too. He looked only slightly better than when they’d left Peragus.

But then she remembered. “Hey.” He looked up at her. “I—I wanted to apologize to you. For earlier.” Her words came out in a rush. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’re not a pest.”

She thought she saw surprise flash across his face, but it was gone a moment later. Atton shrugged and went back to clicking his pen, swiveling the chair side to side. “Forgiven and forgotten.” She would have left then if his brows had not furrowed. “Although, I do appreciate the apology.”

Meetra gave him a small smile. “I’m going to try and get some more sleep. You going to stay up here, or do you need me to take over for a while?”

Atton shook his head. “I’m all good up here. You go get some more sleep.”

She paused. “Oh, and there’s a refresher in the medbay. And some extra clothes in the cargo hold.”

Atton’s eyes roved over her outfit, and he met her gaze with a small smirk. “Are you saying I smell?”

Meetra just rolled her eyes and left him alone in the cockpit.

She did not get much more rest than she had originally, so she settled on the couch in the main hold and scrolled through her datapad. There wasn’t much on it other than some records of her being on the Harbinger . It’d been given to her by one of the Republic crew aboard the ship. Her arm band, on the other hand…

Meetra stared at the band on her right arm as if it were a puzzle. It was more of a gauntlet, really. The Mandalorians called them vambraces. It had been gifted to her during the war, after a battle that’d taken two days to finish. They’d won it by the hair on their chins, though only she and the commanders had known just how close they’d come to losing it. It was more of a symbol than anything, meant to inspire the soldiers she’d commanded.

Still, she turned her wrist over with a sigh, fiddling with some of its functions. There was a grappler launcher, a flamethrower with an empty fuel tank, a comm, and an energy shield projector. If she had to guess, the Mandalorian who it’d belonged to was left handed, judging by the comm and the energy shield. But she’d never know who it’d belonged to. Meetra had no idea how the Mandalorians could fit so much technology in such a small piece of equipment. She had to admit that it was pretty impressive.

All of a sudden a wave of emotion roiled through her. She was seconds away from breaking down when she heard footsteps coming from the direction of the cockpit. She shoved down the emotions and glanced up to see Atton approaching. He stopped at the opposite end of the couch. He’d changed his shirt and pants, though he still wore the ribbed jacket. He also appeared to have used the refresher. His hair was more tame and swept neatly across his forehead, and the smell of soap washed past her. He still looked tired, though. 

“We’re here,” was all he said. He glanced at the vambrace but didn’t say anything. His eyes then drifted past her, and Meetra turned to see Kreia gliding into the main hold.

T3 came in next, whistling. Meetra gave the droid a soft smile. “We’re here, T3.”

Wordlessly, the four walked to the unloading ramp and entered the hangar. Bright, nearly blinding lights illuminated it. There was a ramp straight ahead that led to a viewing outpost about twenty feet up in the air. She couldn’t see anyone inside from down here.

A voice crackled through the comm system. “Attention—this is Citadel Station Bay Control, Dock Module 126. Please remain where you are. Lieutenant Dol Grenn will arrive shortly to meet you. That is all.”

Atton’s lip curled. “I don't like the sound of that. If they think we caused the explosion…” He stopped at the sight of a group of men coming out of a door in the wall. All five of them were heavily armed. “Uh oh—here comes the welcoming party.” He looked at Meetra. Quietly, he said, “They may not know what happened, so don't blow it.”

Meetra only spared him a glance. She assumed the man in the center was the leader, judging by his lack of helmet and his age. He looked to be in his sixties, with hawk-like features and a hairline that appeared to have just started receding.

“I'm Lieutenant Grenn, Telos Security Force,” the leader said. “I'm under orders to take you into custody in regards to the destruction of the Peragus Mining Facility.”

Meetra swallowed. Did they already know? “Are we under arrest?”

Grenn shook his head but kept a hand on the blaster at his hip. “You haven't been formally charged, but you will be placed under house arrest pending the results of our investigation.” His dark eyes flicked to T3. “Due to the nature of the investigation, I have no specific timetable to offer you. In the meantime, your ship and any droids will have to be given over for safekeeping.”

T3 beeped at him. 

Grenn was stoic. “Yes, that includes you. You are a droid, so you will be detained. In addition, we will have to take your personal arms and armor until the completion of our inquiry.”

Meetra felt her nerves rattling. “Will I be able to get my gear back?”

Grenn’s eyes flicked back up to her. “If you are cleared of any involvement, your personal effects will be returned to you. You will be held briefly in the TSF station until living quarters can be arranged, at which point you will be placed under house arrest. Do you understand?”

She nodded, swallowing thickly. “I understand. I'll cooperate.”

He gave them a brief, polite smile, though his eyes were stoic. “Good. My men will relieve you of any arms and armor. Please follow me.”

“Tell me I'm not going to jail again,” Atton groaned.

Chapter Text

“You'll be held here briefly—living quarters are being arranged for you and your companions as we speak. Someone will return shortly to escort you to an apartment in Residential Module 082.” Lieutenant Grenn led them into a small jail room. T3 had been led away from their group. They’d taken Kreia’s and her sword, her vambrace, and Atton’s blasters. 

Now, the three of them were corralled into force cages. Meetra stood and faced Grenn, crossing her arms and letting out a sigh. “I understand,” she said for what seemed like the hundredth time. But there was no use in arguing.

