Chapter Text
As Quinlan and Vythia entered the Halls of Healing, they were immediately met by Master Vokara Che. The blue Twi'lek woman started to greet them, got one look at Vythia, and turned to snap orders at her assistants. That was a bit unusual, but Quinlan supposed the situation warranted it. Most medics and healers automatically raised their voices when giving orders, but Vokara was almost never heard to speak loudly. Well – unless you got on her nerves too much, and then she raised her voice just a little, in controlled, level tones that were somehow more unnerving than if she'd screamed.
At any rate, Vokara Che did raise her voice today, and as a result the healers descended on Vythia and then on Quinlan. In less than a minute, the Shadow found himself sitting on a bed in a small, white-painted room, while a young apprentice healer fluttered around him, asking questions and tending to his arm. She was obviously nervous, probably because his Force-signature was chaotic right now, and was even more obviously trying not to show how nervous she was.
Quinlan decided not to point it out. It was tiring, though, and he was glad when the apprentice finished wrapping a new brace around his wrist and left the room.
With nothing else to do, the Jedi Shadow flopped back on the mattress and stared at the flowery patterns on border between ceiling and wall. At some point, he started to count the three-centimeter ceiling tiles.
Only a quarter of an hour passed before Vokara Che entered the room, once more with her aura of unbreakable calm. "Master Vos, I will be with you momentarily." And she left again, pausing only to give him her trademark, reassuring smile.
Quinlan was not fooled. While Master Che took excellent care of her patients, and was famed all over the galaxy for her Force-healing abilities, she also had a bit of a vengeful streak. People who ended up under her care more frequently than she deemed reasonable found themselves given extra mandatory health-related restrictions. This was also the case when people ended up in the Halls for reasons which Vokara Che found completely unreasonable – say, for example, if someone ended up with a broken arm because said person miscalculated a Force-jump executed for the purpose of pranking a fellow student.
Quinlan had been suspended from lightsaber practice – and any kind of sparring – for a week longer than was strictly necessary for that one. Master Tholme hadn't even questioned the 'medical' orders, because they suited his purposes. His padawan was unable to attend saber or sparring class, which meant that Quinlan had more time to study, which meant that Tholme could more easily keep an eye on him.
"Admittedly," Quinlan said to the hundred and seventy-eighth ceiling tile, "that one was more than justified."
Naturally, Master Che chose that moment to come back into the room. "If you are speaking about the broken arm you gained while trying to frighten Master Fisto, then you would be correct."
Quinlan sat up and almost asked how she'd known, but decided to close his mouth instead. Some things just had to be accepted as fact. Coruscant was a planet, the Jedi Temple was ancient, lightsabers were awesome, and Vokara Che had way more insight than was reasonable or fair.
The Twi'lek woman pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. For nearly a minute, she pinned him with her unnervingly perceptive gaze. "Your Force-shields are all but nonexistent right now," she said.
"Yeah."
"I was not asking you," Vokara pointed out. "I was telling you." She reached over and touched his left arm. "This injury was given with a weapon steeped in darkness, and the Dark Side has been used on you . . . Sith lightning?"
"Yeah, but you should have seen the other guy," Quinlan told her. "Well – woman, actually."
"Quinlan Vos," the Chief Healer said severely. "What in the galaxy happened?"
He sighed, relenting. "Can I give you the shortened version?"
#
Hunter stood in the middle of the small room, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the Jedi masters, who were conferring in low voices. The sergeant and his team had been here for over an hour already, first giving their report and then answering questions and variations of the same questions.
Somehow, in between all of that, Tech had found the time to learn and communicate to his teammates through typed messages a few things that he probably wasn't supposed to know, such as the military history of all the Council members who were present, the names of all the Council members who were not present, and the fact that this room was not where the Council usually met. Apparently, their regular meeting place was much bigger.
Hunter had been surprised to see General Shaak Ti here. The Bad Batch had seen her a few times around Tipoca City since the war began, and figured Kamino was her permanent assignment, but none of them had known that she was on the Council.
Next to Hunter, Wrecker shifted and rocked back on his heels a few times. A Tholothian general named Adi Gallia had offered all of them chairs, but the commandos preferred to stand while giving their reports. Despite that, the hour plus that they'd been here was taking a toll on Wrecker's ability to stand still.
A Cerean Jedi – Hunter had forgotten his name, somehow – murmured something to General Windu, who nodded and looked thoughtfully at each of the commandos. "Is there anything else that any of you would like to add?" he asked.
"Uhh . . ." Wrecker squinted thoughtfully for a long moment before finally shaking his head. "Nope."
General Windu nodded an acknowledgement and looked at Hunter, who hesitated as he thought back over what he had already reported. Vythia, the Prince, Nar Shaddaa, Malachor, Zenaya, Aantonaii, Nar Shaddaa and the Prince and Zenaya again –
Hunter had brushed over Aantonaii as much as possible, but the Jedi masters must have noticed, because they'd waited until he finished and then questioned his teammates closely. Hunter still wasn't sure why he was so uncomfortable with the idea of describing what had happened, but assumed it was for the same reason, whatever that was, that he didn't want to describe what Quinlan had done to Prince Vito.
"I don't think there's anything else, General," he answered. "Was there something particular you wanted to know?"
"Many things, we wish to know," Master Yoda said, and tapped his gimer stick against the floor, which he could just reach from his short chair. He'd been gazing at the polished marble with no apparent interest in the conversation for the past five minutes. "And wish to tell us, you do not?"
Hunter wasn't sure he liked how knowing some of these Jedi were. "Not particularly, sir," he admitted.
"Why not?" Tech asked curiously, and Hunter shot him a quick, repressive look.
The six Jedi in the room – even General Fisto – did not comment, instead watching the commandos as though they expected one of them to explain.
The silence stretched until Crosshair folded his arms and muttered, "We haven't left anything out."
"Defensive, you are," Yoda observed.
Shaak Ti blinked and glanced sideways, as if she disapproved of such an open lack of diplomacy, but the Grandmaster only hummed and thumped his gimer stick against the floor again before narrowing his eyes with a shrewd look. "Defensive of Quinlan Vos, you are?"
"Him?" Crosshair scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. "Not a chance."
"Why do you ask, General Windu?" Hunter cut in, before anyone could call the sniper out for lying. When the general in question raised an eyebrow, Hunter clarified. "If there was anything we wanted to add, I mean."
"Because you are holding back," General Windu said bluntly. "And I believe there are other details that should be discussed."
Shaak Ti gestured at the commandos. "You may not realize that certain details are important," she explained.
"That is true." Tech looked up from his datapad, which he had turned on again for some reason. "However, I do not believe we failed to mention anything of importance. Besides, General Windu asked if there was anything else we would like to add. Clearly, there is not."
Kit Fisto beamed.
"I see." Shaak Ti glanced down at the datapad which lay on the small table in front of her. "You do not wish to discuss what happened with Prince Vito?"
"I told you that Quinlan read Vito's mind," said Hunter.
"You did," General Windu agreed. "But you did not report that you tried to stop him."
Hunter shifted. "No, sir."
"Or that he compelled your teammates so harshly that they were in physical pain."
". . . No, sir." Hunter met the general's gaze, but only held it for an instant before looking down.
The silence stretched again, until Hunter had to resist the impulse to draw his knife, just so he could have something to do with his hands.
"Why would none of you think to report this?" General Gallia asked.
Hunter didn't have an answer ready, so he turned to his teammates. Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the floor as though it had personally offended him, Wrecker fidgeted a little, and Tech tilted his head in apparent thought. None of the Jedi spoke, apparently willing to wait for an answer no matter how long it took.
A full twenty seconds later, Tech cleared his throat. "Well," he said coolly. "I cannot speak for the others, but I personally did not inform you of that because I assumed that a summarized report would be sufficient. Certain details did not seem relevant."
