#in which Reanden is an asshole

[andveryginger]

Fictober, Day 1: “Achilles’ Heel”

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic

Pairing: Mairen Bel Iblis/Reanden Taerich (OCs, mentioned)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Angst.

1. “Can you feel this?”

“Can you feel this?”

Yes, she felt it, Mairen Bel Iblis thought. But then, she was feeling everything at the moment: The echo of pain that rippled along her back as tissue healed over her wound. The rasping sweep of the blunted metal stylus that the medic scraped over the sole of her feet, checking for nerve damage. The energy that rippled through the remaining Republic personnel -- relief that the mission was over, gratitude they had survived, and concern over those injured.

It was what she couldn’t feel that was more troubling: The chaotic, weakened Force signature that was Xaja Taerich, post-rescue. The reserved, concerned, and comfortable signature of Reanden Taerich. Xaja, for her part, was likely moved back to Tython for treatment. The physical, mental, and emotional damage done by her captivity would require Force healers and counselors. It made sense, then, that she would have lingered nearby only to be stabilized for movement.

Reanden was a different story.

At first she’d thought the bond formed between them had been some sort of dream, vision. His presence had been a constant -- steady, worried, deeply affectionate as he sat, day after day, beside the tank. She had sensed the gamut of emotions as he read his daily reports, processing the intelligence as only he could, something to pass the time. Sensed his fear as he pushed back thoughts of losing her -- Xaja -- Sorand -- Korin. Sensed the terror that lanced through him as he reached for her hand, skin-to-skin contact heightening the connection forged between them.

She should have known then that he would run, she thought.

“Cardinal?”

Blinking, Mairen looked up to the medic. The blonde regarded her with a furrowed brow, and there was concern warming her gaze as she regarded her patient. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes, yes -- I’m fine,” the Jedi replied, offering a rueful smile. She waved her hand dismissively. “I was just curious as to why I couldn’t sense Knight Taerich. But then I reasoned she was moved on for more serious care.”

“She was,” the medic conceded. “Shortly after we got you in kolto, they shipped her off to Tython.” Her lips drew to a line. “Got a long road ahead of her, that one.”

Mairen nodded. The trauma of those events would haunt the younger Jedi for a very long time, she knew. If she were anything like her father -- or her mother -- she had little doubt that Xaja would push through. It didn’t mean there wasn’t going be a high cost. “The Order will take good care of her, I’m sure,” she said aloud.

The other woman echoed the action, cropped blonde hair sweeping her shoulders. “Seems you’ll make a quick recovery, though.” Her cheerfulness was a bit forced, and Mairen could sense confusion and worry as it stirred within and she fought to determine if she should say something. “Even still, I… I kinda thought the old man would stick around…”

A deep ache gripped her chest and Mairen could feel the sting of tears as they threatened; she struggled to maintain a steady breath. “So he did leave, then.”

“This morning,” the blonde replied. “He popped in for an update on you and then the sergeant says he went for flight clearance back to Dromund Kaas. Took off shortly thereafter.”

That, she thought, explained the distance she felt -- the muted sensations as opposed to his presence beside her, or holding her hand as she lay on the medical bed. She swallowed back the knot that rose in the back of her throat and drew on the Force to stabilize her emotions, her voice. “And I should be getting back soon, myself… before they get too curious,” she said. She offered a taut smile. “I don’t suppose you could release me for return to duty?”

The medic returned the smile, nodding. “I can do that.” Spontaneously, she reached and took Mairen’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Stay safe, Cardinal.”

Reaching over, Mairen patted the back of the medic’s palm with her free hand. “I will. I promise.”

“And,” the medic drawled, a wry grin curving her lips, “lemme know if you need me and the guys to smack some sense into Duathion. Seems like he might need a little ‘cognitive recalibration.’”

Her eyes stinging, the red headded Jedi gave a laugh.  It was a bark of laughter, something of a release valve for the swirling mass of emotions she couldn’t begin to sort. “I’ll keep that in mind, Corpsman…?”

“Shade,” the medic replied. “Margaret Shade.”

Mairen nodded. “Thank you, Corpsman Shade.”

“All part of the service we offer here.” The corpsman offered a bit of a smile and one last squeeze of her hand before slipping away and down the corridor.

Watching her go, Mairen couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness that seemed to engulf her. She should have known he would run, she thought again, though it still shocked her that he had. And yet… she knew, from the brief moments of lucidity in the kolto and out, that he still cared -- could sense it with the certainty only a bond could bring. She struggled to focus on this, not the whispers of betrayal and abandonment that lurked in the darker recesses of her mind. A sigh escaped her. Dromund Kaas was going to be a nightmare, she realized, knowing that the darkness there would crawl and creep, looking for weaknesses. She could only hope to find balance sometime between now and then.

And how to face Reanden the next time she saw him.

[keldae]

Interception

Theron might not have been a Jedi, or able to use the Force, but that didn't mean he hadn't learned to listen to his instincts. His gut intuition had gotten him both into and out of trouble countless times during his career in espionage.

And right now, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

You're paranoid, he thought, shaking his head sternly, shivering involuntarily as the cool breeze tickled his exposed scalp. You know it's Gemini stalking you as per usual. He turned a corner into an alley -- a shortcut to his current bolthole. Or Atrius is watching. Keep your cover, don't let them know you're onto them…

He habitually turned his head, scanning the few seedy characters of the underworld of Mek-Sha as they passed the front of the alley. Nobody giving him a second look, nobody looking like they were hunting the Alliance's Most Wanted. Just criminals and gangsters and refugees, trodding along the planks, all but invisible in the dim, soggy lighting.

Theron shook his head again as a hooded figure walked past the alley. Probably one of the creepy slaver cult that operated here. If he survived this, he would have to tell Sorand about this so the former Sith could deal with the slavers that he despised so -- no, don't think ahead. Sorand is more likely to kill you himself. He sighed and stepped back into the alley. He was pretty sure Xaja's youngest brother, essentially the Acting Commander from what he heard, had no idea about this plot. And the idea of being on the shitlist of a Dark Lord of the Sith and former member of the Dark Council was almost as terrifying as an idea as being on the shitlist of Imperial Intelligence’s most notorious field agent.

