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Chapter Text

“Younglings, this way! Hurry!” Jedi Master Faron called, sweeping the children past him into a small classroom. His five – no, four - young charges scampered through the open door and darted into the shadows, feeling their minder’s urgency. Master Faron glanced down the hallway before silently closing the door behind him. Children scrambled under tables and behind benches as the Jedi Temple quaked around them.

“M-m-master Faron?” a wavering voice called.

“Hush now, younglings. We must be silent,” Faron shushed, reaching out in the Force to brush each young mind reassuringly. In return he felt fear, confusion, and anxiety, though it calmed minutely at his touch. Beyond their tiny study room, there was even worse: pain, anguish, and… death.

“Little ones. Listen to me,” the minder whispered, “Search your memories. Find the very happiest one you know and meditate on it. Live in that memory.” Faron closed his eyes, an instant of regret, an instant of concern. Then he detached his lightsaber from his belt.

Master Faron hadn’t powered on the weapon in more than twenty years. He carried it as the symbol it was: to demonstrate that he was a member of the Jedi Order. He’d never had to kill, only rarely had to defend himself even at the worst of times. The empath had spent much of his time as a Jedi training initiates like himself, some of the most vulnerable of Force-sensitive children.

He continued to observe his young students, settling into peaceful meditations as he’d asked. He projected one last soothing aura and then left the room in silence, lightsaber gripped in his hand. They were coming.

Sith.

Master Faron ignited his lightsaber: green, traditional for a consular. He gazed into the blade’s bright glow for a moment, and then the attackers swept around the corner. The sage found himself recoiling from the aura of dark side energy surrounding the three Sith who approached.

“Well, well, well, my friends. What is this now?” The closest – human, barely more than a girl - sneered, whipping the ruby blade of her lightsaber around in a lazy circle. Master Faron shifted to a defensive stance and remained silent.

A Zabrak female, her horns tipped in black, sniggered. “A minder? Like a nursemaid?” She edged up behind the leader, leering. “Obviously he’s protecting some little innocent Jedi younglings around here.”

Master Faron stiffened, a shock of panic racing up his spine. He felt one of his students falter in his blissful meditation, surprised and curious. The final Sith, a rangy human, lightsaber unlit, pushed past the other two and stood face to face with the consular.

“We aren’t here to play games, you two nitwits,” he hissed, circling to Faron’s left side, away from the classroom door. The Jedi followed his movements closely, keeping his lightsaber as a ward between himself and the Sith, between his charges and the darkness.

“Fine, then, if you’re going to be that way about it. He looks too soft for me, anyway,” the first replied, shrugging and deactivating her lightsaber with a snap. The Zabrak giggled again, no mirth in the sound at all.

“You can’t protect them, you know,” the man said. The gaze of the Sith was tinged with red, just the slightest glow marring otherwise perfectly normal human eyes. Faron shook his head.

“It is not whether I can or cannot, Sith. It is what is determined by the Force. You cannot understand.”

The Sith smiled maliciously, his eyes blazing brighter for a moment. “It’s not that I cannot, poor Jedi. It’s that I simply don’t care.”

And then he attacked. Master Faron blocked the first two blows, but a third seared deep into his shoulder, a jolt of fiery agony that left his weapon hand numb. His lightsaber dropped from nerveless fingers, the blade sizzling out instantly. A vast roar sounded, the rumble of stone and mortar breaking apart. Dust fell between the two opponents as they glared into each other’s eyes. One of the younglings in the classroom screamed.

“See, Master Jedi? There is nothing you can do. We will tear this temple down atop you; it will be your tomb. The Jedi are finished.”

Jedi Master Faron straightened boldly, facing the Sith. “Our work is never finished, young man. The Jedi live on. The galaxy will see peace again.” He paused, reaching out to his initiates, a final touch of calm and… love. “You cannot win.”

The Sith smiled bleakly, shook his head, and raised his lightsaber. “On the contrary.” His blade struck-

Aitahea shot upright, grasping the sheets to her throat. A cry was trapped in her chest, binding her heart into a knot, painful and tight. Where am I?

The room was shadowed and unfamiliar. The viewport across from her opened onto star shine. Ah, yes. She was on the Luminous, the ship entrusted to her by the Council upon her departure from Coruscant. They were en route to Taris, fearing that a Jedi studying the planet was suffering the same malady as Master Yuon. With a heavy sigh, Aitahea touched a hand to her brow, feeling the weight of Yuon’s shielding in her mind. The burden was worth it.

She looked to her left in the faint light, eyes drawn to the metallic cylinder of her lightsaber hilt on the bedside stand. It lay there solid and real, and she reached out with a trembling hand to touch it, to feel the reassurance of cool metal and crystal. Her fingers curled around the weapon and she pulled it into her lap, the comfortable weight soothing.

More than ten years later and the Sacking of Coruscant still haunted her. She had been only a child, an initiate, when the tenuous peace began in the wake of the Sith Empire’s attack – Aitahea now held the power and prestige that could have saved them all. Her fellow younglings and Master Faron, all gone, and only she remained.

Wakeful but now calm, Aitahea considered the vision, taking it to pieces and examining each part without emotion. Part dream, part memories that were not her own, shared through the Force. She hadn’t been in the Jedi Temple when was attacked and couldn’t know of this specific event. Saved by a twist of fate, a simple scheduling occurrence that had placed her safely elsewhere on Coruscant as the temple was razed. She was the fifth youngling, the unaccounted-for child.

An exceptional empath, young Aitahea hadn’t needed to be near the temple to feel the suffering of her friends and teachers. On the other side of Coruscant, Aitahea had been watching with delight as her mother was honored for her work as an educator. Despite the distance, Aitahea had gone rigid and white as snow when the Sith attack on the Temple began. The young initiate had gasped like one drowning, and moments later the doors crashed in. Imperial soldiers had flooded into the academy, weapons aimed and ready.

Though not Jedi, it was Aitahea’s parents who saved everyone that day. After calming the audience, Aitahea’s mother negotiated a detainment period for the faculty and attendees of the academy in attendance that evening. Rather than the devastation that could have occurred, the Daviin family kept their precious community calm, and two days later when the Treaty of Coruscant was passed, all the captives had been released unharmed… including Aitahea, her Force-sensitivity and Jedi training carefully hidden.

And she knew she owed everything to them. Her parents, who continued to teach. The remaining Jedi who whisked her off Courscant and continued her training. Her master, her friends, and those who had perished at the hands of the Sith.

When Aitahea dreamed of the Jedi Temple, all her trials, all her knowledge, all her triumphs against the Sith felt small next to the sacrifices of those who had come before her.

There was no point in lingering on the sadness of the past; that way lay the dark side. With a sigh, the consular set her lightsaber down again and rose from her bed, smoothing back the soft coverlet before tapping the control pad to brighten the room. Her quarters on the Luminous were austere but comfortable in typical Jedi aesthetic.  It was even starting to feel a little like home.

She plaited her ashen hair into a neatly woven braid coiled around her head, then dressed in the earthtone robes of the Order. She wore almost no armor, relying instead on more peaceful methods of interaction. When diplomacy failed to diffuse a dangerous situation, the light tunic and robes allowed for the agility and speed she preferred. She’d just slipped into the subtly-patterned chestnut cloak when the comm in her room pinged.

“Master, are you awake?” A robotic voice called across the connection. It was the ship’s droid, fretfulness pitching his vocalizations higher than expected. “I’m deeply sorry to disturb your rest, Master, but we’re coming up on Taris.”

“Thank you, See-Two, I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Of course, Master.”

Aitahea smiled at the earnest voice, then ran a hand lightly over her hair one last time, smoothing a few strands back into the coronet. She left the hood of her cloak down and clipped her lightsaber to her belt before exiting her quarters. The Luminous hosted not only herself and the fretful protocol droid, but her friend and pilot, Prelsiava Tern. Sia, as the Mirialan liked to be called, had joined Aitahea during her visit to Coruscant as she quested for a cure for her Master, Yuon Par.

Fortunately, Yuon’s cure had indeed been found. Aitahea had sought out the Noetikons scattered throughout the capital world and brought them together, making a dangerous journey to the demolished Jedi Temple to learn their secrets.

That her first mission as a fully-fledged Jedi was to her childhood home after so many years was problematic enough. Having to set foot in the shattered Jedi Temple stirred emotions in her that she’d thought she’d resolved long ago. Perhaps that had been the source of her lurid vision… of course. It was only an ordinary dream, her unconscious mind simply sorting out her feelings as she slept. But…

In the main room, Aitahea shook her head before activating the holocomm, stepping back to see Syo Bakarn. “Master,” she acknowledged and offered a respectful bow.

“Aitahea, it’s good to hear from you. The Council has sensed your arrival on Taris. An intriguing world.”

“It is, Master. I reviewed the history while we traveled. This is the site of Bastila Shan’s escape from the Empire, if I recall correctly.”

“That, as well as being a world much like Coruscant, before Darth Malak caused the destruction that reduced it to poisoned swamplands.” Master Syo continued, giving Aitahea the details of her mission on Taris while she made notes on her datapad.

“I’ll do everything I can for Master Tykan, and I’ll be watching for evidence regarding the creator of this plague.”

“Thank you, Aitahea. It may be possible that your skills will be required for other tasks on Taris. Assist where you can, but do not tarry. We will be waiting on your word. Good luck.”

“The Force will be with us, Master.”

Chapter Text

Erithon groaned upon leaving Colonel Graff’s office, rubbing at his temples. Wonderful guy, the colonel. Three missing patrol teams were certainly not ‘nothing unusual.’ If it hadn’t been for Sergeant Dorne, he might not have gotten any helpful intel at all. The woman had some backbone, too, quoting regulations at Graff like that. Maybe Garza’s instruction to keep things quiet wasn’t a bad one after all. No telling what Graff would stoop to if he had no problem disobeying a general’s order.