General Windu leaned forward, his intense gaze focused on Tech. "Explain."
"Quinlan compelled us so that we could attempt to kill Zenaya, who was forcing us to remain motionless," Tech said. He hesitated, then added, "Admittedly, the side effect of that was excruciating pain; but, unlike Zenaya, he was not compelling us to do anything that we were not already attempting to do."
"Hm." The Cerean Jedi – Ki-Adi Mundi, Hunter learned by glancing down at Tech's screen – turned to General Windu. "The question is whether Quinlan Vos truly knew that, or whether he was simply using them for his own ends."
Tech and Hunter exchanged looks, and Crosshair clenched one hand at his side briefly and muttered, "Maybe you should ask him that."
"We intend to," General Gallia said, her tone reassuring. "This situation is highly unusual, and merits careful discussion and thought. But first we wanted to hear your team's side of it." She paused, head bowed in thought. "Sergeant, I have a question. Zenaya used you to help her in the final ritual that allowed her to return to her body."
"Yes, General."
"Why do you suppose that is?"
"She . . ." Hunter paused to collect his thoughts. "I think it was because I was the one who stabbed her, back in her palace."
Kit Fisto, who was leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed casually over the other, nodded. "You believe it was a form of revenge?"
"Maybe, General." Hunter shrugged. "I can't think of another reason for it."
"But there were two more times after that in which she singled you out."
Hunter winced internally at the memory of her icy lips against his forehead. "Yes, sir. I assumed that was also in revenge."
"A reasonable conclusion," General Fisto agreed. "Sith have an overwhelming tendency to be obsessed with revenge. But some of us are concerned that there is more to it than that, especially because she made sure to attack you as she fell."
"I see." Tech adjusted his goggles. "You are referring to the possibility of another ritual?"
"Yes." The Nautolan tapped a long finger thoughtfully against his mouth. "I cannot imagine what, but it seems odd for her to be falling and yet go to the effort of giving you such a deliberately placed injury – especially given that Quinlan and your teammates had already received the exact same injury."
Hunter felt a chill at the idea of Zenaya performing a ritual on his team that none of them were aware of. He shifted, folding his arms over his chest.
Crosshair put a toothpick in his mouth – something he had managed to avoid doing until now – and frowned, gaze flickering to Kit Fisto. "Zenaya did things like that before, not connected to rituals."
"Please elaborate on that," Shaak Ti said.
"After the first ritual," Crosshair said. "She hadn't even possessed Vythia yet when Quinlan tried to stab her."
"Ugh, yeah." Wrecker shuddered. "That knife went right through her, and she didn't dodge or throw him aside or anything. She kinda hugged him instead."
"Yeah," murmured Hunter. "Zenaya was weird that way."
"Ah, you surprise me!" General Fisto stroked his chin. "From what you told me, I would have believed her to be a truly balanced individual."
None of the other Jedi masters looked amused, but Wrecker laughed and Hunter smirked a little.
"Made up, your mind is," Yoda said, looking at the Nautolan. "Convinced that aligned with the Light Side, Quinlan Vos still is, you are."
"I am perfectly convinced," General Fisto said.
"He killed nineteen innocent people," Shaak Ti reminded him. "This is what worries me, more than anything else."
Hunter shifted uncomfortably, feeling that he should say something – but he wasn't sure what. As it turned out, he didn't have to say anything, because Crosshair straightened up next to him.
"You weren't there," he said sharply, then stopped and cut his gaze to the side, as though in surprise at himself.
Shaak Ti turned to him, her grey-blue gaze intent.
"He's right," Wrecker said.
Hunter blinked in surprise and looked at Tech, but before either of them could agree out loud, Wrecker stepped forward, expression resolute.
Shooting an almost apologetic look at General Ti, Wrecker said, "None of you were in Trayus, or Aantonaii, or the other places we went to. Those places got in our heads, and we sure aren't Force-sensitive. You didn't have a Sith woman twisting your mind around and making you choose whether to watch someone get tortured an' killed, or using the Dark Side, just for a minute. And on Nar Shaddaa, Zenaya was gonna go through the city and execute a bunch of people if he didn't listen to her. Yeah, Quinlan kinda snapped, but it was after we were safe. He was tryin' to kill Zenaya, we all were. He wasn't tryin' to kill those people, he didn't want to or anything – you should'a seen how awful he felt about it after."
Hunter, who hadn't heard Wrecker talk so much in a long time, found himself watching his teammate in surprise as he waited for the Jedi's responses.
But the generals simply regarded Wrecker, who suddenly seemed to realize that he was the only one talking. He stepped backwards hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, and mumbled, "He's not a bad Jedi, 's all I'm saying."
"It's like he said, sir." Hunter turned to Yoda and took a deep breath before taking the plunge. "And even after everything, General, I still don't get what's so bad about just using the Dark Side. Maybe I should, but I don't. All I know is, Quinlan was scared of the idea, but by the time Zenaya was done using lightning on me, I didn't care what would happen if he turned to the Dark Side. I just wanted him to obey her so she'd stop. Pretty sure it was only because of us, and the other people in danger, that he listened to her at all."
After he stopped talking, there was the longest pause yet. Finally, General Yoda looked up at him. "Understand what you have been saying, we do. Careful, we must be, when Jedi use the Dark Side . . . but without compassion and understanding, we are not."
The sergeant was still translating that last sentence into understandable Basic when Yoda added, "One more question only, I have. Defend Quinlan Vos and his actions, do you, because friends, you are? Or feel that you must, do you?"
Hunter felt a flash of resentment at the insinuation that Quinlan would even think about influencing the commandos to defend him. "I don't feel that I must," he said, more sharply than he'd intended to. "I'm not even defending his actions, just telling you what happened, and why. Except for what happened with Prince Vito, every time Quinlan used the Dark Side, it was to save or help one of us."
"And a difference, his intention makes?" Yoda asked neutrally.
"Yes," Hunter said. "Seems to me there's a big difference between that and using the Force like Zenaya does."
Crosshair nodded, switching his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, and Wrecker folded his arms aggressively.
"We know what it is like to be compelled," said Tech. "We can assure you that we are not being compelled or influenced in any way."
The Jedi masters exchanged enigmatic looks, maybe communicating through the Force, or just waiting for someone else to speak first. Hunter didn't particularly care, but he did want to be done with the whole being questioned thing.
Crosshair took his toothpick out and was about to flick it away, but somehow managed to stop himself. He glanced at it bad-temperedly and slipped it into his belt.
"So," Hunter said, gesturing. "If there's nothing else, Generals . . .?"
"There is not," General Windu said, impassive as ever. "Clone Force Ninety-Nine, you are free to leave. Someone is waiting outside to escort you to the Halls of Healing. Thank you for your honesty."
Hunter escaped the room close on the heels of his team.
#
Quinlan, lounging against the wall just outside the entrance to the Halls of Healing, checked the huge, old-fashioned clock that hung opposite the door for the third time in as many minutes. It had been nearly two hours since the Bad Batch had gone to speak with the Council, and over an hour since Vokara Che kicked him out of the Halls.
She'd let him out surprisingly fast, all things considered, and hadn't said much about his Force-presence. Of course, Quinlan knew perfectly well that she would be making a report to the Council about it . . . a report which they would go over carefully before summoning him and Vythia to speak with them.
After Vokara Che released him, Quinlan had gone to his quarters to get an actual shower and change into clean clothes. Then he'd wandered around the Temple roof for a bit, until the uncomfortable looks he'd received from various padawans had gotten to be too much. When one too many younglings looked at him in apparent alarm, he went back to the Halls of Healing and decided to wait outside until Vythia was released from Vokara's tender care.
When asked, the assistant healer told him that Vythia would be only a few more minutes. Quinlan had been waiting for twenty. Biting back a yawn, the Jedi Shadow glanced down at his black clothes. He thought that maybe showing up in front of the Council to convince them that he had not gone full-on Dark Side, while wearing an entirely black outfit complete with a short, hooded cloak, was not the most politic decision he'd ever made. He also did not care.