“As I said, this is only temporary while other arrangements are made.” His lips pursed ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to bear with us until then. In the meantime, try and get comfortable. I have many matters to attend to and will return when your apartment is ready.”

Grenn turned and left the jail room, the two soldiers flanking him following him out. Everything was distorted by the shimmering energy field containing her inside. It was ridiculous, really, that they were being imprisoned based on suspicion, but she had neither the energy nor the motivation to put up a fight about their situation. The sooner they could get off Citadel Station and look for Jedi, the better.

From her left, Atton lowered himself to the floor. He gave her a weary look in response to her questioning one. “We might be here for a while. Might as well get comfortable.”

Kreia kneeled down as well, presumably in silent meditation. Meetra let out a small sigh and did the same, hugging her knees and leaning her head back against the only part of the cage that wouldn’t fry her. She was tempted to close her eyes and at least try to meditate. At least if she did that she wouldn’t have any nightmares about Peragus or the war.

She had just managed to doze off when Kreia stood abruptly. “Someone is coming,” the old woman said.

Meetra and Atton stood as well as the entrance door slid open. A man walked around Kreia’s force cage to face the three of them. He was tall, narrow-faced, well-built…and sneering. Despite the security uniform he wore, she had a feeling that he had not come to escort them to their apartment. A bad feeling sunk into her gut, and it only strengthened when he ran his gaze over the three of them and then let it linger on her. His eyes roved up and down her body, and then he smirked as he met her gaze. 

“So,” he sneered, “this is the ‘Last of the Jedi.’” He spit out her title. Meetra narrowed her eyes, her muscles tensing. His expression became more neutral and slightly mocking. “I must admit, I’m a little disappointed.”

Meetra crossed her arms. “Lucky for you, I’m not a Jedi.”

The man raised a brow, almost nonchalantly. “Jedi or no, you're the one I am pledged to kill. There is no mistaking that.” He grinned again. “The Exchange has a bounty on Jedi, you know. You're worth quite a bit of money.”

“The Exchange, huh?” Atton sniffed from beside her. “I'm pretty sure some two-bit pistol jockey like yourself isn't one of them.”

The man’s eyes flicked to Atton and his lip curled slightly. “Eh? I'm more than skilled enough to work for the Exchange,” he huffed.

Atton raised a brow and gave him an unimpressed look. “You bounty hunters couldn't even win a fair fight. You're the cheapest, most worthless mercenary scum in the galaxy. I'd hire a Mandalorian over your filth in a second.”

The man’s eye twitched. “No Mandalorian could match my skills. No Mandalorian could have been clever enough to infiltrate this station, taken the identity of one of the guards, then—”

“—then what, overloaded our force cage fields and made it look like an accident? You probably don't even have the guts to fight me. Heh. Pathetic.”

Meetra hid a smile. Either Atton was being cheeky and intentionally baiting the bounty hunter, or he really was a fool. Either way, it could work to their advantage if he somehow lured the hunter into letting them out.

“Don't think overloading your cages had not occurred to me,” he warned. “You're wanted alive, but I doubt anyone will care as long as I bring them your corpse.”

The man took a step towards the control console on the side wall. Hopefully he wouldn’t do what Atton had suggested he would, and there was only one way to test his intentions.

“I don't wish to fight you,” she said calmly.

He just shrugged. “Easier for me, then.” His grin became feral as he approached the computer. “Come, ‘Jedi.’ It is time to die.”

Atton seemed to have the same idea that she did. “Hey, leave her alone. You want a fight? Then try me, if you've got the guts.”

The man stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tense. He turned slowly, fuming at Atton. “You have goaded me once, and you shall not do so twice. But I shall dispose of all of you eventually. And an old woman, a fool, and a broken Jedi are no match for my skills.”

Meetra prepared herself for the shocks in case Atton’s mocking hadn’t worked, but then the energy field in front of her wavered and vanished as the force cage was deactivated.

So were Atton’s and Kreia’s.

Meetra glanced at Atton, and the wink he threw her confirmed her former assessment. Not a fool , she conceded thoughtfully. Meetra stepped out of the force cage’s skeleton and advanced upon the man before he could turn. She kneed him in the spine and was about to land a blow to the back of his head when he whirled around and deftly dodged her swing.

Right towards Kreia.

Kreia looked unassuming, just standing there with her hand in her sleeves, but the bounty hunter’s back was to her as he backed away from Meetra and pulled out a blaster. Kreia lashed out faster than she could blink, knocking the gun from his hand and delivering a blow that sent him stumbling towards Atton. Atton’s fist reeled back and then connected him squarely in the face. Meetra cringed as the bounty hunter’s head snapped back. Atton grabbed the man by the throat and dragged him into the force cage, landing another punch to the bounty hunter’s gut. He dropped to his knees with a wheeze and Atton quickly backed away, throwing Meetra a meaningful look. She activated the force cage and then overloaded it. The man spasmed for a brief moment before falling face-down to the floor, dead.

Atton rubbed his knuckles, curling his lip at the fresh corpse now at their feet. “Some bounty hunter he was,” he muttered. 

How are we supposed to explain this? To her horror, the door opened to reveal Lieutenant Grenn rushing inside with two guards on his heels. “The security cameras ha—what?! What's going on here?” he demanded.

