Lost and Found Chapters 6-9

'Well, you're not going to believe this.'

Sarii opened one eye, the other still tightly squinting in an effort to remain in her position of meditation, floating a few centimeters above the floor in the cargo hold of the Ebon Hawk.

Atton leaned up against the doorway, the flaps of his jacket slapping loudly against each other under the air vents. Yet another part of the ship that was falling apart: the grating that usually transferred heavy blowing into gentle air-conditioning was long destroyed and long overdue for replacement.

'Does that actually help?' he murmured, the cockiness in his voice replaced with curiosity.

'Help? Help with what?'

He had that gizka-caught-in-the-crossfire look in his eyes again, the same one she remembered from Peragus when she had found him locked up in the security cage.

'With...whatever it is you're trying to do,' he muttered lamely.

Sarii shrugged, clumsily unfolding her legs as she landed back on the ground. She stood up, rubbing her back and listening to it crack as she bent backwards.

'It's better than losing another Pazaak game against you.'

Or trading stories of close scrapes with Mira. Or trying to teach Mical lightsaber techniques in the garage of a small freighter.

Needless to say, they were all going a little stir-crazy.

'Because it never seems to help you win any battles,' Atton continued. 'Not that we've been losing any...well, not that we've had any at all lately...'

The pilot shook his head in frustration.

'All I heard you, Mical, the Miraluka, and even old Kreia talk about was meditation. It's never helped any of the Jedi I've met before.'

Helped them resist you? Helped them escape you?

Not being able to read him had its advantages. Sarii thankfully couldn't tell if the images that came to mind were true or not.

Then again, the image was difficult to believe in its own right. It was hard to reconcile a picture of a Sith standing over a tortured Jedi with a cruel smile on his face against a mouthy pilot who had only been completely honest with her once, in a back alley on Nar Shaddaa.

The fact that she knew for a fact that he had once been that Sith made her suspect that there was still more to Atton Rand than met the eye.

Sometimes the truth is more damaging than the lies, Padawan Sarii.

Besides, she hadn't really been meditating so much as making a long-distance call. A very long-distance call.

She searched her mind and found that she couldn't remember Dantooine without the roaming kinrath herds, without the barely strung-together settlement, without the greasy scavengers around their campfires.

She couldn't remember the enclave without its walls lying in pieces all over the courtyard, without its once lush and maintained gardens growing like scattered weeds around doorframes and across floors.

It was understandable, of course. Before the attack, the planet wasn't all that memorable. She'd only been to Dantooine a few times; once or twice as a Jedi Knight, and once more as something else.

As a 'wound in the Force', or so Master Kavar had said.

He walked next to her, his hands behind his back. He breathed in deeply, watching a group of birds fly over the broken ceiling of the ruined enclave. Sarii could make out the familiar sound of both of his lightsabers bumping against his belt.

'You are unhappy, Sarii,' Kavar murmured, watching her as she kicked a small rock across the ground.

'Not unhappy, Master. More frustrated.'

'You really have no one to blame but yourself, Padawan.'

That didn't make it any better. Despite whatever kinds of technicalities Sarii used to deny it, the facts were still plain as day:

She was, like it or not, following Revan.

'But I should be out here, Master. I should be trying to fight any threat against the Jedi. I shouldn't be upset about who or what it involves to defeat it.'

Sarii paused, waiting for Kavar's reaction.

'Right?'

The deceased Jedi Master idly lifted his hands to right a toppled chair. The chair floated up and landed gracefully on the rubble-covered floor of the ruined enclave. He glanced at her with a bemused smile on his face.

'Perhaps you have forgotten what it was to follow her in the first place. It was once a path you were proud to walk.'

Sarii watched as the walls of the enclave morphed into a dense fog, as Master Kavar stepped into it and met his Padawan.

Her. Sarii gave her younger self the once-over; barely knighted, barely nineteen, barely past responding to Padawan Zhen quicker than Jedi Sarii.

'I know of your plans, Padawan,' Kavar began in a stern tone.

Sarii remembered like it was yesterday how stupid she had felt, spending a full week trying to muster up the courage to tell her former master something that was written all over her face and easy enough for a child apprentice to read let alone a Jedi Master recently appointed to the Council.

'Plans?'

Sarii smacked her forehead, listening to her younger self nervously repeat the word as if she had never heard it before.

'A simple word for something as grave and consequential as war,' Kavar added.

She realized that both she and her younger self were twirling a piece of ginger-colored hair around their fingers in perfect unison.

The younger Sarii quickly untangled her finger from her hair, straightening up as Kavar prepared to speak again.

'You know nothing of battle. Nothing of death or war or pain.'

She was unable to keep from flinching now, even though she had stopped herself then. Sarii knew that her master had seen all of them.

'You have lived your life among the Jedi and you know nothing more than their lessons. Even your trials, even the most difficult of our training together will not be the slightest preparation for what awaits Revan, Malak, and those who follow them.'

Sarii watched the younger version of herself gulp and stare defiantly back at her master, who had used a tone so harsh and final that she remembered half-expecting him to walk away right then and there, considering the matter closed.

'Master Kavar, the lessons you and the Jedi taught me always said that our lives are to serve. We're supposed to be the bringers of justice in the galaxy. We're always supposed to be prepared to make whatever sacrifices are necessary to save the lives of innocent people-'

Sarii felt herself searching the archives and official texts of the Jedi in her head now as she had then, wanting to have exact quotes and irrefutable evidence, things her master could not use to argue against her case.

'I don't understand why the Council is going against their own teachings, Master,' The younger Sarii added resolutely. 'The Republic needs us. It's our responsibility to help.'

The countless midnight conversations and secret whisperings between training sessions among the eldest Padawans and the recently promoted knights had all led to the same conclusion: The Republic was in trouble. They were Jedi. You didn't need to be a Jedi Master or one of the two leaders in promoting the call to war to realize what that meant.

Not all of them had met Revan or Malak, though her brown braid of hair and his tattooed head were familiar sights (always storming down a corridor or striding into a room; Sarii had a perpetual memory of the backs of their heads).

'Your motives do you credit, as they do all Jedi who are outraged by the actions of the Mandalorians,' Kavar continued patiently, 'But you forget that we are also the guardians of peace, Padawan. You forget the Code: there is no ignorance, there is knowledge. We cannot defend against something we know nothing about-'

'The Mandalorians are attacking the Republic. They want to take over the galaxy. They've slaughtered thousands already- what more is there to know?'

The younger Sarii's face was beginning to turn red.

She could remember that she hadn't quite known what it was that had made her skin feel so hot- whether it was embarrassment that she was digging herself into a hole trying to debate a Jedi Master, or indignation that he wasn't respecting her opinion after her promotion to Knight.

'You spoke of sacrifice, Sarii,' Master Kavar's voice was gentle now, like when she was a child and first chosen as a Padawan. 'You and the others don't realize the extent of what you may lose in this war.'

Back then she had thought he'd meant dying, a harsh fact that had made the Padawan swallow hard but still stare fearlessly back at him.

Now the Exile understood that death was not the only way of losing your life: war could take from you whatever you had hoped would remain after the killing, whatever you valued most- in her case, the Order and the principles that had sent here there in the first place.

'I'm a Jedi now, Master Kavar. And that means I can't stand by when there are people who need help.'

'You haven't changed much, Padawan, though I sense you like to think you have,' Kavar finally murmured, turning back to her, the younger Sarii fading into the mists like the forgotten character she was. 'Admiral Onasi needs your help, and you believe that is the role of a Jedi, no matter what sacrifices must be made. Even sacrifices of pride.'

'Well it is...isn't it?'

Sarii exhaled in frustration as Kavar gave her that bemused smile again and began to walk away from her, into the darkened expanses of the ruined enclave.

'In short, Padawan Zhen: relax.'

'This is the part where you ask me what the hell I'm talking about.'

Sarii was brought back to the present when Atton impatiently snapped his fingers in her face.

She shook her head, frowning at him.

'Well? What is it that I'm never going to believe?'

'I found a planet.'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mical and Mira were already in the cockpit when she and Atton came striding in.

'What type? Where is it? Is it far?' Sarii said breathlessly, sitting down in the co-pilot's chair.

'Whoa, slow down there. I think you're starting to drool, Master Jedi,' Mira goaded, but she wore the same relieved smile that the rest of them did.

They had the maps up until a few parsecs beyond the Outer Rim, but anything past that- certainly including the sector they were currently in- was uncharted territory. They had the last known coordinates of Revan's ship, but making a quick hyperspace jump to those coordinates was not only dangerous (considering they didn't know what had stopped the former Sith Lord's messages) but would bypass any planets or settlements that might hold some information.

It had been a slow, month-long drift into the Unknown Regions without any sign of life or activity. And now, an entire planet. Sarii felt like she was entitled to a little drool.

'The climate is dry...I would venture even cool. It appears to have once been a volcanic planet, but the mounts have since collapsed in on themselves. The hardening of the lava within the craters has formed a kind of crust, which would cool the planet's core considerably,' Mical reported from where he stood by the Ebon Hawk's navigational system. 'Settlements are scattered over its surface-'

'Hey, I never said it was the best planet,' Atton interrupted defensively. 'But it's still right in the neighborhood. And we're not picking up any massive fleets or battle cruisers waiting for us.'

Sarii finally noticed the planet itself growing larger in the windows of the cockpit; the color of mud, its surface pockmarked with expansive craters.

'It looks like a giant asteroid,' she noted.

'There's a whole field of 'em a couple parsecs over,' Mira said. 'Luckily we don't have to go near it.'

'You two might want to lose the hoods and tabards,' she added, motioning with her head towards Sarii and then Mical.

Sarii glanced over her shoulder at the bounty hunter.

'Huh?'

'Your Jedi robes. Probably not the best idea to wear them out in public. Just in case we run into any, oh, I don't know...Sith.'

Sarii and her Padawan obediently rose and moved towards the back of the ship.

'I do not feel the evil presence we were warned against,' Mical said at her side. 'This planet feels as harmless as Tatooine.'

'We're probably not going to feel it, Padawan,' Sarii answered as they neared the center of the ship where it split off into the gendered crew quarters. 'Which is going to make finding what we seek a lot harder.'

His brow furrowed as he glanced over his shoulder at her retreating form, his mouth twisting up into a pondering frown.

Now that she was a Master herself, she had learned all the tricks. Including hiding what you were actually thinking from your apprentice and giving him what masters were supposed to say instead.

