Kreia | Darth Traya

When the Ebon Hawk settled itself onto the grasses of Lothal, the evening was rapidly coming on. It had been a hot day, but the night promised welcome relief - a small mercy for a population in fear for their lives. The pirate lords - for that was what they could be termed - had found Lothal to be the perfect base of operations in the aftermath of galactic-scale conflicts. It was out of the way, and not important enough for the Republic to assemble a task force to push them off.

And so they ruled, absolute, the open grasslands and hills host to at least three rival factions. Eventually, one would rule, and all knew this. And so they fought, incessantly, and the people of Lothal were caught in the crossfire. It was an irony, she thought; a planet so strong in the Force, to suffer so under such an undignified, mundane yoke. She wondered, idly, why the Jedi had never come here. There was...a peace here, underneath it all. The woman she had once been would have found great solace here.

When Surik came to her, she allowed some of her weariness to show on her face. "Go forth without me," she said, her plan weaving itself around what she sensed of the place. "I find myself tired, and I will retreat into the grasslands to meditate and re-center myself. Take the Fool and the Iridonian with you - they have the most experience of such places, and will blend in the best. Under no circumstances should the assassin leave the ship."

Meetra looked doubtful, wavering. It was her way, to question. She loved that about her, truly she did. Her mind was always ready to question what it was told - and that is what made her special. Dogma would never chain her. Lies would never stop her. But that kindness would be her undoing, if she could not contain it.

"Heed my words, those who oppress this planet are stupid but suspicious. Give them nothing that will arouse such thoughts. Go, now. I will be waiting when you are done."

When they had left, of course, she slipped away. It was simple enough. None of the others on board were powerful enough to track her movements, if she did not want. In fact, with some careful manipulations, they not only didn't note her but would be certain they had seen her. It was likely unnecessary, but again, questions. Had she not been born to change the universe, Meetra Surik would have still had a career as the greatest of detectives.

She wandered into the grasslands, seeking her quarry. He sought to hide from everyone - she wondered, idly, if he had closed himself off so much from the Force that he did not sense Surik. They had, she knew, been very close, once. Back when she had still taught under the banner of the Jedi, and Revan was a name unknown to the galaxy. Had time dulled their connection so? Or had the walls he erected at least buried it, for now? She couldn't take the risk. If events were to proceed as she had foreseen, he was a pawn that needed to be removed from the board. Let the others deal with the pirates; she had no doubt that within a day, at most, the Exile would have broken them forever - but she could not find the Jedi they sought, however much the Exile's eyes had sparked with joy and fear when she had read the name on Atris' list.

Sightlessly, she moved through the long grasses, occasionally letting her remaining hand brush over their tips. Yes, she could have found peace here, once. She and...

She locked the thought away. Had Atris been able to sense her on Taris, she might have struck her down to keep them apart. As it was, the woman once known just as Kreia knew exactly why her daughter was in Atris' employ. A last insult, from a woman who despised her. Who would, in a heartbeat, take the Exile from her, too. One from spite, the other from jealousy. Another pawn to be removed, when the time came. And one whose mind she would take pleasure in ripping apart, before shredding her body to the last molecule.

She wore her visage as the old Jedi woman well. He might see through it, when they met. He might not. Nevertheless, Darth Traya came for him.