She wouldn't send her father after me, right? Lana would veto that. Theron shuddered, refusing to admit how much the prospect of being hunted by Cipher Nine scared him. It was bad enough that Shara was hunting him -- rumour had it the Champion of the Great Hunt had taken on the contract for him for free, as a favour to her sister-in-law (with much angry snarling about honour and cowardice and how Theron had plenty of one and not nearly enough of the other, according to Korin’s updates). As long as she doesn't get a trace on you, you'll be fine. Right?

The lights in the alley surged with brightness for a second before falling dark, leaving Theron momentarily blinded. He was already ducking and moving, relying on his memory to navigate the cluttered alley, every instinct screaming at him to run. The power surge was too targeted to be a fluke, and the sound of a ventilation shaft falling open with a deafening hiss was too coincidental. He was--

A hand roughly grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Theron grunted in discomfort and drove his heel down, barely catching the side of his assailant's boot, and not throwing off his attacker’s stride in the least, by the feel of it. He felt himself being yanked backward, deeper into the alley shadows; he threw his body weight back, for a second surprising his attacker. It bought him enough time to yank his arm free and turn around, but before he could reach for a blaster or bring his bracer up to fire a toxin dart, he grunted again as he felt his attacker -- humanoid male, he guessed -- land a solid off-hand punch to his midsection, winding him and throwing him off balance. The sharp edge of a crate dug into Theron's back as he was shoved backward by his attacker, his wrist caught in a durasteel grip that prevented him from fighting back. He heard the soft shhhk of a knife being quickly drawn, and was forced to stop trying to fight his way free when he felt the sharp edge against his throat, his heart pounding with barely suppressed fear. Weren't spies supposed to be better at managing their fear and ambushes than this?

His stomach turned to lead when he heard his attacker's low, furious growl. "You have thirty seconds to convince me to not skin you alive, kid." Cipher Nine apparently had decided to track the rogue spy himself, and Theron's mind decided now was a good moment to helpfully remind him of the old man's reputation as a sociopath with a vicious streak a parsec wide. And he was pretty sure the fact that he was the old spy's son-in-law was negated by the fact that he had publicly tried to kill his precious daughter.

Theron grunted in discomfort as he felt Reanden press the knife tighter against his throat. "It was necessary," he whispered, inwardly cringing at how lame his excuse sounded. "Can't say more. Ears."

"One of which you're about to lose," Reanden snarled. Theron could just see the glint of rage in the old man's eyes under his hood. Shit, he’d really overdone it if the older spy was this furious. "Surveillance systems are knocked out for another minute. That's more than enough time for me to make you unidentifiable."

Theron had no doubt the Imperial legend could make him disappear with ease, and tried to not think about the sharp edge of the knife scraping his throat. Wait, if the surveillance systems were disabled… He could only hope Gemini was blind right now. "... How disabled?" he lowly whispered.

"Dead silence for anyone trying to listen." There was definitely a bit of unnecessary emphasis on 'dead', in Theron's opinion.

But he didn't exactly have room or time to voice that opinion. And if Reanden hadn't killed him yet… "Order of Zildrog," he quickly whispered. “They’re working on a plan to kill her, I don't know the details yet. Ask Arcann what he remembers about Vinn Atrius."

"Vinn Atrius…" Reanden lowly muttered the name as he seemed to mentally file the name away. "You've kept your ear, not sure about your hide yet--"

"Say nothing in front of Gemini Prime," Theron urgently hissed. "They know everything." From how Reanden tensed, he guessed that wasn't a threat the old man had considered. "They're tracking her."

"That so?" For a second, Reanden seemed to think about this new information before Theron heard his low growl again. "Thirty seconds are up, kid."

The knife moved from Theron's throat as the hand holding his wrist immobile loosened a smidge. Theron took immediate advantage and twisted his arm sharply, freeing himself to punch the older spy in the side even while ducking away from the sharp blade. He heard Reanden grunt as the old man was knocked off-balance, and felt the prick of the knife on his temple, but didn't pause long enough to hope this blade wasn't poisoned. His only priority was slipping out of the old man's hold and fleeing down the alley, finally drawing his blaster and blindly firing a warning shot behind him. 

He flinched at a return shot whizzing past his ear and hitting the corner of an abandoned storage bay, sparks flying from the impact. But, when he finally made it back to his safehouse, breathing hard and paranoidly looking over his shoulder, there was no sign of Cipher Nine pursuing him. For a second, Theron let himself hope he'd given the old man the slip, and the former Imperial asset hadn't just flipped on his stealth generator to stalk him from the shadows.

Either way, the situation was more perilous. Mek-Sha was compromised. Theron couldn't linger here -- even if the old man didn't come after him directly, it wouldn't be hard for him to get Shara on the asteroid for the hunt, or an Alliance strike team, or even Xaja herself. And Theron knew he couldn't make himself walk away from Xaja again, not after that glimpse of her on Copero. He had to keep moving.

Hope Nine didn't manage to plant a tracker, he grumbled to himself as he swept everything connected to him out of the cramped room he had called a safehouse and made his escape to the docks. The sooner he was in his shuttle and fleeing into the Unknown Regions, the better.

He had to have believed you, he tried to reassure himself as he slipped away into the shadows, flinching at every little noise that he could hear over the sound of his racing heart. Otherwise he wouldn't have missed with that shot, or let you escape. Right?...

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

From the shadow cast by a hanging tarp, Reanden watched as his target hurried toward the shuttles, looking terrified despite his best efforts. For a moment, the old spy allowed himself a little smirk: still got it. That reputation he'd built of being a sociopath had taken years to establish -- be a pity to have it wasted on this asshole.

The smirk vanished as he thought about Theron's whispered message. Assuming it was all truth from the younger man, this was some good intel -- and Reanden figured he’d been in the spy business long enough to identify lies and truth. The Order of Zildrog… yes, he'd heard that before. Hylo had managed to intercept a transmission, from Theron himself, mentioning that group. A cult, if he was going to be accurate -- the little bits of intel he'd managed to pull up on them had indicated fanaticism, both in the idolatry of Valkorion's shadow, and a fierce hatred of Xaja and the Alliance. This was confirmation that they were enough to be a serious threat, if Theron was this deeply involved. Infiltration? Investigation? Reanden wasn't sure yet what his son-in-law was up to. But now he had a name to look into -- maybe one of the ringleaders. From the sounds of it, Vinn Atrius had to be Zakuulan -- a former guard for Arcann or Vaylin, or Valkorion himself? Were they behind all the anti-Alliance uprisings that had occurred over the past year or so?