Meetra opened her mouth as one of the guards crouched next to the bounty hunter’s body and checked for a pulse, but it was pretty obvious he was dead. The guard cut off her explanation with a panicked “Man down! Quick, call a medic!”

Grenn took out a blaster from his holster and pointed it squarely at her chest. “All right, ‘Jedi.’ I want you to back up slowly, hands in front of you, into the force cage. Cooperate, and we won't have to gun you down.”

Meetra raised her hands in surrender, frustration building in her chest. Once again, she was about to explain—

The guard near Grenn pointed her blaster at Atton, who raised his hands as well. Kreia stood neutrally off to the side. “Come on, Lieutenant! They've already killed…eh…who is that? Is that Batu Rem?”

Meetra shook her head. “He said he was an assassin.”

The male TSF officer snorted. “Rem's no assassin.”

Grenn stared at the body for a moment before looking back up at Meetra. “Batu Rem is on leave. He shouldn't even be on the station. This man isn't him.”

“So what's going to happen now?”

Grenn’s eyes flicked between her, Atton, the corpse, and the officers. Then he slipped his blaster in his holster. “We've arranged for an apartment in Residential Module 082. You'll stay there under house arrest until our investigation of the Peragus matter is complete. You'll be under TSF protection. I'll personally clear any visitors to your quarters, and we'll investigate this incident to the best of our ability.”

TSF protection, huh? Very reassuring . Grenn was silent for another moment and then gestured to one of the guards with him. “Officer, get Lieutenant Yima a report of this incident. She'll look into this.” He now gestured to Meetra, Atton, and Kreia. “The rest of you, come with me. We'll escort you to the apartment in 082 immediately.”

Lieutenant Grenn led them through the Residential Module towards a collection of apartments at the furthest end of the expansive hall. Despite the durasteel essentially caging them in, there were plant-rich medians in the hall. Humans and aliens bustled about, some chatting, others sitting on benches. They passed an Ithorian family using a console. She caught a brief glimpse of the schematics of the nearby area on it before they finally arrived at the apartments.

Their room smelled fresh and was exceptionally clean. Three beds were lined up against the wall to their right, a footlocker at the end of each of them. A work desk was next to the window straight ahead, a strange-looking plant on the other side. A communication console was to the right of the desk. On the opposite wall was an open door that held a refresher.

Grenn stopped just inside the room. “These will serve as your quarters for the duration of your house arrest. Two officers will be stationed outside at all times. Again, I'll clear any visitors. There won't be another ‘incident,’” he promised.

Atton gave out a nearly inaudible huff and crossed his arms. “But just to be on the safe side, why don't you leave us a blaster or two?”

Lieutenant Grenn shook his head in exasperation and turned to leave, so Meetra hurriedly said, “How long will we be here?”

Grenn stopped and pursed his lips. “I can't say. We have a ship examining what's left of the Peragus facility now, so your stay might be brief. We'll keep you informed.” He pointed at the console. “If there are any problems, we'll use the wall terminal to contact you.”

Grenn gestured for the guards to follow him out, and the door shut behind them. Meetra could feel Kreia’s attention on her, though she didn’t say anything. Atton surveyed the room. “Well, this is a step up from a force cage at least,” he muttered, tearing a leaf off the strange plant next to the window. He tossed it behind him and stopped a few feet away. “This isn't good. We've got to get off this station.”

Get off? They just got here. Meetra gave him a perplexed look. “In case you forgot, there’s a reason we came here in the first place. I still have to talk to that Republic officer or we’re going to have more than just the Sith on our tails from here on out. Why do we need to leave?”

Atton’s face held a peeved expression. “What do you think the TSF is going to find at Peragus? That could bring the S—” He shook his head and sighed. “You know what, forget it. As long as we're trapped here, it doesn't matter.”

She was about to respond when Kreia interjected. “We cannot stay in any one place too long. But our path has brought us here for a reason. I must meditate on this. In the meantime, we should rest.”

Atton gave the elder a scornful look. “Yeah, you go ahead and meditate. As for me, I could use some sleep.” He walked past Meetra to the bed closest to the door and practically fell back onto it, propping the back of his head with an arm while the other rested across his abdomen.

Meetra turned back to Kreia. Her own eyes were growing heavy, but perhaps this time could be used to help her reconnect with the Force. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to meditate with you.”

Kreia nodded approvingly, almost imperceptibly, and folded her legs underneath her. Meetra copied her movements and opened herself up to the Force. She couldn’t feel it, but she could perceive it. She could observe it. It flowed around Kreia and then around herself, and Meetra sank into it completely for the first time in ten years.

Something was ringing. It was an obnoxious noise that sounded every two seconds. Meetra tentatively left the Force and shot the wall terminal a glare where that insufferable chime came from. But just as soon as her frustration came, it dissipated, replaced by a rapid pulse. Is something wrong? Kreia was still seated next to her, still and passive. Meetra felt the Force flow and ebb, and then wash over her to retreat back to Kreia like she was surfacing water. Movement caught the corner of her eye. Atton poked his head out of the refresher, half his face covered in shaving cream. He glanced at her and then the console before disappearing back inside the refresher.

Meetra stood and nearly collapsed as the blood rushed back into her legs. She hit the answer button and a female voice came through. “Excuse me. You have a caller: Moza, representing the Ithorian planet-restoring interests on Telos. Lieutenant Grenn’s cleared him, if you’d like to speak with him.”

