Not In Our Stars

[Nen Lev'i]

* * *

"No."

Nen Lev'i stood, hand clutching the railing at the top of the stairs behind the unfinished Elysium's secret door, and stared. It wasn't just a stare, either: his mouth was trapped in limbo, half way between a gasp and a grin, and to be completely honest, it was taking a whole lot of self control to avoid peeing himself with excitement.

"No way!" he enthused, ripping his eyes away just long enough to glance eagerly at Sadie before his eyes were drawn back again. He set off down the stairs at an eager scamper, luck and momentum the only things keeping him from missing a footing and barrelling arse over tit the rest of the way down. "This is so cool!"

"Recognise," the synthesised voice of the security protocols announced over the speakers. "Nen Lev'i, User Zero Six."

The squeaking gasp that escaped from Nen Lev'i sounded like a mynock trying to fornicate with a seal, his grinning mouth split open so broadly that it almost seemed like he was going to explode. Hunched a little within the comfort of his reassuringly generic hoodie, Nen's fingers twitched eagerly as he ogled the the data terminal, shifting his weight from foot to foot, waiting impatiently for Sadie to make her frustratingly slow own way down the stairs. When Sadie had burst into his cabin on the Crimson Tide and told him she urgently needed to show him something, he had mostly been terrified. Nen's understanding of women was pretty limited - he was pretty good at knowing that women didn't like him and weren't interested, but that was only because he made the blanket assumption that no one ever would or would be, and worked out being correct the vast majority of the time. Sadie was even more enigmatic and confusing than most, so something could have been anything from her lady business or some wound that was oozing a particularly disgusting colour of puss to a Hutt that had fallen down and couldn't get up, or maybe a holo of a tap dancing baby nexu. When she'd led him down to Port Town, that terror had only increased. Why were they going into an abandoned warehouse? Had they decided he was a liability? Was she leading him into an ambush? Was Vittore lurking in the shadows waiting to do to him what he did to that guy back on Nar Shaddaa? The secret doorway though, that had been an unexpected curveball... and then this? Dear sweet baby nunas, this.

"It knows who I am," he said softly in disbelief. This was the coolest thing that he had ever seen. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him. Well, factoring in his amnesia for anything that had happened before a few years ago, this was the coolest thing that he remembered ever happening to them - a disclaimer that also neatly encompassed the time he'd woken up in bed with a porn star, a raging hangover, no pants, and absolutely no memory of what had transpired the night before.

Okay, so maybe the second coolest thing that had ever happened. But still.

Nen managed to wipe the kid in a candy store expression from his face just long enough to turn his attention back to Sadie with as much sincerity as he could possibly muster, all to ask:

"Can your new uncle be my uncle too?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Watchin' Nen's reaction brought it all in full perspective. When Atton had shown her the set up she had been baffled as to what she'd done to deserve it and all the revelations and such that came from her askin' had kinda diminished the giddiness that was more proper for the gift. Even returnin' she'd felt excitement, but it took Nen's burstin' enthusiam to really set her mind straight. Yeah, y're damn right it is cool.

She'd only done a bit of pickin' b'fore runnin' off to snag Nen, just enough to confirm that Atton weren't kiddin' 'bout it bein' most of her network and then some. Turns out Uncle Atton came through with flyin' colors. All her algorithms, the back door keys she'd made to all sorts of networks, okay maybe not everythin', but most everythin' was there and what wasn't could be remade easy as all with what was there. Not that she figured she needed to. The lil' bit she'd played with showed that Atton's system was huge. Would take days just to uncover all the goodies that awaited her.

For a bit she'd wanted to just discover things all on her own, but part of her had wanted to run off and show Vittore as well. Only took a few steps to get that the hunter might not be as appreciative of it all that a more like-minded folk would have been. She didn't doubt he'd buck up a smile or two on behalf of her own happiness but you couldn't right proper share in the joy unless the person got it.

Nen, on the other hand, got it for sure.

"Ha, y'd have to ask him. Though get the feelin' that just outin' himself t' me took a deal out of the guy so I wouldn't go an' plan any new family relation such stuff just yet."

Ploppin' herself down in one of the seats in front of all them fancy monitors, Sadie swiveled until she looked back at Nen. "So, y' wanna help me see what all dirt we can uncover 'bout Cloud City? Already got some stuff runnin' for the boss lady - lookin f' more of that Sarlacc dren. Don't mean we can't see if we can't figure out how to get on some permanent VIP lists over at th' Cumulus. Free drinks for life or some o' that. An' y' wouldn't believe th' security feeds we got access t'."

[Nen Lev'i]

Nen's eyes narrowed at the mention of security feeds. While sure, the things were useful and all if you wanted to scope out a place before a job or whatever, it was the whole spying thing that made his skin crawl. He didn't know why exactly, but the notion of them, the notion of being watched and seen whatever he did made him paranoid and self conscious, always wondering who was watching and judging what he was up to. So sure, he wasn't exactly important enough for anyone to proactively spy on; except they were on Cloud City with Atton Kira, and he seemed like the kind of guy who would spy on everything, and then creep you out by casually mentioning what you had for breakfast, and then suggest adding more fibre to your diet because of how long you spent in the 'fresher that morning.

He shuddered at the thought before fumbling it aside, dumping himself into one of the other seats with at least 93% of his usual optimism.

"Cumulus?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sure, lets go drink drinks that are stupidly expensive just for the sake of bein' stupidly expensive, surrounded by a bunch of asshats in fancy clothes tryin' to show off how rich they are by standin' around sippin' on their stupidly expensive drinks fake-laughin' about what Farquith an' Tumbleberriq got up to at the Lantillian derby this year."

He rolled his eyes as his fingers drummed away at his own keyboard, but mid-stream he hesitated, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Ever so slowly, his eyes peered sideways at Sadie, and then over his shoulder just in case anyone else had crept in behind them. No one watching. Good. He carefully typed in his new instructions to the system, trying to type casual, splitting the sequence into random chunks just in case Sadie had some weird superpower that let her work out what someone was typing just by hearing the keystrokes.