The warning about Gemini Prime made him frown. The droid template had been nonresponsive for months now; it had been assumed that she might have been entirely dead. Reanden felt like kicking himself -- why hadn’t he considered sooner that the droid was a security risk? Had the Order managed to slice into the Gemini systems and pick up intel from there? But how would they have gotten access, with all of the Eternal Fleet currently stationed around Odessen? Maybe they had found something on Iokath? Or maybe there were still ships unaccounted for?

This was giving him a headache. He scowled as Theron's nondescript shuttle fled the docks, hoping the younger spy didn't find the tracker he'd hidden on the vessel earlier; rubbing the bruise over his ribs, he slunk away into the shadows again, mind racing. First order of business was messaging both Korin and Shara to tell them to drop the hunt on this little asteroid, now that their target had escaped. After that, he needed to get back to Odessen and give Xaja this information… and hope his daughter forgave him for not dragging her wayward husband back. If he is infiltrating, capture will get him killed by the cult. Watch and listen. He'll come back up again. His gut instinct was insistent that Theron wasn't legitimately seeking Xaja's death, and so far, his instincts hadn't been wrong before. 

He only hoped he wasn’t going to be proven wrong this time.

[keldae]

Fictober ‘19 -- Day Three (SWTOR)

“This was a terrible idea,” Reanden muttered, squirming as he tried to find a remotely comfortable position. It was remarkably difficult with his hands in binder cuffs behind his back, keeping him secured to a pole in the small, dim room.

“Now? Now you listen to me?” The other occupant of the makeshift cell glared at him, under the strands of red hair that had come loose from her braid. “If I wasn’t ready to strangle you, I would take full advantage of the moment to say ‘told you so’...”

“Such anger, Master Jedi--” Her boot made contact with his knee -- an impressive feat, given how they were bound on opposite sides of the cell. “Ow!”

“You had that coming,” Airna muttered as she squirmed back to somewhat-upright. “This is your fault.”

Reanden shot the Jedi a glare. “Which one of us triggered the Hutt’s fucking security systems?”

“Which one of us insisted on barging in here anyway despite it being an objectively terrible idea in the first place?”

“It was a great idea, until you blew it!”

“Sure, say that and ignore everything the Jedi was saying about ‘bad feelings’ and ‘foreboding’.” Airna gifted Reanden with a glare. “Asshole.”

“Pfft.” Reanden snorted, his hands carefully twisting behind his back. If he remembered this part of Intelligence training correctly... “I had this well in hand without Jedi interference, thanks. You trying to make all your premonitions self-fulfilling prophecies?”

“I swear to the Force, I should have let you run in here and let you get your sorry ass killed...”

“Nah. You’d miss me too much. I daresay you’d be heartbroken.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Even with how pissed off he was at his cellmate, Reanden couldn’t resist smirking at her exasperated groan. “Doesn’t change the fact that you would be distraught if I met an unfortunate ending...”

“Only because the only person who gets to kill you is me, in case you had forgotten.”

“See? You’re so-- OW! Enough with the kicking!”

“Only because there’s nothing here I can Force-throw at you, moron!”

Reanden rolled his eyes. “Lucky for you, I’m a somewhat-nice guy.”

“When the hell have you been anything approaching even somewhat nice?”

“Right now.” He still hissed a couple of interesting words as he finally managed to dislocate his thumbs correctly, but it was enough for him to successfully pull his hands free of the binder cuffs. “I could let you stay here, but that throws a complication into the fact that I’m the only one allowed to kill you...”

“.... How the fuck...?” Airna shook her head and scowled at him, then seemed to consider what few options she had. She sighed and leaned to the side enough so Reanden could see the cuffs on her own wrists. “... Help?”

“I’m savouring this memory for the rest of my life,” Reanden smirked as he crawled over to help Airna escape the restraints, trying very hard to not think about how much he had to lean over the pretty Jedi to get her hands free, or how nice her hair smelled.  “Having the snarkiest Jedi to come off Corellia asking for help...”

“I’m going to bite you,” Airna growled.

“Buy me a drink first,” Reanden retorted as he managed to undo the cuffs. He stood up as Airna groaned, pulling her hands in front of her and gingerly rubbing her sore wrists. “Coming?”

“I still hate you,” Airna muttered as she carefully got to her feet, refusing his hand up. “Last time I try to save a damned Imp’s sorry ass from his own idiocy.”

“Come now. We both know you enjoy staring at my ass too much to let me die.” Reanden nearly laughed out loud when the Jedi blushed as red as her hair, but managed to stifle it as he got the door to the cell unlocked. “Let’s go.”

[keldae]

We are now 5/8 for getting SWTOR classes to Command Rank 300! The long grind has started for Bounty Hunter (Rav, Sorand and Shara’s adopted daughter) and Warrior (Maglion, Reanden’s half-brother and the biggest asshole to ever set foot on Dromund Kaas. Like he almost makes Vitiate look charming and friendly.

Almost.)

Rav I’m still working through class story after using a Master’s Datacron on her, so after she ran CZ and Dantooine, she’s now sitting around Rank 65-ish. She’s the priority for levelling, although Maglion (rank 45) decided to poke me and go “So since I am the edgiest of edgelords and you can skip me right ahead to Ossus without feeling too much guilt since I pick ALL the Dark Side options by default and you really don’t want to watch Jace die on Iokath and simply can’t pick the DS option to kill Theron, I can level faster than the BH whelp.... which means I want new armour and a new mount and...”

On the one hand, he’s my asshole alt that I never play and am not keen to spend credits on.

On the other hand, he does present a valid argument. For once. >.>

[keldae]

☾ - sleep headcanon for Korin ☆ - happy headcanon for Reanden ♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon for Xaja and ☼ - appearance headcanon for Sorand

☾ - Korin is a bit of an insomniac. He’s restless and doesn’t settle down well, so he’ll usually be up til the wee hours doing something. He has been known to be awake until dawn -- which is the only scenario in which he sees dawn. When he does finally go to sleep, he’ll be out cold for as long as possible, and he sleeps like the dead (unless there’s a problem with his ship. He has a sixth sense where his baby is concerned.). He usually has really vivid dreams, but not so much nightmares -- most of his dreams make him wake up, look at his ceiling, and go “what the fuck?”. He also lives off of caf and/or space energy drinks, which may or may not be contributing to the insomnia.

