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enigmainvestigations · 3 years

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**The events of this mini-episode take place after the events in Season 1, episode 12. AO3 post: ??? Series link: ???

Season 1 Mini-Episode - The Most Dangerous Enemy

The bats above him screeched as he exited the Batmobile. The engine’s rumbling always agitated them, but by the time he’d climbed the steps up to the large computer tucked into one of the cave crevices, the bats had started to quiet down. Batman entered his personal code on the keyboard and pressed his hand into the handprint identification reader next to it. The computer turned on with a lazy hum, and the area was flooded with the red light emitting from the multiple screens as they flickered on.

After a few agonizing minutes, a message popped up on one of the screens. Batman leaned forward on the computer console and pressed the authorization key to download the file. Oracle had finished her search of the city records -- lightning fast, as usual. After a few more impatient moments, the files popped up on the screen and he typed in the code for the computer to begin analysing the information. He scowled as he saw the results of her investigation; with this amount of data, it was going to take a lengthy amount of time for the interface to complete the search. It seemed he was in for a long night, again.

In the distance he heard a motorcycle approaching, followed by the sound of the south entrance’s door rising out of the water. The bats stirred once more, and by the time the bike had pulled up to its platform, they were in full upset. The sound of footsteps filled the cave behind him, followed by a drawn-out yawn from his partner. Then Robin appeared beside him, and the teenager’s attention immediately fell on the screen before him, scanning the information.

“Wow. That was fast.” Robin said.

“She’s good at what she does.” Batman responded, continuing to watch the slow progress of the analysis.

“Good? I thought you said she’s the best?”

“She is.”

Robin smirked. “Any more information on Two-Face?”

“He went off the grid again.”

“We really need to figure out how he’s doing that.” Robin said, stretching.

“He’s avoiding any of his previous connections. It just makes it more difficult to follow him, but not impossible.”

“I don’t blame him, but he’s not just avoiding his friends. He keeps vanishing. He’s figured out some way to disappear right under our noses.”

“As long as we get to his next target before he does he won’t have time to vanish.”

“If you say so.” Robin rested his staff against the side of the computer. “Has he let anything slip about why he’s targeting the locations?”

“No. But the computer will find the connection.”

“You still think he’s doing all of this because he was locked up during the attacks?”

Batman didn’t look at his partner, but the muscles in his neck clenched. “Yes.”

“All of this chaos, just because he feels emasculated,” Robin said in a huff.

“It’s more complicated than that, Robin.”

“Doesn’t sound like it is.”

At that, Batman decided to drop the conversation. Robin was right: it was a childish and emotional reaction, but those are some of the most dangerous ones. And with all the damage he was causing, it sounded wrong to trivialize Dent’s motives, and the subject had started to make him uncomfortable. Robin took the hint and wandered off for a time, eventually returning with a large glass of water -- which he downed half of right away.

Batman eyed him briefly, then resumed his impatient glare at the screens. “You’re back early again.” Robin grumbled in response and finished the rest of his water. Batman decided to continue with his assumptions. “Nigma kicked you out again, didn’t he.”

“Actually, no. I had a normal departure this evening.”

“Why did you call Batgirl to his apartment?”

Robin paused. “We’ll have to talk about that in a minute. I’m currently waiting for an update from her.”

“I thought you were calling for back-up.”

“No, no, it’s not that. Nigma hasn’t escalated to throwing fists or anything foolish like that. He was… actually pretty decent tonight. Bizarre, but decent.”

Batman watched as the computer began segmenting some of the data to one of the other screens, and he leaned forward to give it a brief read. “Bizarre?”

“Yeah. I’ll explain it all to you in a minute.” Noticing Batman’s brief look of impatience, Robin said, “I’m just testing a theory. I’d like to have that answered before I delve into all of this.”

“After what happened the last time, I’m surprised you went back.” Batman admitted.

Robin ruffled his wind-beaten hair. “Not going to lie, that thought did enter my mind. But, hopefully, a dramatic scene like that won’t happen again.”

“Why is that?” Batman asked, reading over more of the segments the computer found in the documents. It looked like his theory that Dent was targeting his previous associates was holding true, and if it was, it shouldn’t be too difficult to predict his next hit.

“I set up some boundaries with him.” Robin said in another yawn.

Batman paused. He pushed himself off of the computer console and stared directly at his partner. Robin looked startled by the attention, confusion clear on his face. “What?” he asked, but Batman just continued with his unnerving stare.

“What?” Robin asked again. “You're looking at me like I said something stupid.”

“You… set up boundaries, with Nigma?” Batman tried to clarify.

“Yes.”

Batman frowned. “What kind of boundaries? Personal boundaries?”

“Yes.” Robin drew out the word as he said it, and Batman returned to his silent stare. His partner let out a huff in confusion, “Why, what? Stop looking at me like that, you're freaking me out.”

“What were these boundaries?”

“Just -- normal human boundaries.” Robin could tell that answer just upset his partner more and elaborated. “I told him to stop taking out his frustrations on me. That I wasn’t going to put up with that anymore. I explained it in a way I think he understood, that it was stalling the investigation and it’s a complete waste of time. He seemed to understand.”

“And Nigma agreed to adhere to your boundaries?”

“Yeah.” Robin answered, and as Batman returned to staring, the boy hissed. “Stop looking at me like that, you're making me think I made some sort of mistake.”

“No, Robin. That's not it -- it's... continue.”

Robin gave an animated shrug. “There isn't much else to add.”

Batman’s frown deepened. “You're telling me, you set up an expectation to be treated fairly by Nigma and he agreed to your terms? And that was it?”

Robin made a slight grimace. “Well, that sounds nicer than what actually happened. He was still a huge jerk about it.”