Search query.

Good so far. Little indicator flashed up on the screen. Sadie didn't seem to notice nothing.

Security feeds.

Still good. Nothing to see here. Everything normal. No need to worry. Carefully, he reached out and angled the monitor the tiniest bit, skewing the screen so that Sadie wouldn't be able to just glance across and see.

Strip clubs.

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Sadie weren't sure exactly what it was Nen was bein' so secretive of... until she tapped in a few keystrokes and found out all quick like. Not that she didn't trust him, or figure he was up to more than some harmless fun, but there was a reason she was alive this long and a healthy dose of paranoia did a body good. A shake of her head was her only reaction - like she cared 'bout that sort of thing. Boys will be boys or some such dren, so long as he didn't start goin' and enjoyin' the show too much, it was all good.

Also meant Nen was kept occupied so she could take a better gander at stuff without bein' asked what it was she was lookin' at or for. Was good to have company around, meant she wasn't all on her lonesome, but that didn't mean she wanted t' play the came of a million questions, either. Truth was she weren't sure what she was doin' aside from gettin' a feel for everythin'. Few keystrokes and there was the boss lady, drinkin' more spiked caff than was healthy for an average person; another few inputs and there was the Crimson Tide, sittin' pretty waitin' on her t' return; some of them Ciz folks; a couple gettin' wayyyy too friendly in public; ships dockin' and leavin'. Weren't just Cloud City she was keepin' eyes on. Bespin had other places, duller places, but was still neat t' see she could watch 'em whenever she wanted. No wonder Atton knew so damn much 'bout everythin'. There was all sorts of hacks into other places too - Coruscant, Zeltros, Nar Shaddaa, Dac... Save all that for later.

Was surprisin'ly easy to keep tabs on everythin' with the setup. Sadie knew she had some particular talents that were helpin' her process everythin' too... made her wonder again just how much Uncle Atton knew 'bout her. Enough. Both in answer to the amount and to that line of thinkin'.

For some inexplicable reason - probably havin' to do with that annoyin' talent she was tryin' not to think too much about - Sadie kept findin' herself drawn again and again to some hunk of junk rock. Looked like nothin' more than ruins, which all things considered Sadie guessed that maybe there were plenty of abandoned minin' operations and failed Cloud Cities out there. Far as she could tell there weren't nothin' 'bout the place worth even a glance. But then there were readin's. There was a ship out there... and not the kind she instantly recognized - Not that she was good with that sort of thing, really, but still.

Curiosity was an evil sort of thing and before she knew better, a security cam from a satellite just above atmo was picked up, rewinded, and she took a gander at the strange ship again.

"Now what are you up t'?" she half mumbled to herself.

Maybe it was time to find out more about where it was headed...

[Inyos Aamoran]

* * *

Clouds surrounded him on all sides. The upper layers of the Bespin atmosphere were pleasant: at different times of day, the refraction of light through the surface clouds and gases made the sky anything from a crisp clean blue to a warm and rusty brown. Deeper down though, once you dipped beneath the habitable zone that Cloud City and it's cousin platforms occupied, the gases began to close in, to clog up and thicken. Warning indicators flashed across the displays, informing him of the mildly corrosive nature of the atmosphere now, and the steady increase in external pressure. Chemical reactions as certain clouds brushed against certain other clouds produced byproducts, transforming into a dusting of particulates across his cockpit canopy as the transparisteel dispersed the heat throughout it's surface and forced the chemicals to depose. Elsewhere, static friction between other particulates sparked flashes of lightning, and the endless air currents that all those factors created constantly buffeted his craft.

Inyos had long since given up on his navigational sensors for help in navigating to where he thought - hoped - his destination would be. Instead he had enabled his active sensors, his fighter pulsing out high-frequency waves of sound, mapping out a proximity grid as the sonar signals were deflected back to him. The results confirmed what his Jedi senses had suspected: shapes lurking off in the distance, living creatures that followed slowly along his path but didn't dare come closer to this strange new thing that had entered into his territory. Inyos tried his utmost to project his harmless intentions through the Force, soothing anything that might mistakenly view him as a threat.

A concerned whistle from P13 drew his attention back to the sensor monitor, a vast shape looming ahead. A colossal creature perhaps? Some large predator? Inyos reached out, but felt nothing - nothing alive, at least. A few manipulations of the relevant subsystems angled the active sensors towards it, a sharper and more refined image slowly resolving as pulse after pulse was reflected back at the Jedi Starfighter. Smooth edges. Sharp angles. Dense materials. Not organic then, not natural; not unless creatures on Bespin had found a way to evolve into armour-plated boxes.

Carefully, Inyos brought the fighter to a stop, triggering the command that would release the clamps holding his fighter attached to it's hyperspace ring. A few careful manipulations of the thrusters and he eased his way out of the ring's grip, pressing forward towards the detected structure at a much slower pace. Gradually, the object grew larger on his screens, until a dark shadow loomed out of the clouds ahead. Inyos' eyes widened: whatever he had expected, the dark corroded metal, the sharp lines, and the ominous towers had not been it. He had seen many Jedi constructions over the years - the Temple towering over Coruscant, the Library in the jungles of Ossus, the forgotten ruins half-buried on Dantooine - but this was like none of them. He could feel the faintest tint of the dark side hanging in the air like a bitter taste at the back of his throat. He reached forward and activated the forward floodlights as he drew closer, angling the nose to sweep what felt like a pitifully weak beam of light over the hull, searching for an entrance. Inyos reached out with the Force as well, but all the while something else tugged at him, some nagging sense of familiarity far behind him, willing him to be somewhere other than here. Latent anxiety perhaps; or perhaps a gentle nudge from the Force, imploring him to exercise greater wisdom. What was it that people always said in moments like this?

"I have a bad feeling about this."