Then Vokara Che's voice came through the door, and he straightened.
"You will return here soon?" the healer was asking.
"Perhaps," Vythia answered hesitantly. "If need be."
"Very well. Be in good health." The blue Twi'lek opened the door and bowed Vythia out, giving her the patented Vokara Che 'don't get hurt again' smile. "Master Vos, kindly escort Vythia to the guest quarters. A peaceful day to both of you."
The door shut, and Quinlan turned to regard Vythia, who looked better than earlier. She was standing upright again, even though she was still moving slower than usual and seemed reluctant to use her left arm. Her torn dress had been replaced with a brown robe.
Vythia endured his scrutiny for all of two seconds before raising an eyebrow. "Guest quarters?" she asked, gesturing for him to explain.
"Oh. I told the healers that you were a guest of the Jedi."
When she gave him an offended look, he sighed exaggeratedly. "It was to avoid confusion and make sure nobody misplaced you. Come on."
They walked upstairs to the guest quarters in the western quadrant, where Quinlan handed Vythia over to the middle-aged Jedi woman who was in charge of the guests in those rooms. Vythia looked bewildered when Quinlan started to leave – then, after a moment, she seemed to feel betrayed, probably by the fact that he would leave her, in the middle of the Jedi Temple, with yet another overbearing and motherly woman.
Quinlan sauntered off down the hall, humming, and grinned when he practically felt the glare he was sure Vythia was sending after him. He turned just enough to check – yep, she was glaring at him, all right – and then headed through a few of the main halls to see if he could scare up some old acquaintances. He didn't see anyone he recognized until he caught sight of Luminara, who was just leaving the Archives.
The Mirialan had several of her clone commanders with her, all of whom had datapads and were talking together in low voices. When Quinlan met Luminara's eyes, she bowed gracefully and smiled, but did not speak beyond a murmured greeting.
Assuming that she and her men were in the middle of planning a siege or invasion, Quinlan left them alone and checked his comm. No messages – which meant the Council was probably still occupied with grilling the commandos for intel. They should be finished pretty soon either way, though, because if the Jedi weren't, the commandos would be. Which meant that Quinlan and Vythia wouldn't have long before being summoned to speak with the Council. With that in mind, the Jedi Shadow headed out to the Havoc Marauder to get the padawans' lightsabers.
By the time he got back to the guest quarters, Vythia was standing in the hall, waiting for him. Quinlan couldn't keep from grinning a little. Somehow, in the storage room where clothes for guests were kept, Vythia had managed to find a long black dress with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt. She also wore a simple black headdress with a dark green stone dangling against her forehead, and had replaced the gold bands on her head tentacles with black ones.
"Changing your color scheme?" he asked.
"I was not especially fond of gold in the first place."
"And Zenaya was."
"Yes."
"I see," Quinlan said. "And what about the black?"
"Zenaya may prefer it," she said. "But so did I, even before."
"Gotcha." He paused. "You do realize that with that getup, you look rather like a Sith lady yourself."
Vythia gave Quinlan's choice of outfit a judgmental look and eloquently said nothing, which was fair. They stopped talking after that, instead wandering along the hall in silence for another few minutes, until Kit Fisto commed and told them the Council was ready for them.
Quinlan stood in the center of the small room, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for Master Yoda to speak. Only six members of the Council were present, so he was able to face them all at once, which was a nice change of pace.
Since he had entered, a good seven minutes ago, not one of the Jedi who were present had spoken. Most of them had their eyes closed, and he assumed they were seeking guidance from the Force – but every so often, one of them would look up, either at him or at Vythia, who stood beside him.
Vythia hadn't so much as shifted, and Quinlan decided that she had more nerve than he'd given her credit for. Not many non-Jedi could face the combined scrutiny of Council members without fidgeting or speaking, but she stood regally, looking as relaxed as if she were standing on a beach and gazing out at the ocean.
"Heard about your mission, we have." Master Yoda came suddenly to life. "Told us everything they knew, the members of Clone Force Ninety-Nine have. From both of you, we now wish to hear it."
Quinlan bowed. "Yes, Master Yoda. But first there are two things I'd like to bring to your attention, if I may."
When the Grandmaster nodded, Quinlan opened his satchel and withdrew the lightsabers. "I took these from Grakkus the Hutt. They belonged to a padawan named Aneeya, and to the four younglings who were traveling with her. Aurra Sing killed them."
"Padawan Aneeya?" Master Windu leaned forward, hand outstretched, and Quinlan approached to give him the lightsabers. "Her body was found, along with that of one of the younglings, but the others were never located. Their clan leader senses that they are still alive, but we were never able to trace them. You received no clues as to the younglings' whereabouts?"
"Not that I noticed," said Quinlan, surprised. "I – thought they were dead. The youngling whose lightsaber I read was sure they were. And he was shot in the back and killed right afterwards."
"Jensi was shot in the back," Mace Windu said. "But based on the evidence at the location, Calipha, Jinx, and Omer were drugged and kidnapped."
"If they're still alive . . ." Quinlan half-closed his eyes, thinking through the brief vision he'd received from the saber hilt. "Look for everyone Aurra Sing has teamed up with more than once. She was definitely talking to someone she trusted. . . And she was getting the sabers for Grakkus – she hasn't worked for him very long. If you can find out who she worked with within the last year, and that person had an interest in capturing Jedi kids, we might have a chance."
"Do that immediately, we will," Yoda said, and looked at Kit Fisto. "Heard your thoughts and received your decision, the Council has. Free to leave, you are. This task, you will take?"
"Assuredly." Kit sprang to his feet. "I will report to the younglings' clan leader and see what we can do about finding them. It is a small chance, but it is the only one we have."
"Yes." Mace Windu gave him the lightsabers. "Take these and return them to their clan's lodging. If we can find the younglings, they will be pleased to have their weapons back."
Kit bowed and left the room, and Yoda eyed Quinlan astutely. "Two things there were, you said?"
"Yes, Master." Quinlan stepped back to the center of the room. "The second thing is that I brought Vythia to the Temple as an informant, and have promised her complete freedom in exchange for her telling us everything she knows."
Yoda's ears lifted, Mace Windu frowned slightly, and Ki-Adi Mundi said, "Master Vos, you did not have the authority to make that promise, especially to a woman such as this."
"I respectfully disagree," Quinlan said, turning to face him. "As a Shadow, I have the authority to create and maintain underworld contacts without the Jedi Council's input or authorization."
"Underworld contacts such as petty criminals, yes," said Mundi. "But in cases such as this one, where Sith artifacts and rituals were being used –"
He trailed off thoughtfully, and Quinlan said, "Given that I made the promise in good faith, I hope the Jedi Council will uphold it. . . especially since I did not have access to the Council and its advice at the time I made it."
This was not technically true, because he'd been within potential range when he made that promise, but the Council hadn't answered either time he contacted them. Based on the faint gleam in Yoda's eyes, the Grandmaster knew it, too.
"Explain your reasoning," Mace Windu suggested, sitting back.
"I believed it was more important to gain all the knowledge we could about Zenaya than it was to imprison one Nautolan woman who made a stupid mistake and will never repeat it."
Vythia finally moved, just long enough to shoot him a mildly irked look.
"The greatest teacher, failure is," Yoda said. He studied Vythia, who gazed back without even blinking. "Believe her to be a threat to the Jedi, I do not. Believe her to be a threat to innocents –" He narrowed his eyes, but she never looked away, and at last he inclined his head and finished, "I do not."
"Very well," Master Mundi said. "I will abide by your decision, Grandmaster. Master Vos, regarding the original reason for your mission, we received a message from Jabba the Hutt this morning. He has convinced Grakkus to remove the bounties he placed on you and Sergeant Hunter."
