The Ebon Hawk's engines hum, slowly, as they make their way to Onderon. The others are either asleep or recharging. It is silent, as they leave the Y'Toub sector behind.
For the first time in a very long time, Atton Rand and Shan Mitsil, last of the Jedi, are alone together. Their knuckles are crossed together, and they kneel. The hum of the engines cannot drown out their hum-- a yellow crystal, floating before Atton, the object of concentration lost from the galaxy for ten years as the Force flows through them. It is a silent thing, the ritual of Dantooine, of the Rim, of a war which breaks all oaths.
In a moment the hilt comes over it-- two emitters together at either end. Finally it flows above them both-- and with a hiss, two yellow blades come to life.
Atton, stripped to an undershirt and simple trousers, calls it to hand-- and grips it, and feels it hum.
"We will make a Jedi of you yet, Atton Rand."
The Jedi rises from his seat like a prowling animal, and is already rummaging through the small galley before Atton even has the time to turn off his lightsaber.
There is a comfortable silence, one between friends as much as between beloved student and teacher, as they sit at the table. The Exile has laid out a hunk of bread and a bowel honey, and has begun dipping the bread in, soaking it in the sweets.
"So."
The Jedi stops, just about to pop a bit of bread into his mouth. "So what?"
"Oh don't give me that. I told you I used to be an assassin for Revan, meanwhile all I know about you can fit on a single sheet of flimsi."
"Ah. Ask your questions, then."
Atton wracks his head for a moment, before the killer question, the truest one, comes to mind. "What happened between you and that Jedi on Telos."
"It mostly consisted of about twenty years of what you all saw there." He bites off a chunk, chewing slowly, savoring the sweet for a moment.
"Oh don't give me that, I saw the way you two looked at each other when we left. She was split between killing you and tossing you on the floor, and you looked like you wouldn't have minded."
He swallows, moves over his words carefully. "Alright, alright. The first you need to understand is that she was raised on an Echani colony-- the order didn't find her until she was seven, and had already grabbed a few of their ideas; and she was already coming at it and trying to prove her fitness as a Jedi. She trained under Master Vrook, and became a knight, even as my own training was coming along, as I reached-- not maturity, exactly, but something like it.
Master Jaral was concerned that I was not developing my skills in combat, or with the Force, enough-- so he had me learn under her for a time, let her teach me the Force, the ways of combat. Again and again she took victory, proved her superiority, even as I grew to knighthood myself, cut my braid, and she became a Master, and then a member of the Council.
She was, in those day, my superior, and I will admit that. She was a master of arcane knowledge, of the history of the Order, the highest our ranks went. A hero, she tore apart swoop gangs, she fought slavery, she battled injustices so rank and vile that I am amazed the Dark Side did not claim her, then and there. Whatever else she was or is, Atris was a hero."
Meanwhile, I spent my days searching for new recruits for the Order, or hunting down pickpockets. A mediocre Jedi, but I had a talent for oratory, for convincing, for leading-- sharpened by convincing unusual students to take up the path. I think in those days Atris believed she had my submission, and a responsibility to keep me from falling down the Dark Path, or leading others to it.
And then the war came, and I, a dime-a-dozen knight, went to war, followed my conscience, and led others down the path. I brought recruits to Revan, I became a hero in the eyes of the Republic. Vorzyd was one of the first Republic victories, and it came at my hands, because I sabotaged their cruisers. Dxun was hell, but we won, and there I was on the front line, fighting and bleeding with my men, with Jedi who followed me, with soldiers who followed me, a thing of mediocrity, and abjured her, the ideal Jedi-- who mastered so much of our history, of our battles, of our combat-- who was in so many ways, what every Jedi strives to be."
"Yeah well, for the rest of the Galaxy, hiding in the Temple while the rest of us died was pretty damn far from ideal."
"She did not desire to hide. That's what no-one outside of the Order ever understood, but I did. I knew those who chose not fight, they had been my friends since long before I even knew what a Mandalorian was. Every single one of them wanted to go marching against the Mandalorians, all of them, even Vrook Lamar, and he is the worst Jedi I have ever met-- and I have met plenty of terrible Jedi.
But they all knew something terrible was lurking in the Dark, waiting for us. Hungry, and terrible, and vengeful. They could feel it, sense it through the Force, but they could not described it to the Republic, any more than you can describe the higher things you feel to the soldiers who once called you brother.
So I became a hero, for doing the wrong thing. And she became a villain, for doing what was right. Add to that that I had disobeyed her, my superior and my teacher, had cut whatever was between us in twain-- and then returned, and threw my own hurt, my own scars, back in her face-- and it is no wonder that all things now are bitter between us."
The two sat in silence for a moment.
"You're wrong about one thing. Even assuming the Council wasn't spouting paranoia and nonsense when it came to whatever was lurking in the dark, I don't think it would have wanted you to go fight the Mandalorians.
I mean consider: if you want to fight the Jedi, do you want them to have become veterans, warriors, to have gone through something so terrible that it could make you a war hero; or would it have wanted you to alienate the Republic, at best, and to lose whatever memories you had of war-- or even better, to be split by schism, to hate one another, to let the left hand rightfully call the right cowards even as the right hand rightfully calls the left renegades."
Mitsil smiles. "And Kreia call you a fool. But yes, I have considered that, and it, I think, is why I cannot do the one thing that would the end between us anything but bitter."
"Oh? And what's that?"
"Tell her she was right."
--