Garza’s description of Taris had also been generously lacking in detail. It was hard to discern the crumbled buildings from the rolling landscape, every piece of duracrete and plexisteel was choked with vegetation. The air was thick with humidity and a chemical tang that revealed the pollution that still pervaded the atmosphere. Safe of course, but still smelly.

He was starting to understand why reclaiming Taris would be so symbolic to the Republic. It would show the Empire that they wouldn’t stand down, that they could recover even after centuries had passed. That despite the destruction they might rain down on the Republic, they would rise again. In the meantime, the tattered planet with its uncharted ruins and vicious creatures was an ideal hiding place for any one of the former Havoc members. Erithon wasn’t sure if Dorne’s lead would pan out, but it was better than nothing at all.

A harried-looking private stood shaking his head at the backs of a pair of settlers, still debating whatever issue they’d had with the young man. He turned back toward the spaceport and caught sight of Erithon, raising a hand in greeting.

“Lieutenant? Private Sakal. I’m glad you’re here. Brass asked for me to look out for you.” He gave Erithon a snappy salute followed up with a welcoming grin.

Don’t lose sight of your primary objective, Garza says. Right. “What can I help with, Private?”

“Captain Childress at HQ is requesting some help from your unit, sir.” The private’s eyes flickered to the Havoc insignia on Erithon’s shoulder, an expression of awe on his face. “You’re requested to meet up with a Jedi there for an important job.”

Erithon nodded. Jedi? Interesting. “Of course, Private. What’s the mission?”

“Need to know, sir, and I don’t. When you arrive at headquarters look for a Jedi. Human female, brown robes.” He raised a hand to approximately chin level. “’Bout that high.” He smirked. “Not much to her, but she got some of the settlers off our backs.” Sakal jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the retreating settlers.

“How’s that?”

“We’re not authorized to handle personal claims, of course, but she stepped right up and got those kids straightened out.”

“What was the problem?”

“Turns out there were aliens with an even older claim to the land sitting on the place.” He nodded, admiration brightening his young face. “The Jedi convinced the human settlers to work with them. Even the brother. We might have had a real scene on our hands if she hadn’t stepped in.”

“Sounds like she’s a good asset.”

“Probably why they’re pairing you up, sir. You shouldn’t be far behind her if you leave now. Take the base speeder.” He gave another smart salute. “Good hunting, Lieutenant.”

When Erithon arrived at headquarters, he had no trouble picking the Jedi out of the motley collection of Republic troops like himself. Even swathed in layers of traditional-looking robes, she was a head shorter than him and couldn’t weigh any more than his cannon. He caught a flicker of silver glinting on her left hip, presumably the Jedi’s iconic weapon, as she turned his way.

He didn't know much about Jedi. He'd seen a few in the field and had always been grateful for their help. They were skilled warriors, to be sure, but more often than not held themselves away from the rest of the enlisted troops. He didn't get the impression at the time that these Jedi thought they were better. They simply did... Jedi things. Meditated. Whatever.

She pushed back the hood of her cloak, expanding on the brief glimpse of delicate features he’d seen as she approached. She had bright, deftly bound hair, dusky platinum in the muted light of the Tarisian jungle, a pretty compliment to her fair skin. She observed him intensely as he approached, seeming to lay bare his thoughts and feelings. Expecting to feel edgy and unnerved by such a gaze, Erithon was surprised to find himself ready to share anything he was thinking with this lovely woman.

Erithon stopped up short. A Jedi, he corrected himself. A beautiful Jedi, but still a Jedi. Even so, that admonishment didn’t fully stop his imagination. Maybe he wouldn’t want to share everything he was thinking with her, after all.

He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “You must be the Jedi.”

“I am. Aitahea Daviin.” She placed her right hand over her heart before making a courteous bow.

“Lieutenant Erithon Zale, Havoc Squad.” Feeling a little awkward, he nodded in reply. He was usually one for a salute or a handshake, but his scant experience with the Order left him a little bewildered as to the appropriate protocol.

Aitahea didn’t seem to mind. She canted her head, curious. “Have we met before?”

“I’m sure I’d remember meeting you.” Erithon flushed. “I mean, I don’t think we have. But it’s a big galaxy, Master Jedi.”

Aitahea’s expression was inquisitive, but the glitter in her eyes betrayed unexpected mirth. “That it is, Lieutenant. Shall we find Captain Childress? I expect this will be urgent.”

“Sure,” Erithon said, rubbing at the back of his neck in chagrin. Wow, great first impression, he thought as he followed Aitahea.

Headquarters was cobbled together inside a ruined high-rise, mismatched resources creating a bizarre labyrinth. Like everything on Taris it was snarled in vegetation, though someone had made a cursory effort to remove the worst of it. The portly captain was waiting for them beneath one of the clearer patches.

“Master Jedi, Lieutenant! Thank you for taking the time to see me.” He exchanged salutes with Erithon before turning to Aitahea. “You did nice work on that land claim mess, Master Jedi.” He shook his head in annoyance. “We didn’t fly this many troops to the armpit of the galaxy so some kids could play pioneer.”

“I… only did what was needed, Captain.” Aitahea exchanged an uncertain glance with Erithon, who shrugged and shook his head, equally baffled with the captain’s disdain.

Childress didn’t seem to catch their exchange and continued, waving a hand dismissively. “It’ll take way more than it’s worth to make this planet livable. Only thing interesting about Taris is that it’s the worst failure the Republic’s ever had.”

Erithon frowned. “What do you mean?”

Aitahea turned to him. “Taris was the site of a massive conflict with the Sith more than three hundred years ago, during the Jedi Civil War. They were hunting for Bastila Shan, who was only a Padawan at the time.”

“Shan? Related to the Jedi Grand Master?”

“Yes. Master Satele is a descendent of Bastila and Revan. Darth Malak blockaded Taris while both the Republic and the Empire sought Bastila. Revan and his companions were able to rescue Bastila and escape to Dantooine, but Darth Malak ordered an orbital bombardment, which…” Aitahea gestured to the swamps around them, “resulted in this.” She dropped her hand to her side, eyes closing as if in pain. “Billions died.”

“It was an ugly flaming death, too. They tried the same thing on Coruscant in the last war.”

Aitahea flinched at the captain’s words but swiftly resumed her serene demeanor. Erithon raised a brow at the pale Jedi, hesitating a moment before continuing the conversation. “Yeah. And we still don’t know how to defend against a bombardment like that once the enemy ships are in low orbit.”

“Correct, Lieutenant,” Childress replied, “And we need to change that.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I sent commandos to defend a research team at the crash side of the Endar Spire – the last Republic warship shot down over this planet.

“If we’re lucky, that ship recorded the whole bombardment. But my team’s lost contact…” He paused, eyeing the Jedi and trooper critically. “…which means there are desk jockeys in the wild with the most valuable data on Taris. That’s where you come in.”

Erithon and Aitahea shared another look before the Jedi nodded decisively. “We’ll find them, Captain,” Erithon agreed.

“Fast as you can make it. The crash site’s some ways out, in the Sinking City.” The captain paused, broad face caught in a scowl. “Data’s the number one priority. Bring anything the Endar Spire recorded to the outpost.”

Aitahea frowned. “What about your people?”

“I don’t know if you’ll find survivors, Master Jedi, but we need that data.”

Asking if they’d met was not an invitation to flirt – despite Erithon’s charmingly inadvertent remark - but a genuine inquiry. It wasn’t likely to be any connection of consequence, but some faded memory had sparked inside her. Had they met on one of the myriad planets she’d visited? She’d crossed the paths of countless beings during her time training to be a Jedi, some more than once. What set Erithon apart?

She waved away the distracting thought as they left Aurek base.  The man beside her was more important than any memory.  Aitahea could sense in him a solid core of will and a sense of duty she had seldom encountered.  His Force-signature was like a flame, warm and luminous, but prepared to burn if a threat was perceived.

Leaving behind the skeletal structure that served as Aurek base, Erithon and Aitahea assessed their route on the trooper’s battered datapad.

“There’s the Endar Spire,” Erithon offered, zooming in on the map. “Getting between here and there isn’t going to be a walk in the park.”

Aitahea nodded, stepping close to get a closer view of the map. “Indeed. The rakghouls are teeming all through the city. There’ve been reports of pirates and scavengers near the Endar Spire as well.”

“Probably the ones responsible for our lost people.”

“I’m almost certain of it.” Aitahea traced the twisted line of their journey with a slender finger. “I’d prefer a more direct route, but Taris doesn’t seem to have left us many options.”

Erithon handed the datapad over to her as he quickly checked his gear. “I wonder what it used to be like.”

She looked up from the datapad, that inquisitive tilt to her head appearing again. “What?”

“The city. The planet.”

Looking out across the ruined landscape with thoughtful eyes, she worked to envision what Taris had been like before the catastrophic destruction that had made it uninhabitable for three centuries. She imagined privileged families like hers in the bright spires of the upper city, and the miserable beings confined to the shadowed lower levels. Light and darkness. “I expect it was a great deal like Coruscant, or perhaps Corellia.”

Erithon shrugged. “Haven’t spent much time on Coruscant. I was assigned there the last month or so, but not really long enough to get a good grasp of what it’s really like.”

Aitahea wondered at his response. She’d just come from Coruscant as well, having left Yuon in the capable hands of her physicians. Had they crossed paths while on separate assignments there? It wasn’t without possibility, but that flicker of recognition seemed to linger further back in her memory, long before Coruscant or even Tython.

“You spend much time there?” Erithon asked, stirring her out of her reverie.

“Oh,” Aitahea began, refocusing her attention on the trooper. “Yes. I was born there. I know it somewhat, but many things have changed since I left to… continue my training.”

“I bet. So, you were a kid when the Treaty was signed,” Erithon commented, making a clumsy attempt at insight. Like all children of the Republic, he knew the history surrounding the Battle of Coruscant and the treaty – if you could call it that – that resulted. If she’d been on Coruscant… the Jedi Temple…

“Yes,” Aitahea said, voice hushed. “I was away from the Temple with my parents and sister at that time.” Her eyes were fixed on the datapad, though she didn’t appear to be seeing it. “I was shuffled from one safehouse to another while the Sith razed the city. Eventually the Jedi evacuated me along with the other survivors.”