☆ - Reanden bonded with both of his sons when they were kids over mechanical things. He had an old speeder that he enjoyed tinkering around with when he was home, and often had Korin and Sorand “helping” and watching everything he did. They would also “help” when he was tinkering with old datapads and the like -- he may or may not have taught them each the basics of slicing. He also started teaching both of them how to fly the Shadow when they each turned ten (although Sorand still came along for Korin’s early lessons since they were always joined at the hip as kids). That knowledge of mechanics and piloting wound up helping both of them a ton leading up to and during the vanilla story.

♦ - Xaja does not sit properly in chairs if she can help it. Within about thirty seconds of sitting down, she’ll have one leg pulled up underneath her, and the other leg might be coming up within the next few minutes, or it’ll be propped up on another chair or a caf table. It’s not uncommon to see her sitting cross-legged in a chair, or sprawled sideways, or perching on the arm of a chair, or sitting on Theron’s lap if he was in said chair first. If she is sitting like a respectable Jedi ought to, it’s probably a Very Formal situation and/or she’s uncomfortable as fuck with said situation. (I’m pretty sure that the few times she had to have her ass actually on the Eternal Throne, she made damned sure to never sit in it properly, half to make Arcann roll his eyes, and half to spite the damned Throne itself and the asshole who sat in it the longest.)

☼ - Sorand’s faceclaim is Ben Barnes -- I’m thinking specifically the King Caspian look from Voyage of the Dawn Treader (even if I refuse to watch that movie after the first viewing because they fucked up the Chronicles of Narnia so royally, but I digress). He’s always been tall and lanky in my headcanon, somewhere around the 6′3″ mark, even before I figured out his faceclaim. Right now he has long hair that he keeps tied back (and will electrocute anyone who comes at him with a pair of scissors and a suspected intention to fuck up his hair. He’s as bad as Xaja is.), and he does sport a respectable amount of facial scruff that I can’t seem to get with the character designer in-game. 

^ Yeah, that. That’s Sorand, down to the expression. And actually probably in clothing close to what Caspian’s wearing instead of Sith robes or beskar’gam. Sorand’s gotten a lot more casual with his clothing during KOTFE/KOTET, seems to like long jackets over robes when he doesn’t need to be wearing armour, and while he does still have some Sithly clothing when he feels the need to pull out the official scary “because I’m still Darth Imperius, bitches” attitude, he seems content to rock the more relaxed attire.

[keldae]

For Sorand: Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is? Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)? Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Advice: His go-to for advice is his dad, both in the official “Darth Imperius likes picking Cipher Nine’s brain” and the “my dad knows everything” senses. When Reanden won’t do/isn’t available, his next pick is Lana, followed by (believe it or not) Korin. He also listened to what Darth Marr had to say, as well as Satele Shan the few times he’s interacted with her, and at points has probably asked Vowrawn for advice during the Zakuulan invasion.

He’s generally pretty picky when he’s looking for advice. He never trusted Zash��s advice as far as he could throw it, and typically only asked her for advice if he was desperate. He also wouldn’t ask Acina for advice if his life depended on it (or, like, any of the surviving Dark Council… Vowrawn being the exception. SOMETIMES.). And you can probably guess what his feelings are concerning Saresh. 

Empathy: He did a lot more when he was younger, especially with the toys he had as a child. It’s not around so much anymore, although he still cringes like he can feel it every time someone drops/otherwise defiles a book.

Pet Names: He’s… not fond of them, typically. XD He and Shara refer to each other as cyar’ika (sweetheart) regularly, and the other Mandalorians he’s close to call him Sor’ika (or Rand’ika, depending which ‘verse/persona he’s using that day). Otherwise, he doesn’t really have much to do with them, other than referring to Korin as “Captain Asshole” when he gets on his nerves. Korin retaliates with “Your Darthliness” or “Darth Grumpypants”, which Sorand hates. Does Korin care? Not in the slightest.

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-One)

Night fell over Coronet City, covering the wounds left from the Cold War that hadn’t healed in the three years since the Imperial bombardment. Right now, some of those old wounds served a helpful purpose — Jonas Balkar crouched in such a scar, a crater created by any one of countless bombs, holding his breath until the Skytrooper patrol passed without seeing him. The Corellians, always a thorn in the side of the Empire, had been enough of a nuisance to Zakuul that Eternal Empire forces now roamed the streets, enforcing a harsh curfew until the Star Fortress was completed. The imposing monolith would then take over surveillance and security of the planet.

Once the coast was clear, Jonas crept across the street and through the plaza littered with old industrial structures, making his way to a rusty grate built into the wall. He tapped a code against the durasteel, and a minute later, the grate opened enough for him to slip inside. The Selonian who’d let him in gestured down the corridor with her paw. “You’re almost late. The meeting is starting.”

“Sorry, got stuck in traffic,” Jonas muttered as he slipped around the other rebel. “Thanks.” He hurried off down the old tunnel, stumbling more than once on old rubble and cursing under his breath.

He finally made it to the large underground chamber, somewhere below Axial Park. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized to the rest of the resistance cell leaders as he all but flopped onto an overturned barrel. “Skytroopers are changing their patrol routes.”

“Yeah, we noticed.” Cole Cantarus frowned under the dim, flickering lights. “My CorSec forces are scrambling to figure out the new routes. Lost two guys yesterday.”

“Zakuul’s got the entire galaxy in a blasted chokehold,” grumbled a female voice. Risha Drayen brushed a lock of dark hair out of her eyes that had escaped the messy bun at the back of her head. “And there’s still no word about Master Taerich or Agent Shan.”

“Not quite true,” Cole corrected. “Got an update from the storm system. They’ve been found, and they’re on Dantooine. Master Shan brought them in today.”

“That’s a relief,” Jonas said with a sigh. “Because the last solid intel the SIS had placed them with either Darth Imperius or Cipher Nine on Dromund Kaas. Apparently Master Taerich’s related to Imperius -- who knew?”

“… To be fair,” spoke another voice, breaking the stunned silence that had followed Jonas’ report, “Xaja has never been one for sane, reasonable plans.” The Corellian Barsen’thor, Jakar Forseti, leaned forward. The lights cast the scars on his face into stark shadows and just glinted off the hilt of the saberstaff he carried under his jacket. “And she was friendly with Imperius during the Revanite crisis. If they are related, I suppose insanity must run in the family.”