P13 chimed in with his agreement, at the same time highlighting a section of the superstructure that seemed to resemble a landing platform. A vast iron door loomed behind it, but despite his best efforts, the astromech droid could not trigger any kind of remote command to access it. According to the starfighter's readouts, the platform was operating on minimal power: enough to keep it afloat, but little else. At least we know no one is home, the droid offered helpfully, as Inyos manoeuvred the fighter into position, undercarriage unfolding as it settled down against the platform with a dull thunk. He paid little attention to the droid's contributions though, his mind fixated on the doors that it seemed logical to presume led into some sort of hangar bay. Options slowly began to unfurl in his mind, trying to think of a way to bypass a barrier that his droid claimed to be unable to circumvent. He thought of Mandan Hidatsa, his closest companion during the Clone Wars and the early days of the Purge, and the way that he had been able to manipulate electrons, controlling the flow of power to trigger electronic locks; but Inyos knew his own abilities were far too inadequate for such an approach. Perhaps there was a way he could brute force his way past, use the Force to move the gears, or lift the doors directly -

His mind brushed against something, a faint flicker of a notion on the periphery of his awareness, and suddenly the deck beneath him began to rumble, a muffled groaning sound translating through the Bespin atmosphere as the hangar doors slowly began to creak open. Inyos' eyes widened in surprise. Did I do that? Through the canopy, Inyos saw P13's dome swivel to face him, uttering the same query with a few nervously warbled droidspeak profanities mixed in. Inyos ignored the droid's trepidation, and his own, a little power to the repulsorlift coils causing the fighter to begin drifting slowly forward, into the gaping maw of what Inyos sincerely hoped was indeed the Enclave, and not something else.

As the fighter passed beneath the shadow of the entrance, Inyos felt the hatch begin to groan behind them, the faint diffuse glow from the Bespin clouds outside fading and fading until with an ominous, reverberating clunk they were plunged into total darkness, save for the lances of light emerging from the fighter's nose. P13 once again voiced his reservations at being here, and as Inyos brought the fighter to rest awkwardly on the deck, he was inclined to agree. It was foolish to be here alone; he should have brought assistance, engineers, more eyes to study and explore. That would have been the logical course of action, but the Force had urged him, insisted otherwise. Aside from the need for subtlety, and the desire to avoid drawing the attention of the Empire to his place, why did the Force feel it was so important for him to be here alone?

Inyos enabled more of the fighter's sensors, this time studying the chemical composition of the atmosphere outside. The same noxious clouds as the rest of Bespin at this altitude. The same unbreathable toxic mix -

Light flickered around him, an intermittent struggle as if the power was fighting it's way past obstacles to force it's way around the necessary circuits. Another clunk, more ominous vibrations from the superstructure, and Inyos watched as the atmosphere outside began to change and mutate, inhospitality gradually giving way to a breathable atmosphere. None the less, Inyos still reached for the compartment beneath the pilot's chair, pulling out a breath mask and settling it over his face. "Remain with the ship," he instructed his droid; as if P13 had a choice, permanently grafted into the fighter's hull as he was. The astromech screeched out a warning, but it was too late: Inyos' hands triggered the release on the canopy, and the external atmosphere hissed it's way outside.

Vaulting out onto the deck with the assistance of the Force, Inyos studied his surroundings, peering towards the extremities of the room. Even with the overhead lighting activated, there was still an ominous dimness, enough light to allow human eyes to see but not so much that it staved off the deep shadows that clung to every surface. Perhaps it was merely a symptom of the Enclave operating on minimal power, or perhaps it was by design: Inyos was beginning to increasingly suspect that regardless of what his research had suggested about the occupants of this place, the Jedi themselves had not been responsible for it's construction. That was troubling in and of itself, but dwelling on mere supposition was an exercise in futility. Perhaps the answers he sought lay deeper inside.

Carefully, Inyos removed the lightsaber from his belt and held it aloft, a beam of brilliant blue snapping into existence, casting enough light to drive back the shadows at least a little. For an uncomfortable moment, his mind recalled another ancient structure that he had once explored by 'saber light, another experience surrounded by darkness and clouds. A cascade of black and unsettling thoughts pressed down against him, trying their utmost to paralyse his lungs and drown him. He fought them aside, fumbling around for the scant handful of happy memories he still possessed, letting them fill his thoughts and drive the negativity aside. His eyes had closed, and when they slowly opened, they regarded the chamber with a new sense of clarity.

His brow twitched into the faintest of frowns, head cocking to the side as his eyes were drawn to a series of letters carved into the far wall. He couldn't recall the name or origin of the specific alphabet, but it was familiar enough for him to understand the single word. Brotherhood. Curious. The notion of family and and familial connection had always been something that the Jedi had shied away from, and frowned upon. Such connections and affections were considered a weakness, a vulnerability that the dark side could exploit. Why then was it here, engraved upon the wall of a structure that the Jedi had supposedly once occupied?

He turned his attention back to his fighter, and the droid trapped within. A pang of regret tugged in his chest as he realised the situation he had placed the droid in: after decades trapped and alone in the darkened bowels of the derelict Venture, here he was placing P13 in a cruel reminder of that very same torment. "I need to look around," he stated, trying his utmost - and mostly failing - to sound reassuring. "I promise, I will not be long."

[Nen Lev'i]

* * *

"He is goin' to kill us."

Even if Nen had been given a thousand years to consider and corroborate that belief, he would still have been just as certain of it's accuracy as he was now. There was a note of frantic and panic in his voice, as much a result of the fact that Sadie wasn't bloody listening as it was because of the underlying peril that she was about to drag him into. Sure, he didn't have to follow her. He didn't have to be scampering along anxiously after her as she'd strode back through the corridors of Cloud City, and marched her way up the ramp back onto the Crimson Tide. He didn't have to follow her through the hatch into the converted cargo bay that housed - with very little room to spare - Captain Montegue's pride and joy. At any point he could have grabbed a comlink to expose her terrifying notion, or whipped out a blaster and stunned her until he managed to think of something better to do. He hadn't, because apparently that wasn't who he was. His will was weak: why do something about it, when you could just let yourself get talked into things and spend the whole time fretting?