Erithon watched the Jedi’s pensive expression linger, half wishing he hadn’t dragged up what was clearly a bad memory for her. But at the same time a sense of solidarity seemed to sink in. It looked like neither of them had been left unscathed by the war, no matter how cold either side insisted it was. “Sorry,” he offered anyway. “Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

Aitahea cleared her throat and handed the datapad back. “Not at all, Lieutenant. Our history helps us become who we’re meant to be.” She pulled up her hood, shadowing her face, but when she lifted her eyes to his they weren’t haunted like they had been seconds before, instead shining bright with promise. “Let’s rescue our people.”

Chapter Text

Travel through Taris was hazardous at the best of times, deadly at the worst, and annoying at all other times. The planet was overrun with not only rakghouls, but other dangerous species that had flourished in the polluted environment. Aitahea and Erithon’s progress was slower than either of them would have liked, finding it necessary to dispatch a number of aggressive creatures in their path.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Aitahea found herself smiling as they traversed the recklessly beautiful landscape. Erithon’s interest and concern about her history had been genuine, and his chagrin at unsettling her just as real. Ordinarily she wouldn’t have shared the details of her traumatic childhood, brushing any concerns aside and refocusing on their goal. But his sympathy felt like a warm embrace, unfamiliar yet irresistible. Her thoughts had lingered on that feeling for far too long, and she pulled her concentration back to their shared task.

As darkness drew close, they determined that making camp would be a necessity. The rest would be necessary to restore their strength, and nighttime travel was even more hazardous than daytime.

Though it was hazy and humid the temperature was comfortable enough, and the pair settled adjacent to each other to share some of the bland Republic rations as night fell. Aitahea felt an unexpected peace as they rested, only the echoes of wildlife interrupting the stillness. She could sense a quiet curiosity behind Erithon’s contented mood, his silence laced with an expectant hush that waited for her to fill it. She found herself suddenly grateful for the gathering darkness.

"Why are you here?" she asked softly, pushing back her hood.

Erithon considered before answering, gaze still fixed on the landscape. “On Taris? Hunting traitors."

Aitahea’s brows rose. “High enough in rank to require the intervention of Republic special forces? That seems unusual.”

“Well,” he drew out, expression grim, “since the traitors were also Havoc, it kind of leaves the burden on me, I guess.”

The Jedi frowned. Erithon’s tangled emotions seemed as baffling to him as they did to her. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Not sure I do, either, Master Jedi.” Erithon shifted and leaned back, his pack pillowed behind his head. “I’d only just arrived on Ord Mantell when it all fell apart. Doesn’t leave a man feeling very confident when an assignment goes sideways like that.”

Aitahea was quiet for a generous moment before swiveling around to face him. “What happened?”

“Typical mission, nothing out of the ordinary, especially not for Havoc.” He glanced sideways and gave her a crooked smile. “I guess you know about the mess with the Separatists on Ord Mantell.” Aitahea nodded. “They’d shot down a ship with a ZR-57 orbital strike bomb, capable of vaporizing a city, you know how it is. Havoc was supposed to retrieve it. At least it looked that way to the new guy.” His smirk turned to an unhappy frown. “Turns out they were taking the bomb along with them, to the Empire.”

Aitahea’s intake of breath was harsh in the silence. “They didn’t include you in their plans?”

“Not exactly. When we first lost contact we thought they’d been killed, which was bad enough. SpecOps are always high risk, but Havoc is – was – the best. When I discovered their true intentions, Tavus – the commander – asked if I’d join them. I’m sure you can guess my answer given where we are now.” He coughed a harsh laugh. “I don’t know what offended me more: asking me to turn traitor or trying to kill me.”

The weight of his frustration felt as heavy as beskar. Aitahea brushed away the desire to reach over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. It must have shaken you to the core.”

He frowned for a long moment, then rolled to the side so he could face her, propped up on an elbow. “For a minute, maybe. But then I realized, what they chose didn’t change me.” Erithon met Aitahea’s gaze, his blue eyes earnest. “The people of the Republic have my loyalty. I chose to protect them. Like those settler kids you sorted out at the base.”

“You know about that?” Aitahea blinked, freshly thankful for the concealing darkness.

“It was practically all Private Sakal could talk about.” Erithon gave her a cheeky grin before continuing. “The way you convinced the property owners and the settlers to work together, that’s what we work for. Tavus walked away from that, and I don’t even know why.” He grimaced again and raked a hand through his hair, the motion revealing his confusion. “I guess… things aren’t as black and white as they look.”

Aitahea smiled ruefully. “They do seem less and less so, don’t they?”

Erithon arched a brow at her. “That’s funny coming from you. I thought light and dark were what Jedi specialized in.” Despite the unease his words sent through her, she sensed his intention was candid, not caustic.

Her gaze lingered on her hands, clasped on her lap, before she answered. “So did I.”

The stream was a reasonable distance from the Republic camp, but Master Satele had said it was still close enough to be safe. Aitahea liked to steal away as often as she could manage. She could almost feel Master Faron and her friends here. Almost. It reminded her of the gardens in the Jedi Temple, though everyone said her former home was little more than a pile of rubble now. She was glad she hadn’t seen it. She wanted to remember Coruscant the way it had been.

The camp was getting bigger. There was supposed to be a treaty in place now, but no one was any more relaxed. There was a hush of uneasiness among the soldiers. Their restlessness made Aitahea herself feel unsteady and irritable. More and more Jedi initiates, even some younger Padawans, had been slowly trickling in, and now there were almost a dozen of them. Safe on Brentaal, waiting while the masters found safe places for them. The girl tried hard to make sense of this. If the Jedi Temple on Coruscant hadn’t been safe, where in the galaxy would be?

The sound of bubbling water diverted her unhappy thoughts. Meditation was easy here, unlike in the camp – though Master Satele would tell her that focus under pressure was the sign of a good Jedi – and Aitahea had no trouble quieting her mind and settling into the embrace of the Force. The little brook had become a place of comfort, isolation, and peace.

Aitahea frowned and slowed to a stop, a stone’s throw from the running water. Someone was sitting in her spot. A boy, maybe a year or two older than her, right on the branch that arched over the water. He hunched over with his elbows on his knees, legs swinging listlessly.

It was like looking in a mirror.

Even with her defenses up, sheltering her from the influence of others’ emotions, his loss radiated like a flame. Her chest contracted with anguish, the unexpected mingling of emotion, setting her knees wobbling. She felt tears well up, the walls around her heart crumbling. Absently, she took another step forward, an unnoticed twig cracking under her foot.

She looked down in alarm and by the time she’d lifted her gaze again, the boy was already scrambling back across the branch, nearly slipping into the water at one point. He stopped at the opposite bank and looked over his shoulder. His eyes were red-rimmed and cheeks flushed. He’d been crying.

“Aitahea!” Master Satele’s voice came sailing over the rise, and the girl twisted around to look back towards camp. She took a deep breath to call back, thought better of it, and turned back to the brook. The boy was already disappearing swiftly in the opposite direction.

Reluctantly, Aitahea moved toward the summons, leaving behind her refuge and her questions.

Erithon had offered to take the first watch, and Aitahea had accepted readily. She was only a few steps away from him, curled up with her cheek on one hand, hood pulled back up over her hair. He watched her settle into dreaming, eyes flickering beneath her lids, and every so often her lips pursed. He indulged his wandering imagination, wondering what she dreamed, vaguely hoping he might be included in the unconscious cast.

It was the first time he’d spent any substantial time in close quarters with a Jedi. He guessed she was pretty typical, all her responses focused and composed. Being near her was comforting, soothing. But there was something else under all that formality, something earnest and endearing. He felt the usual anxiety of the mission fall away like a worn cloak.

And stars, she was beautiful.

He’d been genuinely surprised when she asked if they’d met, and despite his somewhat clumsy response, it was the truth. They’d apparently been on Coruscant at the same time; had they crossed paths and it didn’t register? It would have been hard to forget the curve of her cheek, bright eyes framed by dark lashes-

By the Core, he thought, exasperated. Are you a teenager? Stop that.

He rolled his eyes and pulled out his datapad, checking messages and progress. Jorgan had messaged with positive results on an ancillary task, and the ship’s droid had sent several nonsense communications about really nothing at all. No distractions there. As the hours passed, he alternated between walking the perimeter of their small camp and returning to sit near the Jedi, each time admonishing himself for staring at her.

She’d drawn him out with practiced ease, asking about his mission, soft words that slipped beneath his armor as effortlessly as rain. He hadn’t discussed the defection with anyone other than Garza and Jorgan, and then only out of necessity. He still stung about it, beyond the more generalized fury that accompanied the whole scenario. There were too many unknowns, too many questions, and too few answers. He felt like he was playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek with Garza handing out intelligence whenever it seemed to suit her. He felt less and less guilty each time he fudged orders, finding a smug gratification in noncompliance. There were regulations, and then there was integrity, and so far Garza had been leaning a little too hard to the former for his taste.

The alarm on his datapad beeped quietly; the night’s tedious hours had passed, and it was Aitahea’s turn to take watch. Erithon almost didn’t want to wake her. He couldn’t deny enjoying the freedom to observe her, but he’d need rest himself to be at all helpful as they continued.

Erithon smiled regretfully and knelt next to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. A deep breath preceded her eyes fluttering open to meet his. Erithon felt his heartbeat speed up and hurriedly offered a hand to help her rise. Once on her feet, her brows drew together, watching him with solemn wonder.

“Jedi? Something wrong?”

Her intense gaze lingered even as she shook her head. “I’m well, thank you,” she replied, looking like she might say something else. He held his breath, but the moment passed and Aitahea shook her head again with a polite smile. “I’m ready to take watch. You should rest.”