Actually, Padawan, I have no idea of what to expect and I'm kind of nervous.

And the only evidence Sarii had to support any of her assumptions about the Unknown Regions or the true Sith was long dead, although the quarters still vaguely smelled of that Peragus morgue scent that had lingered on the old woman.

Should have known just by that, Sarii thought ruefully, tossing parts of her robes against a cot and slipping into old civilian clothing and armor. What kind of wizened Jedi Master who wants to help you reconnect with the Force pretends to be lying dead in a morgue before popping awake and feeding you riddles?

She had been more concerned than suspicious at the time- an old woman, wrinkled like grandmothers Sarii could barely remember, slightly bowed like she had a hump in her back- just an old woman in pain.

And she said she was Revan's master...should have known from that too. No one saw Revan coming.

I didn't see Kreia coming either.

When they returned to the cockpit, the planet was practically engulfing their view, casting a slightly orange hue over the interior. It made Mira's hair practically glow and the whites of their eyes red like they had all been using stims.

'Any word from the Admiral?' Sarii murmured. Atton shook his head.

'His ship's barely crossed the Outer Rim limits,' he said, glancing down at the console where the tiny blinking outline of Onasi's freighter (fitted with a homing device so they could keep track of each other) sat on the edge of the star map.

'He's got to be at least a month behind by now. Happens when you waste a bunch of time on Coruscant.'

'Send our coordinates anyways,' Sarii said. The pilot shook his head but complied.

'Has this place got a name?' Mira asked no one in particular.

'Unidentified ship-'

The coarse voice that barked out of the console made them all jump.

'What's the story on those settlements, Mical?' Sarii whispered back to her Padawan, despite the fact that whoever had just addressed them had no way of hearing her unless they started transmitting.

'The planet's surface areas are scattered like an archipelago separated by craters. The settlements are on the thin valleys between them. The only transmission-capable area is a concentrated spaceport on the far side of-'

'Export or import, unidentified ship?' The voice sounded almost bored.

'Aren't they transmitting any ID signatures? Like the name of the port or the planet or something like that?' Sarii asked, leaning towards Atton.

He batted her falling hair out of his face.

'We're in the Unknown Regions. We're not supposed to know how to get to them and they're not supposed to know how to get to us. There's no reason for them to suspect we're not local. I'm betting they think we're supposed to be here if we've managed to get here at all.'

'And if we're smart,' Mira added. 'We'll let them go on thinking that.'

'Ebon Hawk, arriving for export,' Atton answered casually to the coarse voice over the communication system.

There was a moment of fumbling static before the voice replied.

'Cleared for landing at receiving port twelve, Ebon Hawk.'

Sounds just like any other port authority on any coreward planet, Sarii thought somewhat disappointedly.

What with all the constant warnings about what was awaiting them in the Unknown Regions, it was kind of anticlimactic to be told you could land on your first planet with no trouble.

'His transmission of the port's location included the name of the planet,' Mical said belatedly. 'The port is located in a settlement called Danok. The planet is Teren.'

Teren. Big orange crater-y planet. No sign of Sith yet. Some kind of trade route that Atton's gone and stuck us in-

'Atton, what happens when we get down there and they start asking questions?' He glanced over at her with a wry smirk.

'Well I couldn't say import, could I? We haven't got any cargo to give them if they ask...unless you and Mical over there want to play Jedi bounties-'

'All right, calm down, I was only kidding,' He muttered, holding up a hand in surrender when he saw her glare.

'Anyways, don't worry. Maybe they won't ask any questions,' Atton added, piloting the ship into the atmosphere. They breezed through a few brown clouds before breaking through to hang over the enormous craters that marked the planet's surface. They expanded in circles so wide and deep that Sarii couldn't even estimate at how far down they went or how much of the surface they had claimed.

'Maybe there'll be Sith waiting for us with lightsabers and a friendly hello-'

'Atton, shut up.'

Craggy bluffs and rocky terrain shaped the winding plains between the craters. Sarii could make out a few small structures isolated in large patches of land.

Farmers? What do they possibly farm, rock?

She finally noticed the port settlement, Danok.

Or what passed for a settlement in the Unknown Regions. To Sarii, it looked like an ultra-fortified military base. The exterior of the structure was such that if the Ebon Hawk were to take a sudden nose dive into the side of it, she was reasonably sure that it would fold up and fall to the ground without having made a dent.

Are they attacked often? By who? And for what? Rock?

The ship landed with its usual chorus of creaks and groans.

'Okay,' Sarii breathed. 'Be ready for...well, just about anything.'

'Not a problem,' Mira answered, tugging on the straps that held her wrist launcher snug against her arm.

For once the gangplank was down when they reached it; one of the first times in months that they didn't have to start jumping on it to get it to lower. Sarii began to walk down.

A strange vibration accompanied the touch of her foot to the platform. The gangplank rattled like she weighed more than a Hutt. Sarii exchanged a confused glance with Mical.

A hideous roar echoed up the walls of the Ebon Hawk, rough and slightly screeching.

'What the hell is that?' Atton said, wincing.

The vibrations shook the Hawk again, and Sarii peered down the platform to spot two massive brown pillars standing at the edge of the ship.

No, not pillars. Pillars didn't have claws.

Her double lightsaber glowed purple in the unlit stretch between the ship's exit and the grey steel of the hangar bay, extended in front of Sarii as she went charging down the gangplank.

And ran straight into a terentatek.

Whether the beast reacted to something running at it, or didn't like the sight of her lightsaber, or smelled her Force sensitive blood pounding in her heart, Sarii didn't know; but the creature reared up and swiped viciously at her.

Before she could squint her eyes shut and start wondering what it was going to be like to become one with the Force, something managed to yank the terentatek backwards. Its claws completely missed her.

'Whoa there...'

It was then that Sarii noticed the giant chains around the beast's neck. She scrambled up, silencing her lightsaber and motioning towards Mical to do the same.

'What kind of an idiot are you?'

The irritated snap came from the other end of the beast's chain- a human male with an unkempt graying beard and bushy eyebrows that had grown together.

Some kind of squirming creature half the size of Sarii was tossed to the terentatek, who swallowed it whole and gave her a last threatening growl.

'Uh...sorry. Didn't mean to upset it,' Sarii replied quickly, still slightly paralyzed by the sight of a creature that had been myth as a child apprentice, urban legend as a teenage Padawan, and one heart-pounding error in judgment by Master Kavar during their training.

The man snorted indignantly.

'Running at 'em with your weapon drawn...don't you know anything about your own cargo? I suppose you're too young to remember the riots at Panek five years ago...'

'Bloody damn mess the whole thing was,' he continued without waiting for her answer. 'One tatek was startled, which made it turn on another, which made 'em massacre the entire sixth receiving port as well as rip down the wall and lay waste to a couple farms. Made 'em beef this whole place up in case any get out of control again-'

'Tatek?' Mical murmured.

The man's mouth screwed up in disgust.

'Yes, tatek. As in 'beast'? As in terentatek, 'beast of Teren'? Now I've got one here ready for you, and it doesn't look like this little piece of trash can hold anymore-'

'Terentateks are native to Korriban,' Mical continued, undeterred. 'Are any of these from-'

'Korriban's a rock in the middle of nowhere-'

That doesn't make it much different from this place, Sarii thought, biting her tongue to keep from saying it.

'Or more likely a myth for the history books,' the man added, leaning over to spit onto the metallic flooring of the port. 'Wouldn't know. No one's ever been there. Now will you load the tatek already? They tend to get antsy in large open spaces like this.'

Their dock was a huge steel cube that looked out over the fathomless edge of a crater.

The man prodded the terentatek with what looked like a very long and pointy electro-staff. It lumbered towards their gangplank, barely short enough to fit up its tight corridor.

'We're...not quite ready to take on the cargo yet,' Sarii said, trying to stall him. 'Our ship's a little beat up-'

'Don't have to tell me twice,' he interrupted rudely. 'The thing looks like there could be a hull breach if the tatek stomped too hard. You're gonna have a hell of a time transporting one of these in there, but that's your funeral. You've got to be the greenest exporters I've ever met.'

He sighed dramatically, pushing the terentatek back towards a huge cage.

'Next shipment leaves in the morning. Better be ready by then. And here,' he barked, effortlessly tossing her a datapad and handling the beast's chain. 'Educate yourself.'

The datapad hit Sarii in the arm and Mical reached forward to catch it. She leaned towards him to read it:

Terentatek Handling Procedures scrolled across the heading of the datapad.

We're on Teren, the first planet in the Unknown Regions, in a port called Danok. No Sith yet. There's apparently farmers of...rock, and a bustling trade route in the Force-resistant beasts known as terentateks, which are native to the planet and not Korriban, and of which Atton's now made us a primary exporter-

'Well, this stinks. I was hoping for some spice,' Atton finally said.

'Nice job, Rand,' Mira hissed. 'You got us a pet that looks like a rancor's cousin. Why couldn't it have been gizka or something?'

'The tatek is born and bred on the planet of Teren-' Mical read in a quiet voice.

'I guess that's what all the farmers do,' she replied, ignoring Mira and Atton.

'-They are naturally aggressive creatures, especially when provoked by bright light, open spaces, and the presence of the Force. This makes them desirable guardians and enforcers for communities of Force sensitives or areas with a strong Force presence-'

That's why he didn't react to our lightsabers, she thought, glancing after the retreating terentatak handler. Sith are probably around here making purchases a lot.

'We've got until morning...hopefully that's not in five hours or something,' Atton said. 'We'll just jet out of here and conveniently 'forget' our cargo.'

'The trade route's got to be to other planets in the Unknown Regions,' Sarii murmured at her Padawan's side. 'Planets where there are Sith.'

'Uh huh,' Mira said, rolling her eyes at Atton. 'You going optimistic on me, Rand? There's probably some Sith Lord up in a balcony somewhere plotting our demise right now.'

'Perhaps by playing along as exporters we can procure a map.'

Sarii raised an eyebrow at Mical's unusually sneaky suggestion.

'Or something to that effect,' Mical added.

Good job, Padawan. Being a good Jedi means knowing that we aren't supposed to lie, but knowing when we have to. He nodded deferently.

Sarii turned towards the nearest exit. The dock led to a row of ordinary trading stands and the obligatory cantina.

'You look like you had something sour,' Atton murmured, catching up to her.

'I guess I was expecting something...more exotic on an unknown planet.'

'What, cultural opportunities?' Mira snorted behind them.