An Ithorian? What would the Ithorians want with her? How did they even know she was on Citadel Station? 

She felt Atton’s presence behind her.

“An emergency?”

Meetra shook her head, her brows furrowed as she glanced up at him. Kreia stirred on the floor, and the old woman stood, her attention on them. “It’s an Ithorian. Someone from the restoration effort.”

Atton’s lips twisted. Now that his stubble was gone, he looked younger. She hadn’t been able to see it before, but there was a faint scar on the right side of his chin. His brow raised when he caught her eye, and she turned back to the console and cleared her throat. 

“Uh, sure. Send him in.”

“Very well. I’ll let him in now.”

Their door swished open, and a tall, yellowish-green Ithorian stepped into the room and stopped a respectful distance away. He was dressed in what looked like robes and sported a pack on his back. There were blue markings in the space between and above his squinty eyes. Eyes that roved over the room and then landed on her. “ Thank you for seeing me,” he said in his native language. His voice was thick, almost sounding as if he needed to clear it. “I am Moza, and I have come to see you on behalf of Chodo Habat, our leader here.”

Meetra’s eyes involuntarily narrowed. Ithorians were a reserved and peaceful group, but considering how vigorously she was being hunted, no one who approached her was exempt from suspect. “What does Chodo want with me?”

“Are you familiar with the restoration project on Telos?” he rumbled.

She remembered Kreia mentioning something about restoration. “Somewhat.”

“Then perhaps you have heard of our role in the restoration, and our troubles with the corporation known as ‘Czerka?’”

“I have not.” Please don’t tell me this “Chodo Habat” is going to ask me to solve his problem for him.

“Ithorians are well-known as ecologists and agricultural engineers. The Telosian government asked those of my herd to help restore their planet. Things went smoothly at first. The Republic funded us generously, hoping Telos would be a model for the restoration of planets damaged by the war.The funding enabled us to purchase flora and fauna from Onderon. Upgrades to Citadel Station’s shield network have allowed us to purify and release small portions of the surface.

A warbled noise came from Moza’s mouths. It might’ve been a sigh. “Then the troubles began. Republic relations with Onderon began to deteriorate, increasing the purchase and transport costs of our biological materials. And as the station grew, the Telosian Security Force was no longer large enough to police the entire station.

“Czerka approached the Republic and offered supply and security contracts. Their paramilitary security division now policies two-thirds of Citadel Station. Czerka has integrated themselves into the Telosian political system and economy. They are currently pressing to be awarded our planet restoration contracts. Their efforts hinder our cause greatly, and will have terrible consequences for the planet’s restoration.”

Politics and games. I did not sign up for this when we came here. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

Another warbled sound came from the Ithorian, as if he was clearing his throat. “Chodo Habat is a powerful priest, our spiritual leader. He sensed something upon your arrival…a disturbance, an echo in the Force.”

Despite herself, now her interest was piqued. Even Kreia stirred from beside her. She let Moza keep talking.

“Chodo felt you might be able to aid us. He bid me tell you that if you could help Telos, it may be possible for him to heal you.”

Meetra frowned. “ Heal me?”

Moza’s shoulders lifted almost imperceptibly. “I am unclear as to what Chodo means by this. He says the echo he felt upon your arrival suggests that you yourself are damaged. He can feel the pain through the Force.”

Memories flashed across her vision, but she shoved them all down.

“Perhaps Chodo Habat should turn his eyes to his own people, if they truly suffer so,” Kreia interjected. The woman’s tone was mild, but Meetra could see a crease beside her nose as her lip curled ever-so-slightly.

Moza clasped his hands in front of him and dipped at the waist. “Forgive me. I am unclear as to Chodo’s message, and I may have related it incorrectly. If this offer of mutual aid interests you, please go to the Ithorian compound here in Residential 082 when you are able. Chodo Habat would be most pleased to see you.”

Meetra’s curiosity was nagging at her now. This could be the first step into helping her reconnect with the Force. Meditating would help her feel it, but she relied on her connection to Kreia to even touch a whisper of it. She had no autonomy when it came to using it. “I’ll speak with your leader when I’m freed.”

“Ah, this pleases me. Perhaps we will speak later, then. Farewell.” Moza’s eyes squinted in as pleased as an expression as he could muster. He bowed once more and then exited the room.

“Now, perhaps, we will be able to rest uninterrupted,” Kreia sniffed.

But Meetra was practically bouncing on her toes. The likelihood they’d be able to find anything related to the Jedi on such a devastated world was slim, but the fact that such an opportunity was practically being handed to her—

“Do not be so quick to trust the Ithorian, Jedi,” Kreia scolded, noticing her grin.

Meetra tried and failed to school her face. “It’s not that. I just think it’s incredibly lucky how, the moment we step on this station, an opportunity to reconnect myself with the Force shows itself.”

“That merely signifies that we’re headed in the right direction,” Kreia said. “I did not sense any ill intentions from the Ithorian, but we should remain cautious nevertheless. This might end up being a lesson in disguise rather than a gift.”

She had a point. Meetra paused and let her excitement dissipate. It’d be better to approach the situation as neutrally as possible, especially if they were going to make her play diplomat with Czerka. Inwardly, she cringed. 