"Grakkus is still alive?" Quinlan asked.
"Yes." Mace Windu looked as though he thought this was unfortunate. "Grakkus was furious, and I recommend you avoid Nar Shaddaa and Nal Hutta for the rest of your life, but he did agree to lift the bounty, given that you ensured the removal of the Hutt Cartel's most powerful competitor."
"That was Cad Bane who removed the Prince," Quinlan said. "The Hutts should thank Dooku for getting him out of the way and then they should go join the Separatists."
"To avoid that, we would prefer," Yoda commented.
Quinlan sighed. "Okay, so the Hutt Cartel is happy. Great. Now, moving on to the important part of the mission . . ."
"Yes," said Shaak Ti. "Please, both of you, be seated and give us your report."
Quinlan kept it as short as he possibly could, but the other masters kept breaking in with questions and clarifications, some of which they addressed to Vythia. As a result, he ended up giving his report in bits and pieces, most of which were not in order of occurrence.
"Many Jedi felt a disturbance in the Force the night before last," said Adi Gallia. "From Sergeant Hunter's report, we learned that it was Zenaya's return to her own body."
Vythia studied her intently. "But you did not sense the first ritual?"
"No." The Tholothian woman rested a finger on her lips, considering. "Although, from what Quinlan says, Malachor is so steeped in the Dark Side that we would not have felt it."
"Curious, I am," Yoda said. "Leave your team alive, why did Zenaya, hm? Know why, do either of you?"
"I do." Vythia turned to the grandmaster, and Quinlan could tell she was eager to take this opportunity to prove that the Sith woman was still alive. "Zenaya had very clear thoughts about Quinlan and the commandos, and I saw some of them. While we were on Malachor, she knew that the clones would be useful to her later on; and on Nar Shaddaa, once Quinlan started to obey her, she no longer cared about them – and she could not spare the energy to kill them."
Shaak Ti sent Quinlan a concerned look. "The clones were used against you."
"Yeah, and so was Aayla." Quinlan really didn't want to hear a lecture about attachments right now. "And Kit Fisto – and the commander of the Coruscant Guard. As I told you earlier, Zenaya was reading my mind. Anyone I am friends with –"
"No one on the Jedi Council is your friend, then," Adi Gallia interrupted with a faint smile. "Apart from Kit, that is, because none of the rest of us were threatened. And we are mere acquaintances . . . but what of Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
The Shadow frowned, realizing that Zenaya had never even called him to mind. "She doesn't know about Obi-Wan," he said slowly.
"I see." Mace Windu was leaning forward now, chin resting in one hand. "So, it is not that she threatened all those you were friends with, but those you were closest to."
Quinlan thought about that. ". . . Yeah."
Now he fully expected one of them to say something about the dangers of attachments, but to his surprise, nobody did. Instead, Yoda asked, again, about the ritual Vythia used. The questioning continued for another full hour before the Jedi Council turned their focus to the commandos and their place in Zenaya's plan – whatever that was.
"Vythia Archane," Master Mundi said. "You are certain that Zenaya has no further use for the clones?"
"I am certain."
Shaak Ti shook her head, the beads on her headdress clicking together. "The clones seemed to think so, as well. But can you explain the knife cuts?"
"And the dreams," said Adi Gallia. "Those concern me. Zenaya cut three of the clones to make Hunter and you, Quinlan, believe they were dead."
I know, Quinlan didn't say. "Yeah, she did."
"And these same clones saw some of what happened in Aantonaii."
Yoda stirred. "Explained, that can be. Not unheard of, this kind of thing is. Saw through Quinlan's eyes, they seemed to, because drawing on the Force powerfully, he was. . . and affected by the Force, all of Malachor is."
Adi Gallia nodded her understanding.
"I was wondering about that," Quinlan muttered. "That's all it was?"
"Believe so, I do." Yoda paused, then added, "Wrong, I could be."
Quinlan was about to make a comment about how reassuring that was, but fortunately, Master Ti spoke first. "Vythia, presuming that there was no ritual involved, do have any ideas as to why she did that?"
"Yes, because I would have done the same," Vythia said. "If I wanted Quinlan to know that he had not won, just when he hoped he had – that is one of the first things that would have occurred to me."
Quinlan eyed her. She frowned.
"Searched for Zenaya in the Force, we did," Yoda said. "Felt her briefly, some of the Council did. Saw her using Sith lightning on you, Quinlan, I did . . . And felt her die, we all did."
"You thought you did!" The Jedi Shadow paused, clenched a hand at his side, and made himself calm his voice. "Master Yoda, Zenaya is still alive. Vythia and I both have Force-bonds with her as a result of the ritual . . . they're weaker now than they were, but we know she hasn't died. And Vythia already explained that Zenaya's plan depended on my trying to kill her so that you would believe she was dead!"
Yoda regarded him for a long, long moment. "Felt her die, I did," he replied, almost sternly. "But believe her to be dead, I do not. Hmph." He frowned at the floor for a long moment, then turned to his fellow Council members. "Believe her to be alive, Master Fisto does, as well. Your thoughts, what are they?"
"I am inclined to believe she is dead," Ki-Adi Mundi replied. "The strength of the attack Quinlan used was excessive . . . And yet." He paused, then shook his head. "Master Gallia?"
"Quinlan and Vythia are convinced that she is alive." Adi Gallia gave Quinlan an almost apologetic look before adding, "But I cannot ignore the fact that their emotions are very heavily involved in this belief."
Vythia shifted, ready to argue, and Quinlan stopped her with a quick look.
"Master Ti?" said Mace Windu.
The Togrutan woman looked piercingly at Vythia, then at Quinlan. "Two nights ago, I would have sworn Zenaya was dead," she said in her thoughtful way. "But Master Vos has more experience with the Sith than any of us here do, except for Master Yoda. While I am still uncertain, I believe that she is still alive."
Mace Windu nodded his agreement. "It seems that Zenaya, for all her foresight, did not expect Vythia to fight back as she did, or to learn to understand her plans." He turned to Vythia and added, "If you had not brought back this evidence, we would have had every reason to believe she was dead."
Quinlan only just managed to keep from laughing, but he couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice. "Four of you believe she is alive, and two of you are undecided. So, Zenaya could just have avoided all that effort of trying to turn me to the Dark Side?"
"No," Vythia said, quellingly. "She would still have tried. Remember, Quinlan, an apprentice would have served her well."
Mace Windu nodded, folding his hands in his sleeves. "And you do realize that whether or not we believe she is alive might be irrelevant."
When Quinlan exchanged a look with Vythia, he realized that they had already both understood as much.
"Why?" he asked anyway. His voice felt hollow.
"We already tried to find her." Master Windu rested his steepled fingers against his chin. "After we received your report, the Council meditated together for nearly six hours, but no matter how far we sought, we could not find a single trace of her."
"Just like we can't find Sidious." Quinlan folded his arms against the hollow feeling as it spread to his chest. ". . . I did mention that Zenaya offered to teach me how to find Sidious, didn't I?"
"Mentioned it, you did." Yoda hummed. "Perhaps telling the truth, she was, perhaps not."
"Yeah," said Quinlan heavily. "But what if she was telling the truth?"
Yoda shook his head, eyes closed. "If taken her offer, you had . . . a Sith lord, you would have eventually become."
Quinlan realized he'd known that, too.
"It is possible that you would have found Sidious," Shaak Ti told him. "But then Zenaya would have replaced him, and continued his work. As it is . . ."
"As it is," Quinlan said. "We don't know where either of them are."
"But we can guess," Vythia said. "Zenaya most likely returned to Malachor. Or another of the ancient planets of the Sith – perhaps Korriban, or Dromund Kaas . . ."