He glanced down to see their hands still joined and pulled away self-consciously. “Yeah,” Erithon said, retreating to where his pack lay, punching it a few times before determining that it was comfortable enough. He flopped down, turned away from the Jedi, and waited impatiently for sleep.

Chapter Text

It was the little girl again.

Okay, Erithon thought, maybe I shouldn’t say ‘little.’ She couldn’t have been that much younger than him, but she seemed small, huddled into herself like that.

Last time she’d snuck up on him. He was still kind of embarrassed about that. He’d been crying, which wasn’t really a problem by itself, but he wanted to seem strong to his mom and sister. It seemed like there wasn’t any room left for more tears at home. So he took them elsewhere.

When he was younger, Dad had taken him here to fish. They rarely caught anything, and a few years ago he’d realized it was less about the fishing than about spending time together. He’d gotten bored quickly the last few times, preferring to watch a holo or play with his friends. If he’d known what was going to happen…

Erithon sniffed and straightened up just as the girl turned around. She didn’t seem surprised, gazing calmly at him from her perch above the water. It was the spot he and his father would sit during those long afternoons. They’d spoken little during those visits. The house was always filled to the brim with his family’s voices, so the quiet was welcome.

The girl stared at him for a long time, long enough for the sun on the back of his neck to get hot. When he reached to pull his collar up, she started. Erithon took a hesitant step forward, reaching out with the other hand.

She sprang to her feet, her balance unnaturally steady as she rushed toward the opposite bank and leapt lightly to the ground. She glanced over her shoulder once more before racing toward the Republic camp. It was just over the rise. Mom had told him to stay away.

He watched until the gleam of her hair had passed out of view.

Erithon’s eyes opened to dappled morning sunlight and leafy canopy. Stifling a yawn, he sat up and rolled his shoulders experimentally. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, but he felt like he’d slept for a week. A good week. On Rishi or someplace nice like that.

Mornings like this too often passed him by. Being in the field, his squad had usually been up and moving well before this time of day – well, depending on what planet you were on, anyway. They were on Taris, right? The air, humid and poisoned as it was, seemed clearer. The light was gentler, the breeze that ruffled his hair was softer.

It reminded him of home. It had been years since he’d set foot on Brentaal. And a while since he’d messaged his mom or his sister, he mused, deciding that he’d make a point of reaching out once this mission was complete.

Still mulling over the contents of the potential message, Erithon looked around to find Aitahea kneeling a few yards away, bright hair aglow in the sunshine. The Jedi didn’t move from what he assumed was some kind of meditation, head bowed and eyes closed. A hazy scrap of dream flickered unbidden through his thoughts, leaving him confused and vaguely bereft. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck where sunlight warmed his skin.

…stared at him for a long time, long enough for the sun on the back of his neck to get hot…

Long moments passed as Aitahea remained immersed in her meditation. Her expression was beatific, and Erithon thought he could detect a shimmer in the air around her, more visible in his peripheral vision than straight on. He admired the gentle radiance until her head lifted, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

…a hesitant step forward, reaching out…

“Lieutenant?” At the sound of her voice, everything came back into sharp focus.

“Huh? Oh, Master Jedi.” Erithon leapt to his feet, a little embarrassed at being caught staring. Maybe not so much staring as lost in thought, but still.

“Good morning,” Aitahea said, flicking back the hem of her robe as she stood. “I hope your sleep was restful,” she added, turning away to gather her few supplies.

“Pretty good, actually.” Taking the cue from her, Erithon started packing up his kit. “Looks like nothing exciting happened while I was out, yeah?”

“You were dreaming.”

He turned back to see her, face obscured in the shadow of her hood once again, expression carefully neutral.

…until the gleam of her hair had passed out of view…

“I…” He hesitated, brows knit, before shaking his head. “If I was, I don’t remember.” His eyes flicked away from hers to the sun-spangled canopy overhead, then back again. “Not really, anyway.”

Aitahea remained silent and still while Erithon packed away his last few belongings and shouldered his cannon. He flashed a quick smile. “Ready to move, Jedi?”

She nodded, still solemn, and stepped to the side. “You have the lead, Lieutenant.”

They edged past a few benign bogstalkers and rounded a crumbling wall, and the Endar Spire came into view. The pair stopped, gazing at the massive wreck in fascination.

“Wow.”

The ship dwarfed the collapsed buildings around it, even in its devastated state. The gigantic thrusters splayed at wild angles, and the hull had cracked open in places allowing vegetation to take root. The entire ship was swathed in vines and climbing plants. Sunk partway into the muck of Taris, in another century or two it might have been lost entirely to the Sinking City. Every meter of it was scorched, whether from the uncontrolled burn through Taris’ atmosphere or the bombing it was impossible to say.

“Yes. It’s amazing that any trace survived, after the crash and then Darth Malak’s bombardment.” Aitahea nodded approvingly. “That it’s still recognizable at all is a testament to the shipbuilders.”

“No kidding.” Erithon pulled out his datapad and brought up the map, followed by the ship schematics. “Childress indicated an entrance here,” he said, passing the pad over to the Jedi.

Aitahea hesitated, grip tightening on the tablet. “Did he seem…”

“Unconcerned with the research team? Yeah. It’s not unusual for some.” Erithon shrugged, but the motion was unhappy. “We lose so many, sometimes it’s easier to think of us as commodities, tools. Expendable; easily restocked. But the data, that you can’t replace.”

“That’s unspeakable.”

“Nice to know I’m appreciated.” Erithon gave the Jedi a charming, lopsided grin. “Come on. Maybe we can bring these folks back.” He inclined his head toward the entry and started the approach.

Aitahea blinked, surprised at his insouciance, and even more at the confidence he projected.

“Ready?”

Aitahea pulled her lightsaber from her hip and snapped the blade alight, the sound sharpening her focus.

“Yes.”

Erithon glanced back at her and with a quick nod shouldered his own weapon. They moved in.

A vague path lead to an open airlock, doors torn away, metal shredded. Like everything else on Taris, the local flora had taken over, winding into cracks and creases. There was evidence of sentient occupation, leaves crushed into the dirt and wheel tracks leading through the mud.

The passage they crept into was dark save for a few flickering emergency lights. Aitahea’s lightsaber created leaping shadows in alcoves and corners until she finally extinguished the weapon, keeping the hilt gripped tight in her hand. The sunlight that filtered through the cracks in the Endar Spire’s hull brought with it a clammy haze that obscured the more distant hallways and cast a murky gloom throughout the ship.

Erithon cautiously approached a corner and lifted a hand before looking back to Aitahea. She stood motionless, gaze to the side as if listening, but Erithon heard nothing. After long moments, her eyes flickered back to his and she leaned close to speak.

“Lieutenant, I sense someone down this passage. They’re weary and frightened, but friendly.”

“Our people?”

She nodded. “I’m almost certain of it. We should exercise caution approaching them. They’re exhausted and agitated.” She hesitated, then clipped her lightsaber back to her belt.

Following her example, Erithon hauled his cannon back over his shoulder and walked slowly but deliberately into the adjoining hallway. Aitahea followed in silence.

At the far end a soldier stood with his weapon trained on them. Erithon recognized the calm vigilance and made a mental note to congratulate this trooper on his behavior – when they were out of danger.

Aitahea stepped forward as he lowered the cannon, open hands signaling benevolence. “Captain Childress sent us. Are you all right?”

“Lieutenant Karlsu,” he introduced, gratitude soaking every syllable. “I’m all that’s left of Commander Childress’ fifth detail. Please tell me you’re our reinforcements.”

Aitahea nodded, her expression solemn but compassionate as she introduced Erithon and herself. Erithon felt a glow of comfort standing next to her, and even Karlsu seemed to relax a little in her presence.

“Lieutenant,” Erithon greeted. “What’s the situation here?” He saw the signs of a hastily evacuated encampment, but the research team was nowhere in sight. His stomach sank a little before Karlsu turned, leading them deeper into the corridor.

“Give me a moment, sir.” He raised an arm, signaling. “All’s clear, guys. And we’ve got some muscle from back on base.”

A murmur of relief sighed through the hallway, and figures began to creep out from hiding places. They looked ragged and exhausted, but the promise of rescue brightened dark eyes and lifted slumped shoulders.

Karlsu turned back to Erithon, face creased with worry. “This is what’s left of our research team. The others got ambushed while working.”

Aitahea lips pressed into a thin line and she turned to Erithon. “Lieutenant, I’ll see to the researchers if you don’t mind.”

“You do whatever needs doing, Master Jedi,” he replied. “Karlsu and I will talk next steps to get everyone out of here safely.”

Looking relieved at his words, the Jedi nodded firmly and joined the gathered researchers who greeted her eagerly.

Erithon looked back to the fellow soldier. “Well done keeping these people safe. They owe you their lives.”

Karlsu quirked a rueful smile. “Thank you, sir. Scavengers must have guessed we were after something good. They’ve had us pinned down here for a while, as you can see.” He nodded gratefully. “But you made it through, sir, and brought some hope along with you.”

Glancing over Karlsu’s shoulder, Erithon could see Aitahea handing out kolto patches and fresh water to the remaining team members. There were smiles and even a little nervous laughter. “So, you haven’t had the chance to get at those records?”

Karlsu shook his head. “No. We need to hold them off long enough for the research team to recover and download that data.”

Erithon considered the ragged group of researchers, watching as Aitahea spoke soothingly to each of them. She’d pulled off her gloves, slender hands constantly in contact with whoever she was interacting with, each of them visibly calming under her attention.

“Let’s do it,” Erithon said, turning back to the lieutenant. “What do you need from us?”

A Rodian slicer approached, sporting a freshly applied kolto patch on her forearm. “You’ll need to reactivate the generator subsystems as we go so we can grab the data when we hit the main computer.”

Aitahea followed behind the slicer, pulling her gloves back on. “Lieutenant Zale and I can accomplish that.” Her voice and expression were calm, but in her eyes there was a resolve that gave Erithon pause.