“What did he say?”

“He made the insinuation that I was expecting him to cater to my every whim, y’know, instead of just treating me like a person. I asked him to stop being so dramatic about it, and -- he did look angry about that -- but, he agreed, and then he wanted to change the subject. That’s about it.”

Batman began the stare again, but his partner hurried to set down his empty glass as Batgirl’s voice came through on their earpieces saying: “B2 to R.”

“Go ahead, Steph.” Robin replied.

“Well, he didn’t stay inside.” Batgirl reported, triggering a grunt from Robin as she spoke. “But all he did was go down to the bar next door. Then he went back inside his office. But, now we have another problem.”

“Great, what now?” Robin asked.

“Harley showed up. She went up to his place, but they’re not screaming at each other like last time. And,” Batgirl stressed that word, “there’s a car parked across from his building now.”

Batman looked at Robin, who gritted his teeth. “Great. Are they just watching him? They’re probably looking out for you, so stay out of sight.”

“No worries there, Boy Wonder. They haven’t seen me, and they look kinda spooked. I think they’d be more scared to see me up here, think they’d just run off.”

“Don’t chance it.” Robin said, and Batgirl sighed.

“Stop pestering me, I’m not so green anymore.”

“Stay out of sight, Batgirl.” Batman cut in, and the two adolescents went quiet.

“Will do. I’ll keep you posted on any developments.” Batgirl responded, before the line went silent once more.

Batman turned to face Robin, now giving him his full attention, only barely registering the computer’s blips as it continued its analysis.

“Bizarre.” Batman said.

Robin blinked. “What?”

“You said he was acting bizarre.”

“Oh.” Robin gave a brief nod. “Yeah, but, like I said, I kind of get why.” His partner took a deep breath and leaned against the computer stand, signaling this was going to be a long discussion. “Remember how Nigma went nuts on me the last time?” Seeing Batman’s confirming nod, he continued. “Apparently I was right. He was scared, and really rattled. Echo and Query are back in town.”

“I heard.”

Robin frowned at that. “Well, did you know that they’re working for Penguin?”

Batman’s white eyes narrowed into thin slits upon hearing that information. “No.”

“Yeah. And, he’s posted them outside of Nigma’s place.” The two of them exchanged a serious look before Robin spoke again. “Nigma told me that Penguin has been threatening him. Not verbally, as far as I can tell, but he’s been showing signs of it. He’s had men following him around the city, watching his every move. So, I don’t know what the hell that meeting at the Iceberg Lounge was all about, but it’s starting to look like the others are turning on him, Batman. I think we might be wrong, I don’t think they’re working together.” Robin crossed his arms, giving Batman a firm look. “He was scared, Bruce. That night, he looked terrified. I’m starting to think that if all of this ‘private investigator’ stuff is some Riddler plan, the others aren’t in on it.”

Batman slowly let out a breath through his nose. “If Oswald is targeting him then that means he knows something Oswald doesn’t want spoken about.” Batman’s gaze wandered around the cave as he thought. “Has Penguin tried to take him out, or is he just threatening?”

“Well…” Robin began, but then he paused for a moment. “This is when things get bizarre.”

Batman gave his partner an expectant look. “Go on.”

“Nigma kinda had a meltdown, at least, that’s the best way I can describe it. He let some of that wall of his drop, and he told me a lot of things that I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have under any normal circumstances.” Seeing the immediate attention Batman gave him, Robin smirked. “He said that Penguin keeps tightening the grip, so to speak. That he keeps turning up the heat but not acting on the threats. Which Nigma determined means that he doesn’t actually want Nigma dead, he’s trying to intimidate him.”

“Why?”

“He said he doesn’t know why, and I think I believe him about that. He was -- Bruce, he was completely out of his mind trying to figure it out. You should’ve seen him, talking a thousand miles a hour, talking with his hands and rambling.”

Batman pondered that information for a moment. “I can see how you’d think he was being honest. Edward has always preferred to have all the answers, that’s most likely part of Oswald’s plan.”

“Exactly.” Robin went silent, thinking over what else he needed to say. When he spoke again, he himself sounded rather bemused. “There’s another thing, well, two other things. I’m sure you’re still wondering why I called Batgirl, the thing is… Nigma told Query and Echo he’s working with us -- screamed it at them, to be more specific.” Batman’s eyes widened at that information, and Robin could see the apprehension in his expression. “Yeah. So, now the Penguin knows about this little test of yours.”

“Why?” Batman wondered. “Why did he do that?”

“That goes into the other subject, the one that makes me think it's possible he’s being truthful. He told me that he had no idea why he told them, that it just came out and he didn’t have a reason. But, that he knew somewhere in his brain there was a reason.” Seeing the look on Batman’s face, Robin chuckled. “I know the feeling, trust me. That’s really when the meltdown happened. He said that he’s been having a really tough few months, he said something about his mind attacking him all the time. That his doctor told him to be more truthful, to be honest with other people.” Robin pushed himself off of the computer stand and uncrossed his arms. “He said that he’s tried it in the past and he does feel better, so that was the solution he jumped to when he was put in such a tough spot. At least, that’s what I got from all of that rambling.”

Batman remained silent for a time, finding it difficult to believe most of that information, but his partner was right, it made sense. “He’s listening to his doctor.”

“He’s talking to his doctor.”

Batman turned away from Robin, and his gaze wandered over the cave again. He watched the water drops from the stalactites above drip onto the platform before him, listened to the humming of the computer, as he processed this new information against his theories. “This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered.

“Unless he’s actually trying to get help with something. He didn’t explain it very well, but I think he’s having flashbacks. At least, that’s what it sounded like -- kind of.”