But although the Council spent another half hour discussing possible ways to find her, in the end they decided exactly the way Quinlan had been afraid they would and the way Zenaya had counted on: the Jedi would not actively search for her. Zenaya's power was undeniable, but she was just one woman, and the Jedi could not drop out of the war and go on a months-long chase in an attempt to defeat her – especially since she did not want to be found. If they started receiving reports of her, it would be different, but although she was a threat, she was not the greatest threat that existed to the Republic at the moment.
"Great," Quinlan muttered, feeling Vythia's sharp disappointment and trying to mask his own. "Well. Maybe Zenaya will decide that Sidious is incompetent and unworthy of being a Sith lord and she'll challenge him and then they'll kill each other."
Shaak Ti smiled ever so faintly. "I admit the thought had crossed my mind."
To Quinlan's surprise, the Council was very lenient about his near-Fall. After a short discussion – it was so short that he suspected they had had their actual discussion earlier in the day – they decided that he should spend the next two weeks at the Temple to regain his balance in the Force, and speak with the entire Council before leaving Coruscant. Ki-Adi Mundi also recommended that he speak to a mind healer, which Quinlan had absolutely no intention of doing. He didn't say that, though, only thanked the Council quietly.
Yoda narrowed his eyes at him, as though he had heard his thoughts, and clasped both hands on top of his gimer stick.
"And what about you, Vythia?" Shaak Ti asked. "What do you intend to do now?"
Vythia, who had been looking increasingly tired for the past hour, took a moment to respond. "What do you wish for me to do?"
Shaak Ti glanced at Mace Windu, then said, "I would ask, should you gain any further knowledge about Sith rituals or active cults, that you inform the Jedi Order immediately. But whether you decide to or not, we will keep Quinlan's promise to you."
Vythia looked down in silent thought, then got to her feet, walked to the nearest window, and stood gazing up at the unending rush of traffic. Behind her, the Jedi masters exchanged looks.
Quinlan waited for nearly a minute before wandering across to join the Nautolan woman. "Vythia?"
She glanced at him as if he wasn't there. "I know what to do, but not how," she murmured, then turned back to face the Council. "Quinlan promised I would be free, and you are honoring that," she said. "But I will not consider myself to be free until Zenaya is truly dead. I brought her back to life, and now must spend the rest of my life undoing what I have done."
Mace Windu looked startled, but he masked it quickly. "An admirable decision," he said, inclining his head. "How do you propose to do that?"
Vythia shook her head with a faint, cynical smile. "I do not know where to begin. I still have some contacts that I could use from my time on Nar Shaddaa . . ." She hesitated, then turned to Master Ti. "Perhaps I will attempt to locate some of these cults you mentioned. But right now, I do not truly know."
"We understand." Shaak Ti stood. "You are welcome to stay at the Temple for a few nights, until you are healed; or, you may leave as soon as you wish."
Quinlan could tell that Vythia was surprised by the offer, and just a little suspicious about it, but all she said was, "I thank you."
Shaak Ti inclined her head. "Whatever you decide, may the Force be with you."
Vythia gave her an almost bitter smile.
The Council members left the room, except for Master Yoda. Quinlan, sensing that the Grandmaster had one or two final things to say, decided to stay where he was. Vythia hesitated, then came to stand next to him.
As soon as the door closed behind Master Gallia, Yoda got to his feet and hobbled towards the two of them. "Wary you must be, young Vythia," he said forebodingly. "Enemies you have already, and many more will you find, if this path, you pursue."
Vythia looked down at him and raised a supremely unconcerned eyebrow.
"Yes, yes." Yoda scoffed and shook his head, grumbling. "Know this already, you do – a warning, you do not need . . . Hmph! So confident, younglings always are."
Vythia blinked.
"Received Master Che's reports, I have," Yoda went on. "Surprised, I was."
Apparently that was all he intended to say, because he fell silent and set to work studying the top of his staff. Thirty seconds later, he had still said nothing.
"You were surprised . . .?" Quinlan prompted.
"Yes," Yoda said, looking up. "Surprised, I was, by Master Che's belief that a Force-sensitive, Vythia is."
"What?!" Quinlan and Vythia demanded at the same time.
"But Zenaya didn't –"
"I cannot still be Force-sensitive –"
Yoda withdrew a datapad from his robes and held it up with a tired sigh, like he didn't have the time or energy to explain.
Quinlan snatched it and read through Master Che's report hastily while Vythia peered over his shoulder. "Hey . . ." he said. "It looks like you healed a lot faster than you should have . . ."
"I am capable of reading," she retorted, but she still sounded shocked. "I do not understand how that is possible. Zenaya is gone now, and I have no inherent strength in the Force –"
"Yeah . . ." Quinlan handed the datapad back to Master Yoda. "I don't know about that, Vythia. Maybe not in the way you'd normally think of it."
"What do you mean?"
"Well . . . maybe you have some small abilities left . . . passive ones, like healing yourself and sensing threats. You did complete the ritual."
She stared back at him, then blinked in surprise.
"Yes, complete it you did." Yoda shook his head disapprovingly. "Tried to become something you were not, you did. Do such a thing again, do not. To terrible things, it can lead."
Vythia looked down at him again, not even commenting on the obvious statement. "I will not," she said soberly.
"Good, that is." Yoda nodded, then straightened suddenly, as if he'd remembered something. Turning, he rapped Quinlan across the shin with his gimer stick. "Take Master Mundi's advice into serious consideration, you should."
Quinlan sighed. "I will, Master."
"Hm." Yoda peered up at him and shook his head, ears lowering. "Believe you, I do not. Determined to avoid mind healers, you are. . . but Zenaya, the only part of the mission, she was not. Happened, other things did."
"I know, Master Yoda," Quinlan said.
"Know, do you?" Yoda held his gaze, then sighed tiredly, shaking his head. "Yes. Some things, you know. Some things, you do not. Clouded, the Force is, and our decisions . . . clear, they are not."
Quinlan hesitated, then seated himself cross-legged on the floor so he could look straight at the wizened Jedi. "Master Yoda, do you think the Council's decision to let me off so lightly was wrong?"
"No." For once, Yoda's answer was short and to the point. "Fell, you did, but not for yourself. Cautious, in the future, you must be – but think about it too much, you must not."
Quinlan nodded his understanding. He wanted to put the whole thing behind him, but at the same time, he didn't want to forget too readily.
He had just gotten to his feet when Yoda's ears lifted in amusement. "And if uncertain about you before, I was – uncertain, after speaking to the clones, I am not. Upset, they got, when question them about you, we did."
"Why?" Quinlan asked, unable to keep from wondering what kind of attitude the commandos would have shown at being cross-examined. Probably not a particularly respectful one.
"Because on Malachor, we were not," Yoda said, and started hobbling towards the door. "And because hinted that influencing them to defend you, you were, I did."
"What?" Quinlan stared at him. "Master Yoda, why in the galaxy would you do that?"
The grandmaster actually chortled. "Because sure of my decision, I was not. And a good way to see their true thoughts about you, it seemed."
Quinlan nodded grudgingly, then smirked. "Master Yoda, something tells me you were amused by their annoyance at that little trick of yours."
"Young upstarts, they are," Yoda agreed, complacently waiting for Quinlan to open the door. But as he started into the hall, his amusement faded and he sighed again. "Remember, young Quinlan – dangerous this game is that you play. All Shadows – wary, they must be, but you most of all. Psychometry . . . a dangerous gift, it is."
Quinlan didn't say anything, because he didn't have to. He knew Yoda could feel his whole-hearted agreement in the Force.
"The Shadow saying that Master Tholme was fond of, remember, do you?"
"How could I forget?" Quinlan followed Vythia out of the room and shut the door. "He said it constantly – 'That which you pretend to be, you may become'." He paused for a few seconds, but couldn't help adding, "So, wait, that means that if I pretend not to be affected by the Dark Side –"
Vythia laughed, then cut herself off as if in surprise at her own amusement.
"Difficult, you are being," Yoda said, shaking his head as he moved towards a narrow hall.