“You’re right. In the meantime, we should get some more rest—”

No sooner had she said that did the console start beeping again. Meetra answered the call, and the voice of a droid came through.

“Good day. I am B-4D4, administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation’s Citadel Station Branch.”

Now Czerka was calling her? Who was next? The Sith?

“I am attempting to connect you with Executive Officer Jana Lorso. May I put you through?”

“What does she want?” 

“I am sorry, but I do not know. I am only her administrative assistant. May I put you through?”

Meetra opened her mouth again, moving to accept the transfer—

Atton snatched her wrist so fast it took her heart a second to catch up to her surprise. Eyes wide, she stared up at him, ready to protest, but he shook his head nearly imperceptibly. Questions came to the forefront of her mind, but she pushed them all aside. He let go of her.

Meetra took in a steadying breath. “No. I don’t want to speak to her.”

“I will relay such to Jana Lorso. I am sorry to have inconvenienced you. Good day.”

It was the duty of a Jedi to remain impartial, but she couldn’t help but respect Atton’s survival instincts and intuition. Besides, what would Czerka be able to offer her in regards to reconnecting with the Force? 

“Why have you done that?” Kreia asked from behind her. “We now may never know what Czerka wanted, and it may even set us back.”

Meetra opened, closed her mouth, shooting Atton a questioning look. He only shrugged unhelpfully. “I don’t think Czerka—”

“Czerka has access to the entire planet,” Kreia put in.

“So do the Ithorians. And they can help me, or heal me.”

Kreia stood there quietly, her face hidden, not that there would be an expression on it anyway. Then she took in a visible breath. “I am not trying to quarrel. Perhaps this arrangement will prove to be more beneficial. I only wish that you did not have to be manipulated in the process.”

“But wouldn’t the same happen with Czerka?”

“We will never know now.”

Meetra felt her face flaming. Her teeth began gritting, but she urged herself to calm down. Kreia meant no harm, and she consciously knew that. Mercifully, Atton kept his mouth shut about the blush staining her cheeks.

“All right,” she said. “Well, we still haven’t been freed yet, so I’d like to meditate a little bit more before we’re released.”

Kreia nodded, and the two lowered themselves to the floor in quiet meditation.

Chapter Text

Meetra felt like she was being pulled out of the Force. It was like she was being gently tugged through a rushing stream towards the shore, towards consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open. Kreia and Atton were both standing and looking at the door expectantly, though a muscle in Atton’s jaw kept feathering. When he saw her stir, his face went blank.

“Grenn’s about to be here—”

The door opened, and Meetra stood. Lieutenant Grenn walked in, leaving the two guards at the door. He kept his hands at his sides. “I’ve come to inform you that the Telosian government has completed its inspection of what’s left of the Peragus facility. 

“It appears that the Harbinger had indeed been present—though it was gone when our ships arrived—and was responsible for the station’s destruction. Logs recovered from the facility’s wreckage indicated that the miners perished as a result of sabotage, which began while you and your companions were either incapacitated or incarcerated.

“As such, you are to be released from house arrest. However, the Republic is sending its own ship. They have insisted that you remain on-station for the duration of their search.”

The relief that barreled through her winked out at his last sentence. “Why is the Republic sending a ship?”

Grenn remained stoic. “To further investigate the station’s destruction and search for their missing ship, the Harbinger .”

This time Atton butted in. “How long will we have to stay?”

Grenn gave Atton an impassive look. “The Sojourn is already en route; likely not more than a few standard days. Feel free to use these quarters during your stay.”

“What about the Ebon Hawk ?” Meetra asked. “Is it still impounded?”

“The vessel’s I&D is complete. Please visit the TSF station in Entertainment Module 081 to complete the necessary paperwork at the front desk.”

“Entertainment Module?” Atton mumbled. “I like the sound of that.”

Meetra shot him a glowering look that he ignored.

Grenn continued. “The Ebon Hawk should be transferred from the impound docks by the time you’re free to leave.”

“What about T3?”

“After filling out the paperwork, it’ll be transferred with your ship, along with your confiscated weapons and armor. If you don’t have any questions, that’ll be all.” Grenn’s eyes flicked between the three of them expectantly, but when no one spoke up, he gave a single firm nod and then left. 

Meetra blew out a breath. They’d only be stuck here a little longer. As soon as she visited the Ithorians—

“Well now what?” Atton asked. He was frowning, his arms crossed. “We can’t just stick around. We need to find a way off this station, whether on the Ebon Hawk or some other ship.” He gave Meetra an innocent look, but the sparkle in his eyes was roguish. “We could hit Nar Shaddaa, maybe. If you’ve got people after you, it’s where you go to get lost in the crowd.”

Meetra raised a brow. “You know that from experience?”

Atton shrugged. “Hey, everyone needs to get lost once in a while. Get away from something, you know? It’s no big deal.”

Meetra thought over his words for a moment and then gave him a curious look. “ You’d help me escape the Sith?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he muttered. “Besides, on our way there, you two can just drop me off and then be on your merry little Jedi way.”

“So chivalrous,” she drawled. Ignoring his sour look, she turned to the older woman. “What do you think, Kreia?”

Kreia slipped her hands in her sleeves. “It is difficult to say. I feel we came to Telos for a reason, but we may have spent too much time here already. Even if the Harbinger was destroyed at Peragus, more Sith could already be on their way.”