“Nigma would know what flashbacks are.”

“True, but it is Nigma. He thinks everything he experiences is unique and one of a kind. He might not be able to see it for what it is.”

“No. I’m not buying that.” Batman’s frown deepened again. “He said his mind is attacking him?”

“Yep.”

“He used those exact words?”

“He said: My brain is usually my best friend, but now it's attacking me non-stop.” Robin let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not saying I believe everything he said, but, if this was an attempt to manipulate me, it was a very poorly orchestrated one. Most of what he said didn’t make sense,” he paused for a moment, “but, it sounded like he wasn’t talking to me.”

“He was talking to himself, just through you.” Batman added, and Robin nodded.

“Which is exactly what you said he does to you all the time. That’s why I believe it, I don’t think he was trying to convince me, he was trying to figure it out for himself.”

Batman went silent again, his gaze wandering off to look at nothing in particular. “Or he could just want you to come to that conclusion. He’s got to be up to something.”

“Well, when you figure out what it is let me know, because I can’t figure it out.” Robin was about to walk away from him, but a swift look from his partner stalled him.

“You’ve seen nothing? Heard nothing out of the ordinary while in his apartment?”

“No. I’ve told you everything, every single thing from every time I’ve seen him.”

“He has to be hiding the evidence.” Batman said, and his gaze wandered off once again.

“If he is, he’s doing a damn good job of it. That office is so small and pretty bare, and I told you, I haven’t seen any evidence that he’s hiding things in the walls or the floor. He also doesn’t really go anywhere, so I find it hard to believe he’s concocting this whole plan of his at another location.”

Batman looked back at his partner, a scowl forming on his face. “Nigma is very good at making things look a certain way to throw you off the trail. He’s good at hiding in plain sight, at using your preconceptions against you.”

Robin stared at Batman, pressing his lips together as he thought. “I get that, I do. I’m not saying I don’t think he’s planning something. All I’m saying is that I think it’s a possibility that we were wrong. All that means is that we need to start looking at it differently, maybe from a perspective we haven’t before.” He paused, taking a few deep breaths through his nose. “Bruce, he can be trying to work through something with his doctor, and planning something at the same time. It’s possible. We have no idea what happened to him on that island. He might just need some help dealing with it.”

“The idea of Nigma going to anyone for help --” Batman stopped himself; the words he was about to say felt wrong, and he forced himself to rethink his position. “Nigma thinks he has all the answers. He doesn’t feel the need to go to anyone else because they couldn’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. That’s how he sees the world.”

“I know, that’s what you’ve always said. But, again, maybe it’s possible things have changed for him, and he’s run out of options to work on them, at least on his own?” Robin pondered out loud.

Batman’s scowl intensified. Robin wasn’t understanding the full scope of this; he needed to explain the gravity of this troubling situation. “Him going to someone for help is potentially very dangerous.”

Robin blinked. “Uh, okay? Explain that one, please.”

Batman’s back straightened, his expression turning more serious as he chose his words carefully. “If Nigma has decided to turn to a professional for help, it could mean he’s become more self-aware. It means that he’s learning, and Nigma learning new information is never a safe prospect.” Batman glanced back at the computer screen; the search of the last few files were almost complete. “I might’ve been wrong. He might have changed his tactics.”

Robin stepped closer to his side, and Batman could feel the anxiousness seeping off of him. “Mind explaining that a bit better?”

Batman returned his attention to his partner -- the boy’s expression was one of concern, but mixed with a layer of distrust. He understood why. He must sound too pessimistic in his worries, but this was a situation he’d feared would occur for a long time now, and he needed Robin to understand his reasoning. Batman looked Robin in the eye, hoping for his partner to grasp the truth behind his words. “If Nigma is breaking down his own walls and learning what his weaknesses are, it’ll make him very difficult to stop. I’ve always used the same strategy with him: exploit his vulnerabilities. No matter how much he tried to adapt to my solutions, he could never fully match up with them -- because the issue wasn’t me, it was him. He was so self-centered, so convinced he was superior that he couldn’t see the obvious holes in his logic. If he’s realized that he does have weaknesses, that his own issues are what’s been holding him back all this time, and he’s actively trying to rid himself of them --”

“Then…” Robin interjected, his expression more concerned now. “Are you saying you don’t think you’d be able to stop him?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

The two crime-fighters stared at each other. Robin looked surprised by the admission, but his demeanor shifted after a few moments. Batman frowned, knowing that look all too well. The boy thought he was being too dramatic and he was skeptical of the rationale.

The computer blipped beside them. It had finished its analysis, and Batman turned his attention back to the screens. Three locations popped up, one of which was a clear possibility for Dent’s next attack. Robin picked his staff back up, giving Batman an expectant look, and Batman gave him a confirming nod in agreement. As the two began to descend the stairs to the Batmobile, Batman felt an anxiousness seep into his bones. The fear of what Nigma was up to gripped him, and he hoped he would be able to rid it to focus on the current case at hand.

Robin hopped into the passenger seat, the skepticism still clear on his face. He turned on some of the trackers on the car’s console and said, “I don’t know. I know you know him better than I do, but, all of that seems way too calculated for what he’s currently doing.”

Batman climbed into the car, a low growl of disagreement escaping his lips.

“I’m serious, Batman. If he was using his doctor to make him into some unbeatable super-criminal, I doubt he’d be starving and killing his brain with alcohol.”

Batman frowned as the car’s engine revved and the bats began to shriek. “I’ll admit, I can't explain the drinking.”