Quinlan grinned and opened his mouth, but Yoda interrupted without even turning around. "To apologize, do not bother. Feel, I can, that mean it, you do not."
Quinlan and Vythia went back to the Halls of Healing to see if the commandos would be finished any time in the near future. There, they learned that the Bad Batch had been released an hour ago and sent off to the dining hall, along with a group of padawans. Quinlan assumed that Wrecker was delighted by both things.
"They might be in the guest quarters by now," an assistant said helpfully. "Master Che encouraged them to rest for a while."
"Yes." Vokara Che breezed by, her arms full of clean linens, her robes billowing as she moved. "But they had no intention of staying in the guest quarters. Perhaps they returned to their shuttle, or have gone to visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains."
Quinlan thanked her and headed down the hallway. "Hopefully, they're not on the opposite side of the Temple," he said, by way of conversation.
"You could comm Hunter," Vythia reminded him, a bit dryly.
" . . . I know that." Actually, Quinlan had forgotten, because he almost never used his comm in the Temple. He slipped it out from the back of his fingerless right glove and contacted Hunter.
The sergeant picked up almost right away. "Quinlan. You done with the Council?"
"Yeah, see, that was just the first three-hour segment. Now they're taking a caf break and after that we're gonna –"
Vythia leaned closer. "Yes, Hunter, we are finished speaking with the Council."
"That's what I figured."
"Right," said Quinlan, pulling his comm away from Vythia. "Hunter, where are you guys?"
"In the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Somewhere towards the middle." Hunter paused. "Well, that's where I am, anyway."
"Where's everyone else?"
"Eh, Wrecker's chasing the kids around, Tech's off scanning plants . . . and last I saw of Crosshair –" There was a rustle of plants. "Yeah. He's about four stories up, perched on the railing of one of those walkways."
Quinlan snorted. "Okay. We'll be with you shortly."
As he put away his comm, Vythia asked, "Are there truly a thousand fountains in a single room?"
"I don't know, but I'll bet you'd have to spend a long time in there to find them all."
Rather than going down and around to reach the main entrance, Quinlan studied the hall he was in. There were probably a hundred entrances to the room, which meant that there were at least two doors in every long corridor.
"Here," he said, when he saw what appeared to be a decorative wooden plaque. He touched it, and the hidden stone door next to it opened soundlessly.
Vythia followed him inside, then stopped short. She didn't say anything, but he felt the flash of surprise and awe from her.
Stepping out onto a stone balcony, which had been carefully designed to look like wood, wound about with vines, Quinlan took a deep breath. The scent of earth and plants and cool water was almost intoxicating, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the railing for a long moment.
The rushing sound of the large waterfall at the northern side of the room, currently invisible because of the massive trees, filled the air, but it didn't drown out the lighter sounds of the other waterfalls and fountains scattered throughout the area.
"I haven't been here in years," Quinlan said at last. "And I can't begin to think why."
Vythia's eyes were wider than usual as she looked up at the ceiling, which was painted in varying greys and blues that mimicked the sky. "It is so large," she said. "I cannot see the other side."
"Oh, yeah, it's huge. And it kind of . . . shifts a little." Quinlan gestured vaguely. "I used to think the Jedi who tended the gardens meditated so much that they made the plants a little too alive. As it turned out, nobody knows why things shift. But this room is just about the oldest part of the Temple, so it kind of makes sense."
"There is a brook," said Vythia, pointing at the narrow stream of clear water that rushed along in the mossy ground below them. "And three waterfalls . . . and at least a dozen fountains in this area alone!"
He grinned at her disbelieving tone. "Vythia, you saw stormbeasts that had survived thousands of years with almost no sustenance, and you find a vast indoor garden surprising?"
"Not in the same way," she said. "This is like . . . putting my home planet inside a room, but even Glee Anselm had nothing like this."
"Well, yeah, Glee Anselm is mostly underwater." Quinlan was about to vault over the balcony out of habit when he remembered that people who weren't Force-sensitive didn't tend to enjoy jumping fifteen meters to the ground. "Let's take the lift down," he suggested.
They followed a narrow stone path to an outstretched branch belonging to one of the massive holm trees. After walking carefully along the branch to reach a platform built around the trunk, they entered the wooden lift that was attached.
Just as they reached the ground, Vythia raised an eyebrow and pointed deeper into the forested area. "There is Crosshair."
Quinlan followed her gaze to the sniper, who was standing on the end of an alarmingly narrow branch that was some ten meters off the ground. The Jedi moved a few steps closer and stared up, resting a hand on his waist. "Hey! Sniper guy. What are you doing?"
Crosshair smirked, but didn't look away from whatever held his attention. "Keep it down," he warned. "I'm watching those kids sneak up on Wrecker."
A moment later, there was a surprised yell, followed by a startlingly loud splash and the sound of five or six children giggling hysterically.
Quinlan considered. "How?"
Crosshair walked back along the branch, then braced a hand and a foot against the trunk and slid down. "One of 'em pretended to show him something in the water, the other five tackled him."
"Uh-huh. . ." Quinlan eyed him consideringly. "It was your idea, wasn't it?"
"It was their idea to do it. I just showed them how." When Quinlan only grinned at him, Crosshair rolled his eyes. "What?"
"You taught a bunch of kids how to tackle a commando."
"Yeah." Crosshair headed into a small clearing. "Someone needed to show those kids how to stage a proper ambush."
"Sure, whatever you say." Quinlan was still grinning as he entered the clearing and caught sight of Tech kneeling next to a tall bush, his nose mere centimeters away from a vine with green and white variegated leaves.
The Jedi only noticed that Hunter was also in the clearing when the sergeant straightened up suddenly from where he'd been leaning back against a wide tree trunk. All of the commandos were wearing dark-colored outfits, which made it easier for them to blend into their surroundings – something which both Hunter and Crosshair seemed to be putting to good use.
"How'd it go with the Council?" Hunter asked.
"Honestly? Better than I expected . . . not as well as I'd hoped." Quinlan paused. "The Jedi were mostly convinced that Zenaya's alive, but they aren't going to try to hunt her down."
Vythia frowned a little. "And the effect is the same as if they had not been convinced."
"Not precisely." Tech stood up, brushing dirt from his knees. "The fact that they think she is alive means that they will pay close attention to rumors of Sith cults or acolytes – and they will believe the reports if she does decide to attack openly."
From somewhere nearby, a woman called several names; the next moment, half a dozen children spilled into the clearing and dashed across it, shouting their goodbyes to Wrecker. As they disappeared into the trees, Wrecker trudged happily over to the other commandos, unsuccessfully trying to wring out his vest.
"Having fun, Wrecker?" Hunter asked.
"Oh, yeah!" He looked between Quinlan and Vythia, and his grin faded a little. "Uh, what are we doing now?"
"Actually?" Quinlan leaned back against the nearest tree, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. "We are doing nothing."
When there was no response, he opened his eyes to see Vythia and the commandos watching him. "What?" he said, straightening up. "There's nothing to do. Or . . . is there?"
"Not that I am aware of," Vythia said. "I believe I will walk in this room for a while."
"Don't get lost," Quinlan told her.
Vythia left without dignifying him with a response.
"We don't have anything to do, either," said Hunter, checking his chronometer. "We don't have to report to Cody for another twelve hours."
"Eleven hours and thirty-eight minutes," said Tech.
"Well, good." Quinlan flopped back in a hammock that was woven from living vines. "In that case, we can just hang around. . . maybe spend a couple of hours here, then get some food at this cantina three levels down."
"A cantina," said Crosshair.
"Yeah. I seem to remember owing you guys a couple of drinks. Or maybe it was just Hunter. I definitely owed somebody."
There was a brief pause.
"As long as it's not like Rimmer's Rest," said Hunter.