Gather information, maybe do some snooping and find some maps, figure out where you are in relation to the rest of the Unknown Regions, figure out the political situation, find out something about the Sith-

Something started beeping anxiously from where Mical walked next to Mira. Her Padawan reached into his pack and pulled out the small com-scan unit, one of the latest pieces of Republic technology. It was one of the many devices they had been given before embarking on their mission; capable of transmitting anything sent to the ship to them no matter where they were on a planet.

'It's a message from the Admiral to the Ebon Hawk.'

Sarii stood, waiting patiently for Mical's explanation.

Atton Rand wasn't so patient. He moved to stare over Mical's shoulder. Her Padawan's brow furrowed but he made no effort to get away from the pilot.

Atton's eyes darted over the com-scan unit. Then he broke into laughter, shaking his head and rubbing a temple. He glanced up at her, and then started laughing again, unable to continue.

'You've got to be kidding me,' he finally managed to sputter.

'This is something of a serious situation, Atton,' Mical murmured.

Atton only laughed again.

'What is it?' Sarii asked.

'The Admiral is sending a distress call. His ship is badly damaged. He intends on landing here and asks if we'll work on procuring parts-'

'The Admiral's obviously a little rusty,' Atton broke in with a chuckle, cutting Mical off.

'I don't care which one of you tells us, but one of you is going to get a good backhand across the jaw if you don't do it soon,' Mira snapped.

Atton folded his arms and leaned back against the doorframe of the dock's exit, smirking and shaking his head one last time.

'Admiral Carth Onasi, famous hero and supposed crack pilot of the Republic, just popped out of hyperspace into an asteroid field.'

---

We don't have that kind of time...

Carth absent-mindedly rubbed his knee, now sure to have a bruise from where it had banged against the metal bulkhead for at least the sixth time. For some reason his legs kept stretching themselves out under the small navigational workstation in the cockpit, despite the fact that there was no additional room beyond a couple of centimeters.

Because you're used to finding more than metal bulkheads at your feet when you're working.

What he was used to finding, what his wayward feet kept searching for, was back near the Core worlds, far away on Coruscant.

'It'll be all right, Jawa. Everyone here's a Jedi, just like Mommy and Dustil.'

Who are you reassuring, Onasi? Her or you?

Celyn had stood behind him, peering out with a wary look on her face.

He didn't blame her. The sun was barely up, casting contorted shadows of the dozen or so children in the room across the pale geometric patterns in the floor. It was deathly quiet; a couple of the older ones were absorbed in datapads, but most of them sat with their legs folded and their hands resting on their knees in meditation.

No, they weren't sitting. They were floating. And either they didn't notice him standing in the doorway in his old orange flight jacket with a little girl hiding behind him, or they didn't think it was anything out of the ordinary.

Nope. He didn't blame Celyn in the slightest. It looked like the beginnings of a kid-sized cult.

'Now Celyn-'

He had turned and half-knelt to say a final goodbye to her, but his daughter just squeezed his hand, lifted her chin and walked right past him.

Well. That's rich, he thought, rolling his eyes and watching her for a second or so as she walked down the few steps into the room.

The child Jedi apprentices might not have noticed him, but they did notice Celyn. A few opened their eyes or glanced up at her as she passed them.

You're just like your mother, Jawa-

One of the meditating children had dropped one of the objects they had been levitating. He watched Celyn pause and retrieve it from the floor, inspecting it before holding it towards the apprentice and saying something. The Jedi kid floated back to the floor clumsily, glancing up at Celyn and finally answering.

Except for that, he had thought with a smile, turning around and finally leaving, leaving her for good. Because Katrina would have tried to make the thing turn cartwheels in the air before giving it back to the kid.

Carth leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck and staring vaguely at the star maps in front of him. Thinking about her for too long always ended in something bad. Either he got angry that she had left in the first place, or he got worried that something had happened to her. Or, he began to miss her enough that he started imagining she was here, standing over his shoulder or curled up in the co-pilot's seat. He sighed.

Where are you, gorgeous?

Katrina Onasi, whom he hadn't seen in nearly a year and one month. Revan, whom he hadn't heard from in almost seven months. He already worried that every passing day was just bringing him closer to his now-recurring nightmare:

'Father?'

Carth glanced up at Dustil's hand, heavy on his shoulder. He followed it up to Dustil's face, which looked unusually guilty.

'What's wrong?'

Dustil sat down in the co-pilot's chair, clasping his hands together and leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees.

His Force-sensitive son, able to sense what was going to happen, able to know the fate of those he was connected with, including his former master, sighed once.

'We can go home, Father. Revan's dead.'

Carth turned his attention back to the star maps and the navigational array lying out in front of him. Going sublight they were a month behind the Ebon Hawk's position at the first real planet past the boundaries of the Outer Rim. He checked his calculations once more. They looked right. They matched up with the Hawk's last position. Open space, nothing to impede a ship dropping out of hyperspace.

Never make a hyperspace jump into uncharted territory.

That wasn't something you were taught in the Fleet; that was something every idiot who could pilot a freighter knew.

But this is someplace she might have stopped; someplace she might have been...

A lot of things could happen in a month. And they didn't have that kind of time to waste.

He pushed himself up from the navigational workstation and stretched. Dustil entered the cramped cockpit, batting one of his flexing elbows out of his way.

'Hey, what do you know- more stars,' he said, rolling his eyes and dropping into the pilot's chair.

Carth sometimes wondered how the hell Dustil could be a Jedi Knight, founder of a future Jedi Academy, engaged to be married, and still manage to slouch and look as utterly bored as he did right now.

'Cheer up. We're going to catch up to the Hawk and that planet soon.'

'With the state that thing is in, it'll probably slow down enough to catch up to us,' his son muttered.

'What's with everybody knocking the Hawk lately? Sure, it's a little beat up, but hell, it saved the galaxy in its day.'

Dustil gave him a wicked smile. 'They'll be saying that about you in a couple years.'

Carth slapped him on the shoulder with the datapad and dropped it into his lap. His son only laughed. Dustil turned the datapad right side up and glanced over it.

'We're making a hyperspace jump?'

Carth reached up and hit a couple switches, making the adjustments necessary to send the Chaser into hyperspace. He nodded to Dustil. His son leaned forward and punched in the coordinates.

The Chaser's engines gave a slow crescendo up to a high pitch, and the stars turned into long blue and white lines around them.

The slight heaviness of hyperspace travel pressed Carth back into his chair. The rhythm of a hyperspace jump was comforting. Members of the Fleet learned it was the best place to be; no one could attack you in the midst of a hyperspace jump.

He was so relaxed and confident that it came as a complete shock when Dustil reached for the controls to pull them out of the jump and a huge wall of brown rock appeared, just centimeters from the windows of the cockpit.

The Chaser made a sharp nose dive, only to meet another brown rock, punctured with dozens of holes that ranged from tiny dots to larger burrows.

'Frack, frack, frack-'

Dustil's entire body shifted as he worked the controls, punctuating each successfully cleared rock with a 'frack'.

Carth blinked a few times to make sure that the field of innumerable asteroids in front of his eyes wasn't his imagination. The Chaser swung wildly to the left in an effort to avoid another one, only to practically bounce into a smaller asteroid. The shield alarms began ringing loudly.

Nope. Definitely not his imagination.

'What the hell did you do?' Carth shouted.

'It wasn't me! It was you and your stupid coordinates!' Dustil protested. The Chaser rocked violently as their hull barely scraped another asteroid.

Need to get in the pilot's chair, need to be the one flying us out of this mess-

'Give me the controls-'

'No, I can do it-'

'Give me the damn controls, Dustil!'

His son quickly slid out of the pilot's chair. Carth barely had time to maneuver the ship between two asteroids heading straight for either side.

The field seemed like it would never end. The asteroids hurtling towards him were gigantic and brown and full of holes that, from far away, looked like they could swallow the Jedi Chaser whole.

Carth couldn't avoid side-swiping an angular rock to starboard. The ship began to shimmy violently.

Must have calculated wrong, or gotten the wrong coordinates, something must have gone wrong-

'Father, aren't you supposed be some kind of famous pilot? Can you try not to hit every single hunk of space debris you see?' Dustil snapped, his hands clenched tightly around the edges of his seat.

'You're not too old to be grounded, you know,' Carth shot back, feeling the sweat starting to run down his brow.

Dustil snorted.

'From what, my wedding?'

Concentrate, concentrate, pay attention, do not start wondering if you're going to live to see your son's wedding, do not start hating yourself for putting him in danger-

The Chaser's stabilizers finally kicked in and the ship righted itself. Carth began to weave between the asteroids, looking desperately for the end of the field. Another scraped loudly against the top of the cockpit and he involuntarily cringed, waiting for it to come crashing through the roof.

And then, as abruptly as they had entered the field, they were out of it. In front of them was a field of white stars and black space. The planet loomed off to the right, a burnt orange mass that looked slightly misshapen because of its craters.

Carth slumped backwards in the chair, reaching to unbutton his jacket. His vision was impaired by several sweaty strands of his own hair.

'You all right, Dustil?'

His son nodded, standing up and cautiously looking around; like the asteroids had developed sentient thought and were forming ranks, ready to strike again.

'If I ever complain about being bored again, hit me.'

Carth sighed, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up from the chair, heading back towards the Chaser's engine room.

Once he saw it, he didn't like the looks of the hyperdrive. For one, the readings were completely off the charts. The thing should have been doing triple-lightspeed from the numbers he saw on the wall console. For another, the edges of the access panel were singed. Trickles of smoke and electrical sparks licked out from its corners. He reached for the panel door and hissed loudly, holding his slightly burned fingers up to his lips.

Dustil stood in the doorway, scratching his head.

'So what now, Admiral?'

A month on a ship alone with his twenty-something son's smart-aleck behavior made Carth remind himself that glaring at Dustil wasn't going to solve anything. He managed to soften it to a stern parental gaze.

Why don't you blow up the whole ship, Onasi? Save yourself some time-

'Look, Father, it'll be all right-'

'Hey, you're the kid here, not the parent. You don't have to reassure me-'

'Well I wouldn't if you weren't broadcasting general panic wide enough for any Force sensitive in the area to pick up-'

'Oh for crying out...you see, this is why I can't stand Jedi,' Carth snapped, whirling on Dustil, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. 'There's always some greater, mystical plan to everything, some bigger threat that the rest of us can't possibly understand because we can't feel it. You know, the galaxy's going to blow up by the time you people figure it out!'