He shot Sadie a pleading look. Even by his standards of getting caught up in stupid plans and winding up in all kinds of trouble, this was a new record-breaking extreme. Sadie wanted to go investigate that little blip she'd found on the sensors back in the awesome spy style network room - which they totally needed to come up with a cool name for by the way, and Nen had a whole butt ton of suggestions - and that was absolutely fine. It was probably stupid and dangerous, but even that was fine. Dragging along Nen wasn't quite as fine, he would much rather have brought along Captain Montegue and that Amaros guy to make sure they didn't wind up getting killed and eaten by anything creepy and monstrous, but Nen was at least a little bit curious about it too, so whatever. But this though? This weird fixation all because Sadie had a feeling about stuff, this whole crackpot plan to "borrow" Captain Montegue's Y-Wing to fly out there and poke around, this was just plain crazy.

That was why Nen had taken the opportunity to dart back to his cabin, to fumble through the tiny footlocker that contained all the worldly possessions he'd managed to bring with him from Nar Shaddaa when he had been so rudely abducted by Captain Montegue during the whole rescuing Sadie from those assholes thing - you're welcome, by the way; no need to thank me or nothin', which is awful convenient since no one's ever bothered to - and grab his lightsaber. Not his lightsaber. Weren't like he'd built it himself or anything. It was his because he owned it, bought it from some weirdo Dug antiquities guy back on Nar Shaddaa. Didn't know how to fight with it, couldn't do the whole fancy blaster deflection thing or nothing like that, but he had the hang of it enough to cut holes in stuff if he needed to, and that wasn't nothing.

"Okay, so maybe he won't kill you," Nen conceded. His shoulders couldn't be any more dejectedly slumped if he'd tried. "He likes you. But he's definitely gonna kill me."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Sadie weren't quite sure why it was she was so keen on doin' this. Boredom, she guessed, but knew that weren't it. Was like an itch you couldn't scratch or those irritatin' moments when an eye would go haywire and start feelin' like it was twitchin' but nothin' visible was actually goin' down. Normally the effort itself would have seemed too much, no point in goin' off wanderin' some place fancy and unknown when you had a nice fancy network system to sit and drink a beer in front of. But somethin' had gotten under her skin bad and she knew it just weren't gonna quit until she went and figured out the frak was persistin' so bad.

Nen's warnin's should have meant somethin' too. She weren't one for purposely makin' folks uncomfortable - except when it was funny, and funny as Nen bein' out of sorts was, this weren't really that. Okay, so maybe Nen had a point 'bout Vittore bein' none too pleased with them takin' the Y-Wing out without prior notification, but Vitt weren't about to ask and that whole compulsion thing was removin' her normal sense of dottin' Is and crossin' Ts.

Besides, he'd gone and said that she could use whatever she needed aboard the Tide.

Sadie raised an eyebrow at Nen with the Jedi-stick. The frak did he think he was gonna go and do with that? Blasters were the way to go and everyone in their right mind knew it. "Y' worry too much 'bout what Vitt is gonna do. Let me take the heat for whatever falls from this. It's my idea, after all, savvy? You're just... keepin' me from goin' off by myself into the unknown danger. Big damn hero dren."

Lookin' to the Y-Wing, Sadie put her hands on her hips and frowned a bit. "That an' I need a pilot. Ain't never had t' learn how t' fly. Din't need t'."

[Nen Lev'i]

So not only was she dragging him on this little exercise in poking the krayt dragon and seeing how much they could get away with; now she was expecting him to fly?

Okay so sure, he could. Well at least, he could fly an airspeeder, and he'd flown enough getaways after heists and jobs and all that. If he could bomb a speeder around the streets of Nar Shaddaa without bumping into anything too bad, he'd be plenty fine flying around on a giant planet where everything was made of clouds. It was the principle of the thing though. Sadie could talk about how she was going to talk their way out of it all she wanted; but if he was flying, then it was all on him. Any scuff on the paintwork, any dent in the hull, any ominous stain on the upholstery from when Sadie decided she didn't like the turbulence and up-chucked everywhere... even if everything went perfectly fine, it was still going to be Nen that'd get his hands sliced off, or his kneecaps shattered, or whatever it is Vittore was likely to do to him in that little torture cabin of his. If he was just a passenger, then maybe he could get away with seeming like he was being dragged along; but no matter what Sadie said, Nen knew it was gonna be him that Vittore was scowling at until the end of time.

"This is a bloody stupid idea," he grumbled, hugging his arms across his chest as if that would somehow squeeze out the horrible mixture of emotions he was feeling.

He looked around himself desperately for some sort of excuse, some sort of escape clause, some way of trying to talk Sadie out of this crazy scheme - or at the very least, talking her into waiting until Vittore could actually take them himself. All his desperate eyes managed to settle on was Katie.

"Even Katie thinks it's a dumb idea, don't you Kate?"

[R4-K8]

R4-K8's conical headpiece spun, orientating her ocular towards Nen, but the rest of her body continued moving in the same direction it had previously been heading.

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The string of droidspeak trundled out of Katie's vocabulator in an almost mournful, sheepish tone. The way that she fired the little jet boosters in her legs and leapt gracefully from the deck into the Y-Wing's astromech socket made it abundantly clear which of the two she had chosen to side with.

[Sadie K'Vesh]

The grin that happened was downright unsavory, but Sadie just couldn't help it. "See? K8's got my back on this one. Us girls gotta stick together." An appreciative smile was tossed towards the little droid.

Sadie weren't sure why she could understand droid speak, maybe it was from spendin' too much time starin' at code, but them little bloops and blips made all kinds of sense t' her. Weren't a skill everyone had and some days she was downright thankful for it. Other ways... well, was good to pretend you didn't know what they were sayin'. She didn't have none problems with thinkin' of them as people, far as she was concerned some of 'em had more personality than half the folks she'd met that were supposed to have one. Was just another language to her, and just like any of 'em there were times you could surprise folks with what you knew and there were other times when pretendin' you didn't know your arse from a hole in the ground worked out for the better.