“Theron’s never been fond of logical plans either,” Jonas muttered, thinking back on his friend who had always preferred climbing through windows to walking through perfectly fine doors. “He and Master Taerich are completely meant for each other.”

“How romantic,” Risha deadpanned. “Any comm chatter about where they are now?”

“None,” spoke up the last conspirator. Bey’wan Aygo crossed his arms over his chest and stroked the fur extending from his chin. “If the Republic got so much as a whisper as to where they are, you know Saresh would be going after them -- whispers they won’t be getting from us.” He glanced at Jonas, got an agreeing nod, and continued speaking. “Fortunately for them, most of the chatter has concerned the contract put out for Imperius and Cipher Nine.”

“As if we didn’t have enough with just Zakuul and the Republic involved.” Jonas sighed and looked up at the roof of the cavern. “Wonderful. Thunder hasn’t issued any new orders?”

“Stay on alert; keep pissing off the Zaks; and if Dantooine is compromised, we haul ass to get people out of there alive.” Cole shrugged. “The usual.”

“I thought Thunder was supposed to be keeping the Imps from getting involved in all this,” Bey’wan muttered. “Guess they ran out of influence when Imperius and Nine jumped in anyway. Of course, if Imperius is Master Xaja’s brother, I don’t blame him for getting involved.”

“It wouldn’t be the greatest surprise revelation I’ve heard during this entire war and rebellion,” Jakar muttered. “The Green Jedi have heard nothing regarding Xaja or Theron, or the hunt for Imperius and Nine.”

“That’s because the Green Jedi have their heads so far up their asses, it’s a miracle they can hear anything,” Risha retorted.

Jakar’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but before he could say anything, Bey’wan quickly interrupted. “Does anyone know what the status of the Republic’s manhunt for them is?”

“My contact in the SIS says Saresh is ready to tear planets apart, looking for them,” Jonas answered. “Especially after Supreme Commander Malcom resigned his post and walked out. Our reporting suggests he’s on Alderaan, possibly working with the storm system. And the rumor is that he’s Theron’s biological father.”

“… That does make things complicated,” Jakar said flatly. “Any news from the other cells?”

“Tatooine managed a decent hit against Zakuul,” Cole reported, “according to Captain Korin. He took down one of the Star Fortress towers, and is planning to infiltrate the Fortress skeleton itself to find a weakness. He might be getting Imperius to help, since he just arrived to the cell after escaping Dromund Kaas. Zakuul hasn’t retaliated yet, which is surprising.”

“Probably because Arcann’s hyper-focused on finding Master Taerich and Agent Shan,” Risha said. “One rebel strike probably isn’t more than a blip on his radar.”

“Hopefully he gets distracted by the Empire’s involvement in all of this and doesn’t find them under their current rock,” Jonas muttered. “They’re not stupid -- they have to know they can’t stay in one place. With any luck, they’ll be long gone from the Enclave by the time the Zaks think to look there.” He knew the odds weren’t high, but for his friend, and for the Jedi that Jakar claimed as one of his own friends, he desperately wanted to hold onto that hope.

“That’s a long shot at best,” Jakar said quietly. He offered a taut smile, but his eyes were shaded with worry.

After spending the better part of a standard month running across the galaxy and hiding from unfriendly eyes, even if she had been with her family or Theron the entire time, Xaja finally started to feel like the galaxy was stabilizing under her feet as she immersed herself in the hidden Jedi Enclave. Never minding that this was a rough network of chambers hidden in abandoned kinrath tunnels, with none of the trappings of the Tython Temple, or the constant sense of readiness among the rebel Jedi hidden here — simply the atmosphere of being among other members of the Order was a soothing balm to Xaja’s stressed spirit, especially after the corrupting darkness of Dromund Kaas. As she walked through the tunnels with Kira, quietly catching up with each other, she almost felt at home.

If one discounted the lack of personal possessions, or the constant patrols and monitoring of comms relays, or the paranoid suspicion of most of the other Jedi.

“You found Doc on Rishi?” Kira asked as the two Jedi paced through an old chamber, their voices and bootsteps echoing softly off the walls. “We all got split up during the war, never found out what happened to him. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Or he was last time I checked,” Xaja nodded, sidestepping to avoid a collision with a dark-haired half-Miraluka woman she vaguely remembered from Tython. “The last I’ve heard, there was still a notice out for his capture, so I’m assuming he’s still fine.” She tilted her head to study Kira — at close range now, she could see the constant tension in her former Padawan’s face, even in the caves’ dim light, and the dark bags under her eyes. “He didn’t know what happened to any of you though. What happened?”

“A lot of it’s a blur,” Kira admitted. “For the first months, it was just fighting and trying to stay alive. I went back to Tython, wound up helping some of the Padawans there go into hiding before Zakuul found the Temple. After the Republic surrendered, I started hearing rumours of a resistance network building across the entire galaxy — Empire, Republic, Hutt Space, you name it. Myself and the rest of the Jedi who still wanted to fight came out here. It kinda started out as a halfway house for injured Jedi running from the Zaks, but then we started picking up more and more able-bodied Force users, even a couple of Sith. Thunder established contact with us early on, and Master Satele’s been checking in on us.”

“I’m glad you’re okay and survived all of that.” Xaja squeezed Kira’s arm and got a smile from the younger Jedi. “Have you heard anything about the others?”

“Nothing about Scourge. He just kinda dropped off the face of the galaxy not long after the invasion. And like I said, I lost track of Doc early on. But Rusk joined the resistance too, after the siege ended.”

Xaja blinked. “He did?”

“Yeah. We get updates fairly regularly.” Kira grinned. “Your brother comes by sometimes, and your dad’s dropped in once or twice, both times for supply or intel drops. Korin let Guss and Corso stay here -- Guss so he could train with the Force again, and Corso because, well… we needed a token non-Jedi or non-Forcie person to interact with the rest of the planet for us.”

Reanden hadn’t mentioned travelling to the other resistance cells or seeing Kira, although Xaja supposed that her father had had a few too many things on his mind to tell her about this. “When was Korin last here?”

“About two months ago, give or take?” Kira’s shoulders raised in a shrug. “He’s also resistance, running between all the cells and assorted drop points.” She paused. “He won’t admit it, but I strongly suspect he stole Tee-Seven off of Coruscant.”

“That asshole,” Xaja muttered. “He better not be corrupting my droid.” Kira snickered in agreement, and for a few minutes there was only the sounds of their footsteps.