Robin looked at him, his brow rising. “Really. In all your years working with criminals you've never seen someone deal with problems by hiding at the bottom of a bottle? And it'd make sense, actually, if what he's saying about the flashbacks is true…”

But Batman really didn’t want to hear anymore of Robin’s theories about the evidence. He closed the hood of the Batmobile, revved the engine to signify the end of the discussion, and as his partner readied himself in his seat, he sped off toward the cave exit. As they neared the hidden passage door, Batman decided he was more than willing to see whatever distractions Two-Face could provide for the evening. Hopefully it would be enough to get his mind off of that disturbing hint of a notion that maybe, just maybe, Robin was actually onto something.

#writing post #Season 1 Episodes #Mini-episodes #Batman #edward nigma #Tim Drake #extra content #zorasublime

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renegade-skywalker · 7 years

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Out of the Abyss, Chapter 13

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13: Second Selves

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen (now going by Vale) continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: Vale and Erebus are not the only ones forced to masquerade as someone else as events unfold.

3951 BBY Nespis VIII Spaceport, Jedi Academy

In the moments it took the Echani to cross the archive and approach him again, Erebus drew up what he could remember about the pilot whose ship he stole, dredging up whatever details his mind found worth storing. Despite his usually near-eidetic memory, the images his brain conjured were weak. Though anger often fueled his more brilliant bouts of genius, as a Sith would, it seemed his frustration upon leaving Anchorhead was enough to cloud his recollections.

Smuggler. Thirty-something. Human. Untidy. Broke… like every other smuggler in this damn galaxy. But there were a few things Erebus remembered that stuck out. Wyland Rhel, as he was called, was a fighter pilot during the Mandalorian Wars and had continued working for the Republic until the middle of the Jedi Civil War – Wonder what happened there? Since then, he'd been taking contracts transporting fuel, mostly, but occasionally ran jobs with the Golden Company. A hefty contract, and a risky one. All of this Erebus gleaned from the man's records of payment, which were the only thing he seemed to keep in any kind of order. The data file was easy to break into, so Wyland Rhel was most likely sentimental and all the more stupid for it - after a basic search, Erebus found the date the man had been recruited by the Republic on official record. So despite his current affiliations, Wyland was still sweet on his time as a soldier, it seemed. Either that, or it was the only date in his life, other than maybe his nameday, that meant anything to him and was worth remembering. Among his affects were other IDs, either stolen or forged, undoubtedly used for more delicate operations. That was about all he remembered.

The woman approached the table again, though did not afford Erebus another glance as she nonchalantly flicked through the datapad in her hand.

"So, who are you, another scavenger looking to collect?" she asked almost absently.

Depends on how you define 'scavenger', Erebus thought, because you're not wrong.

"I take it you're Irena," Erebus chimed back. "Charmed."

The Echani's eyes flashed before she calmed, a gloved hand flexing as he circled him, the other cradling her datapad.

"I'm sure one of the others spoke of me, though who we are is none of your concern."

"Yet I seem to be of some importance, I take it."

She scoffed and glanced down at the datapad again.

"We're running a simple background check, is all," she assured him, the calm in her voice wavering as her patience began to wear thin.

"And the Echani have authority in the Nespis System since…?"

"That is none of your concern," she smiled sourly, though she kept her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her this time. "I will be the one asking the questions."

"Alright, so I, a humble Republic citizen, is expected to blindly submit my rights to you because…?"

Normally, Erebus would never be so outwardly snarky, at least not in a position such as this. He was used to speaking with out-of-touch tribes, distant planets far-removed from the Republic or hapless traders who knew nothing of their older wares, and other such ilk. He knew enough to stay away from civilized space when he could, and if he had business here he knew who to avoid and how. But even still, this woman was Echani¸ not a beat cop with something to prove.

At this she smiled, though the pain was clear on her face. She was not trained to deal with the likes of him, at least not in a civil manner.

"It really is none of your concern," she said again, her teeth near gritted. Erebus wondered what had her so rattled that it hardly took him much effort to get a rise out of her. The man across from him let the subtlest of snickers escape his mouth but otherwise betrayed no emotion, looking down, letting his hair mask his face like a veil.

"Alright, alright, just making sure my rights as an honest to Force citizen weren't being taken for granted," Erebus huffed, finding that his voice took on more of a drawl the more he kept going. "How long's this gonna take? I have places to be."

Erebus recalled several military grade crates at the back of the ship when he boarded, his Force Sight granting him view of an array of weapons within. Weapons trade was big money, so however broke this Wyland Rhel was now, he wasn't supposed to be for long. So much for that. Wonder how that sorry smuggler's doing now…

Irena looked him over, seemingly unimpressed but still suspicious. She wasn't buying it.

"And yet, for someone with a busy schedule you still found the time to scope out the sights, I take it?"

"Thought I could score a few extra credits, something to sweeten the deal."

He hoped he sounded convincing.

"Wyland Rhel, thirty-six," Irena started, looking over the edge of her datapad at Erebus, "You've grown paler since your photo was last taken."

The woman turned the datapad so Erebus could see, the screen displaying a man with scarred but dark skin, the color of rich mahogany.

"Can never be too careful," he said, not too suddenly, "Dig even further and you'll find the ID where I hail from Ryloth. Record says I had my lekku cut off."

Erebus chuckled to himself, as if impressed, having seen other men do the same at countless cantinas across the galaxy. As much as he loathed the quality of the drink there, they were the best places to get information. In fact, it was how he learned about the site at Anchorhead.

Irena rolled her eyes and kept scrolling, looking nonplussed enough with the uncanny ID photo. To think the smuggler had several IDs in rotation was not unusual, especially given the rap sheet Erebus' own sister sported now, and for all the galaxy to see. It wasn't exactly a red flag that Erebus himself might be lying.