She could tell Nen was still miffed about the whole thing, though. "Look," she started, tryin' to put on the best everythin' is cool attitude she had. "Vitt ain't gonna do skrag t' ya. Me 'n Katie won't let that go down. He trusts what we say an' both of us can see plain as anythin' y're all under duress."

That nagging feeling that was pullin' her towards the decayin' platform out in the clouds was tuggin' at her again. Even goin' so far as makin' Sadie turn her head and look off towards the damn thing. She didn't quite like that she knew where it was despite not bein' actually sure of her bearin's at that moment but she tried not to give it too much mind. That way was madness.

"Serious though, Nen... now that K8's with me, if y' really don't wanna go an' check out the neato secret abandoned place and the Jedi Starfighter" - she'd looked that up - "that just showed up an' miss out on somethin' that really might turn out t' be worth it..."

Oh she wasn't playin' fair. Her tone was makin' that plain as daylight and stardust. Truth was, Sadie didn't like pushin' people to doin' things they didn't want to do. If Nen wanted to stick back and point a big neon towards the missin' Y-Wing with a them ladies did it, that was his deal. Though somethin' told Sadie he was just as damn curious as she was.

[Nen Lev'i]

Nen's eyes narrowed, an achingly long moment passing as he glared at the manipulative bloody woman with her little psychic seduction misdirection type techniques, or whatever the hell it was she was doing. Bamboozling him with her feminine wiles, or confusing him with all kind of double talk, putting him in a position where not coming made him seem like a coward instead of seeming like the sensible one. His anger spiked, seething away inside him. We should have left you on Nar Shaddaa was the instant thing which sprung to mind, instantly and aggressively obliterated from his mind, and the neurons and brain cells responsible vaporised. Not left her there as in not rescued her, Nen wasn't an asshole or nothing, but like... just... left her there. At a hospital or something. Or better yet, left him there, rather than trapping him here needing to buy clothes just so he wasn't wearing the same shirt and boxers day in, day out. Stupid Sadie getting herself all kidnapped and tortured or whatever. Stupid Vittore being all heroic and boss-like, dragging him into that mess and then dragging him out of it again. Stupid Atton Kira for paying him money to look for stupid Sadie. Stupid everyone. Stupid galaxy. It was all just so bloody unfair.

"I hate you," Nen muttered, letting his glower linger a moment longer before a resigned sigh escaped him, and he began clambering up onto the fighter's fuselage, making himself as comfortable as possible in the holy shit I'm in a starfighter with guns and everything, oh god I'm going to get us all killed cockpit. It took a few minutes for him to acquaint himself with the various controls and switches and toggles. Well, more like a few seconds probably, he'd always just had a sort of natural aptitude for technology; could pick something up and sorta implicitly get a vibe for how the thing worked. Kinda useful most of the time, especially when you were hijacked on some stupid adventure and had to do stuff like this.

A few switches and commands, and the Y-Wing's engines hummed into life. Couple more fired up the repulsorlifts, the fighter bobbing a couple of inches off the ground above the whole doors in the floor thing that let you leave the ship. Idly, Nen began to wonder if there was even enough room for the Y-Wing to fit out the doors with the Crimson Tide landed like this. Guess there was only one way to find out.

"Open the doors please, R4-K8," Nen requested, making a point of using Katie's full designation. The traitor was implied. He zoned out whatever whistles and bloops she replied with, didn't even let himself look at the little translation display, just waited for the clunk of the doors retracting. He had no idea if the cold shoulder treatment would even affect the little droid. Didn't matter. Still made him feel better, marginally.

As the doors slid past the edges of the Y-Wing's repulsor field, the fighter suddenly lurched downwards, and Nen barely managed to spool up the field intensity enough to stop them dropping like a rock towards the deck. His reflexes were pretty quick though; they only lost about a foot of height before he had it under control, just enough to unsettle Sadie without risking any real harm to the ship. "Sorry," he said, faking a tone that made it seem like he'd done it on purpose.

Carefully, he eased down the repulsorlift power, and a grimace formed on his face. There was room for the Hunter to duck out from beneath the Tide's fuselage, but it was a tight squeeze, and you needed to sorta head out at an angle, emerge out under the curve of the wing so that you didn't crash into the back of the whole droopy down bow thing that the bridge was inside. Carefully he twitched the controls, a tiny little nudge at a time, the nose of the Hunter ticking to the left a few degrees at a time. Too slow. Too painful. Too likely to get Sadie saying something smug. He tried a little more aggressive, a little more of a nudge; there was an ominous thunk as one of the Y-Wing's gargantuanly widespread engines clunked against the hanger deck. Nen winced. Okay, so that part was his fault. Well, maybe the Y-Wing's designers were at fault, too. Koensayr or whatever. Why the hell did they have to build this thing so damned fat?

Without saying anything, without drawing any attention at all, Katie hijacked one of the monitors in the cockpit, projecting a vid feed from the gun cameras on the nose, superimposing little indicator lines that represented the width of the fuselage, and the unexpected extra extension of the engines, the colours shifting from green to yellow to red depending on how close Nen's path strayed to something he might bump into. There was an artificial horizon too, little elevator indications - a peace offering. A small embarrassed smile tugged at Nen's cheeks. "Better hunker down, Katie," he called, a deliberate reversal of his earlier deliberate name choice. "This is going to be a tight squeeze."

Nen had never clenched as hard in his life as he did for the next few seconds, his hands carefully ratcheting up the forward thrusters, gliding the Hunter forward and out from under the Crimson Tide's shadow, across the hangar towards the doors that intellectually Nen knew were plenty big enough to fit far larger craft, but that looked intimidatingly narrow now that he was actually having to worry about not bumping into things, and then out into the vast, open - oh thank shyke, so vast, so open - Bespin sky. Whatever adrenaline had flooded his system now triggered a dopamine response, and for a fleeting moment Nen found himself feeling inappropriately confident, strangely tempted to whip the nose around and try his luck swooping through the casinos, hotels, and corporate towers on Cloud City's upper surface. Not now though. Not ever, the part of his mind still terrified of Captain Montegue chimed in.