Carth became aware of his half open jacket, his hair plastered to his sweaty brow, but most of all Dustil's critically raised eyebrow.

Good job, Onasi, break the ship, tell your son his occupation is for losers-

'Sorry, Dustil,' he finally said. 'I'm just...you...you shouldn't be out here. I shouldn't have left your sister. And we're both here because of Katrina's stupid idea that she has to fight these Sith she feels, even though there's no proof-'

'Revan's right about this one,' Dustil replied flatly. 'They exist, and they could crush the Order if they wanted to.'

'How? Are there a lot of them? Do they have resources, manpower, what? What exactly happened out there while you two were in hiding?'

Because he didn't have a very clear idea. Hell, he'd been so glad to see them both, floored by the knowledge of pregnant Revan and smitten Dustil that the actual mechanics of her mysterious 'I have to leave' speech and Dustil's supposed first-hand knowledge of these ancient Sith methods of conversion hadn't crossed his mind until Revan had already decided what she was going to tell him and what she was going to omit.

His son began to fidget, leaning forward to repeat Carth's earlier attempted inspection of the hyperdrive panel; biting his lip and shaking his burnt fingers.

'It's only going to upset you-'

'You want to know what I'm tired of, Dustil?' Carth began with a frown, watching Dustil pace around the small engine room nursing his hand.

'I'm tired of everyone treating me like I'm not a middle-aged Admiral in the Republic Fleet, like I haven't been through two wars already. I've seen and done a lot of things in my life, and I'm not going to crumble or die of despair if someone tells me something I don't particularly want to hear.'

'Well good, we're agreed,' Dustil continued weakly, turning towards the cockpit and walking to the doorway. 'You don't want to hear about it, and I don't want to talk about it-'

'You don't have to protect me, son,' Carth forced out slowly, though it was still direct enough to make Dustil glance over his shoulder.

The Jedi Chaser was a lot smaller than the Ebon Hawk; cockpit, engine room, cargo hold, captain's quarters and crew quarters made up its sleek design. But whoever had constructed it had made the most of its space. There were hundreds of various nooks for everyday activities, such as the low shelf in the engine room that acted like a bench. Carth seated himself on it, gesturing towards Dustil to join him.

His son watched him cautiously like it was some kind of trap.

'You won't understand, Father,' he finally said, joining Carth on the bench. 'It's beyond ships and firepower-'

'Let me worry about understanding, all right? Just tell me. Tell me what's so different, what's so horrible about these true or ancient Sith.'

He didn't like the look on Dustil's face, and more so didn't like the fact that it was his questioning that was bringing it on.

'These Sith...they're really old Sith. They're either direct descendents of or the last survivors of the ancient Sith race, the beings that first learned to use the Force from dark Jedi who left the Order.'

Carth struggled not to fall behind under terms like 'ancient Sith race' and 'dark Jedi who left the Order', parts of a history he and most of the galaxy had never been taught.

'And they're nothing like the Sith you've been fighting, they've got nothing to do with the Republic, not like the ones that blew up Telos or Admiral Karath or any of that. Not even like on Korriban or like Malak and-'

His son trailed off, avoiding his gaze.

'They're not out to kill us. They're not out to exterminate the Jedi-'

'Then what do they want?' Carth pressed.

'Us. Jedi. Modern Sith. All Force sensitives. They want us.'

Dustil sighed heavily.

'Just the thought of conversion is frightening enough to the right people.'

My son is one of those right people. My son was a Sith.

'The fear and the anticipation are almost enough to make a Force user turn without their help.' Dustil shifted uncomfortably next to him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him, staring blankly across the room.

'They start with the usual torture- physical stuff like lightning. It burns. It burns cold though, not hot like you'd think it would. Your skin itches so much you feel like you want to rip it all off.'

He'd never been hit with Force lightning. He'd watched Bastila, Juhani, Katrina and Jolee all grit their teeth and continue through it like it was just hail.

He wondered how many times Dustil had been jolted breathless by it, how many times his son had writhed on the ground in pain like Carth remembered watching Katrina and one of the kids from the Academy- Melek? Mekel?- do on Korriban.

The thought that it had even been once made his fists clench together.

'But that's nothing, Father. You've...you've been tortured before, you know-'

'I know.' Carth said sharply.

The Leviathan. Felt like I was being cut with eight-thousand vibroblades and then dipped in salt water.

Wanted it to stop, wanted to tell them all about the Jedi and the Star Forge and Morgana and Dustil and anything else they wanted to know-

'That stuff's not enough to make a good Jedi turn. Pain can be worked through, pain you can meditate past, wounds you can heal. It's how they hurt people that aren't even there that ends up converting you.'

'That doesn't make any sense, Dustil-'

'They take your memories and twist them. They show you variations on your past decisions or someone else's, or they show you what might have happened if you had made different choices.'

He watched Dustil's clasped hands tremble slightly.

'And you try to remember what really happened before they messed with your memory of something, but all you can see is their version. And then you start to wonder if their version is actually how it happened.'

He had been barely asleep, so it wasn't a surprise that even her small jolt, sigh, and resettling into the pillow had disturbed him.

Carth rolled over.

'Revan?' Her eyes opened obediently.

'You all right?' She nodded even though the stiffness in her body was visibly painful. Carth grasped her hand.

'Just another memory,' Katrina whispered.

'I'm sorry, gorgeous. If I could make them stop, I would-'

'I don't want them to stop,' she interrupted softly, closing her eyes. 'I want them back. I want to stop wondering if I've done something before, only I just don't remember.'

They say the Force can do terrible things to a mind. It can wipe away your memories and destroy your very identity.

I can't believe I said that to her...before we even knew-

He became aware of Dustil inching away from him, ready to bolt for the cockpit.

'Hey, Dustil...' Carth tried to grasp his shoulder comfortingly, keep him from retreating, but his son's Jedi reflexes had him on his feet and a couple centimeters away from Carth before his hand could even touch him.

'If they...if we ever find them, Father,' Dustil began, his tone stern like the Jedi Masters Carth never envisioned his son emulating. 'If we're ever up against them in a fight...don't think about anything you care about. Don't think about me, don't think about Revan, don't think about Celyn...'

His son paused in the doorway, his back to Carth, whatever emotions creeping into his face hidden from Carth's view.

'And especially Mom,' Dustil finished hoarsely. 'Do not think about Mom.'

He considered chasing after him, although Dustil admittedly couldn't get much farther than the cockpit, and Carth could even see him slump down into the co-pilot's chair if he leaned over and peered down the corridor.

Carth clasped his hands together, waiting out the obligatory ten minutes to give Dustil time for contemplation, or meditation, or...whatever Jedi in a bad mood did.

'Unidentified ship, export or import?'

The ten minutes were up, and the gruff voice that asked Carth the question as he sat back down in the pilot's chair was not recognizably alien or Sith or anything else other than male and slightly bored. Dustil turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

'We've sustained heavy damage, unidentified port,' Carth replied smoothly. 'We're drifting towards you and request permission to land and make repairs.'

His voice was smooth but the feeling in his stomach was anything but. He had absolutely no idea what to expect or how to prepare for it. Katrina's coordinates told him nothing but what direction to go.

And her messages weren't a big help either. He knew: he'd dissected every single one.

She had kept them on a strict timeline- two transmissions every month like clockwork. And then suddenly, inexplicably, they had stopped. There had been no slow down, no visible proof in what she wrote to him that anything had changed.

Carth frowned. It wasn't as if she had ever sent him anything useful anyways. She never said a word about where she was or what she was doing; only generic letters about how she missed him and Celyn, questions about Dustil, or, rarest of all, how she was feeling.

Nothing helpful like, say, planet names and affiliations and what the hell 'export or import' might mean...

'Temporary docking granted in distribution port six.'

Carth shook his head, sitting up over the console and moving the Chaser towards the planet's atmosphere.

I don't see any Sith yet, beautiful. You still haven't convinced me. He glanced over at Dustil, who had come pretty close.

It infuriated him that there were things in the galaxy he would never even have a chance to protect them from. It infuriated him more that there was a whole dimension to Dustil and Katrina and even Celyn's lives that he could never grasp because he wasn't Force-sensitive.

But that wasn't about to make him stop trying.

---

'Look, missy, I'm sorry you're having so much trouble,' the shopkeeper said flatly, leaning across the counter towards Sarii.

She tried to make herself stop looking as exasperated as she felt. It was no doubt her facial expression that was giving the human shopkeeper- an older male with a frizzy black ponytail- his half-lecturing tone.

'But hyperdrive parts aren't items we get shipments of, nor are they regular bartering items. Busted-up ships like yours just aren't the norm around here-'

'It isn't for my ship, it's for a friend-'

'Now you don't have to be embarrassed about it,' the shopkeeper continued soothingly. 'Everyone's down on their luck now and then, I suppose...'

Sarii was having urges to do things that were distinctly un-Jedi; like storming out of the shop in a huff, or unleashing her rant about the useless port and the useless planet and the useless people around her on the shopkeeper.

Instead she nodded.

'I understand then. I'll keep looking. Thanks for your help.'

They'd been spending the better part of a half-hour going from trading post to small shop within the Danok port. Change the hair color and gender of the shopkeeper she had just talked to a few times, and she had pretty much had the exact same conversation with each one.

'I don't get it,' Mira muttered behind her, the leather of her short jacket crinkling as she folded her arms. 'How can people not need ship parts? Is there a speed limit around here or something?'

'I guess there aren't many space battles,' Sarii answered.

'Or high-speed starship collisions,' Atton said, gesturing lazily towards the next trading post.

If this is entirely Sith space, then there would be no cause for battles, Mical offered. Unless there is a Republic or Jedi presence here, they would seem to have no opposition.

That would make sense, Sarii agreed. Certainly an undisturbed trade route would mean that there isn't much stopping the shipment of Force-resistant beasts probably used for less-than-noble purposes.

But who's they?

This last thought she kept to herself, determined that the next person she talked to was going to tell her something about the Sith; whether they were a governing political body, or just the local religious sect and the Unknown Regions were run by a confederation similar to the Republic, or whether they existed out here at all.

The small stand was empty. Sarii peered over the counter, past the displays of rations and medpacs and basic droid parts.

'Hello?'

The figure behind the counter tried to stand too quickly from where it was bent over and whacked its head on the flat surface, swearing under its breath.

The owner of the stand was an older woman in her late forties or fifties. She rubbed her mass of graying hair before frowning at Sarii and her companions.