"Not exactly what I'd call a clean record," she said after a moment, reading the remainder of the file in pensive silence, though it seemed she found nothing of note – or at least nothing surprising.

How did these Echani get in good with the Nespis Police Force? If they had access to their files, could bar anyone from the premises of a location, and a Jedi Temple no less…? Erebus knew that there were people other than Nihilus who would be happy to see the Jedi gone, but at least he knew why. The Echani were not on good terms with Revan after the Civil War, but that was just one Jedi, and by then Revan had already turned.

"It says here you worked with the Golden Company."

At this, she smiled wryly.

"Unfortunately, everything on the premises has been turned over to us, so if you were planning on-"

Irena was cut off by a comm at her wrist, static warbling the otherwise unperturbed quiet. Even the man across from Erebus stirred. He stole a glance, before the man could see, taking in his young face and the lone swipe of dust across his brow, marring his otherwise crisp and chiseled appearance. A scholar, perhaps? A civilian?

"Yes?" Irena lowered her datapad with one hand and brought her other wrist to her lips, speaking directly into the device attached to it.

More chirruped warbling – that's when Erebus noticed the glint in the woman's ear, just beneath her cropped white hair. Whoever was speaking to her was speaking in code, their words filtered to sound like gibberish to anyone else within earshot.

Irena's eyes shot to Erebus as she listened, her gaze sharp though her eyes narrowed. He couldn't tell if they were always this bright of violet or if it was just the wealth of datapads gleaming in the room that leant to their almost ghostly glow.

"I'll keep an eye out," she said finally, her eyes never leaving Erebus. Their eyes locked, and she moved towards him, pocketing her datapad and unsheathing a retractable staff from her belt.

"Don't move," Irena warned, "We have eyes on you. Both."

The man across the table looked down again, as if embarrassed by being called out, and Irena began staking out the series of shelves that surrounded them.

A breach of security? Another unwanted guest?

When Irena was far enough, Erebus relaxed a little, letting down his outer guard to unleash the Force within. After a moment, he could see the archives in his inner eye like a blueprint laid out before him. Stacks of datapads and artifacts surrounded them, some pulsing with more uncertain energy than others. Erebus' blood quickened, his skin growing hot, already desiring to peruse the temple's stores or what remained of it – if he could somehow get around the Echani lockdown, that is. At least without seeming too suspicious. Perhaps his vision led him here to find something, to bring something back. Perhaps there was another pyramid, another holocron, another clue.

"The Golden Company, eh? You a scavenger as well?"

Erebus broke out of his reverie, surprised to hear someone other than Irena talking irately.

The man across from him finally spoke, his voice just above a whisper, but pleasant and calm. Erebus gawked for a moment before composing himself, surprised to find a friendly smirk on the young man's face.

A joke. He's joking.

"The lady pretty much spelled it out, didn't she?" he drawled again, almost forgetting his made-up persona.

"Right," the man laughed, his eyes twinkling as he gazed about, almost unbothered by the restraints on his hands, held tightly against his back. "I figure they can't hold us for long. Even the Nespis authorities wouldn't be able to do this. Unless-"

He stopped himself, laughing lightly. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the corners.

"Never mind," he said, "Say, can I- can I ask you something?"

"Can't stop you from asking but that doesn't mean I'll answer," Erebus quipped.

"Have you seen-" the man looked around and lowered his voice, "Have you come across any other artifacts?"

"Other?"

"Other than Jedi."

So, the Golden Company deals with Jedi artifacts.

"You mean, dark artifacts?" Erebus couldn't bring himself to say Sith, as if he would unwittingly out himself.

The man nodded.

Erebus wracked his brain again, recalling a few contracts for ancient scrolls and antique weapons under Wyland Rhel's Golden Company contracts, but nothing that screamed Jedi, or Sith for that matter. He had heard of the organization but only knew that they dealt in rare, high-end goods, often "off the record" and to the highest bidder, whether they be aristocrats or crime lords. If they were after artifacts pertaining to the Jedi or the Sith, things could get… complicated.

Before he could worry, or wonder how he might undermine the group somehow, the man before him spoke again.

"Anything like a holocron? A crystal?"

The hair on the back of Erebus' neck rose. Eden's gift. His work on Tatooine. Grey eyes set in stone.

"Something like that," he answered, "Why, there something here?"

"Perhaps," the man's blue eyes widened, a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit of an enthusiast."

"Well, this would be the place to find one," Erebus answered, though he knew somewhere like Koribban might yield more Sith relics than this place. But the man wasn't wrong, and Erebus hadn't lied, either. The Jedi were known for collecting artifacts pertaining to the Sith, both modern and ancient, in an attempt to prevent such things from falling into the wrong hands. As an historian, Erebus thought he might wait before attempting to break into any one of the remaining Jedi temples, knowing they wouldn't be abandoned, or at least believing the Order wasn't stupid enough not to leave anyone behind. He had visited Coruscant and Lothal, and both locations had sentinels still on watch, but he might have underestimated places like this, forgotten cities like Nespis already on the cusp of oblivion.

"I have it on good authority that something originally from Onderon may be here. I figured if the Golden Company sent a, er, representative, that it might be indicative that I was correct," the young man mused, looking around. Erebus, though curious to find the man trusting a stranger with so much information, followed his gaze and found Irena stalking the perimeter of the archive, looking around corners with her staff held aloft and at the ready. "If only I could-"

Another warbling, the sound of static.

Eyes still fixed on one another, now in an unspoken alliance given their shared circumstances, Erebus and the man across from him fell silent, their ears straining to hear more.

There was someone here.

Erebus' Force Sight surged as his curiosity mounted, and not only was the room laid out before him without obstacle but so was everything, and everyone, in it.