"Nothing like Rimmer's Rest," Quinlan said. "And we'll just grab some stuff and bring it back here. I've had enough of crime-ridden cities to last me quite a while."
"There is only one problem with that plan," said Tech. "Vokara Che, who is in charge of clearing us for duty, happens to have given us very specific orders about food and rest."
"Oh, yeah," said Wrecker, suddenly subdued. "I forgot. She gave me all this advice about what kind of food to get in the main dining hall. Balanced nutrition and stuff."
"Right. . ." Quinlan pulled out his datapad and checked it. "Heh – looks like she recommended a few things for me, too." He scrolled through it and put it away with a disgusted sigh. "I swear, this is the same stuff she tells all humans. Healthful food, plenty of water, lots of rest, no alcohol – seriously, she was putting 'no alcohol' on Obi-Wan's and my medical orders when we were eight."
"That is interesting," said Tech. "Where could you possibly have obtained alcoholic beverages at eight years old?"
"My point exactly."
They exchanged cautious looks. Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose, Wrecker cleared his throat, and Crosshair looked too contemplative, like he was having to try and hold back a smirk.
"So . . ." Hunter said, his voice studiously casual. "Where'd you say this cantina was?"
Although they made plans to go to the cantina, it was a long time before any of them even started leaving the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It was the definitely the most relaxed six hours Quinlan had spent in a long time. He wandered along the winding paths, pausing every so often to look at random plants that didn't need to care about anything in the galaxy except whether or not they had water and sunlight, and located the crystal fountain that he always visited when he came here. After that, he returned to the clearing, where he dozed for a while in between listening to the commandos bicker about ridiculously unimportant things.
At some point later in the evening, he convinced Tech to try a hammock made from deceptively thin-looking vines – and then promptly swung it so hard that Tech flipped out and landed flat in the moss, after which Quinlan spent the following ten minutes running for his life. Unable to catch up, Tech finally shouted that this whole chase was ridiculous and that he had no intention of killing Quinlan.
The Jedi loudly begged to differ, and a ninety-year-old Jedi woman who was sitting on a nearby bench shot them both a stern look and told them to stop tearing around the garden like hoodlums. Her lecture involved points about there being enough chaos in the galaxy already, and that elderly Jedi such as herself did tend to appreciate some small measure of peace.
Things settled down after that, until Wrecker devised a plan to get back at Crosshair for the whole thing with the kids and the pond. Quinlan helped him by the simple expedient of suggesting that they all take a walk – and then, while they were walking along next to one of the deeper streams, he Force-pushed Crosshair into it.
Unfortunately, Hunter found this hilarious. He was still laughing when Crosshair surfaced with a growl and grabbed him by the ankles, yanking him in and utterly submerging both of them. Just to make it even, Tech and Quinlan pushed Wrecker in as well before going off to continue their peaceful walk.
At that moment, Vythia came around a bend in the path, caught sight of the absolute brawl taking place in the stream, and gave Quinlan a look of mild disappointment. She said nothing at all, but pointedly took a different path that would lead her nowhere near the fight.
When they all returned to the clearing, sometime later, Vythia was there, sitting on swing-like chair. All of the clones were dripping wet – even Tech, since during his walk, he'd tripped over a vine and walked right into one of the hidden fountains.
Quinlan, though, was perfectly dry – a fact which Wrecker remedied by wringing out his large vest on the Jedi's head. Hunter seemed to think this was a fantastic idea, because he took off his vest and threw it, nailing Quinlan in the face. Naturally, the other three then did the same exact thing while Vythia loftily ignored them all.
Without speaking, Quinlan straightened up, brushed his hair out of his face, picked up all the vests from the ground, and threw them into the nearest thicket.
After the clones had grouchily extricated their borrowed clothes, they all lay on the moss or in hammocks – or, in Crosshair's case, along a branch – and did exactly nothing. The sunlight was muted by now . . . not gone, because it was never fully gone here, but somehow subdued, a sort of dusky twilight that made the room cool and quiet. Somewhere, on the other side of the room, a flock of small birds twittered for a while before settling for the night.
It was well after midnight when Vythia finally stood, sending an almost reluctant look towards the others. Quinlan raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave him a hesitant smile.
Hunter shifted and opened his eyes. "You're leaving?"
"I am, yes."
"Oh." Wrecker sprang out of his hammock, and Crosshair slid off the branch, landing soundlessly as Hunter got to his feet.
Tech, who had finally decided that his vest was dry enough to put on, finished fastening it and asked, "Where are you off to?"
"For now, to the Halls of Healing again." Vythia tilted her head, then shrugged one shoulder. "After that, who knows. . ."
They didn't answer. After a brief silence, Vythia half-smiled and turned to Tech. "I am curious about something," she said. "What was Malachor's final rating?"
Quinlan laughed.
"Hm," said Hunter. "Last I heard, it was negative fifty-six."
"Yes. . ." Tech scrolled up on his datapad and looked displeased. "For various reasons, we failed to keep track after that last rating. At this point, I am not sure how we would even begin to enumerate all the things that would cause Malachor to have its rating lowered."
"Then may I suggest that we average it," Vythia said. "I believe negative one thousand suits it admirably."
The others considered.
"Sounds good to me," Hunter said.
"Negative one thousand it is." Tech entered the number into his datapad, then looked at Vythia with almost a smile. "Well . . . best of luck, Vythia."
"Thank you."
"Yeah." Hunter stepped forward and held out a hand. "Listen – if we're around, and you need help . . . well, give us a call. But don't expect us to hunt any more Sith for you."
"I will not," she said, taking his hand briefly. "And we shall have to meet again, because I never paid you."
Hunter paused, and it was clear that he'd completely forgotten about it. "Yeah, well," he said. "You can keep an eye out for ships like the Havoc Marauder. It's bound to get damaged at some point."
Vythia nodded and stepped back, then sent an enigmatic look at Crosshair, who gazed just as enigmatically back. That was apparently what counted as a goodbye for those two, since she then turned wordlessly to Wrecker.
"It's kinda weird," Wrecker began. Then he took a huge step forward and wrapped her in a surprisingly gentle hug. "I'm gonna miss you, Vythia."
She touched his arm once before stepping back. "Strangely enough," she said with a half-smile, "I believe I will miss all of you, as well."
And with that, the Nautolan woman started towards the main path, her black dress trailing after her. But only a few steps later, she paused to look back. "I do not believe I ever thanked you for saving my life," she said. "I thank you now."
"Uh – you're welcome," Wrecker said, while the others mumbled their agreement in the background.
She smiled again and turned to leave.
As she passed him, Quinlan finally moved, rolling out of the hammock. "What," he said in pretended offence. "No dramatic goodbye for me, Vythia?"
She swept past without looking at him. "You already intend to accompany me to the door. I see no reason to say goodbye twice."
Since Quinlan had, in fact, intended to accompany her to the door, he decided not to argue. "Right. Well, I'll meet the rest of you guys at the Havoc Marauder."
It wasn't until the Jedi and the Nautolan woman were well along the path that Quinlan said, "So, I don't know about you, but I think that our Force-bond –"
"I know," she said, and shook her head. "It is getting stronger, not weaker."
"I kind of thought it would fade." They walked for a couple more minutes before Quinlan finally added, "Sensing somebody's thoughts and emotions so easily . . . it's . . . strange."
"And inconvenient." Vythia sounded a bit put out.
"Why, because I can tell you are going to miss us?" Quinlan frowned in realization, then added, "And me in particular, for some reason?"
Vythia rolled her eyes. "Do not be vulgar."
"I actually wasn't."
". . . I know." She sighed. "That is also irksome. It is – not easy, having someone know me so readily. It is almost worse to know someone else so readily."
Quinlan nodded and came to a stop in front of the main door. "Well, maybe with time, or distance, it will start to fade?"