'I hope you're a little more careful around the tateks. They'll give you a lot worse than a scolding if you sneak up on one of them...'

The woman trailed off. Sarii returned her hesitant stare for a moment, wondering what the woman found so strange about her.

Something dragged across the counter as she leaned back, and she realized that her lightsaber had been hanging out, lying on the counter as she had bent over it to check on the woman.

'Sorry, Master Jedi,' the woman said somewhat begrudgingly. 'I didn't know.'

There was a tense moment in which Sarii could sense Mira unfolding her arms and screwing up her mouth; Atton raising an eyebrow, Mical barely suppressing the urge to ask the hundreds of questions she knew he was already preparing in his head.

'That's...all right,' she replied slowly, trying to think of some casual way to begin.

'From such small things, from such critical points, the universe and its masses may be moved... that is why you must be careful in all that you do, and in every choice you make.'

She didn't need Kreia let alone anyone else to tell her that; Sith Lord, Jedi Master, occasionally both or otherwise. Despite the somewhat innocuous flavor of Taren so far, Sarii was trying to stay on her guard.

Did the Order exist out here? How had this woman pegged her for a Jedi from an unextended lightsaber?

And am I ever going to get Kreia's voice out of my head?

'Do a lot of Jedi usually do business with you?' The woman nodded vigorously.

'Oh yes, Master Jedi. I even give them a discount. No Jedi has ever had a problem with Sveta's stand-'

Okay, so there have been Jedi here before? A lot of them?

'Are there any Jedi here now?'

Sveta eyed the section of her belt where the woman now knew Sarii's lightsaber was hanging suspiciously. She folded her arms over her chest, tilting her head to the side. One of her long, danging metal earrings shook with the motion and half tangled in the folds of her clothing.

'Not on this planet. Unless you Jedi have made new plans to settle here as well.'

Sveta continued to stare at Sarii as she straightened items on her stand protectively, like Sarii was going to trash the stand any minute.

Okay, she's worried that Jedi will settle here and it'll be bad for business, possibly for the planet...why?

'Do the Jedi typically...um...settle on planets like this?' Mira murmured, taking a few steps forward.

'They could if they wanted to, I suppose,' Sveta snapped. 'But I won't use up your valuable time with rumors, Master Jedi. I've heard the stories of what Jedi do to people who can't answer their questions. I even saw one once. He killed the port officer and a good breeding tatek, and no one even found out the reason.'

Okay...they have a very skewed idea of what a Jedi is-

The Sith here must refer to themselves as Jedi, Mical suddenly said. She could hear that breathless exuberance in her mind as easily as she could hear it in his voice when he spoke aloud. This would fall in line with their roles as descendents of the original dark Jedi, who believed that they were what the Jedi were supposed to be.

Sveta tapped her fingers on the counter impatiently. The trader didn't seem to fear them anymore. Sarii could sense the woman's thoughts of being ousted from home and hearth as well as the memory of the only Jedi close encounter she had ever had overriding fear and replacing it with anger.

It may be a purposeful move as well, Mical pondered, getting lost in his own thoughts and her own head. One to try and turn all sentients in this area of space against the Order should they ever choose to make a larger strike in Republic space-

'Well, Master Jedi? What can I do for you?'

Atton poked her in the ribs. 'Ship parts?' he whispered.

'Right...we're looking for ship parts,' Sarii said, straightening up.

The woman shook her head.

'Don't have any. Looks like we should start thinking about it, though, what with the two beat up ships I've heard are sitting in the complex. Would one of those be yours?'

Two...I guess the Admiral's here.

She struggled not to feel bad that she hadn't been able to follow his instructions to find hyperdrive parts, that she would have to walk up to him and say that he was stranded unless he could figure something out.

'You realize what this means, General Zhen.'

She nodded bravely, keeping her hands clasped behind her back and concentrating on the metallic detailing on her Jedi leader's high collar.

Malak frowned, glancing off to the side as he leaned over the holographic projection table in the center of the Republic command ship. Over the circular computer screen Sarii saw the movements of various troops; tiny masses of red and green over the surface of Ithull.

She struggled not to let her shoulders slump when she noticed a vast wall of red (the computer representation of Mandalorian troops) covering one corner of the hologram.

'Your decision has cost us the northern barrier. The time to strike was now, when the Mandalorians were distracted by the onslaught from General Frey's men. Another chance may not present itself.' The Jedi paused.

'She will not be pleased.'

There was an underlying tone of resignation in his voice. Sarii wondered what it was like for him: rumored to be her closest friend (some even whispered lover);having to take her orders.

'Look, there's got to be ship parts somewhere on this planet,' Mira said exasperatedly, elbowing her way in front of them. 'Is there an outside dealer? A local trader not in this dock?'

Sveta cocked her head to the side and stared upwards for a moment, like the answer was written on the ceiling.

'Well...there was some freighter wreckage from the riots at Panok years ago. It was all dragged out to the nearest disposal crater, but I doubt it's been tossed in yet.'

'Disposal crater?' Sarii inquired.

'Surely you've noticed the craters on the planet...how you could probably fit a small moon in them with room to spare?' Sveta replied, lips twitching as she resisted whatever condescending smirk went along with the eye roll she hadn't been able to suppress. 'We use one for garbage disposal, but dumps can only be made at certain times, when tatek breeding season is over and there's no seismic activity within the crater to interrupt.'

'I guess you never know what might happen when you dump a bunch of freighters into a giant hole,' Atton murmured.

'Where would this be?' Mical asked.

'You'll have to exit the complex and head south,' Sveta replied. 'There's a beaten path that runs along the crater we're situated on and goes past a few farms. The next crater's maybe five or six kilometers down the path, I think.'

Sarii nodded to the woman.

'Thank you for your help.'

We should tell her not to fear the Jedi, her Padawan added, stepping forward to begin whatever speech he had planned. He glanced over his shoulder at her. We should tell her the true nature of the Order.

We can't, Mical, Sarii answered, grasping his arm and pulling him away.

Down the end of the corridor towards the docks Sarii could make out the outline of two men. She was reasonably sure of their identities without seeing them up close- one was Force-sensitive and the other wasn't.

Say we try and tell her that the Jedi don't believe in killing people who upset them or causing destruction the way the Sith she saw did, she continued to her Padawan, who trailed alongside her where she walked behind Atton and Mira. What if she thinks the next 'Jedi' she meets is just as friendly as we told her they are? They might kill her-

'Be careful of charity and kindness, lest you do more harm with open hands than with a clenched fist.'

Sarii trailed off, taking a few brisk steps to put herself in front of Mical. Kreia had done enough damage. She didn't want to pass it onto her Padawan.

The Admiral and his son approached. She suspected that if the younger one grew a beard, he would probably look like his father's slightly thinner twin.

'That has got to be the ugliest jacket I've ever seen,' Mira whispered conspiratorially in her ear.

He looked a lot less like an Admiral and more like the character plastered all over Republic propaganda in the few years following the Star Forge. Sarii had seen this Carth Onasi before; in the now faded orange jacket, the pair of blaster holsters at his sides.

He stopped in front of them, nodding in greeting.

'Have fun in the asteroid field?' Atton said, smirking.

'We hit a couple bumps, but it wasn't a problem,' Onasi replied airily. His son snorted next to him.

Dustil Onasi didn't look like a Jedi. The only thing that gave him away was the lightsaber dangling from his belt. Her Padawan folded his arms and watched him with an almost haughty air.

'Jedi Knight Dustil.'

'Padawan Mical,' the Admiral's son murmured.

Sarii didn't think the title of 'Jedi Knight' and that kind of shameless grin went together very well. She frowned, suddenly feeling ridiculously protective of Mical, only a few inches taller and a few years younger than her.

Of course Jedi Knight Dustil's smug. He's her Padawan-

'You might have asked if you needed information-' Mical suddenly continued, glaring uncharacteristically.

Dustil raised an eyebrow like Mical's resentment was amusing.

'Hey, she needed it for her trip, and no one was supposed to know about it-'

I'll bet she did, Sarii thought angrily.

'Let's not get into a fight here, boys,' Mira said, putting a hand on her hip. 'All that staring and you're going to put out an eye or something.'

'First things first,' the Admiral broke in firmly. 'Have you found anything?'

'Just that they call themselves Jedi,' Sarii answered quietly. 'And they've been here before. The terentateks are run in a trade route to other planets in their space.'

Onasi nodded, glancing around him and taking in the steel walls, high ceilings, and sparse surroundings of the Danok port.

'I figured. This place doesn't exactly scream secret ancient Sith stronghold.'

'The only parts on this planet are sitting in ruined ships at a dumping facility a few kilometers outside of this complex,' she informed him.

'We're on a time limit on how long we can use their docking facilities, so I guess getting the parts should be first priority. You lead the way.' He turned to his son.

'We won't be too long. Until then, see what you can find out. I'd start by checking out-'

'-That cantina,' Dustil finished. 'Got it.'

You should go with him, Mical, Sarii said, trying not to make it sound as begrudging as it felt. Learn to work with him. You're both Jedi.

'I'll accompany you,' Mical murmured resignedly, glancing over his shoulder with narrowed eyebrows at her as she turned to leave.

'Let's get going then. If I have to take a really long walk down an orange path to a garbage dump, I want some time for a drink when I get back,' Atton muttered next to her.

She suddenly remembered the way the Admiral's gaze had lingered on the pilot back on the Citadel; the same way he was watching Atton Rand now with that stony look of barely suppressed suspicion.

'You're staying here,' Sarii replied, squeezing his arm as she passed him. 'Make sure they don't kill each other or something.'

The pilot made a few sputtering sounds.

Better to keep them apart- better to keep him from anything close to Revan too, Sarii thought, tossing him what she hoped was a reassuring smile towards him as she hurried to catch up with the bounty hunter and the Admiral.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The path leading away from the complex was like finely sifted sand; bright orange sand that sat in little piles and long rippling lines from wind that must have existed long ago.

'How the hell can it be this cold on a planet with no ice or water to be seen?' Mira chattered, trying in vain to wrap her leather jacket and blue shirt around her. There wasn't enough material to reach her stomach or her lower back, and the bounty hunter shivered.

Sarii blew into her hands, rubbing them together. The Danok port must have been climate controlled, because the outside environment of the planet itself was a good twenty or thirty degrees colder. None of them were prepared for the shift in temperature. Sarii took a few extra steps to keep up with Mira, who was practically jogging in an effort to beat the cold.