The man before him pulsed with life, like anything else might, and perhaps it was for lack of reference but the young man seemed… brighter somehow, though not quite as vibrant as someone strong with the Force. He tried to look for Irena, but then he saw it – someone else.

A soft thrumming emanated from the darker corner of the archives, directly across from where Irena stood, watching but seeing nothing. Irena, he saw, was full of life, but her light was dimmer, duller. And the figure across from her? It shone like a distant star.

Perhaps not all the Jedi were gone after all.

3951 BBY, The Harbinger, Hyperspace

"I hope your stay here isn't too uncomfortable," Captain Maris uttered unsurely as he ushered Vale into a seat across from him in the Harbinger's version of a dining room, which was really just a slightly nicer and smaller mess hall meant for the higher ranks.

"No worries, Captain," she smiled, already easing into the part, "I understand the situation completely. And the room is just fine."

Captain Maris smiled his usual uneven smile, or at least the only smile Vale knew the man to be capable of so far. His chief officer sat beside him, beaming in a way that told Vale smiling was none too common in the Republic navy.

"I'm only here on business, and since I missed the last transport I'm grateful for any assistance."

The words rolled off her tongue almost too naturally, though Vale was not a stranger to playing a part or answering to a name other than her own. She hoped her smile was more convincing than those of her present companions.

"Well, Miss Rissian, we're happy to have you aboard," Captain Maris concluded as a group of recruits brought their breakfast out on serving trays. "And as it turns out, you're not the only one. We picked up another diplomat who seems to have missed the same transport as you. A Republic officer, actually."

Vale feigned pleasant surprise, though suspicion took root in her chest.

"Always good to have allies," she said, laughing lightly, making sure the smile met her eyes in earnest. Picking at the food in front of her, Vale tried not to gorge herself on caf too eagerly, having spent most of the night awake, mulling things over and studying the fake profile Mission had given her. Not to mention, catching up on nine years' worth of news.

Hailing from the Anoat Sector, Vale was to be masquerading as Lan Rissian, a diplomat as well as a shareholder in a well-to-do local mining outfit throwing her support behind Queen Talia of Onderon. The crown was a loyal customer, and as a member of the company's board, Lan was repaying that loyalty with support in the form of credits. Lots of credits. Turns out, this was a mission already in-flux, but the original agent meant to head it was currently MIA. While Mission and Zaalbar would continue to help their Republic contact in finding out what happened to the original plant, Vale would go in their stead, killing two mynocks with one stone. At least for now.

"So, ever been to the Telos System?" Chief Officer Emet asked, dunking a triangle of mealbread into a purple yolk.

"Actually no, I haven't," Vale answered, comforted by the fact that both she and Lan shared that in common. "I figure the Citadel isn't much different than any other spaceport, I take it?"

"Not so much, no," Emet continued, wiping her chin gingerly, "But the restoration effort has put a bit of a damper on the-"

"I apologize for being late," a voice interrupted, and a presence appeared at Vale's side. A woman with wiry brown hair and a dark complexion took the seat beside her, her honey-brown eyes comforting as their gazes met.

"Rell Amara," the woman said, extending a hand as she settled into the empty spot at the table, "The time difference still has me a bit-"

"No worries," Captain Maris cut in as Vale tentatively took the woman's hand in greeting, "This is Rell Amara from Republic Intelligence. She's been reassigned to oversee the negotiations on Onderon as well."

"Popular destination," Vale joked, "I take it we'll be working together?"

The woman named Rell nodded and turned to the rest of them.

"I appreciate your quickness to come get us all the way out here. The Hyperion was supposed to remain docked until tomorrow, but some of its officers I hear were needed elsewhere."

Vale wondered just how much of this she had the clearance to hear, or whether this Rell knew that it didn't matter, somehow.

"Any word on who that might have been?" Emet asked, not keen to stop eating amid her questions.

"That's classified."

A silence hung over them before Rell pointed a finger exaggeratedly and laughed. Looking to Maris and Emet, Vale took the cue that she was welcome to laugh along with them.

"I mean, it actually is classified, but nothing to worry about."

Another recruit – young, fresh-faced, and with lekku still not at full maturity – swept past them with another tray. Once the food was placed in front of her, Rell began to eat with relish.

"Helluva week," she began again, not looking up from her plate, "How have things been for you, Miss Rissian? The last-minute change didn't inconvenience you too much, I hope?"

"Oh no, not at all," Vale said, beginning to ease into her own eating etiquette. She was careful. As much as she wanted to get down to business like the officers before her, clearly used to eating as efficiently as possible and letting the conversation weave itself in, Vale remained composed and proper. She was a business woman, after all. "As long as things keep moving along."

"Agreed," Captain Maris raised his cup of caf, and Officer Emet did the same. Rell looked between them both, her eyes glittering, and joined in.

"Agreed," Vale smiled, also hoping so in earnest.

The rest of their conversation was casual at best, and if anything, Vale felt only mildly out of place. She remembered the nature of the talk, how military folk were used to conversing and how naturally it all still came back to her, but she kept her poise. Thankfully, none of the Republic officers asked her many questions, at least ones she couldn't answer off the cuff such as what kind of caf she preferred or if any moons could be seen from Bespin's gas cloud of an atmosphere (she guessed the answer was 'no').

When they gathered themselves up to leave, Captain Maris promised Vale that he was just a comm away should she need anything and that they were set to arrive on Telos within the next few standard days, asteroids permitting. Vale thanked him, only sticking behind to order one last cup of caf for the road, or perhaps to ask if they could provide a carafe for her room.

"Miss Rissian?"