"Okay then, so -"

He frowned, cocking his head to one side, as if somehow that would give him more clarity in understanding the various readouts and displays arrayed in front of him.

"Where the 'ell is this thing, anyway?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

* * *

Brotherhood. That word again. Inyos frowned as he wandered through the corridors and control rooms of this section of the derelict platform. His arm ached from holding his lightsaber aloft like a torch for so long, but he drew upon a tiny fragment of the Force, enough soothing energy to dull the sensation enough that he could focus his way past him. It was a testament to how unprepared he was, he supposed. No flashlight. No mapping equipment. No droid to plug into any of these consoles he kept passing. He rationalised it to himself by insisting that this was just reconnaissance, that he was just scouting the facility, and that the Jedi would no doubt send archaeologists of their own in due time. If that were true, then why had he not told anyone where he was going? Why had he taken leave of his teaching duties on Ossus to gallivant around the Outer Rim - a region of it under Imperial control, no less - with only a fighter and what supplies he could carry in his own two hands? The will of the Force. That was the reason.

Or was that just the excuse?

The more he explored, the more the enigma of this place deepened. It was definitely old, that much was certain, and it was definitely not built by the Jedi. However, here and there he found familiar-looking terminals; consoles and fixtures that reminded him of the temple back on Coruscant. There had been a room containing a free-standing database pillar and a table and chairs that looked like they'd come straight from the Jedi Archives. The Jedi had been here, layering their technology and their furniture on top of the old. But what was the old? Who were the Brotherhood?

Perhaps the library database held the answers, but if there had been a way to activate it, Inyos hadn't been able to work it out. A conduit draped across the floor seemed to plumb the device into the facility itself, no doubt designed to draw from the main power grid that was unfortunately inactive. Inyos had studied each terminal he had come across thus far, only a few of them proving to be functional, and fewer still providing any kind of useful control. On the level overlooking the landing bay he had found a terminal that allowed him to activate the magnetic shield that would keep the Bespin air out and the breathable air in; fortunately that seemed to be one of the systems accounted for by emergency power, or whatever other low output situation the facility was currently suffering through. The controls were frustratingly simplistic, though: simple programming, simple software, no network access to let him poke around for other information.

That all changed with the next chamber he entered. In an instant he knew exactly what it was: he had been in just such a room at the Jedi Temple countless times during the Clone Wars. The room was vast and tall, domed and vaulted in a functionally ornate sort of way. Numerous corridors seemed to converge on this point, reaching out like the strands of a spiderweb with this chamber at the centre. Around the periphery were scattered consoles that Inyos guessed would access command and control functions, but at the heart was the true familiarity: a huge holoprojector just as there had been in the war room back in the Temple. There, fleet deployments and troop movements had flickered and flashed in the air in the usual crisp blue that one came to expect from a hologram when one was raised by the Republic; what shimmered into existence above this projector however - seemingly in direct response to him having entered the room - was rendered in shades of red and gold, a detailed representation of the platform within which Inyos stood. From the outside, through the the clouds and mists, he hadn't gained a true appreciation for the shape and scope of the platform. By contrast to Cloud City it was tiny - a floating building rather than the floating island that Figg money had constructed; smaller even than most starships - but it was still impressive, in an aggressively ornate sort of way. He found himself in the upper levels, vast and structural, no doubt the part of the platform intended for occupancy and habitation. Below, like the dangling tendrils of some cnidarian creature, hung pylons and superstructures that Inyos presumed held the generators, communications arrays, atmospheric processors, and the repulsorlifts that held the structure aloft.

There was something else though, a flashing indicator just off to the periphery. Inyos drew closer, almost mesmerised by the image. His lightsaber fell away, deactivating the instant his thumb released the trigger, only the glow of the projection illuminating the room. He reached out, curiosity driving his motions, fingers brushing through the photons of what he understood to be an approaching craft. The image shifted, a representation of the vessel filling the display. Inyos would know that silhouette anywhere: not the curved lines of the craft that Bespin Air Control used, but rather the profile of a BTL-B Y-Wing Bomber, a relic almost as old as he was. There was no denying the fact that it was on a direct course for the platform, and yet Inyos had the strangest sense that it posed no danger at all. There was something familiar about it, the same familiarity that he had sensed since arriving. Was this it? Was it this fighter, and not the Enclave, that the Force had led him here to see?

He turned away as the Y-Wing completed it's approach, settling onto the same landing platform that he had arrived by. He tugged a comlink from his pocket, already striding off down the corridors as he flicked it on, lightsaber held aloft once more to illuminate any obstacles. "We have company," he reported to P13, his voice utterly and annoyingly calm. "Stand by, I am returning."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

It was like there some some sort of gorram proximity alarm in her head. The nearer they got to the decayin' platform, the more weird she felt. It was like havin' one too many cups of caf and nothin' to eat or somethin'. Nah, weren't quite like that, but Sadie couldn't quite remember the last time she'd felt like she was being manipulated by outside stuff to a point where it was downright uncontrolled. Okay, so that weren't the truth, but this was the first time in a damn long time that it wasn't an unpleasant feelin'. Usually served as a warnin' sort of job, one of them bad feelin's you couldn't shake. This weren't that though, this was... was... like those final moments of checkin gear before takin' the stage or the first time y' heard a full mix of a recordin' put together and knew everythin' was comin' out right.

She'd wished she had taken the pilot's seat just so she could see what was comin' up next. Even if the view weren't really changin' all that much and the place was less than stellar when you got a look at it, it still felt like she needed to see it. Needed to...

Not get stopped by a big arse blast door or whatever the frak it was that had the place locked up tighter than some Zanazi's undergarments. That couldn't have been right. Sensors weren't showin' no clear way of tellin' the lock to frell off either. So how the frak do you get in there? Sure as hells ain't sayin' 'please'.