Her voice became considerate. “Still, there is a chance we might learn of other Jedi here, on the planet’s surface. Jedi who might help us restore your abilities or sever the link between us.”

She wanted nothing more than to restore her connection, but just she and Kreia against the Sith? All of it was more than a little daunting. “Why don’t we ask the Republic for help against the Sith?”

Atton scoffed. “The Republic ? They can’t even properly fund and manage a space station, let alone fight an enemy as cunning and ruthless as the Sith. Even if somebody believed us, the Republic won’t be any help. Believe me, I know. Only the Jedi threw the Sith back last time around.”

Meetra’s lips twisted to the side. Even Kreia seemed to agree with his statement. “He may be right,” the old woman said. “But whatever we do, we should move quickly.”

“Well, then for the time being we should head over and get our stuff back.”

After uploading a map of the Station to her datapad, Meetra, Kreia, and Atton took the shuttle bay elevator down into the Entertainment Module. The elevator left them in a small lounge area with nothing more than benches. The area wasn’t visually appealing. Citadel Station as a whole looked rather…clinical, despite the foliage and fountains in the median of the Residential Module 082.

They walked down the hall to their left and then turned left again, passing a door with a sign that said “Dobo Brothers’ Emporium,” and arrived at a corridor that had a cantina entrance on the right. Atton seemed to stare at the door longingly as they passed it. “I know where I’m headed once we get all our stuff back.”

Meetra’s own stomach felt hollow at the reminder. “Once we’ve gotten our ship back, we’ll get something to eat and then meet with the Ithorians.” She sighed quietly. “Hopefully our meeting with them will be short so we can leave.”

“The Ithorians have something you want. It would not surprise me if they held out on their empty promises of a reward,” Kreia commented.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Meetra quietly admitted.

“As soon as we retrieve the ship and finish our meeting, we will have a better idea of their intentions. If they do not seem keen on fulfilling their promises and seek to use you as their pawn, we can depart from this station immediately.” Kreia’s attention shifted to Atton. “We will even stop at Nar Shaddaa first if you so wish to part ways.”

Atton mockingly pouted and rested a gloved hand over his heart. “How kind of you, Kreia.”

“All right, all right,” Meetra interjected. It all seemed rather straightforward, which was suspicious. Meetra had spent her life with the Jedi, as a Jedi, and nothing she’d ever done was “straightforward.” The Force had its plans, and that may be the case here as well. Regardless, she was ready to have her gear and the Ebon Hawk back in her possession.

They passed the shuttle hall they’d come through after first arriving on Telos and finally arrived at the TSF Station. A protocol droid stood behind the welcome desk and turned to them. “Welcome to Entertainment Module 081’s TSF Station. How may I be of assistance?” it asked as she approached.

“Lieutenant Grenn said to come here to get the Ebon Hawk and the rest of my possessions out of impound.”

“I will call up the appropriate information now. One moment. Searching... One moment…” It typed in the computer and then paused. “I regret to inform you that the Ebon Hawk is gone. The TSF believes it was stolen and is currently investigating.”

Gone. Gone?

What? Had she heard that right?

No, not just gone, but stolen.

Of. Kriffing. Course. 

Meetra took in a deep breath to calm her frustration. From beside her, Atton’s mouth was hanging open. “How is that even possible?” she asked incredulously.

The droid, oblivious to her plight, stated infuriatingly cheerfully, “It seems the Ebon Hawk was transferred to Telos' surface instead of an impound dock. However, both the requester and the point of delivery are unknown. In addition, the vessel is not showing up at any government-sanctioned landing site. I would conjecture that it has been stolen and the TSF records have been illegally accessed and modified.”

Atton threw his hands in the air. “I knew it! That stupid T3 unit stole our ship! It's probably joyriding through the system right now, laughing at us…” Through gritted teeth, he muttered, “Laughing at me.”

Atton thought T3 had stolen the ship? Was he serious? Of course, the protocol thought he was. “That is unlikely. While your utility droid is not accounted for, numerous satellites track all incoming and outgoing vessels. There is no record of the Ebon Hawk leaving the system.”

“Wait,” Atton said with furrowed brows. “You're saying the ship's actually somewhere on Telos' surface? I don't understand. Telos' atmosphere is highly corrosive outside the shielded Restoration Zones. Where else could somebody land safely?”

“I'm sorry, I'm afraid that's all the information I have for you. Of course, the quarters in Residential Module 082 will remain yours until the situation is resolved.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked the droid.

It faced her. “I am not qualified to answer that question. However, it is unlikely that someone could steal a starship from under TSF observation without considerable backing. If your vessel has been stolen, there is a fair chance that the Exchange possesses relevant information. I do not know what else to suggest, beyond waiting in your quarters for further word.”

Exchange. Everything kept pointing to the Exchange, even back on Peragus. Exchange this, Exchange that. Exchange, Exchange, Exchange…

She needed to calm down. “Isn't there anything more the TSF can do?”

“Not beyond investigating the matter and extending our offer of free room and board.”

Meetra took a deep breath and begged the Force that her gear wasn’t on the stolen Hawk . “Can I get my possessions back at least?”

“Fortunately, your possessions were kept in the armory and were uncompromised. I will open the door for you so that you may retrieve them. You will find them in the security lockers.”