'I'm beginning to think it's possible for a woman to die from being too stubborn,' Onasi muttered behind them, offering Mira his jacket for the third time and receiving only the bounty hunter's dismissive wave.

'Yeah, well, sometimes they don't have a choice,' Mira ranted to herself, sneezing. 'Obviously you've never had to put on a Hutt dancing costume to earn a few credits like our Jedi friend over here.'

The shudder that went through Sarii was definitely not from the cold.

The Hutt's tongue lolled out of his mouth, and Sarii struggled not to retch. She didn't understand how he was buying her 'dance'- she was just stringing lightsaber stances together.

The Admiral laughed.

'Um...no, can't say that I have.'

Behind the next ridge rose the jagged edge of a freighter. It stuck up on the edge of the crater at a severe angle, almost ninety degrees. Scattered parts of other ships; electrical wiring, hoses, and bulkheads flowed out of them thick like patches of flowers or grass.

Onasi burrowed into his collar, rolled up his sleeves and dug right into the ruins.

'So the Sith out here are calling themselves Jedi?' he murmured nonchalantly, banging on the paneling of a nearby fighter.

'They believe their way of using the Force is the way the Jedi are supposed to be,' Sarii answered, standing back and waiting patiently in case he needed her help. 'That's why they're trying to convert them.'

'That's what...' Onasi grunted as he yanked off the panel. '...my son said. That they're only after the Jedi, not the Republic.'

He burrowed halfway inside the hole he had created, digging around for a few moments before abandoning it and walking further into the wreckage.

'I almost started firing on the damn place when I saw one of those terentek...taten...those Force beasts lumbering around in the dock. You say they've got some kind of trade route to the Sith in those?'

'We're hoping to somehow get maps to the routes they follow and the planets they visit.'

She tensed when there was a loud groaning from the giant wing of the smashed freighter Onasi was crouched under. He watched it cautiously for a minute before going back to his inspections.

'And you didn't find out anything more than that? No numbers or capabilities or anything?'

'We didn't exactly have a questionnaire all ready for the locals to fill out here, Admiral,' Mira said wryly. 'We're pretty much winging it here, same as you.'

Onasi started dismantling the hyperdrive fixture in front of him; unscrewing panels and following wires with his fingers.

'Did they happen to...did anyone you asked mention anything about Revan?'

I didn't ask. And I'm not going to.

You're being unfair, Sarii, Kavar said disapprovingly. Your favorite joke as a young apprentice was to append the Jedi Code to include the word understanding. Have you forgotten this?

Have you forgotten that I said that because I thought Atris was too hard on me during our group exercises? she shot back to her former master. It didn't have anything to do with refusing to find a traitor-

'Or maybe someone named Katrina?' the Admiral added when both Sarii and Mira didn't answer.

Onasi finally scoffed, shaking his head and continuing to set parts aside.

'Right. I get it.'

Mira glanced up at Sarii and gave her a you're-on-your-own kind of smirk, wandering off to gaze over the edge of the nearby crater.

'Look, I know you don't understand. I know you think I'm a traitor for not shooting her in the head the minute I found out,' Onasi said quietly.

It was unsettling when someone who wasn't Force sensitive was able to guess her thoughts almost a hair's breadth away from being totally accurate.

'No, I don't,' Sarii tried to say. 'Jedi don't believe in-'

'I've known a lot of Jedi, sister. Probably more than I ever wanted to. I don't have to be one to know half of you don't practice what you preach. If you didn't think that at least on some level, you wouldn't be so against helping me.'

She didn't answer, unable to argue against what she knew was true.

The silence was incredibly uncomfortable, and Sarii wound a piece of hair around her finger while the Admiral pushed himself up, wiping the flakes of long dried oil off of his hands and jacket.

'There's a thousand reasons why I should hate her,' he said in a low voice. 'And there's one or two that would be enough on their own. But...but when I met her she wasn't the person you know. She was just a beautiful woman stuck with me on some planet trying to save a Jedi.'

Sarii struggled to accept that there were people in the galaxy who could apply the word 'beautiful' to the former dark lord Revan with a straight face.

'I love her, Sarii,' Onasi finished, gathering up the parts and tucking them under his arm. 'I love her enough that I left the Republic hanging to come find her. Don't...don't you think there's got to be something more to her if I'm willing to do all this?'

She's lying to you. She's lying like she lied to all of us, like she made us believe that she was the consummate Jedi, that she was the kind of Jedi we wanted to be-

'I hope so, Admiral,' she made herself answer.

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'Great,' the pilot called Atton muttered. 'The old man gets the girls and I get the Jedi wonder boys.'

'Somehow I think the qualities you find so appealing in Master Zhen and Mira will be entirely lost on Admiral Onasi, Atton,' Mical replied, rolling his eyes.

Can't be completely lost on a guy who calls his wife 'beautiful', Dustil thought, squirming uncomfortably even though 'Beautiful' and his father were nowhere near him.

He turned and headed back down the corridor towards the cantina they'd noticed upon first entering the Danok port.

'I...apologize for my conduct, Dustil,' Mical said quietly. Dustil knew a Jedi-Code-induced apology when he heard one.

'What conduct?' he answered. 'So far you haven't done anything your master hasn't shown you how to do.'

Atton laughed behind Dustil, quickly silencing it upon seeing Mical's glare.

'Neither, it appears, have you,' the Jedi Padawan returned icily, falling silent as they entered the cantina.

Dustil didn't know what he had been expecting- all cantinas looked the same. Bar to the right, Pazaak tables to the left, tables filling the rest of the place. A couple battered and flickering viewscreens lined the walls and corners of the cantina, most playing what looked like wrestling matches between tarentateks.

It was mostly populated with local humans on their work breaks. The only aliens Dustil had noticed on the whole planet was a Twi'lek or two sitting around a viewscreen with other humans, wearing armor and carrying weapons.

Mercs or smugglers, he guessed, approaching the human bartender.

'I'm looking for someone,' he began, and it took every inch of Jedi control in him not to screw up his face in disgust and start coughing when the man turned towards him, his drooping jowls opening in a wide yawn that let out the foulest smelling breath Dustil had ever encountered.

'So's a lot of other people. Who are you looking for?'

'A human woman, about late thirties-'

'Little old for you, eh son?'

This time Dustil couldn't resist the disgusted look. The bartender laughed heartily.

'I'm gonna need more than that. Not too many women in here as it is, but still...'

'She's a little shorter than me, brown hair, green eyes-'

'Woman in her thirties of average height with brown hair and green eyes,' the bartender repeated, rolling his eyes and turning his back on Dustil. 'Yeah, I've seen her. About eight thousand times.'

Dustil frowned. What the hell does he expect me to say? 'Scuse me, have you seen Revan?

He had been trained never to mention her or her name or anything connected with her to anyone. And now here he was, expected to be able to make allusions to her to complete strangers still without giving away any crucial information.

It occurred to him that the name 'Revan' might not mean as much out here as it did in Republic space, if it meant anything at all.

'Sorry,' the pilot called Atton stepped forward, clapping a hand on Dustil's shoulder. 'He's not really good with words. We're looking for a human Jedi female who carries a single bladed lightsaber, wears that brown hair in a braid, has hazel eyes, about the same height as our friend here, trim figure, and answers to the name...uh...Katya...no, Kara-'

'Katrina,' Dustil supplied.

'Right,' Atton murmured, nodding in agreement. 'Katrina.'

The bartender screwed up his face in concentration, pulling on the edge of his chin.

'Don't know a name or anything, but I think I've met the one. Came around a long time ago...maybe a year, I don't know. Asked a lot of questions. Could bore a man to tears. I like my women pretty, but silent-'

'You wouldn't happen to know where she went or remember exactly what she asked, would you?' Dustil murmured, shrugging Atton off of his shoulder.

'Could you remember something that happened a year ago, kid?' the bartender replied, turning back to the wall of drinks and mechanical dispensers behind him.

I remember things that happened ten years ago, Dustil shot back silently, sliding off the bar stool and rubbing his neck.

'It appears Revan has visited this place,' Mical murmured quietly. If anyone heard the name, no one reacted to it.

'Go ask around some more,' Dustil motioned with his head towards other cantina patrons.

'Hey, who made you leader of this little bar-hopping jaunt, huh?' Atton protested, frowning severely at Dustil.

'My father the Admiral, that's who. Maybe you should be the one asking anyways. You certainly seem to know a lot about her.'

Dustil couldn't think of a logical reason why this pilot, who couldn't have met Revan before (even if he was a former member of the Fleet and a deserter like Father had mentioned), would know what she looked like right down to the braided hair. Dustil frowned, trying to find out how-- and was met with the oddest urge:

To start counting off numbers in his head.

The pilot stared at him suspiciously, but finally moved off towards the corner tables of the cantina.

Dustil watched them canvass each regular, moving through the room with relative ease before disappearing around the corner to the back room and probably the standard cantina stage.

A chorus of catcalls and whistles came from near the bar, and he turned to look.

'In other news...'

He didn't need to look at the viewscreen to know who it was, having heard the phrase from her pretty pink lips a thousand times over.

This Just In with Tova Vin blared from the screen, more whistling and whooping coming from the barflies every time her smiling face, curly blonde hair, and piercing grey eyes flashed on the screen.

You wish, you bunch of drunken spacers, Dustil thought, smirking triumphantly.

'What a piece of civilian,' some merc said with a grin.

The reception on the viewscreen was terrible; Tova's image shook and danced with a couple lines of static. Coruscanti broadcasts were the only things powerful enough to make it out here, and even then Tova's voice was garbled. Dustil couldn't make out anything she was saying.

But the poor reception didn't stop the cantina patrons' reactions.

'Gotta be able to use that mouth for something other than talking, right?' The men chuckled and nudged each other. Dustil rolled his eyes.

'Wonder if she's a natural blonde-'

He frowned, folding his arms and watching the Twi'lek who had made the comment receive slaps on the back.

'Lucky guy who gave her a promotion...probably had the time of his life making her earn it-'

He heard a strange popping noise and realized it was his knuckles.

'Give me one night with her- I've got something to be Just In, all right-'

Without being quite sure how it had happened, Dustil suddenly found himself on the other side of the cantina, the human who had made the last comment slammed up against the wall under his clenched fists.

'Try rephrasing that,' Dustil snapped.

He heard the sounds of a couple blasters flying out of their holsters, the smooth slide of steel and the clicks of hair triggers.

It occurred to Dustil that maybe this hadn't been the best way to handle the situation.