Rell's voice came from over her shoulder just as Vale thanked one of the recruits on duty, confirming that she could take a thermasteel decanter back to her room.

"You can call me Lan," she said, testing the name even as she said it. Lan. It was a lot like Lena, a name she had on Nal Hutta. Another identity outed, her dirty laundry out there for all the galaxy to see.

"Lan," Rell repeated, bringing Vale back to the present, "Could we- could we talk? About Onderon."

Before she could freeze up, before she could say no, the recruit reappeared at her side with the caf she asked for. She thanked him again, regained her composure, and turned back to Rell.

"Sure," she heard herself say, though she felt just the opposite. "Absolutely."

3951 BBY, Telos IV, Citadel Station

Atton wasn't used to being a passenger.

As a pilot himself, he couldn't help but internally mutter to no one in particular the entire way to Citadel Station. He couldn't help but grip the arms of his seat as the shuttle veered on both the takeoff and the landing, shaking his head to prevent his eyes from rolling all the way back into his skull as they finally docked. It took all his strength not to peer into the cockpit and spy the person flying the damn thing, if not just to give them a piece of his mind.

But he shouldn't complain, no. He couldn't complain. He needed to keep a low profile. Keep his head down and do the work until his debt was paid.

One year down, four more to go.

Besides, it wasn't as if he expected Peragus' modest mining company to have a skilled pilot on hand. They couldn't afford it, or at least, didn't have to. This place liked to cut corners where possible. They knew their staff was made up of people who didn't want to be there but perhaps had to be, if only for the credits. The job paid well – labor laws saw to that. But anything in the way of comfort or luxury was a loss, so anything other than what was absolutely necessary was excluded for the sake of the budget. How else would they cover the hazard pay?

One of the few things the company did afford each employee was annual leave, usually one week's worth, though more depending on seniority or if there was a family to support on the other end of their check. It was the only time spent off-site, as per their contract. Atton had practically memorized it by now, often finding himself absently thumbing through the rules every other night, hoping there was something he missed, some loophole he could exploit. But he had taken this job willingly. It was an attractive prospect, given the pay, but the place was… lacking when it came to entertainment. Perhaps that was for the best.

Compared to what he was used to, Atton's eyes lit up at the sight of a cantina, its neon lights hailing his attention from across the shuttle bay. He had seen flashier and far more interesting places in his lifetime – or his short-lived smuggling career, even – but this would have to do.

Not only was this hole in the wall a potential refuge, it was also a means to an end. Atton had already done himself dirty and made a deal with someone unsavory on-site, promising to smuggle in stolen goods, because if he wasn't a smuggler than what good was he? If he could score some extra cash, he could get off the explosive rock that was the mining facility sooner than he'd planned, and could finally get back to – well, whatever it was he was doing. Either that or he could at least buy himself something nice to keep in his sorry excuse for a bunk.

"Atton Rand?" a Twi'lek asked at the shuttle gates, "From Peragus, I assume?"

He nodded, looking the young man up and down, trying not to get any bad ideas.

"That'd be me," he muttered, almost unsurely. Atton was who he was masquerading now as anyway, and still it felt odd to hear it sometimes, even though it had been a few years. As if someone was privy to a secret identity he didn't want known.

"If you'll just follow me," the young man smiled shyly. The head officer at the facility told him that someone would meet him here, that they would escort him to his abode for the week. Atton almost felt important.

The place was modest, though relatively stark, barren even, but he couldn't be surprised. He was pleased the company offered this much, given how horrid other outfits were from the stories he'd heard. Most were closer to a labor camp than whatever this was. Atton couldn't come up with a proper analogy, and so stood in his new, temporary apartment speechless, thankful there was at least a holoplant in the foyer and the living room. Fancy. The Twi'lek found this an opportune moment to leave, for the lack of conversation if not for the awkwardness.

"Prob'ly for the best anyway," Atton sighed, sinking into an almost ancient couch facing the far window, granting him a breathtaking vista of the backside of a restaurant.

One year down, four more to go.

3951 BBY, The Harbinger, Hyperspace

"Looks like we'll be cruising for a while," Rell smiled at Vale as they rounded on her quarters.

Vale felt the ship jolt slightly, and slow. Outside the window of her appointed room, she saw that the streaked stars of hyperspace had vanished, the view outside marked by unmoving stars in their natural state of ever-present stillness. They were either saving fuel or they were on patrol. She heard that might be the case, and was assured it was nothing to worry about.

"Nice droid," Rell spoke again upon entering the small room, "Selling him for scraps?"

"Something like that," she muttered, tucking the remains of the HK droid that came to life in her shop, calling her Master what already felt like ages ago. "Caf?"

Rell's eyes widened as she nodded appreciatively.

"Please."

The woman was unusual, but not unpleasant. For an intelligence officer, she was oddly personable, and open. She joked readily, the ghost of a smile always clear on her face. Maybe the girl was just nervous.

"Long day, I take it," Vale said, pouring them each a cup and downing her first.

"Tell me about it," Rell agreed, taking her cup, hardly caring whether the liquid was too hot.

"So, you missed your transport as well?"

Rell swallowed the last dregs of her cup, just as eager for caffeine as Vale, and bit her lip.

"Okay, here's the thing," she started, hazarding a glance at Vale's closed quarter doors, lowering her voice, "I didn't miss my transport, but my colleague did... I'm just taking his place."

Two Republic officers MIA. Not good.

Vale poured them both second glasses, intent on Rell's next words.

"I'm here to escort you to Telos, General Valen," she whispered, all mirth disappearing from her face, her stance straightening.

"An escort?" was all Vale could muster, "That's… certainly surprising."

"Surprising?"