Behind them, a door swished open to reveal a room filled with lockers, and Meetra let the sight comfort her, lest she go insane from the incompetence of the TSF. No, she shouldn’t blame them, or be angry with them. Telos was a suffering world, and the people employed by the TSF were doing as best they could with the limited resources they had. Maybe T3 had been the one to steal the Hawk , like Atton said, and he would come back so she could shake this nightmare from her head. Yes, for the time being, that is what she would believe.

As they retrieved their belongings, Atton murmured, “You don’t think the Sith stole the ship, do you?”

Well, nevermind then.

Meetra grabbed a vibroblade, handing Kreia the other, and slipped on her vambrace. “I prefer your other theory, actually.”

He glanced at her from the corner of her eye as he pocketed the blasters in his holsters. “Really?”

“Yes.” She checked the compartments of the stealth field generator, relieved to find the medpack and its contents still inside. “Maybe I’ll wake up back on the Harbinger , and all this turned out to be a bad dream.”

“Or a vision of the Force,” he suggested.

She gave him a withering glance, because if she had to go through all of that again she was certain she’d go crazy, but it was half-hearted. Closing the locker, she turned to her companions. “Do we have everything?”

Atton nodded, and Kreia sighed. “I will return back to the room. Please bring me something to eat. I must meditate.”

Meetra watched her go, but her thoughts drifted to Atton and his words to her back on the Ebon Hawk . When he’d told her that he’d felt Kreia’s pain rolling off of her. She wondered if he was feeling that now, but when she glanced up at him, his face was impassive.

He caught her gaze and raised his brows. “So, what’s the plan?”

That was a great question. “Well, we should definitely eat first. We’ll need some credits, so let’s head to that shop we passed.”

The “emporium” was inappropriately named, Meetra thought. All it was was a large room separated by shelving. There was a Duros sorting through inventory on the shelving, and he turned at the sound of their footsteps. “ Greetings. My name is Dendis, and if you wish to purchase or sell goods, you have come to the right place .” 

“We have some…” Ringing. There was a faint ringing just at the edge of her perception, like a bell’s. She cleared her throat, thinking she’d just imagined it. “We have some items we’d like to sell.”

Dendis clapped his hands. “ Excellent. I encourage you to browse through my wares .” He placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly at the waist. “ I can assure you that I am an honest merchant, unlike my brother Samhan .”

Another Duros appeared, rounding the shelves as if summoned by his brother’s snide comment. “ You do not understand the true meaning of business, brother .” He turned to Meetra. “ Welcome to our shop. I apologize on behalf of Dendis. He has not quite grasped the ebb and flow of being a merchant .”

“ Nonsense! I simply have principles ,” Dendis protested.

Samhan ignored him. “ When you realize Dendis is in possession of lackluster merchandise, feel free to visit my side of the emporium .”

Samhan disappeared around the shelving, and Dendis shook his head. “ Please ignore him. What do you have? ”

Not much, as it turned out. Meetra ended up selling the mining laser they had, as well as the stealth field generator and the leftover grenades. What she ended up with was a measly amount of credits. 

“Is that all they’re worth?” she asked as she stared at the credits in her hand.

“ I’m afraid so. However ,” he said, noticeably staring at her vambrace, “that is of significant worth .”

Meetra stared at the vambrace on her right arm. It was useless to her, not even functional, and its surface was scratched and covered in carbon scoring, covering the red it had been painted. The vambrace was the relic of a horrific, traumatic war, a reminder of what she had lost when she followed Revan and Malak to war. It was a representation of everything she’d been through. And yet, she didn’t want to let it go.

“Well, it’s not for sale,” Atton butted in. “How about you cough up some more credits before—”

Meetra raised a hand to stop him, then slipped off the vambrace. “It’s fine.” She set it on the counter. “How much are you offering?”

Dendis picked up the vambrace and studied it, thoroughly examining it with narrowed eyes. “ Five hundred credits .”

Five hundred? Surely it was worth more than that, but Meetra was hungry, and so were Atton and Kreia, so if that was what he was willing to pay for it, then she’d oblige. “All right.”

Dendis handed over the credits. Meetra glanced at the shelving, then at Atton. “Do you need anything from here?”

Atton broke out of his staring at the vambrace, which was now being cleaned by Dendis. “We should probably stock up on some medpacs, maybe a pair of blasters as well.”

She nodded in agreement. Meetra also grabbed a pair of clothes that looked like they’d fit her better than the oversized shirt and pants she was wearing, and Atton examined the weapons. But that previous ringing, it was still there. She sorted through the items on the shelves, searching for the source.

There. Behind a box of grenades, in between two power cores for droids, was a small, dull, goldish-brown rock. No, a crystal . Though it certainly looked like a rock. Her heart began racing as she picked it up, and the ringing quieted as she turned it over in her hand.

“ That isn’t a crystal, I’m afraid ,” Dendis said from behind the counter. “ It was sold to me under false pretenses that it was a Jedi’s color crystal, but it is merely a rock .”

“ I told you he was a bad businessman! ” Samhan called from the other side of the shelves.

Meetra ignored him and tried to keep her face neutral to hide the swarm of emotions bubbling in her chest. “Then why do you keep it around?”

“ Truthfully, I’d forgotten it was even there .” Dendis picked up a box lying near the counter and came towards her. “ You can have it if you want. It is of no use to me ,” he said as he hoisted the box onto the shelf.