[Nen Lev'i]

Nen stared at the readouts in front of him, and they all confirmed the same thing: it was a door. Just a door at that. Most people might not know what to look at, but Nen? He was good at this sort of thing, good at getting into places he weren't supposed to be, good at locks and vaults and all that stuff. He knew what he was looking for, and this door in front of them? There wasn't a damn thing. Okay so sure, there was an energy signature that seemed like an atmospheric containment field, but there were no external consoles. No obvious optical ports. No receptor antennae. No little hatches that those creepy Hutt eyeball droid things could poke out of and waggle around. There was seemingly no way of opening the door from the outside, and that... that made no sense. This platform was clearly designed for landing, and you didn't put a landing platform outside of an obvious hanger door unless you expected someone to need to land on it at some point. Which meant people were going to get out of ships out here, and they were going to need to get inside. Sure, with some breathing gear, decent balance, and a good head for heights, that wasn't really a big deal - but then where did you go? Was the only way in to have someone on the other side open the door for you?

And where was the fighter they'd come here chasing. Was he inside already?

Before his mind could formulate answers to any of that - and before he could work out how to arm the weapons systems, just in case that turned out to be the only way of getting in - he felt a rumble reverberate through the landing platform. For a minute he panicked, hand flying to the repulsor control just in case the ancient platform was giving way beneath them, but instead it was the door that began to shift, creaking up into it's recessed berth within the platform's superstructure. This was what they wanted: the door was open. They could get inside.

So why did Nen feel like he needed a new pair of shorts?

"Was that you?" he asked, more than a little nervousness in his voice. "Because it weren't frellin' me."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Nope." Granted, the whole sudden opening of giant doors had her a bit startled when nerves were already all antsy, but she was willin' them damn things to crack too much to give a care for if she jumped in her seat a bit or not.

"At least, I don't think so."

That was an unnervin' thought. Okay so she could sometimes do stuff that no normal person had any right to but she'd had that all under wraps. Last time she'd done anythin' had been on that big lizard death machine an' one of them Jedi folk had almost called her out on it but she'd told 'em to not pay any mind. Wasn't the time and she'd skipped off before the time ever came around. Certainly weren't gonna go an' pull anythin' stupid like that now. Not with... well... reasons to really avoid that sort of dren.

Sadie had half a mind to take a real deep breath, pop the hatch, and go runnin' down the landin' pad into what waited beyond. Knew it wouldn't work. Didn't make it any less temptin'. Also knew there were reasons for it and yet she somehow only barely contained the urge to ask Nen if he was movin' in real slow just to drive her up the damned walls.

There weren't a ton of light inside, it was hard to see to be honest when compared to the bright outside world, but just enough was escapin' in and came from the emergency bits that they found the thing that'd lead her here in the first place.

"Well, at least we know the ship didn't go an' magically up an' vanish." She mumbled before findin' herself startin' a bit as the doors started closin' behind them. "And... that's just downright ominous."

[Inyos Aamoran]

Ominous. That wasn't the intention, but it was the effect. As the doors strangled off the Bespin light from beyond once more, the shadows cascaded back into the hangar like a flood, and it was into that Inyos strode, emerging from the corridor with sombre purpose. He kept his distance from the new craft, but close enough to still be in view, his eyes fixed on the cockpit canopy, reaching out to sense the intentions of those lying within.

With a snap and a hiss his lightsaber ignited, the icy blue glow casting a strange silhouette across half of his body, which threw his already sharp features into sharper relief. He sensed no overt malice from the Y-Wing's occupants, and yet there was something confused and distorted about their intentions; particularly the one mind that screamed at him more loudly than the other. It was almost as if they were unsure why they were here. Drawn by the Force perhaps, as he had been? Or simply curious, having observed a strange blip on their scanners? He sensed both, somehow, twisted and intertwined; and that feeling of familiarity grew stronger still, singing to him, urging him forward with a chest-clenching anxiety. He needed whatever or whoever was in that ship. Needed to know. Needed to understand.

His hand reached out, invisible tendrils of Force snaking out across the distance between his fingers and the starfighter, reaching into the mechanisms, triggering the external release latch for the canopy. With a nudge of telekinetic assistance, the durasteel barrier slowly rose, exposing the pilot to the platform's reprocessed air.

"I am Inyos Aamoran," he intoned, his voice echoing around the hanger, amplifying off the walls. "Why are you here?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Son of a..." The words died on her lips as she stared at the blue lit individual standin' in the hangar.

It kriffin' couldn't be. Just. No. Way. She'd heard about the Will of the Force and all that, but it was a load of poodoo. Everythin' was a giant load at this point, or at least that's as far as her brain was goin'. It weren't often that Sadie found her brain switched off to huttese but the string of colorful curses were hearkenin' back to days of old.

Way old.

Nen seemed frozen in place what with the cockpit opened not on his wantin' and that was probably for the best. When it came to Sadie, well, her eyes were downright stuck on the shadowed person as her hands unthinkingly went to the controls and told the dome above her head to crack itself open and let her get about movin' like she were in some sort of freakish dream.

B'fore she knew any better her feet were on solid-ish ground and she was walkin' towards the guy with the lit up Jedi sticker. Funny thing was, despite not bein' proper armed herself, she didn't feel those usual warnin's in her head. Just that drawin' towards the guy that was definitely to blame for all of this. What was the frikin deal?

"I- I know you."

Nar Shaddaa. Home. She'd been... so small. No. No. No. This was all wrong. He couldn't be here lookin' almost exactly the same. And yet...

[Inyos Aamoran]

You know me?

The familiarity was blinding, piercing into his head like a shouting scream. Memories danced across the edge of his consciousness, but they were memories from before, memories from beyond the great void of darkness that had carved out the centre of his life and made it so difficult to remember who he had been before. In the glow of the lightsaber, and the dimness of the scant lighting the hanger provided, there was something eerie about her features, something about the eyes, the cut of her jaw; but only faint, nowhere near a match for the wail of familiarity he felt towards her.