Erithon nodded in agreement. “And once we’ve all reached the mainframe, we’ll provide cover for you.” The anxious research team members glanced at each other, but the Rodian slicer nodded with confidence.

“We’ll follow you.”

Chapter Text

Erithon and Aitahea hung back briefly while the ragged band of researchers and slicers took up positions just at the edge of camp, familiarizing themselves with the dark hallway they would soon be traversing. The trooper watched with interest as they ranged out, their motions hesitant but determined.

He glanced back over his shoulder to Aitahea. “How are they?”

Aitahea leveled an austere smile at him. “You mean can they make it through?” Erithon grimaced but nodded. “I believe they can. They’re exhausted, but they want to move forward. This data is more precious to them than anyone. They’re dedicated to this mission.”

Erithon felt pride swelling in his chest. Childress can take his ‘desk jockey’ assessment and shove it where the stars don’t shine, he thought. These were the kind of Republic patriots he believed in, the kind he wanted next to him in the field.

“Glad to hear it, Master Jedi. Let’s move out.”

The consular smiled to herself as Erithon turned away. She would never have expected an assignment accompanying a member of the Republic military to be so inspiring. Childress is underestimating his people, she thought with a surge of approval. Perhaps I need to reassess my feelings as well.

While the Jedi Order and the Republic military coordinated their efforts when needed, there was typically no love lost between the organizations. The Sith had seen to that more than a decade ago. After the treaty, the Jedi’s focus had turned inward, to healing and reestablishing their numbers, as well as reinvigorating their tenuous relationship with the galaxy as a whole.

Once again she found herself thinking of that night on Coruscant, cowering and shaking in her father’s arms as the Sacking raged on around the city. She had been safe, but as the spark of each life was extinguished, each voice silenced… She’d done everything to conceal her bond with the Force, burying herself in her own terror and pain while the universe shattered around her. When it had finally stopped, when the blockade had been lifted, she’d felt hollow.

The Jedi that came for Aitahea told her parents they almost hadn’t found her, she’d shrouded her power so deeply, banked in the ashes of Coruscant. She was grateful to find that some Jedi had survived, but those few couldn’t fill the void left by her master and clan, couldn’t soothe the wound carved there by the Sith. Only time would do that, and never completely.

Aitahea shook her head, redirecting her thoughts back to the present. There would be time to muse on her memories later, maybe even time to ask the lieutenant some of her own questions.

Their footsteps echoed sharply in the menacing silence.

Erithon was on point, Aitahea covering him while Karlsu brought up the rear, behind the researchers. He halted them just before the dangerous junction to the ship’s interior, the first generator access terminal only yards away. Aitahea hovered at his shoulder, head tilted to the side.

“What is it?”

The Jedi hesitated, eyes flickering to shadowed corners. “There’s been significant movement outside the ship. I couldn’t pinpoint them while we were occupied with the research team but-”

Aitahea whirled with astonishing speed, saber suddenly alight and repelling a volley of blaster bolts that screamed without warning from the shadows above. Erithon jolted into action, sweeping the rafters to find the scavengers dropping from overhead. Aitahea kept their fire off him as he began to pick them off, green blade a halo of light around him, redirecting blaster bolts into the floor and walls. She seemed able to judge where he needed to aim and gave him a clear path to his targets, making every motion with gentle precision, the embodiment of restraint and simplicity. It wouldn’t be hard to get distracted just watching her.

“Damn, they’re between us and the generator access,” Erithon said between shots, squinting through the glare of smoke and fire. “If we can just push them back past the that hallway, we can restore power and pull the team through all at once.”

Aitahea nodded severely. “They will move,” she said, a near-whisper that he was surprised to hear over the hiss of cooling metal. “Brace yourself.”

Erithon complied immediately, digging in his heels as the Jedi extinguished her lightsaber and stalked forward. She stood poised between him and the scavengers.

The air went heavy and still, but once she was motionless Erithon swore he saw the hem of the Jedi’s robes shift and flutter. Even the scavengers paused in their assault, the foremost attacker taking a hesitant step back. The ambient noise in the room seemed to contract to a muted echo, then Aitahea flung her arms outward. In a breath she went from demure, robe-wrapped form to sheer force of nature, a wave of energy surging down the hall and into the unsuspecting pirates. Even with her warning, Erithon could feel a pressure that heaved at every particle in his body. His boots skidded in the dust and debris, sending him back a few inches.

The scavengers were less lucky. They bore the brunt of Aitahea’s powerful attack, tumbling away toward the alcove. While two scrambled for purchase, one fell and didn’t rise.

Aitahea ignited her lightsaber again and pointed it toward the few scavengers that remained upright. “Now, Lieutenant!”

Erithon hauled his cannon over his shoulder and sent volleys of shots into the rattled fighters. It was mere moments before they were down, the hum of Erithon’s cannon and Aitahea’s lightsaber the only sounds in the darkened hallway.

“Go!” Signaling the research team, Erithon nodded to Aitahea and moved toward the access panel. Aitahea was once again the serene Jedi, smiling gentle encouragement to the passing research team while Erithon restored power to the hallway. She hovered at his shoulder, the blade of her lightsaber wavering in time with her breathing.

The hallway lit up, power flickering through the long-abandoned systems. Erithon slammed the cover on the access panel shut and heard Aitahea heave a relieved sigh.

“One down, two to go.” Erithon smiled, giving the Jedi a roguish wink. “Ready for the next one?”

Aitahea blinked at the expression before returning a smile of her own, renewing her grip on her lightsaber with a nod. “Let’s go.”

“Primary systems are powered and coming online now, sir,” the Rodian confirmed after a few taps on her datapad, grinning up at Karlsu. “They did it!”

Erithon and Aitahea shared a relieved smile with the lieutenant and the slicer. They’d restored power to the second junction with no difficulties, and after a brief rest to recover their strength they had progressed to the final goal – the primary systems and database – without interruption.

“Just doing our job. The Jedi and I will take the perimeter while you work on that data.”

“We wouldn’t be here without you both,” Karlsu added.

“The Jedi way is to serve.” Aitahea offered a graceful bow to the research team before she turned back to Erithon. “Shall we?”

“After you, Master Jedi,” said Erithon, offering a simpler bow of his own to Aitahea as she passed.

The area was wide open, little cover to be found while they gave the research team needed space to work. Relying on Erithon for visual scouting, Aitahea let her physical senses fade into the background while her perception uncoiled through the Force. The Endar Spire was strangely shimmering with life, the centuries of invading flora and fauna having created a craft-shaped glow of energy.

“Something wrong, Jedi?”

Aitahea took a deep breath as she refocused her eyes on Erithon, blinking to clear her vision. “It’s just difficult to sense other life forms here. The Endar Spire has practically become a living thing itself after all these years.”

Erithon lifted a brow at the rusted metal and wan lighting. “It’s alive?”

“Not exactly, but the local vegetation and animal life have integrated into it so thoroughly it might as well be,” she replied, reaching to touch a trailing vine. “The Force flows through all life in the galaxy, leaving a signature and shape to those who can perceive it.”

“Oh.” The trooper chuckled and struck a pose, hands planted on his hips. “Well, how do I look?”

Aitahea placed her fingers over her lips to hide an amused smile, but after a thoughtful moment dropped her hand and inclined her head. “Confident. Certain. Eager. Proud. Brave.” She narrowed her eyes to playful accusation. “A little tired,” she teased.

“You left out brilliant and good-looking,” he replied with a wink, picking up their watchful progression again. “Must be strange to feel everything all the time like that.”

It took Erithon waving a hand for Aitahea to realize she’d lagged behind several steps, cheeks ablaze. She swallowed, trying to find her voice again. “Ah, well. Shielding myself from my surroundings has become second-nature; I rarely notice the effort any longer. When my Force-sensitivity first manifested it was terrifying.”

“I can’t even begin to guess what that was like. Especially for a kid.”

She pursed her lips. “I was bombarded by the feelings and thoughts of everyone around me. On Coruscant, it felt like being in the midst of a screaming crowd. My parents realized what was happening and contacted the Jedi Temple. They sent a master, and he shielded me.” She smiled at the intense memory, affection warming her eyes. “That’s when I joined the temple as an initiate. Master Faron protected me until I could maintain my own shielding and was no longer overwhelmed by the beings around me.”

Erithon gave her a sidelong glance. “So, your, uh, superpower… is reading minds?”

“Not precisely. I have a natural ability to sense moods and emotions, but I expend more effort in shielding myself from the same. Many Jedi learn these skills to a small extent; most can perceive living creatures through their energy signature in the Force. I can also observe and influence thoughts and feelings - reading minds, as you say - but it is generally only used with permission or in extraordinarily dire circumstances.

“I am not reading your mind, Lieutenant, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Erithon gave a self-conscious chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so. I don’t really know a lot about the Jedi, and I figure asking a stupid question is better than jumping to an even more stupid conclusion.”

They walked in silence for several moments, and Aitahea pulled in a deep breath before speaking. “Thank you. That’s a kindness I haven’t often been afforded.”

“You’re welcome. We have to-”

Erithon’s words were interrupted by the sound of an explosion from behind them, both whirling to see the research team diving for cover as a squad of pirate bore down on them. Karlsu was already firing, making a valiant but fruitless attempt to cut their cables before the ambush could reach the floor safely. The researchers responded valiantly, aiming their few blasters with gritted teeth and steely eyes.

The skirmish was quickly becoming a close quarters hand-to-hand brawl. Rushing back toward the terminal, Aitahea drew her lightsaber while Erithon fired the small sidearm he carried, unable to use the larger cannon without putting the research team at further risk.

Aitahea bit back a frustrated cry and reached deep into the Force, gathering her strength before placing an unseen hold on an unsuspecting pirate. He wailed in panic as Aitahea flicked her fingers, flinging him across the hall to bounce ungracefully against a rusted bulkhead. Behind her, Erithon whooped an incredulous laugh.