Kira finally spoke again, her voice soft and subdued. “We watched that ship disintegrate. Korin did, too, while he was guarding us and following us back to Coruscant. How the hells did you survive it?”

“I don’t know.” Xaja shook her head, frowning. “I was unconscious when the Zaks somehow captured Marr and myself. I woke up en route to Zakuul.” She felt a tired smile tug at her lips. “Long story short, Marr and I got hauled up in front of Vitiate wearing a new meatsuit—”

“What?!” Kira’s face drained pale, even in the dim light. “But how the—? He— Revan— Ziost—!”

“I don’t know either. But Marr and I… we could tell it was him. Nobody else in the galaxy feels that evil.” Xaja scowled. “He killed Marr when he refused to kneel, then after I mouthed off at him and called him a microscopically-endowed gizka-blowing coward—” Kira laughed at that. “— then he told Arcann to kill me. Arcann freed me instead and attacked his father, and when I had the chance… I took it.”

“Good,” Kira growled. “That bastard can die a thousand times over for what he did to us, and the rest of the galaxy. Still doesn’t explain how you were dead for over two years though.”

“Oh, that? The Force-damned son of a bitch told the guards that I was an assassin sent to kill his father and had me thrown in carbonite,” Xaja answered, with a flippancy she didn’t feel. She felt sick to her stomach again, remembering the terror of the minutes between being thrown back by the wave of the Force tearing out of Vitiate’s latest body and being dragged into the carbonite chamber, screaming and fighting every step of the way, to no avail…

The bond warmed as Theron nudged her, sensing her fear. Xaja made herself take a breath to calm herself before pushing a small burst of reassurance at him. Okay. Memories. She immediately felt his worry and a cold anger under the surface, and nudged at him again. Okay now. You saved me. The worry shifted into relief and love as Theron finally relaxed, satisfied that she was all right for the moment.

“And Agent Superhero saved the day by somehow finding you in the Spire.” Kira shook her head. “Would love to know how he knew where you were. Everyone was convinced you were dead.” Xaja felt a burst of sadness from her Padawan in the Force. “Korin and I… after we got back to Coruscant, we went and told him what had happened, figured he deserved to know directly instead of through reports. He…” Kira sighed. “Theron didn’t take it well. You know that face people make when they want to scream or cry, but they just can’t, and everything just kinda shuts down? He just… crumpled.”

Oh, that hurt, she thought, to know how badly Theron had taken her loss. For a second, an image flashed in Xaja’s mind of Theron falling to his knees in his small Coruscant apartment, the spy facade on his face shattering to show anguish as he crumpled in on himself, unable to cope with the pain. Xaja closed her eyes against the burning sensation she could feel, and reached back along their bond with the strongest wave of love and comfort that she could muster. She could feel Theron losing his breath at the overwhelming sensation before he pushed back at her with a burst of love for her. That nearly did make the tears come — she had to blink away the moisture in her eyes.

“Huh, that was weird.” Kira had her head tilted at Xaja, quirking an eyebrow at her former mentor as she nudged at the Force around them. “I knew you two were a thing before… y’know… but did you have a bond like that before?”

“No, this is a recent development.” Xaja looked around the corridor, making sure they were alone, before lowering her voice. “I accidentally formed a bond with him on Rishi, right before we found out I was dying of complications from the carbonite poisoning.” She gestured for Kira to remain quiet when the taller woman’s eyes flashed wide in horror, then continued. “My other brother managed to get me medical treatment on Dromund Kaas, but it affected my Force connection. My dad took us to Voss, and the healers did a ritual on us that strengthened the  bond, making it deeper and permanent.”

“For what, emotional connection?” Kira frowned in confusion.

“No, but it’s a side bonus.” Xaja raked her hands through her hair. “What I tell you does not leave this corridor.” At Kira’s nod, she continued. “The bond’s main purpose was twofold: Half of it was restoring my Force connection, and half of it…” She sighed, feeling sick again despite Theron’s reassuring presence in her mind. His wasn’t the only presence she could feel. “… I picked up a mind parasite on Zakuul… one you’re familiar with. The bond keeps him suppressed so he can’t possess me.”

She watched as Kira’s expressions and Force-signature shifted from confused to horrified to furious to steely determination, all within the space of a few seconds. “Good. Let me know if you need any more help with dealing with that brain fucker.” The younger Jedi reached up and squeezed the other’s arms. “You didn’t abandon me when you knew what was in my head, Master. I’m not ditching you now. We’ll deal with this bastard, one way or another.”

The Killik tunnels that connected Organa Castle to the hidden resistance base in the Juran Mountains still made Jace shudder every time he walked through them. No matter that he had been assured by their diplomat Joiner, a former Imperial named Vector Hyllus, that the Killiks were allies and meant no harm, it was still unnerving to walk through the insectoid lairs, stepping around the large, violet eggs, trying to not breathe in the scents. And that was before taking into account the unnatural black eyes and clicking noises of the human Joiners who had become part of the nest. Jace wasn’t too proud to say he was having disturbing dreams about the Joiners.

But the important thing was that if they creeped him out, they terrified the Zakuulans. There were four Zakuulan Joiners, wandering around in the rags of what used to be their uniforms. The rest of the Eternal Empire’s forces seemed to have given up, for fear of being brainwashed themselves.

Jace walked into a substantial cavern, deep under the mountains. Once, this had been an extension of the Killik hive — now it was part of the resistance network that spread through a significant chunk of the planet, extending as far as Rist territory. The warring houses of Alderaan could unify against a common enemy, it seemed. They weren’t the only ones — numerous clusters of mingled Imperials and Republic personnel filled the cave. Jace blinked when he saw a Hutt on one platform, emphatically gesturing to a monitor in front of him as he tried to explain something to a Republic scientist with a longsuffering expression on his face, then shook his head and kept walking. Apparently the Hutts had their own grudges against Zakuul.

He made his way to another platform, feeling the conversation fade to a hush at his presence. “You wanted to speak to me?” he rumbled, looking at the resistance personnel before him.

“We did.” Vector offered Jace a shallow bow, then turned back to the computer behind him. “We have received intelligence from the storm system, Commander. Agent Shan and Master Taerich have been located.”

Jace’s heart jumped into his throat. “Where?”

“Dantooine.” Doctor Kimble turned to Jace, looking visibly relieved for the first time since he had arrived on Darth Imperius’ ship, having fled Dromund Kaas in a hurry. “The Grand Master found them and brought them to the resistance cell there.”