---

Kosiah owns the last line, so send her fan mail if you enjoy it. What's with me being unable to think of all these amazing last lines lately? ;)

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'...It had rolled under the seat of her escape pod.'

Sarii put a hand up to her mouth to curtail her raucous laughter, which made a few locals and traders glance up as they re-entered the complex.

She and Mira walked on either side of the Admiral, who smirked and shook his head as he told his story.

'Without her lightsaber, Bastila was just one twenty-something Padawan against ten or fifteen scarred and ugly Black Vulkars. Needless to say, she didn't give them much trouble...physical trouble, anyways.'

Sarii remembered Bastila Shan well from her days in the dormitories of the Jedi Temple and the Dantooine enclave:

'This is our responsibility as Jedi and members of the Republic,' one of the other Padawans said, smacking his fist into his palm to emphasize his point.

Sarii nodded with a few of the others in agreement. They sat in a circle on the floor of one of the meditation rooms, talking quietly. They had considered speaking through the Force, but that would attract the notice of the Masters for sure. As it was they all kept glancing over their shoulders to see if any of the Masters had awakened, if one of them was heading down the darkened hallways to interrupt the meeting and demote them all back to apprentice.

Padawan Bastila was the only one that did not react. She sat off to the side, her legs folded in front of her, her posture straight and tapered.

'Padawan Bastila, you're not thinking of bolting to the Council to tell them about this meeting, are you?' a recently promoted Jedi Twi'lek murmured.

Bastila's cobalt eyes sparkled indignantly and she somehow managed to hold her head higher. Sarii didn't feel the least bit sorry for her, even with the blush creeping into her cheeks. The sixteen-year-old Padawan had done that very thing at their first secret gathering after dark.

'I am wise enough to respect the wisdom of the Masters,' Bastila said flatly. 'Rushing into war is a-'

'-a fool's venture, thank you, Master Vrook,' another Padawan mocked, rolling his eyes.

Sarii laughed softly with the rest of the Jedi.

'There were a few bounties out on the one you're talking about,' Mira said wryly. 'Sounds like someone could have collected on her easily.'

'Now don't get me wrong,' Onasi continued, 'Bastila's an incredible woman. It was her Battle Meditation that destroyed the Star Forge. The Republic owes a lot of its victories to her-'

'Battle Meditation is becoming more and more common in Padawans nowadays,' Sarii commented. Onasi shrugged.

'That's what she said when she offered to come along on this trip. She thought the bond she has with Katrina might help us in finding her. But I told her to stay in case the threat reached the Republic and they needed her abilities.'

'A bond?' Mira repeated, brushing strands of her red hair out of her eyes. 'If that's as good as a couple star maps, that'd be fine with me. As of right now I'd settle for a Zabrak shaman pointing west.'

The heat of the dock seemed overwhelming. Sarii was sweating and she reached to loosen the collar of her clothing.

Onasi hefted the hyperdrive parts protectively in his arms, as if they made up a rather metallic child.

'I'm not really too eager to continue a slow drift through uncharted space either. We should work on finding those maps you mentioned, maybe the ones of the trade route-'

The Admiral trailed off as Atton approached. Sarii wished her pilot didn't look so guilty; slouching with his hands in his pockets and a guarded scowl on his face. She could already see Onasi's eyes narrowing as he compared the numbers before him with the numbers he had left behind.

'Looks like you found your parts,' Atton offered, rubbing his neck and looking at Sarii although he was addressing the Admiral. A large bruise festered under the pale skin on his right cheekbone.

'Looks like you managed to get kicked out of another cantina,' Mira observed.

'Where's Mical?' Sarii asked.

'Still in the cantina,' Atton replied, gesturing back towards the bar.

'Where's Dustil?' Onasi added. 'He was with you when I left.'

'He was...but he disappeared.'

The Admiral's gaze grew sharper until his eyes were two thin slits off-set by a frown. 'Disappeared? Dustil doesn't just disappear.'

Atton shrugged; that defensive hard look already in his eyes.

'Hey, he's a Jedi, right? Jedi are good at disappearing. We were asking around after your wife, and--'

'Did anyone say anything? Was she--no, no, wait,' Onasi's momentary distraction by the mention of Revan didn't last long. He shook his head, lifting a hand to stop Atton before he could answer. 'Later. Where's my son, Rand?'

'I said I don't know, Admiral. Asking me twenty times isn't going to change my answer,' Atton replied icily.

'You better watch yourself - I don't like being accused of something I didn't do,' Atton Rand pointed a finger menacingly towards her, and Sarii actually leaned back despite the fact that he was still in the security cage.

'When I kill someone, trust me, you'll know. Got it?'

Onasi opened his mouth to reply, but to Sarii's relief he was interrupted by Mical, who came jogging up the corridor to meet them.

Her Padawan looked disheveled. Most of it was his rumpled clothing and matted hair, but a large part of it was the giant black eye marring his otherwise calm expression.

'They've all been detained and imprisoned,' he informed them. 'There was an altercation between a group of mercenaries and Dustil interfered--'

Sounds Jedi enough, I guess, Sarii thought, trying to give Revan's Padawan the benefit of the doubt.

'They ushered him out of the cantina, presumably to beat him senseless. Atton and I followed and tried to disengage Jedi Dustil but he seemed...somewhat invested in the fight.'

Mical reached to brush his sweaty hair back on top of his head, frowning.

'Shortly before anything beyond a few fists could be used, the Danok port security forces showed up. They marched off with half the mercenaries and Jedi Dustil.'

Mical's summarization was met with an assortment of facial expressions. Atton stared at the ground, turning his foot to scrape some imaginary dirt off his other boot. Sarii slowly reached back to tighten her ponytail, biting her lip.

The expression that worried her most was Onasi's--his glare, fixed on Atton, hadn't changed at all. Compared to Mical, the pilot was suspiciously unscathed beyond his bruise.

'Mercs? What kind of mercs?' Mira finally broke in. 'Were they from around here, or Republic space? Are they bounty hunters?'

'One would assume bounty hunters if they were more interested in beating him up rather than shooting him on sight,' Mical replied thoughtfully.

'I'm going to put these parts on my ship,' Onasi broke in abruptly. His shoulders stiffened at the phrase 'shooting him on sight'. 'Stay here. When I get back, we're going to find Dustil and then get the hell off of this rock.'

'Yes sir, Admiral,' Atton muttered after him mockingly. Either Onasi didn't hear, or he chose not to react. Sarii watched his brisk pace continue down the corridor until he was back near the blocks for distribution docking.

'They might be planning something,' the pilot murmured quietly to her. 'The other half of the mercs went straight to their ship, which was somewhere in the direction of the receiving ports, near the Hawk. They kept grumbling about how their captain was going to be pretty fracked off at having to give up credits to get his men out of jail. Then the one said they'd make up for it with the Jedi. Must mean the kid.'

'Why didn't you tell Daddy over there that?' Mira said, tossing a hand up in the air. 'You might have saved yourself some glowering-'

'Because I'd like to know just why the hell he finds me so offensive. And people don't tell you things like that when you're all polite and helpful-like,' Atton snapped at the bounty hunter. He met Sarii's gaze, glaring stubbornly.

The Admiral must know somehow...he must know Atton's past, Mical suggested.

That's the only explanation, I suppose, Sarii agreed silently. The pilot raised an eyebrow and she fidgeted, uncomfortable even though he couldn't know what their conversation entailed.

He must know what Atton did, Sarii thought to herself. What Atton is-

No, what Atton was.

Still, she couldn't help wondering just how famous of a Sith assassin and conversion artist Atton Rand had been if members of the Republic Fleet knew of his reputation.

'Are you all right, Mical?' Her Padawan nodded, lifting his chin. The frown was still on his face as his gaze focused on the back of Atton's head.

'Physical injury is a small price to pay for possibly averting needless death-'

'Hell, Mical, why don't you go get yourself a statue bronzed or something?' Atton snapped, whirling on him. 'Yeah, I stayed out of that fight and I'm not ashamed of it. I'm not getting thrown in jail again, definitely not for a fight I didn't start or some punk Admiral's son--'

'The local patrons of the cantina had little to say about Revan, in any case,' Mical continued, ignoring the pilot. 'She seems to have covered her tracks well. One wonders if the thought that someone would try to follow her had crossed her mind-'

'Later Padawan,' Sarii instructed curtly, straightening up as she noticed Onasi heading back towards them. His blaster was out of its holster and seemed like an extension of his hand rather than a weapon, with the way he swung his arm as he walked as if he wasn't holding anything at all.

'We should move quickly,' she said to the Admiral. 'Whatever happened between your son and the mercenaries might be enough that they're planning to retaliate. I think they might be docked in a receiving port, near the Ebon Hawk.'

Sarii forced herself not to look at Atton; scrambling to come up with an alternate source for the information. But Onasi only nodded, apparently unconcerned with how she knew.

'Right. Let's go.'

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The Danok port security office was on the complete other side of the circular building. Two armored guards stood outside its mechanical door, dressed in dark brown uniforms with hard metallic-looking hats.

'I sure hope you have some bail credits, Admiral,' Mira said. 'We're kind of on the low side.'

'I've got half a mind to leave him in there if he didn't start that fight for a damn good reason,' Onasi grumbled, but Sarii sensed anxiety building under the gruff, no-nonsense demeanor he had adopted since returning from his ship.

She stepped towards the guard sitting behind the desk in the security office's entryway.

'Excuse me, we're looking for a young man who we think was arrested maybe an hour ago-'

The guard glanced up at her. He had a closely shaved head of blonde hair underneath his hat, and he gave Sarii a once-over before continuing.

'Wouldn't happen to be part of the cantina brawl, would he?'

'The ringleader,' Atton called out. Sarii heard him stifle a yelp of pain as Mira kicked him in the ankle.

'Jail's empty,' the guard replied. 'Security forces brought in the crew of a docked ship, and their captain posted bail a while ago.'

'There wasn't a younger one who wasn't dressed like the rest of them? He may have been carrying a lightsaber,' Onasi murmured, obviously trying to sound careless.

'We confiscated that and all of their weapons, of course. They left the lightsaber behind when we returned their belongings to them, however. Said they didn't need it. I don't blame 'em. Some stupid new property master already sliced a finger off trying to handle it. Had to send him to the infirmary-'

'Right, the weapons are gone and so's the crew,' Sarii continued far more patiently than she felt. 'But what I want to know is-'

'There was one who looked different, but he left voluntarily along with the crew when their captain showed up, so we didn't question it.'