Suddenly breathless, Aitahea made to reach for another attacker. Her target moved too quickly, arm darting out in a blur toward the Rodian slicer before the Jedi could stop him.

A final shot came from over her shoulder and took down the pirate, but Aitahea was already moving, darting between blaster fire, arms open to catch the slicer as she slid to the floor, the hilt of a vibroblade jutting out from the woman’s body. “Don’t touch it, don’t pull!” she cried as the Rodian wrapped her hands around the hilt, large eyes wide with surprise.

“Jedi?” she squeaked, skin quickly losing color. Erithon and Karlsu were shouting coordinated instructions as shooting began to taper off. Aitahea tugged one glove off with her teeth while gingerly grasping the slicer’s wrist with her other hand, attempting to steady them both.

“I have you,” the Jedi murmured and hovered her bare hand near the wound. She curled her own body over the slicer’s, taking precious moments to assess the wound. It was jagged and vicious; the pirate had begun to turn the blade before being stopped by Erithon’s well placed fire. Several organs had been nicked and kolto wouldn’t be enough to stop the bleeding or repair the tissue damage in time. The Rodian seemed to relax into her grasp, but Aitahea bit down on her lower lip in frustration.

She clenched her bare hand into a fist before splaying her fingers wide over the other woman’s torso, closed her eyes, and opened herself into the blaze of the Force.

Everything went white.

Chapter Text

Erithon watched in horrified fascination as the slicer’s injured body arched in Aitahea’s arms and a blaze of light obscured both of them for an instant. He flinched away, squinting against the bright flash, trying to keep the pair in his line of sight as he raced toward them.

Karlsu picked off the last scavenger. “Sound off, everyone!” Rasping cries wound their way through the smoke, but Aitahea and the slicer remained silent and still. Erithon skidded to his knees a couple feet from Aitahea but stopped short of touching her or the Rodian.

Gritting his teeth, Erithon scrutinized both women. The slicer was slumped, curled protectively around her midsection. Aitahea, however, was rigid, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. She still cradled the slicer with one arm, and in her right hand she grasped the offending vibroblade.

Erithon hissed through his teeth as the seconds dragged on, warning the other members of the research team to give them room with one hand. Agonizingly, the Rodian female started to relax, sliding gently out of Aitahea’s loosening grasp and to the floor.

“Woah,” Erithon muttered, waving Karlsu over to collect the slicer. “Here, can you get her? I’ll keep an eye on the Jedi.” Karlsu eased her gently away and into the hands of her worried comrades.

Erithon remained in front of Aitahea, watching attentively as her lashes fluttered. With a shudder, the vibroblade slipped from her hand and clattered noisily to the floor, the Jedi herself slouching forward into Erithon’s waiting hands.

“Hey now, stay with me, Master Jedi,” he called, catching her shoulders. Aitahea’s head lolled forward, a pained sigh escaping from her lips. Grimacing, Erithon shook off one of his own gloves and checked her pulse before gently lifting her head. Her cheeks were pale, but her breathing was steady. Erithon’s basic field first aid didn’t make any distinctions about Force-users, so he settled for looking her over for any mundane injuries.

“Well, I know this isn’t your blood, at least,” Erithon mumbled, wrinkling his brow at the green fluid on her hands. He watched her inhale deeply once more and cupped her cheek with one hand. “What do I do with you?”

The research team began chattering excitedly; the slicer had apparently woken and was demanding to see the Jedi. Lieutenant Karlsu admonished them all to relax and walked back to where Erithon sat, now cradling Aitahea in one arm.

“How is she?” Erithon asked, jerking his chin toward the Rodian.

“Fine.” Karlsu answered, wonder in his eyes. “Totally, completely fine. That wound should have killed her, but there’s barely even a scar. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Erithon’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Are you sure?”

“I saw her take that shiv. Practically to the hilt.” Karlsu gestured at the woman in Erithon’s arms. “I’ve heard stories about Jedi healers, but I can hardly believe what’s in front of my own eyes.”

Aitahea chose that moment to stir, turning her cheek deeper into Erithon’s palm. She didn’t look like a force of nature, despite her earlier demonstrations. She seemed fragile, ephemeral, her eyelashes starkly black against ashen cheeks. Tenderly, Erithon brushed away a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb before realizing their proximity. He inhaled sharply and eased her back upright.

“Jedi?”

Aitahea opened her eyes, her vision taking several moments to focus before she gasped in alarm. “Is she all right?”

“I’m fine, Master Jedi,” the slicer reassured, kneeling at Aitahea’s side. Erithon smiled cautiously at each of them, a hand lingering on Aitahea’s shoulder. When she moved to climb to her feet, he left it hovering at her elbow, earning him a barely discernible smile of gratitude from the Jedi.

“Everyone else safe?” Erithon asked.

Heads nodded and Karlsu jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “In that case, we better get back to work. We still have a ways to go with this system, but before we were so rudely interrupted, we were able to slice into the ship’s proximity sensors. They won’t be surprising us again. We can all relax a little.”

Wobbling slightly, Aitahea took a shaky step forward. “I should see to-”

Erithon’s hand closed around her arm. “-this, uh, blaster graze I took, Master Jedi,” he said, leveling a stern gaze at her.  “If you don’t mind.”

Aitahea opened her mouth to argue, then blinked rapidly, cheeks flushing. “Of course, Lieutenant.”

Karlsu dusted his hands off and opened his arms wide. “Let’s get back to work.”

Aitahea sensed Erithon approaching and opened her eyes, struggling to push away her irritable emotions. The trooper had been right to call her bluff; she was soundly exhausted after her unexpected ordeal healing the Rodian slicer. Erithon’s feigned injury had saved face for her and brought the focus back on the mission for everyone.

Plunged into the current of the Force, she’d lost all track of time, her focus on the swiftly diminishing life of the slicer. Kolto wouldn’t have been enough to heal the wound. Too much damage had been done to vital organs. It was unlikely even surgery could have saved her.

But a Jedi healer needed no tools or surgical suites; the Force was enough. And usually the Jedi who channeled it. The slicer’s injury had been the most challenging she’d faced – physically, that is, not including the shielding she now held between Yuon and the plaguemaster. Perhaps that was why she’d collapsed, both endeavors together overtaxing her abilities…

“How you feeling?”

“Well enough. I appreciate your discretion.”

Erithon offered her the usual disarming grin, but his expression was laced with genuine concern. “Got your back, Master Jedi.” He lowered his cannon to the ground before hunkering down next to her. “Had me worried for a second there.”

“I…” she began, suddenly uncertain under his candid attention. “I’m sorry to have worried you. Force healing can have unintended consequences.”

“Did you know it would take that much out of you like that?”

Aitahea twisted her lips into a tight frown, shaking her head, frustration seeping back into her thoughts. “No. It seems I may have overtaxed myself.”

He raised a brow. “Noticed that.”

Aitahea lifted her chin, directing an irritated expression at the trooper. “I sense you have something else you’re trying to say to me, Lieutenant.” She narrowed her eyes. “No mind reading required.”

Erithon sighed. “She’s alive because of you. We’d never have gotten her to a bacta tank in time.” He settled his elbows on his knees and gave her a pointed glare. “But it was irresponsible. The scene wasn’t clear yet; we didn’t pick off all the scavengers until you’d already moved in.”

“Her injury was too grave,” Aitahea interrupted. “She was moments from death. There was no time.”

“You could have been hurt.”

“It’s an acceptable risk.”

“Sometimes leading a mission means you have to let someone else take that risk.”

“Doesn’t leading a mission make one responsible for the other members?”

Erithon raked a hand through his hair, bordering on exasperation. “Slow down, Jedi. I’m not asking you to decide someone’s fate. Stars, it’s not a yes or no answer. You just have to think a little more about what you mean to the mission.” His gaze softened. “Leadership is about choices, and they aren’t always straightforward.”

Aitahea quieted immediately, her defensiveness draining away. She looked across the room to the research team, deeply involved with their work. “I… I think I understand.”

“Look, it’s not easy, especially in the heat of the moment.”

“It seems my experiences have been very different from yours, Lieutenant. Jedi frequently work in isolation.” She twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I’m unused to being responsible for others, at least in such close quarters.”

“Well, just think of it this way, you’re worth more to us conscious… and mobile.” He chuckled and bumped his shoulder against hers companionably.

She couldn’t stop the furious blush that crept up her cheeks. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Erithon gave her a steady glare. “Never thought I’d hear so much argument from a Jedi.”

She gave a heady giggle. “I’m a diplomat, you know.”

He stared at her for a moment before bursting into a roar of laughter.

The children stared at each other from opposite ends of the branch, the silence punctuated by the sound of the stream below. A few strands of pale hair blew across the girl’s eyes until an unseen force pushed them away again. The boy tilted his head, his blue eyes questioning.

The girl moved forward, eyes on her own feet, and sat herself down at the midpoint of the makeshift bridge before patting the empty space next to her, wordlessly directing her eyes downstream.

Her invitation felt irresistible; Erithon clambered across the branch and slid down next to the girl, observing her profile. She was probably a year or two younger than him, but her eyes… they reminded him of his mother’s. Of his own in the mirror lately. Haunted.

She didn’t seem to want to talk, and he didn’t really feel like it either, and after a few moments he turned to follow her gaze. He heard her sigh, and then felt the gentle pressure of her shoulder pressed against his.

When he turned in surprise, she gazed back with brimming eyes, a wobbly smile lighting up her face for an instant before her green eyes were focused back on the rushing water. He felt tears sting his own eyes but couldn’t bring himself to break the silence that had wrapped them tight. Instead, he reached for her hand.

The girl inhaled a breath sharply, fighting to keep her eyes forward, but she couldn’t keep silent the sobs that crept from her lips, the quaking of her shoulders. She gripped Erithon’s hand back almost tight enough to hurt, and let her tears drip into her lap.