Satele found them? Jace felt a knot in his back loosen with that good news. “That’s good to hear.” He suddenly paused. “Weren’t they with Cipher Nine before? Is he in the cell too?”

“No.” The only woman on the platform, a Corellian Jedi named Mairen Bel Iblis, barely glanced up from the computer she was working on. “I received a notification from my station chief on Nar Shaddaa. He’s picked up Cipher Nine, who says he doesn’t know where Master Shan took Master Taerich and Agent Shan.” Judging from how the redhaired Jedi-turned-spy pursed her lips, Jace guessed she didn’t fully buy Cipher Nine’s story — not that he could blame her. Imperial spies were devious and talented liars, and Cipher Nine, being one of the oldest agents in the field, was something of a legend for how damned good he was at his job. It was a pity that he couldn’t be persuaded to defect. “Apparently he left them on Voss and went to cause a distraction.”

“Voss?” Jace crossed his arms over his broad chest in thought. “Why would they go to Voss?”

He was answered with a chorus of silent shrugs. “It’s difficult to say,” Doctor Lokin said, stroking his beard. Looking much like a kind grandfather, he should have felt trustworthy — but Jace couldn’t forget that he was retired Imperial Intelligence, and one of Cipher Nine’s comrades. Assets who lived to be that old were dangerous. “Master Taerich was ill from the side effects of carbonite poisoning, one of which was all but losing her access to the Force. She may have gone to Voss for healing when our medical treatment didn’t restore her connection.”

“Or they may have wished to stay out of sight of the rest of the galaxy,” Vector suggested. “Voss is neutral territory still, and expansive enough that they could have tried to hide.”

“Two humans on Voss would stick out like Hutts in the Senate,” Doctor Kimble muttered. “I’m with Lokin on this one. Xa— Master Taerich probably went for healing. But what was Master Shan doing there?”

Jace shrugged. He’d known Satele the longest, and he couldn’t identify what would have led her to the alien planet. The Zakuulan Knight, Senya Tirall, had said Satele planned on going there, but she hadn’t known why. “Takes a Jedi to understand a Jedi,” he grunted, offering a rueful smile in apology when Mairen cut her eyes at him. “Senya Tirall knew Master Shan’s destination, but not the reason. Perhaps Master Shan was in contact with Cipher Nine?” That thought made him feel sick… but Cipher Nine wouldn’t have been the first Imperial Satele had worked with. Jace wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Lokin and Vector looked at each other before shrugging. “It’s possible,” Lokin finally said. “Agent Taerich never shared all of his contacts with us, and always likes to have a card or three up his sleeve. I believe he’s worked with Jedi before as well — why, I didn’t see fit to ask. In this instance though, he probably would have put feelers out for a Jedi where his daughter was concerned.”

“Hmmm.” The idea of the infamous Cipher Nine as a caring father to a Jedi, worried about her continued safety, seemed incongruous to his reputation as a ruthless Imperial saboteur and assassin. Grimacing, Jace dismissed the possibility from his thoughts for the time being. “Perhaps Master Taerich or Master Shan can give us answers directly.” He turned to march off the platform with a purposeful stride. “Send word for my ship to be prepped. I’m heading to Dantooine to get some answers.” It wasn’t enough to hear through the storm system that Theron was alive and safe for the moment — he needed to see his son, dammit, and probably tear him a new one for scaring him with that blasted suicide note.

So consumed by concern for his own son, he didn’t notice Master Bel Iblis’ brow creasing in a frown as she watched him walk away. She sighed, then grimaced before turning back to her console and the data that awaited her.

It wasn’t a difficult task to find information on Xaja Taerich; Lord Kallig, also known as Darth Imperius; or Reanden Taerich, the mysterious agent previously known only as Cipher Nine after the Cold War. All three members of the family seemed to have made large ripples wherever they went, with Master Taerich having made the largest metaphorical splash. Kovach was impressed — he had seen the Jedi in action and knew she was damned good at her job, but hadn’t realized that she had been a certifiable badass since she was only a Jedi Padawan, taking down a powerful Dark Jedi on Tython, who had defeated even her Master.

Of course, trying to nail down the story of their origins was difficult.

So far, he had found Reanden Taerich’s academy records from his early recruitment into the Imperial Military, noting he had almost immediately been snatched up by Imperial Intelligence. Top marks, top aptitude scores, a reputation for ruthlessness and clever improvisation in the field, and a small flag for his apparent hatred of Force-users. Kovach supposed he couldn’t blame the older agent — he would hate Force-users too if he’d had the Wrath for a brother. But his records had been wiped clean shortly thereafter, with only the odd mention of a classified mission for a few years before it appeared he dropped off the map entirely for five years. He resurfaced on Hutta only a few years ago, under orders from Keeper to ensure Nem’ro allied with the Empire. There was no mention of a wife or lover, nor of any children, in the Imperial archives.

If Imperius is his son, then he should have been flagged as Force-sensitive at birth and registered with the Korriban Academy, Kovach mused. Taerich must have gone back and erased the data to keep his children hidden. On a whim, he still ran a search for Sorand Taerich, and got nothing. Xaja Taerich’s only results were of an Imperial prisoner record, and a hit notice for her head after she assassinated the Emperor.

He frowned as he accessed Korriban’s records, looking for the recruit who would become Darth Imperius. But of course, the boy had been brought to the Academy as a fifteen-year-old slave, and had said almost nothing about his origins. Even the name he had used (when not being addressed as ‘slave’ by Harkun) had only been “Rand.” The Sith Lord who had plucked the human out of the slave pens hadn’t known where he had come from — she had just informed the traders holding him that he would be going with her, and killed the first one to object.

But the Sith said that the boy claimed the slavers had killed his father in front of him. It was why he had embraced the Dark Side to kill in revenge. Kovach frowned — was Cipher Nine actually Imperius’ father? Or had the teenager been mistaken?

He shook his head and opened up another screen, slicing into Republic archives. No mention of Reanden Taerich or Sorand Taerich here either, but Xaja Taerich had plenty of results. He sighed as he scrolled through HoloNet report after report about the legendary Jedi Knight who had killed Darth Angral, convinced Lord Scourge to defect; led the Jedi forces on Corellia; assassinated the Emperor; killed Grand Moff Kilran; fought and won against Revan himself… had personally put Kovach in an armlock and driven her knee into his back until he had confessed to Theron Shan who he was truly working for. He’d never forgiven her for that. His back still ached where she had knelt on him, driving all one hundred pounds of her body weight into his kidneys and growling angry threats into his ear.