“Really?”

“ Yes .”

“Thank you.”

“ There’s no need. It is just a rock .”

Meetra rolled her lips to hide her smile.

The cantina was a busy house of commotion. The main room was dim, lit by blue lights in the trim of the wall. Atton and Meetra had come through the swoop den, where pazaak players gambled and drank at the two long tables on either side of the room. The main cantina sported booths on the far wall and a smattering of tables in the center of the room a respectable distance from the stage, where a Bith band was playing some of the most repetitive, ear-grating music she’d ever heard, Three scantily-clad Twi’lek women danced sensually in front of the band. A crowd of male onlookers were gathered at the edge of the stage to watch. Oh, great . 

“Hopefully the food is worth it,” Meetra tried saying over the music, but Atton either ignored her or didn’t hear her, and immediately headed for the bar.

She took the seat next to him as he waved over the protocol droid, who handed them menus. She skimmed it briefly before her eye caught on something. 

“I’d like a roast kulkan, kebroot tubers, and a meatpie. And a glass of water as well. Don’t get it wrong,” Atton warned the bartending droid.

Meetra looked up from the menu, surprised. “You’re from Alderaan.”

He froze in the middle of returning the menu to the droid. After a too-long moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “What makes you say that?”

“The food you just ordered. It’s Alderaanian, isn’t it?”

Atton’s face fell into calm coolness. He swiveled his barstool around to face the open cantina, resting his elbows behind him on the bar. “Yeah. I’ve been there a few times during the Winter’s Heart festival, but that’s about it. Personally, I’m more partial to the Fete Weeks celebrations on Coruscant”

He was deflecting. She relayed her and Kreia’s order back to the protocol droid before studying him for a few moments in silence. “Then where are you from?”

Atton waved his hand, nonchalant. “Oh, you know, some backwater planet that was wrecked during the wars. Nowhere important.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You? I take it you’re from Coruscant?”

“Yeah. Though I’ve spent most of my life on Dantooine, so I call it my homeworld.”

“I also take it that you were kidnapped by the Jedi when you were a kid?”

Meetra let out a single, disbelieving laugh. “Kidnapped? I wouldn’t call it that.”

He gestured with his hand as he spoke. “Why not? Let me go out on a limb here and guess that you were the daughter of some quaint couple on Coruscant. Upper levels, of course, but not quite able to reach the top. You displayed signs of Force-sensitivity, your family rang up the Jedi on Coruscant, they came to get you, and you were ripped from your family and your home to be shipped off to Dantooine .”

She couldn’t help but feel a bit offended at the condescending tone about her homeworld, and the fact that he’d guessed correctly. “Why do you say it like that?”

Atton was looking at her now. “Because,” he said matter-of-factly. “You were well-off with your family on a Core World, in the capital of the Republic, where a perfectly fine Jedi temple was located. Then the Jedi storm in and take you away to some Outer Rim planet. Haven’t you wondered why?”

She didn’t know what to say, and he took that in stride. “Because they wanted you as far away from your family as they could get you, right? Jedi are forbidden from attachments, so I’ve heard. It’s only a natural assumption to make, if you ask me.”

Meetra glowered at him. “Well I didn’t ask you, did I?”

Atton met her gaze with a slightly narrowed one. After a few seconds of silence, he faced forward again. “No, you didn’t.” He shrugged. “Either way, it wouldn’t matter. I imagine the Jedi hammered it in thick to make sure you wouldn’t try to contact them anyway, even if you wanted to.”

Anger lanced through her. “I had a duty. To the Jedi, to the Republic, and to its people. I couldn’t compromise that because I felt homesick.”

“So you did miss them.”

Meetra threw her hands up, exasperated. “That’s not the point. A Jedi’s life is sacrifice.” She’d repeated that mantra over and over. Anytime she was tempted to reach out to her parents, she whispered it under her breath. “My family might’ve gotten in the way. If they were in danger, I’d be focusing on them rather than the people of the galaxy.”

“What about when you were exiled? Did you seek them out then?” 

Atton’s stare was piercing, his tone borderline accusatory. She didn’t know why he cared so much when it was clear he wasn’t fond of Jedi. There’d always been some wall around him, even when they’d met. But now, as he was looking at her expectantly, she thought she saw a glimpse of a different man behind those eyes. 

He was still staring, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. As if he was challenging her, daring her to admit what he knew to be true out loud. But her jaw was set, the words refusing to leave her mouth. He looked away without another word, having gotten his answer.

The two sat in silence, Meetra stewing in her own thoughts while the droid finished preparing their food. She was frustrated. At herself, at their situation, at Atton. He wasn’t a Jedi. He didn’t understand the sacrifices she’d had to make for the citizens of the Republic, for people like him, people who didn’t like what they didn’t understand. Maybe Kreia was right. Maybe Atton was a fool after all.

At last, their food was ready, but before she could begin eating, Atton stopped her and addressed the bartending droid. “Can we get this to-go?”

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“I don’t like the way that woman’s looking at you, so let’s leave this place before she decides to come over and chat.”

“What woman?”

He didn’t respond, instead taking the boxes of food and heading towards the exit. Meetra followed, glancing back briefly to catch sight of a pink Zeltron with short, red hair smiling at her from behind a glass of brandy.