"I guess… given the bounty, no, but I'm just-" Not used to this, she wanted to say, but the words couldn't make it passed her lips. "Surprised, is all."

"If it's the secrecy you're worried about, don't," Rell assured her, "You were plenty convincing back there."

"But what about you?" Vale asked. "I thought no one was supposed to know."

"Well, yes, but I was sent by-" Rell stopped herself short, biting her lip again. "Sorry, I am a bit new to this."

"Me too, kid. No worries," Vale sighed, sinking into her couch as Rell lowered herself into the small kitchenette against the far wall facing her.

"I was the one who found your records," Rell admitted, examining the texture of the cup in her hands, "I was the one who brought them to-"

She stopped herself again.

"Nevermind, but listen – as I'm sure you know, the Republic has been looking for you. Revan's orders."

"Revan?"

Rell nodded, solemn. Mission failed to mention that, or perhaps she didn't know.

Revan, of course. Vale shivered. Things didn't feel any better, and the more Revan cropped up the more the ominous, lingering, bad feeling she felt on Tatooine mounted in her chest. Nothing's changed, she thought, suddenly feeling young and vulnerable again, prying Alek for answers and getting none. Just like Malachor.

"Since when did Revan-?"

"She doesn't have clearance to give orders, exactly- didn't, either." Rell answered before Vale could even finish her thought, "But I have it on good authority that the man in charge has been acting on instructions left by her. A failsafe of sorts. At least, somewhat."

"The… man in charge?" Vale raised a brow, though she couldn't say the mounting mystery wasn't more of a surprise.

Rell shook her head, almost laughing, "They really should have briefed me more thoroughly. I'm not sure we're there yet, but you'll meet him soon. He'll tell you everything."

There yet must mean they weren't yet ready to disclose that information, or at least Rell wasn't sure what was classified and what wasn't. She sounded an awful lot like Mission, clear on her orders but fuzzy on the details.

"Okay, okay, so what now? Do we just… wait? Arrive at Telos?" Vale asked, suddenly tense.

"Something like that," Rell replied, "Keep a low profile, play the part. Breakfast went just as planned, I don't think Maris or Emet will have a second thought about you or the mining company you're supposed to represent. We just… need to get to Telos."

"Telos," Vale mused, looking at the remains of her HK droid, the only thing left of her shop.

"Telos." Rell repeated.

"So, tell me something…" Vale suddenly stood again, looking at Rell in a new light. "What- what exactly did you find out about me?"

Rell blanched, her eyes widening.

"W-what?"

"Sorry, I mean to say-" Vale paused, looking for the right words, "I have reason to believe that the Jedi thought I was dead. How did they find me? Who's left?"

Rell appeared to choke on her caf, coughing into her cup as she asked "Dead?"

Vale watched her regain her composure. Rell was trying hard to remain professional, but everything told her she wasn't aware of this information.

"How much are the Jedi in contact with the Republic, exactly?" Vale pressed, hoping this was something Rell could answer.

"It's hard to say how many are left, but there are a few. Not all of them died at that conclave," Rell said after clearing her throat, "I know one keeps in contact with the man you're about to meet."

The man in charge, huh?

"His Jedi contact doesn't happen to be Master Atris, does it?"

Rell shook her head.

"No, I-I think she died. At Katarr."

Atris… dead? She could have sworn the only Jedi vindictive enough to even want to keep tabs on her would be Atris, but perhaps she was wrong. Vale searched her feelings, on instinct, but knew that the Force couldn't tell her anything. She shook her head.

"Bastila Shan?" Vale tried again, venturing another guess. Mission had mentioned her earlier and it seemed like a logical assumption.

Rell nodded into her cup, drawing another long sip.

"I think so," she affirmed. "Her name sounds familiar."

Rell drank the last dregs of her second cup of caf before looking at Vale again.

"I'm not sure if or why the Jedi thought you were dead, necessarily, but all I know is that they were looking for you. You fell off the radar and-"

Rell stopped short, her brows furrowing as she searched her memory.

"They were tracking you, I think. The Jedi, I mean," she continued, "Revan went looking for you and she-"

"Vanished," Vale finished.

Rell nodded, locking eyes with her, her expression solemn but serious.

"That's all I know."

According to the Jawa, Revan had been on Tatooine after she had gone looking for the Star Forge. Perhaps she had been looking for her. But they had also mentioned a dark one. She had originally thought the Jawa referred to Malak, but now? Maybe they were talking about the time she returned with Mission, with Bastila Shan. But perhaps there was another time, too.

Rell looked at the bottom of her cup sorrowfully, as if either hoping there was more caf or more detailed instructions as to what she could or couldn't say.

Rell's chrono watch blipped, drawing both Vale and Rell's attention to her wrist. Rell placed her cup gently on the kitchenette table as she read a message, reading across her display as she rose from her seat.

"A distress signal-" she started.

"A- a what?"

"It's a message from Captain Maris," Rell explained, looking up at Vale briefly before her eyes retreated to her wrist again, scanning the minute readout. "He doesn't know I'm escorting you, or who you are, but he is under orders to alert me if there's a change in plans. If-"

Rell paused again, reading and rereading the report as it scrolled over her chrono's screen.

"I guess I can't blame them for answering, but still-"

Rell rushed over to the small porthole of a window Vale's room allowed, peering out of the comically small oval.

"There- there it is," she said, almost unbelieving.

Vale rushed to her side, and Rell afforded her space to see, too.

In the star-filled barrenness beyond the Harbinger, two ships stood in stalemate in the distance.

"Looks like we won't get to Telos just yet."

#kotor 2 #the jedi exile #echani handmaidens #atton rand #revan #star wars #my writing #fan fiction

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