The boy held on tight.

Erithon jerked awake, fumbling for a blaster, a shiv, anything. What the blazes? Why were his hands empty?  He never slept that deep in the field, what the hell happened? His fingers closed around something yielding-

“Lieutenant?” The Jedi. Green eyes focused on rushing water. “Forgive me for startling you.”

“No, sorry. That was just… weird.” He moved to sit up and realized with surprise that their hands were clasped. Aitahea made no move to pull away, merely watching him with a curious, unreadable expression.

“You were dreaming again.”

“Oh, I- what?” He shook his head and withdrew his hand from hers. He looked carefully at her face, trying to decide of that was disappointment he actually saw, or just his own disorientation. “Was I?”

“Do you remember anything?”

Afternoon sunlight. The gentle pressure of another shoulder. A warm hand in his.

Erithon frowned and reached for her hand again. For a split second it looked as though Aitahea was about to close her hand into a fist and pull away, the excuse ready on her lips. But then she let out the breath she was holding and placed her palm firmly against his.

“They aren’t dreams, are they?”

Aitahea bit at her bottom lip, looking apologetic. “I think we have some things to discuss, but Lieutenant Karlsu is waiting to speak with us.” She closed her hand around his and pulled, helping Erithon rise to his feet. “They’ve finally secured the data.”

“That’s great,” Erithon muttered, glancing over the Jedi’s shoulder to see Karlsu chatting with the Rodian slicer. Aitahea nodded meditatively and turned towards the research team, hiding her flushed cheeks in the shadow of her hood.

Erithon shook his head and sprinted to catch up.

“Lieutenant. Master Jedi. If you two hadn’t come when you did, those would be our smoking corpses there, no question.” The Rodian slicer gave Aitahea a brave smile as Karlsu spoke, the other researchers nodding their agreement.

“Thankfully it didn’t come to that. You’re a credit to the Republic, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir.” Karlsu nodded his gratitude but folded his arms ruefully. “Unfortunately, we’re not done, not until the data is in the hands of Commander Viqui at headquarters.”

“We’ll get it to the commander, count on it,” Erithon replied.

“Thank you,” Karlsu smile with relief and signaled the slicer. “We’ve recovered all of the high-priority info. If you run that to the outpost, I’ll hold off what’s left of the scavengers until evac arrives.”

The Rodian slicer stepped to Karlsu’s side, a hand pressed guardedly to her midsection. “Thank you for protecting us.” She handed a dataspike to Aitahea before briefly covering the Jedi’s hands with her own. “And good luck.”

“May the Force be with you,” Aitahea whispered fervently.

Chapter Text

Navigating away from the ruins of the Endar Spire took most of the remaining Tarisian day, twilight finding Erithon and Aitahea worn out and breathless as they tried to avoid the last of the pirates. Despite their distinct victories inside the ship, a few tenacious junksifters continued to materialize from the tangled wilderness.

Aitahea barely had the energy for the boost she gave herself using the Force as they climbed an embankment, a wave of vertigo sweeping through her head until Erithon’s hand closed around hers.

“Did we lose them yet?” Erithon panted, tugging her to the summit where he knelt. Aitahea pulled up short as she got a glimpse of the opposite side: a wide pool of tainted water, glowing faintly green.

“Oh dear,” the Jedi gasped, twisting away from the bank and further off balance, now grasping at Erithon’s hand in a wild reach for stability.

“Nope, not that way,” Erithon chuckled good-naturedly, yanking her back toward him. She tottered a moment before Erithon closed his arms around her and pulled her securely against his chest. She blinked rapidly, trying to reorient her balance. Erithon jerked his head to the side. “So, how about those pirates we’re trying to escape?”

Aitahea gulped down a breath and closed her eyes, head still spinning as she tried to focus on their pursuers. “Still on our trail.” She opened her eyes to see Erithon looking appraisingly over the scummy water. Aitahea’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Lieutenant, I’m not sure that’s the wisest course of action. Maybe we-” They both flinched when a blaster bolt ricocheted off the dirt just below them.

“Hope you can swim, Jedi,” Erithon said with a grin and flung them both heedlessly into the water.

Aitahea wisely opted out of arguing further and took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes closed as they hit the surface. Thoughts of what kinds of toxins they might be exposed to, the possible predators, all wrestled for charge of her thoughts. The final thought of how bad they would smell when – if – they escaped flickered across her attention.

Erithon tugged her to the surface and back to the present. “Shh!” He hissed low, pulling her into a tangle of brush near the bank. The trooper gave her a tight smile and flicked his eyes upward, mouthing the word pirates silently.

Trying to slow her rapid heartbeat, Aitahea tapped into the Force again, seeking the roiling, vicious signatures of their pursuers. They stood only yards away, looking out at the expanse of water, uncertain of their quarry’s direction. Aitahea looked to Erithon with wide eyes, his only reply a silent finger to his lips.

Aitahea held her breath, trembling, and let her eyes slip closed.

Erithon watched Aitahea’s lids slide down with cautious optimism; a moment later, he heard a weighty splash from a dozen yards away. The pirates rallied to the sound, shouting directions. After a few moments their shouts faded, and Erithon puffed a sigh of relief.

The Jedi’s eyes fluttered open and Erithon grinned triumphantly. “Thanks, Jedi. I didn’t want to die smelling this bad.”

“Never mind the smell, what sort of contagions are we being exposed to?”

“Oh, nothing the Republic doesn’t have a vaccine for. Mostly.”

Aitahea began a sharp inhale through her nose and quickly realized her mistake. She winced before pinning Erithon with a glare. “Lieutenant.”

“To be fair we should probably get out of this and make camp.”

“With all haste, please.”

A bit of time and distance later, Erithon and Aitahea had established a secure camp on a gently sloping beach. Erithon had abandoned his armor, grimacing in disgust as he poured brackish water out of his boots. Aitahea wrinkled her nose at her sopping robe, draped over a large chunk of driftwood, and turned back toward the shoreline.

When Erithon looked up, the Jedi was standing at the edge of the pool, her face upturned, still somehow picturesque even before the tainted water. Erithon approached gingerly, not wanting to disturb or startle her. She didn’t turn when he stopped at her side, but he did notice her lips curve in a soft smile before she spoke.

“If I can find the time, I like to look at the stars on a new planet.”

Erithon grunted indifferently, not entirely following her line of thought. “Don’t you see them all the time on your ship?”

She either laughed or sighed, the sound too soft to properly recognize. “Of course, but it’s different planetside. The atmosphere, the weather, each play a role in what can only be perceived from the ground.”

“The stars always look the same to me. Pretty, but the same,” he offered, watching her profile. “I never thought about it, I guess.”

“Growing up on Coruscant, it was almost impossible to see the stars.” Her gaze seemed far away, well beyond the subject of their conversation, focused on something bittersweet. “When I was evacuated after the Sacking, I saw stars for the first time. New ones, on each planet we traveled to. When I looked at them I didn’t feel so lost or alone.” She was quiet for a few moments before turning to him with a broad smile. “You should see the sky on Tython,” she breathed, eyes radiant. “When you’re in the Deep Core… It’s like being wrapped in a cloak of starlight.”

Probably something like seeing you smile, he thought, drowning in her delighted expression. “I... I’ve never been to the Deep Core.”

Aitahea inhaled slowly, her sudden joy ebbing away to a keen silence, but before she could begin-

“I think it was Brentaal.”

“What?”

“When you- You said I was dreaming earlier. I think I was dreaming of Brentaal.” Erithon cleared his throat and glanced out toward the water before turning his eyes to hers again. “I was born and raised there.”

Her hesitation was lengthy enough that Erithon thought maybe she hadn’t heard his question, but she held his gaze. “I… I was evacuated there after the blockade on Coruscant was lifted,” she murmured, voice low with wonder. “Brentaal was the first place I ever saw the stars.”

He paused for a beat. “That was us, wasn’t it? Are those memories or dreams?”

Aitahea tilted her head, the barest smile curving her lips. “A little of both, I believe. We’ve both been dreaming of those days.”

“Yeah…” Erithon murmured, brow creasing. “So, when you asked if we’d ever met-”

“I didn’t realize until we’d broken camp the first morning here on Taris,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “Before that it was-” Aitahea’s fingers unconsciously brushed her lightsaber. “I dreamed of the Jedi Temple before arriving here and thought it was simply a response to being on Coruscant again, the stress of the mission, but then… here we are.”

Aitahea’s voice trailed off, her eyes still focused somewhere beyond Taris. Erithon hesitated. Wondered if she knew why he’d been there. Two lonely, lost children on a big planet of adults that had failed them.

After that day, so long ago, it felt like there had been a little less darkness in Erithon’s life. Is that how the Force worked? Showed you the stars so you knew what sunlight would feel like one day?

“What happened to you after that?”

“A Jedi Master put us on a ship that night. It was nearly a week before we arrived on the next planet. I don’t even know where we were for the next month.” She lifted her eyes toward the stars again, fixed on something distant. “I thought of you every day for months, until I arrived on Alderaan. I remained there until I was summoned to Tython to become a Padawan.” Her eyes refocused on him. “It’s been more than ten years.”

The trooper considered her words before chuckling nervously. “And here we are.” Erithon planted his hand on his hips. “What are the odds, I wonder?”

“The Force leads us where we’re needed most.” Aitahea’s voice was almost a whisper.

Erithon hummed in response and started to reach for her hand when she stepped back, blinking rapidly. Erithon froze, already regretting the motion.

 “I should-” She cleared her throat, dropping her eyes to the sand. “Let me take the first watch this time.”

“Oh. Of course. I mean, thanks.” Erithon shuffled his feet. “If you’re tired though, um, let me know. Just, you know. Wake me up.”

“I will.”

She slipped away, back toward the camp, taking surreptitious glances at the open sky as she went.