The guard put his datapad down on the computer console, folding his arms and leaning over it towards them.

'Lemme guess. Your kid got sick of herding tateks and decided he was going to come up to the glamorous world of Danok and see the exotic exporters from all around the galaxy, maybe even join a crew-'

The guard's eyes went from Sarii to the Admiral, who stood next to her.

'You know, you farmers really ought to start keeping a handle on your kids,' he began in a lecturing tone, 'The only trouble I ever get in this jail is local kids coming down here for a drink, screwing around with the exporters, and starting fights. I'm getting damn sick of it-'

Sarii exchanged a glance with Onasi and realized that the guard thought they were Dustil's parents. Both involuntarily took a step away from each other.

'Listen, there's been a mistake,' the Admiral said, moving in front of her. 'You just let a bunch of mercs take my son off somewhere-'

'And what do you expect me to do about it? Your son went voluntarily, sir-'

'Well, a lot of choice he had with you taking his weapon away!' Onasi sputtered.

'His weapon?'

Sarii tried not to make too obvious a point of brushing back the side of her clothing to reveal her double lightsaber hanging from her side. Mical stepped up next to her to display his as well, although he couldn't be taken quite as seriously with the giant violet circle around his eye.

'Master Jedi,' the guard finally said, his tone flat like he expected to be decapitated at any minute. His hair looked like it had turned blonder for a minute until Sarii realized that the change in color was because of the sweat now lining his hairline.

'I didn't know he was one of yours-'

'She's not going to hurt you, soldier. Calm down,' the Admiral murmured in a low voice. The guard watched him skeptically, his hands gripping the edges of the computer console until his knuckles were white.

'First we need that lightsaber,' Sarii began. The guard nodded and disappeared into the back of the holding cells. He returned a moment later holding the weapon between thumb and forefinger like it was a piece of bantha droppings. Mical reached out and took it.

'Second, we need to know where the crew of mercs or bounty hunters or whatever they are docked.'

'Port authority transfers all docking information and ID's over to us so we can monitor the docks,' the guard explained nervously, turning to the console in front of him. Sarii wondered that his hand wasn't going straight through it for how hard he was pressing the buttons.

'Receiving port fifteen. Class eighty freighter. Registered as the Screamer.'

'I don't much like the sound of that,' Onasi murmured. He nodded to the guard, turned on his heel and started moving back down the corridor. Sarii stared after him. Her mouth twisted into a frown.

He asks me to find information on the Republic, then expects me to spend all my time helping his son ask questions about Revan and digging him out of the holes she's inevitably left behind--

'Third, we need to know what the deal is with the Jedi,' Mira said quickly, coming towards the desk. 'Do they control Teren?'

Good someone's remembering our priorities here, Sarii thought. I need something to send back to the Republic, besides the misadventures of Onasi and Son -

'Wouldn't it be easier for you to ask the Jedi with you?' the guard hissed towards Mira like she had just signed his death warrant.

'We would all appreciate your opinion,' Mical prompted.

'The Jedi control the market on tateks. In that way they control the local economy. In that way, I suppose they do control Teren. I imagine they control most other planets in that way too,' the guard said, moving through his explanation step by step, watching Sarii and Mical in case the next part would be a step too far.

'But every planet in our sector of space is self-governed, whether the Jedi are in power or the local government is in place.'

The guard gained maybe a drop of confidence as he said this, lifting his head slightly from where it was lowered in deference to Sarii and her Padawan.

Onasi was becoming smaller and smaller as he moved down the hallway, and Sarii was going to lose sight of him soon.

I'm not going to do this the entire trip, she swore to herself. I'm not going to compromise my responsibilities to the Order and the Republic to help him search for Revan and rescue her Padawan. Just this once and that's it.

'Thanks for your help,' she tossed over her shoulder towards the guard, who looked so bewildered and exhausted by their frantic questioning that he half-slumped over the computer console as they began to walk at a fast pace back down the corridor to catch up with the Admiral.

The docks were much as they had left them; generally uneventful. The hum of announcements over audio systems, ships landing and taking off, and the sound of tools clinking against ship parts were occasionally pierced by the roar of a terentatek.

'Fifteen...it's over there,' Onasi pointed with the barrel of his blaster, stopping so suddenly that Mira bumped into him.

The Screamer sat bulky and rusted in its dock. Two armored members of its crew, one human and a Twi'lek, stood guard outside.

'And how do we get onboard?' Mical murmured to no one in particular.

'First you find out if the thing has shields.' Without any warning, Atton raised his arm and fired one shot towards the top of the ship. Sarii cringed along with everyone else, waiting for the loud shriek of the shields fluxing around the ship in response to the blaster fire; waiting for every dock worker to notice or a terentatek to get out of control.

Atton's shot hit the plating and disappeared into the hull without making anything bigger than a scorch mark. The two guards didn't even notice.

'Maybe it would be a good idea if you went to the Hawk and got it ready for takeoff,' Sarii said, frowning.

'I guess we should be thankful that the security forces around here aren't half as efficient as the TSF,' Onasi muttered, continuing around the dock towards number fifteen.

'Oh, you mean those guys who arrested us, threw us in jail, and let our ship be stolen the minute we landed on Telos--"

'You know, Rand, I understand that the Republic's the good guys and everything, but even so I don't think it's the best idea to antagonize the leader of their Fleet,' Mira snapped, yanking Atton out of the Admiral's line of fire and towards the Ebon Hawk, lying across the dock at number twelve. 'Especially when said leader's got a pretty solid 'in' with a former Sith Lord.'

Sarii stayed close to Onasi, Mical treading on her heels. She held her lightsaber in her hands, unextended but ready should she need it.

'Care to get rid of the guards?' the Admiral whispered, pausing around the wide outstretched wing of the ship.

Sarii eyed him in surprise as she complied. Her hand lifted, twitched, and the guards jogged around the corner of the ship in search of an imaginary mynock squealing against some power cables.

'You know a lot about the Force.'

Onasi shrugged, lowering his blaster, glancing around, and taking a few furtive steps up the lowered gangplank.

'You don't live with two Jedi for eight years without learning how to use one.'

The minute Sarii stepped into the Screamer, she was taken back to one of the unpleasantries of being in a war: having to give commands to camps of men who smelled worse than a bantha's backside. The freighter reeked like something or ten somethings had died on it and half the lighting flickered; either broken or waiting to be replaced. She and Mical extended their lightsabers to help them see.

She reached out for anything Force-sensitive, unused to having to look for Dustil Onasi and unsure as to how to look for him specifically. There was a strong presence coming from the back of the ship, and Sarii went towards it, crinkling up her nose and stepping over weapons, armor, provisions, and the general belongings of a crew of mercs.

The glow of the Force cage illuminated the otherwise littered cargo hold, full of empty containers and footlockers.

'You sure took your sweet time,' Dustil Onasi said, pushing himself up from where he'd been leaning against the metal base of the cage.

The Admiral lowered his blaster, sighing in relief.

'Are you all right?'

'I'll be all right as soon as you get me out of this thing.'

Dustil didn't look much worse for the wear, although the Jedi's clothing was ripped in several places, and a scrape over the side of his face was now dark red with dried blood.

'Revan was here,' Dustil commented as he waited for his father and Mical to figure out the controls to the Force cage. 'She stopped by the cantina and asked a lot of questions, none of which anyone can remember.'

'I also managed to converse with a gentleman who saw Revan while she was on Teren,' Mical added. 'Apparently, he attempted to engage her in romantic dialogue.'

Onasi's movements paused for the slightest moment and then he was back at the controls again. The Force cage disintegrated into nothing and Dustil Onasi stepped out, cracking his back.

'Exactly what was the origin of the dispute between the mercenaries that you got involved in, Dustil?' Mical murmured, handing the Jedi his lightsaber.

'They liked something I didn't want them liking,' Dustil said curtly, avoiding his father's gaze.

'Oh no, don't even try and sneak this one by me. I know that look,' Onasi said sharply. 'Did that something have blonde hair and grey eyes?'

'It might have,' Dustil replied loftily.

'Damn it, we don't have time for this! If you're going to knock out every man who thinks Tova's pretty, you're going to be knocking out half the galaxy--'

'You know, Father, I seem to remember something between you and another officer when I was real little over Mom-'

'That...that was different. I was young and stupid then, kind of like you are now--'

Sarii found herself staring in dumb amazement for at least thirty seconds.

We're standing in the middle of a ship called the Screamer manned by a dozen or so mercenaries or bounty hunters who were in the market for a Jedi all because of a girl?

'Gentlemen, can we kindly stop arguing about who fought over what and make a speedy exit from this ship?' Mical broke in curtly.

'In a minute,' Dustil murmured, extending his lightsaber and peering around the corner in case any members of the Screamer's crew were boarding their ship.

Sarii couldn't help but notice the blazing red of his blade, looking so harsh and unforgiving when compared against Mical's soft blue or her double violet.

Dustil wandered towards the front of the ship, dead ending in the wide cockpit, almost large enough to be called a bridge.

'I thought they were just mercs, but they're more like bounty hunters- Jedi hunters, to be specific. When their captain showed up to post bail at the security office, he posted mine too. I guess I could have tried to fight them off, but I didn't want to put the port officers in danger, so I just let them take me. I figured you'd find me sooner or later.'

'That's one hell of a risk, Dustil,' Onasi said crossly, watching his son rifle through the computer consoles that lined the cockpit.

'Got it,' Dustil announced, gesturing towards the screen. Sarii, Mical, and the Admiral crowded around to look.

'Their navigational charts cover the Outer Rim, but they only go straight to one other planet in the Unknown Regions. And that's this one,' he said, pointing to a blinking dot on the small star map in front of them. 'Remli Prime. I'm betting that's where they take all the Jedi they catch.'

Okay, they call themselves Jedi, they intimidate the entire sector by being the sole market for most economies, which gives them control over the local governments, they need terentateks for some reason, and there's a Jedi hunting trade going on to a planet called Remli Prime-

'Ebon Hawk, we're returning to the ship,' Mical said quietly into his comlink.

'You might want to get rid of the guards outside the Screamer first,' came Atton's drawling reply.

Is there perhaps a way to render them unable to continue their hunt for Jedi? Mical murmured to Sarii. It is unjust to know what kind of threat they pose to the Order and to just let them continue-

'But don't worry,' Atton added. 'I've got it covered.'

'I feel safer already,' the Admiral muttered under his breath.