He shook his head and skimmed past the public reports of the Jedi’s heroism. No birth certificate — perhaps she hadn’t been born as a Republic citizen. Her identicard had no homeworld listed, nor parents or living kin. He frowned, then sliced into the Jedi Archives, grateful that Saresh had made the Order keep their records open to the Republic. Here, he found the legal document of custody transferal, signed by her mother when she was handed over to the Jedi Order. Why didn’t her father sign the form as well? Did he not know about his daughter being handed over? But at least now there was a name for the mother — Airna Taerich, with no evidence of a maiden name, and a classified name for her husband.

An idea suddenly struck Kovach’s mind, and he grinned as he accessed the SIS’s archives again with his own credentials. Theron Shan’s files had been made accessible when he was identified as a person of interest in Master Taerich’s escape from Zakuul. He wasn’t too interested in looking for the rogue agent’s own backstory — he wanted what Theron had compiled on Taerich before recruiting her for the Korriban attack. Despite his half-baked execution plans, Theron had always been meticulous in his research for big operations like that.

He was briefly surprised to note that Captain Korin, the privateer who had joined the op as well, had no files under Theron’s stack of research. Perhaps Theron had wiped that data? But he left Master Taerich’s up — she was legally dead, after all, and there was no reason to hide her identity. He shrugged and turned his attention to the Jedi’s file, silently thanking Theron for doing his work for him.

Training records… service records… Oh, a Sacking survivor. Kovach almost felt pity for the Jedi at that. Trained by Yvaine Allende and Orgus Din, both deceased… Oh, that’s interesting. The Green Jedi of Corellia claimed that she was the child of one of their own and therefore Corellian, despite a reported birth world of Lavisar. Airna Taerich, were you a Corellian Jedi? Then why was your child given to Coruscant?

He accessed Corellian citizenship records and grinned. Jackpot. Airna Drallig had been a Corellian Jedi, and had been about the right age to be Xaja Taerich and Sorand Taerich’s mother. But she had reportedly left Corellia less than a year before her daughter’s birth, seduced by an Imperial spy, and had died in Imperial space a decade ago. At least now we have the mother identified — and she’s no longer a concern. He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his hand over his chin. Well, my little red haired Jedi, how were you and Imperius connected before Ziost?

He cross-referenced the data on Taerich and Imperius, and nodded when he saw they had wound up working together on Manaan, and then on Rakata Prime, and again on Rishi and Yavin IV. He raised an eyebrow when he saw they had been a part of the respective attacks on Korriban and Tython, and in the reclamation battles. And Cipher Nine was working with them… did you know they were your children, Agent?

Captain Korin had been a part of that entire gong show as well. As far as Kovach was concerned, the snarky, flirtatious smuggler was a person of interest. He ran a search through the SIS databases again, and raised an eyebrow. None of Theron’s research was there… but Korin’s name came up frequently in other records. He had earned both the respect and the hatred of several crime groups, it seemed, including the infamous Rogun the Butcher. On a whim, Kovach accessed the compiled data from Rogun’s slicers and felt his jaw drop. Rogun had managed to access the most information on Korin while hunting the spacer down… including a homeworld of Lavisar, a mention of a deceased mother and missing brother, and two listed surnames. The spacer frequently used Korin Drallig to get around, but there was a mention within the archives of Korin Taerich.

You can’t be… it’s too much of a coincidence. Kovach looked back into Lavisarian records, accessing files from before the small planet had been overtaken by the Empire. No official marriage certificates, but there was a census record of one Reanden Taerich and Airna Taerich, and three birth certificates — one for a daughter who was reported deceased months later in a speeder accident, and two for sons, reported missing after their mother’s death at the hands of raiders. Xaja Taerich, Korin Taerich, Sorand Taerich. This entire family is ridiculous.

Kovach immediately compiled the necessary data and made two copies of the files. One was sent to Darth Vowrawn, as per the Sith Lord’s directions — the other was encrypted and sent to Saresh. She would want to know this information.

The Eternal Fleet ship lurked just outside of Dantooine’s immediate orbit. Yes, this was where Satele Shan’s ship had gone — they had arrived just in time to see the Defender fly into the atmosphere. “Why would the former Grand Master of the Jedi Order go to a planet that her Order abandoned earlier in the war?” The Knight-Captain paced through the bridge, frowning in thought.

“After leaving the same planet where Cipher Nine is reputed to have taken the assassin and the terrorist.” The blue holo figure of one of the Overwatch overseers crossed his arms. “Interesting that a Jedi Master and an Imperial spy should be in league.”

“What updates are there from the other ship?”

“The Phantom was tracked to Nar Shaddaa, but I suspect your other ship lost it and became confused with another vessel. The ship that our people on the surface apprehended was the Duchess, a private civilian ship owned by a gambler, and not the Shadow. The ship was still searched, but it had come in from Corellia, and there were no signs of any passengers — merely the captain, her first mate, and a droid they seem to have modelled after our own, SCORPIO.” The overseer started pacing over the holotransmitter. “And when our agents investigated the Shrine of Healing on Voss, they found evidence that Shan and Taerich had been there, but had departed swiftly.”

“Could Cipher Nine have changed his ship’s identity?” The Knight-Captain frowned as she mulled over the options.

“Unlikely. Such a task would be nearly impossible, especially that quickly. And he was nowhere to be seen on the ship, even after performing a bioscan.” The overseer stopped pacing for a moment. “We will continue to look for the Shadow and Cipher Nine, but that is not your concern. If Master Shan is returning to a planet that the Jedi have historically had a claim to, perhaps the Order did not abandon their enclaves as initially reported.”

“You think the Order still has a presence on Dantooine?”

“I would place money on it. And if Master Shan is fleeing there, perhaps she is attempting to hide the assassin there, at least. Taerich was also a member of the Order and would try to hide among her own people.”

The Knight-Captain nodded, thoughts of glory for being the one to capture one of the terrible Outlanders flitting through her mind. “What are your orders?”

“Search the planet until you find whatever hole the Jedi are hiding in, look for Taerich and Shan, and then burn it to the ground. Take Master Shan alive — we will have answers from her.”