He watched her go with no small amount of regret. If they’d been anywhere else… if she were any other woman, he might-

Erithon shook his head. No point in thinking about it. He was fooling himself if he thought he had any time for that, either. They could be allies maybe, but nothing more. They’d be on their separate ways in the morning anyway, other missions to complete. Leaving Taris for another star system, probably across the galaxy from each other.

He breathed a long sigh, kicking a piece of rotted wood at the water’s edge. It crumbled into fragments that sank swiftly beneath the poisoned water.

Chapter Text

Aitahea was a poor liar, to herself more than anyone, so Erithon missing every surreptitious glance she gave him must surely be the Force at work. She was mortified. She was a diplomat – as she had been so keen to tell him the day before.

The sudden influx of emotion could not have captured Aitahea under any more dire conditions. Exhausted, stretched to the limit physically and mentally, and now damp and disgusting. No one could be expected to keep their composure under those kind of circumstances and around blue eyes like that, and she’d just noticed the dimples when he smiled and-

You are a Jedi, she berated herself silently.

With a long exhale, Aitahea settled by the small fire Erithon had started and took up her usual meditative pose, passively watching through lowered lashes. Erithon kicked out at something at the water’s edge, then moved to digging through his kit, finally retrieving his drowned datapad. He muttered a few strings of expletives in at least two languages besides Basic, then settled down opposite Aitahea, his back to both her and the fire. The damaged tech seemed to keep his attention for only a few minutes, and the Jedi kept her wits and awareness on their surroundings. Erithon glanced over his shoulder once then shrugged, keeping his own thoughts close and quiet. Eventually, the trooper lay back with his hands laced behind his head and - sure enough, his eyes slipped shut in moments.

Aitahea kept her eyes closed until she was certain he slept and only when his breathing evened out into the same rhythm as her own did she open them. She almost wished she hadn’t. The desire to reach out and run her fingers through his firelit hair was overwhelming. Almost.

Instead she settled her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees and stared at him like a forlorn adolescent. She wished Yuon were here, well and whole with a piece of practical wisdom. She wished she knew how to face her own feelings. She wished that the thought “something like seeing you smile” hadn’t crept so tenderly into her thoughts and found a place to stay, unexpectedly pleasurable and not at all unwelcome.

She’d meant it when she said the Force drew them together. She believed in things like that, of course. Things like the Jedi Code, which now that she thought about it didn’t specifically mention what to do about meeting a memory who is both a formidable ally and impossible fantasy?

Coincidence and fate were just two sides of the same coin.

Her thoughts drifted back to memories of her final days on Coruscant, the dreadful hurry of being bustled from safehouse to safehouse. Leaving her family behind in the aftermath of all that terror had rendered her almost inconsolable, but when Master Satele had placed a hand on her cheek, she’d felt hope. She had found something. Satele hadn’t been there, not yet, but she had known something was out there. A safe place, a beautiful place, where Aitahea and the other Jedi could be hidden and protected.

Before the Sacking, the only home Aitahea had known was Coruscant. As lovely as Alderaan and all the other worlds she had visited were, none could begin to compare to her birthplace it seemed. But she’d felt a glow in the Force, a whispersong in her thoughts, beckoning through her meditations. She’d felt that there was a place she could heal. A place she could breathe.

Tython.

Aitahea hadn’t been sure what to expect when she was finally summoned to the homeworld of the Jedi, but nothing had ever seemed so right. Not even her years of training as an initiate had been able to keep her delight and enthusiasm contained. She’d raced off the shuttle ramp before it’d even touched down, so eager to feel her feet on the ground, practically floating. A peculiar tremble had raced through her body; where it had come from she hadn’t fully understood, but she’d almost felt as if Tython itself were welcoming her. She was home.

It had proved truer than she could have ever expected. Even when Master Syo and Master Yuon pitched her swiftly and unceremoniously into the field, she’d recognized the hum of the planet through her. She’d never felt so welcome.

The only other place she’d felt that was on Brentaal.

Aitahea carried that sense of place with her now, system to system, star to star. She found it in Master Syo’s gentle confidence, Master Yuon’s unexpected friendship, and now Erithon’s candor and determination. Yet at the same time, he unbalanced her in the most perplexing way, drawing out feelings she barely understood, full of unfamiliar paths like the twisted corridors of the Endar Spire.

With no small measure of guilt, Aitahea straightened and refolded her hands in her lap. Now was not the time. Master Tykan needed her, as did Yuon, and the Jedi Council. She was responsible for so much, and there was no time for this kind of indulgence. Would the dreams stop? How many months before her memory of him was once again merely sunlight and blue eyes?

Aitahea let her own eyes drift closed again, seeking true meditation and the current of the Force. She brushed against Erithon’s slumbering Force presence and even through the barrier of sleep felt a pang of longing. Observing guardedly, she was unsurprised to find it twined firmly around them both. Oh. Oh my.

“No emotion indeed,” she muttered sullenly and pulled her arms around herself. It was going to be a long night.

“Commander Viqui?”

The harried woman turned to glance over the bedraggled and grimy pair. “If you have any questions about military operations-” She paused, eyes flickering first to the Havoc insignia on Erithon’s armor, then to the lightsaber secured on Aitahea’s hip. “Wait – are you the ones who recovered the Endar Spire data?”

Aitahea smiled, offering the spike to Viqui in an upturned palm. “Everything from the primary computers is here.”

Viqui took it gingerly, eyes wide with gratitude. “The data from the Endar Spire will be invaluable to the Republic’s war efforts. You may very well have changed the course of galactic history.”

“The bulk of the work was done by the research team, sir,” Erithon said with a nod toward the data spike, but his eyes were on Aitahea. She returned his gaze with a glowing smile, and Erithon sucked in a quick breath to add: “We just helped with clean up.”

The taut silence lasted just a fraction too long, and Commander Viqui politely cleared her throat as she glanced between them. “Lieutenant Karlsu tells me there’s close surveillance footage of the Imperial warships.”

Aitahea’s attention darted away from Erithon, her cheeks growing suddenly rosy beneath the grime of their journey, yet she smoothly answered the commander with a diplomatic request of her own. “The researchers will best be able to analyze the data, but I hope the Republic will employ the skills of the Jedi Council as well.” Erithon grinned at her quick recovery, failing to conceal a chuckle himself.

“The data has already been forwarded to intelligence headquarters on Coruscant. I expect they will pass on the information to your Order soon.” The commander nodded steadily to each of them. “For so long Taris has been beyond our reach. That we are here now speaks well for our chances in this war.”

“The Jedi way is to serve.” Aitahea offered her signature graceful bow, and when she lifted her gaze, she saw a hope in Commander Viqui’s eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I don’t have to tell either of you to have faith in the Republic and her people,” Viqui said, closing her hand protectively around the dataspike. “Thank you again for your invaluable service.”

“For the Republic,” Erithon said, his fervent undertone catching Aitahea’s attention. She watched with interest as Erithon snapped an enthusiastic salute.

“The Republic is honored to have you both, Lieutenant, Master Jedi,” Viqui replied solemnly before returning Erithon’s gesture. “May the Force be with you.”

“I’ll let you know when the research team gets back safely.” Erithon offered, nodding back toward the command center. “I’ve met a few folks who will hopefully be able to keep us updated on their status. I’ll make sure you get the messages, too.” He waved a once-more functioning datapad toward her. “If you want, I mean.”

“Thank you, I’d be grateful.” Aitahea drifted to a stop in the shadow of the ruins, pulling off her gloves before taking the pad from Erithon’s hands. “My own mission needs my attention but knowing that our allies are safe will be reassuring.”

“Same here,” Erithon agreed, leaning against a pillar while the Jedi tapped her contact information into his datapad. He did plan on keeping her updated on the research team, like he’d said, but it probably didn’t hurt to have a contact in the Jedi Order either, and all the sudden he was thinking of how he’d start off his first message to her…

“Lieutenant?”

Erithon blinked and straightened before running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, just thinking.” He grinned boyishly. “Hopefully next time we'll do something better than slog around a poisonous swamp.”

A breath of soft laughter. “I’ll hold you to that.” Aitahea held his datapad out to him, and Erithon accepted the bedraggled instrument with a fading smile.

“Hey, all that bantha poodoo I told you earlier about sacrifice?”

“I would be reluctant to call your advice anything like that,” Aitahea replied with a gentle nod, “but yes?”

“That being said,” he sucked in a breath, “knowing someone willing to take a risk for our soldiers is out there… It’s good to know.”

“While we’re discussing things previously said, you mentioned that command often sees soldiers as expendable.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

The Jedi stepped closer and reached for one of his hands. He let her take it, unexpectedly breathless as she pressed his fingers between her palms, reverent and intimate. “To me, Lieutenant, no one is expendable. That slicer could never be replaced, and neither could you.”

“Sounds like Jedi stuff.” He pretended to scoff but gave her a sidelong smile, clearly pleased with her words.

“Perhaps.” Aitahea’s fingertips seemed to linger on his skin as she drew away, and when she looked at him once more her eyes were bright. “May the Force be with you, Erithon,” she murmured, soft but clear, before sweeping her hood up and turning away all in one effortless motion.

Erithon put his free hand over the other, where a trace of her warmth remained, watching as she drifted away. The trooper marveled, realizing with a swell of pleasure that the last thing she’d said was his name. For a fraction of a second he faltered, about to dash after her, squinting to keep the hem of her robe in view. He didn’t even notice Jorgan until the Cathar was practically at his shoulder.

“Lieutenant?”

“Jorgan, hey,” he responded in a slow drawl, nodding slowly toward the sergeant while trying to keep his eyes on Aitahea. Jorgan gave a curt salute and nodded in the direction of Erithon’s scrutiny.

“New friend?”

Erithon watched the last wisp of her robe disappear and heaved a noticeable sigh. “Something better, maybe,” he mused before clapping Jorgan on the shoulder. His squadmate gave him a bemused glance, and Erithon pulled his hand back hurriedly.

Jorgan either failed or refused to hide his affronted expression. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“With all due respect… you need a shower, sir.”