"Perhaps." Vythia blinked slowly, the way Nautolans tended to when they were deep in thought. "Although it occurred to me this evening that perhaps the existence of this residual Force-sensitivity is tied not to Zenaya, but to you."
Quinlan stared at her, taking almost an entire minute to consider that thought before leaning back against the door and rubbing his eyes with both hands. "I . . . Yeah. I didn't even think of that, but it makes sense, in a really, really weird kind of way."
"It could even be both," Vythia said. "Currently, I have no way of knowing. Perhaps I will speak with other Jedi, but . . ."
She trailed off, then clasped her hands neatly in front of her. "I suppose this is goodbye, then."
"Yeah. I suppose it is – for now, anyway." Quinlan hesitated. "Something tells me we won't be rid of each other for a while."
"The Force, perhaps," she said dryly, her tone and expression easily masking the fear he knew she felt at all the unknowns which lay ahead of her.
"Perhaps, yeah." Quinlan opened the door, but as she started to leave, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
She turned to regard him questioningly.
"Goodbye, Vythia," he said. "And may the Force be with you."
"I believe it is," Vythia replied thoughtfully, and Quinlan grinned.
"That kind of thing never fails to irk the other Jedi," he told her. "Except for Kit, he thinks it's hilarious."
"Your Nautolan crechemate," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. If you need help, and I'm not around – well. He might not like you much, but he'll help you. Talk to him."
She hesitated, then tilted her head in agreement. "I will."
As she stepped into the hall outside, Quinlan said, "Hey, I was just thinking. We're wondering if you're Force-sensitive because of your bond with me. . . There's an easy way to figure that out. I mean, we'll know for sure if I die and then you stop being Force-sensitive."
Vythia appeared to be the opposite of amused.
"Admit it," he said. "Your sense of humor is as morbid as mine, and you absolutely thought that was funny."
She frowned, irritated. "As I said," she said. "This Force-bond is inconvenient."
"It's not like you didn't have emotions before," he said, leaning sideways against the door frame.
"No," she agreed. "But emotions are often inconvenient, and the appearance of them perhaps even more so." She hesitated, then looked at him with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "I suppose, Quinlan Vos, that it is just as well that I have only one heart now."
She left before he could formulate a proper response to that one.
After a short but speed-filled trip to the nearest cantina, Quinlan and the commandos returned to the Havoc Marauder with a bottle of Corellian whisky and several bags of what Wrecker called non-health-restricted food.
"Ugh," Crosshair griped, stumbling out of the borrowed speeder. "I said I was never riding while he piloted again."
"Who, me?" Quinlan looked around at him. "Seriously, that wasn't as bad as on Nar Shaddaa."
"It was worse," Crosshair answered. "I could see all the speeders coming at us and you couldn't because you were wearing those stupid goggles."
"They're called sunglasses, thank you very much." Quinlan removed the item in question and tossed them into the front of the speeder. "And Coruscant's, like, bright as day anyway, so. Kind of a moot point."
Hunter made it out of the speeder and slouched dramatically against it. "All I know is, Tech's piloting next time," he groaned.
"Hey," said Wrecker, who wasn't paying attention at all. "Are we gonna eat on the Marauder again?"
"Certainly," Tech said, sounding unusually chipper. "Why not?"
"Uh, because we've been crammed in there a lot lately, and –"
Tech removed his grappling hook from his belt, tossed it, and climbed quickly up the side of the Marauder so he could perch on the top. "Eating on the shuttle as opposed to in it sounds like an excellent plan."
"Yeah, it does." Hunter followed him to the top – moving noticeably slower – and balanced on his knees to catch the bags which Wrecker threw to him.
"What was it Vokara Che told us?" Quinlan asked, Force-jumping to join them. "No alcohol, lots of rest, and a diet of healthy food?"
"Something like that, yeah," said Hunter. He was grinning a little. "Looks like we're ticking all those boxes the wrong way – we got alcohol, it's one in the morning and we're supposed to report to Cody at six, and I think we were careful not to buy any healthy food."
"Excellent," Tech said, busily laying things out. "Though I suspect it is fortunate that, once we have completed our report to Cody, we have an entire day off."
There was a startled yelp from below, and Crosshair appeared, thrown right over the edge of the shuttle. Tech reacted instantly, yanking a burger out of the way before the sniper could step on it. "Wrecker, it was not necessary to throw him."
"Nope," agreed Wrecker. "But he was taking forever."
Crosshair stumbled again and sat down next to Tech. "Well, maybe if a certain Jedi didn't insist on piloting like a drunk Gungan –"
Quinlan, who had been occupied with trying to open the whiskey bottle, paused to give Crosshair an injured look. "Okay, seriously, that's harsh."
"Deserved, though," the sergeant mumbled, and moved hastily out of the way when Quinlan tried to elbow him.
They sat on the edge of the shuttle roof, dangling their legs over the edge, and slowly ate their way through nerf burgers and tuber fries. Wrecker and Tech each had a sip of whiskey, but that was all – Wrecker didn't like the taste, and Tech, as he put it, intensely disliked using anything that might impair his cognitive processes. Crosshair liked the flavor, but hated how it made his vision go blurry, so he stuck to only one shot and made it last for half an hour.
Hunter and Quinlan, though, had no such concerns. They leaned against the tailfin of the shuttle and passed the bottle back and forth like complete reprobates – Tech's words, not theirs – over the next hour or so until it was empty.
They had been silent for quite a while when Quinlan glanced over at the sergeant and said, "You are going to have the world's worst headache tomorrow."
Hunter, who had been dozing off, roused himself long enough to shoot a brief look at him. "I thought you were."
"Me? No. I'm a Kiffar. It's a little hard for most of us to get drunk."
Crosshair snorted. "Poor you."
Quinlan kicked idly at him, gave up when he realized the sniper was out of reach, and glanced at Hunter, waiting to hear his reason for not having a hangover.
"I'm a clone," Hunter said. "Enhanced metabolism, remember? Takes at least twice what it would take a natborn to really get affected."
"Ohhh." Quinlan paused. "Hey, wait. If that's the case, then why are Tech and Crosshair so worried about getting affected by it?"
Hunter snickered. "Because they got the short end of the gene pool and they're complete lightweights, that's why."
"Hm." Crosshair threw a crumpled paper bag so that it bounced off Quinlan's head and hit Hunter in the face. "And yet, I'm the one who can see straight right now. You should've been able to dodge that."
Hunter waved a hand absently. "I could've," he said. "Just didn't care."
Tech, who was lying on his back with his feet on Wrecker's shins, tilted his head so he could look upside-down at them. "The short end of the gene pool?" he quoted.
"Yeah." Hunter paused, then laughed again. "In your case, literally."
Tech rolled his eyes. "Mind over matter," he said loftily, and went back to reading.
Silence fell again, which wasn't surprising considering that it was almost three in the morning. Tech finally turned off his datapad and rolled onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms. At some point, Wrecker stretched and settled down, shoving Crosshair aside in the process. The sniper muttered some threat or other and slouched against the tailfin next to Quinlan, who shifted over to make room for him.
"The stars are nice," Wrecker mumbled, half-asleep.
"Yeah . . ." Hunter was lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the sky.
"Quinlan," Tech said. "Where will you be headed after tonight? Do you have another mission yet?"
"Not yet." Quinlan adjusted his hood, pulling it further over his eyes. "I've got two weeks here – then . . . who knows."
"Just like us," Hunter said inanely.
Glancing down at him, Quinlan grinned. "I think you're just a tad out of it, buddy. Maybe a little more of a lightweight than you thought."
"No," Hunter argued, and that was all he said for the next thirty seconds, at which point he apparently realized he hadn't finished his argument. "It's just – late. That's all."
Still grinning, the Jedi leaned back against the tailfin and wrapped his cape around himself, arms folded against the faint chill of the Coruscant air. One by one, the others dozed off around him, but Quinlan stayed awake the rest of the night, silently watching the stars.