His grip shifted, finger releasing the dead man switch that kept the lightsaber's blade ignited. Darkness descended deeper around them, the details in front of his vision fading, the memories coming clearer still. Nar Shaddaa. Yes, he could hear that in her accent. How long had it been since he had dwelt there? A few years shy of two decades? He had been a different man then. Still his old self, or there abouts. The last place that the old him had ever existed, in fact. A Jedi on the run. It had been after Lúka. After the Malebius. Before Ithil. Before Mandan. Before everything that had been lost. And she, she -

An alleyway. Gangs. Noise. Chaos. He felt fear. Danger. Frightened minds. Frightened children. Some opportunistic criminal, preying on street orphans, abducting and inducting them into some exploitative crime ring. Tiny hands make subtle thieves. He remembered those words, remembered the sadistic glee lurking behind the lips that had uttered them. He remembered Mandan's words when they had received the message telling them what was afoot. Lets be Jedi, one last time. And he remembered the hands that had typed that message, the hands that had tried to pick his pocket and stumbled across a lightsaber instead. The hands that had fled before contacting them when it was safe. The hands that had lurked in the broken vent pipe, nervously warning them of the danger that so many children faced before scampering away. The hands that had hugged around him, thanked him, before disappearing into the crowd. The hands he should have taken hold of, held on to, led away from the dingy depths of Nar Shaddaa to the fractionally better life that he might have been able to offer.

The hands that stood before him now.

He studied her face, reading the years that had changed her since they had last met. What had she called herself in those days? Sid? She was still young, too few lines on her face to tell any real stories, but there were plenty to be seen elsewhere. She carried her body strangely, as if permanently self-conscious, permanently wounded, or both. Her expressions were pinched, an undercurrent of pessimism and bitterness beneath everything. Her eyes were bright, and pure, but sadder than they had any right to be, tragic stories and too much pain swimming away behind the blue. He knew those eyes. He saw eyes like those in every reflective surface, staring back at him with all the hurt and regret of a whole lifetime. He thought of the grateful embrace she had given him all those years ago; wished he knew how to return it now.

"How -"

The question didn't even finish before the answers began to resolve in his mind. Whatever strand of Force had drawn him here, it must have done the same to her. Whether the strand connected them both to this place, or merely looped through this abandoned Enclave on the way to each other, he could not be sure, but he had no doubt of what had transpired. It was the will of the Force that he and she should meet - reunite - in this place. But why? A chance for redemption? A chance to undo a mistake of the past, to put right an injustice? He supposed he would find out in due time.

His head bowed, the very faintest ghost of a smile taking the edge off the harshness in his features.

"It is good to see you again, Sid. It has been -" A faint breath, as much of a laugh as he could muster, escaped at the understatement he was about to offer. "- a long time."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"J-jus' a bit there," she whispered. Sadie hadn't meant to, it just kinda came out that way.

He was here. Beyond all reasonable explanation or anythin' that her brain could suss out the gorram Jedi was here. Force works in mysterious ways was frellin' right. She'd come across more Jedi since then. The frakin' Novgorod for one! But no. It was here on kriffin Bespin and...

Sadie wavered a bit, uncertainty suddenly smackin' her in the face. She didn't like the idea that there was somethin' pullin' strings and tuggin' her where it wanted her to be. That made a lot of the crap she'd experienced seems like a grand cosmic joke. Not that it didn't some days but it was one thing to laugh it off and another to find out that it might be true.

She suddenly felt all kinds of self conscious. Here she was, draggin' Nen out of a perfectly good and safe hideaway to come here to - apparently - talk to some Jedi who downright saved her from a livin' nightmare at one point in her life b'fore she'd even picked up her first quettara.

"S-so... what brings y' t' this hunk of junk?" It sounded stupid saying it and she even shuffled a bit uncomfortably and found herself scratchin' the back of her neck like she was havin' some borin' conversation some place perfectly reasonable rather than some old abandoned... whatever this place was.

[Inyos Aamoran]

"That -"

- is complicated. That was the answer he intended to give. It was his natural inclination to be evasive and vague. Too much practice hiding who and what he was. Too much time spent hiding the Jedi Order's secrets from those intent on destroying it. But why now? There was no reason for it. If Sid had been delivered here by the will of the Force, then surely she of all people could be trusted?

"- is a good question," he redirected. "I learned of this place in some of the old Jedi records that we have been able to scavenge together in recent months. According to what I read, it was once a Jedi Enclave, a few hundred years ago; but an obscure one. I had hoped that it might have gone unnoticed during the Purge, and that some Jedi teachings might have survived, but, well..."

His lips tugged into a thin line, frustration escaping as a breath through his nose.

"As you can see, I haven't managed to even turn the lights on, let alone access any kind of database."

His gaze shifted for the briefest of moments, looking past Sid and towards the craft that had brought her. It was of a slightly later generation of starfighter, one that favoured independent astromech units instead of integrated ones. Had the Force not only brought him a familiar face, but potentially the tools to help him unlock the secrets of this place? Had it compelled him to travel here alone, knowing full well that accompaniment would be readily available when he got there? The idea of the Force's will had always unsettled him: it was something that Mandan embraced with carefree ease, but Inyos found something disconcerting in the notion of some abstract consciousness guiding his actions and the fate of the whole universe, following some plan that he could never know or understand. There were some who embraced mysteries, who lived for them; Inyos could not stand them, they grated against his sensibilities, itching to be uncovered. But for now, he would simply accept the events that had transpired, and be grateful for the gifts that the universe had seemingly presented.

"I don't suppose I could borrow your droid?" Inyos asked. There was the strangest shift in his voice, something strangely relaxed, something that might even have seemed ever so faintly mirthful had it come from the lips of anyone else. Was that even a faint flicker of a rueful smile? "Unless you still remember how to slice your way into people's hotel room computers, of course."