Big thankyou to everyone on lj and that has reviewed and read this! I have the prologue for the next story I'm working on (a bridge between K1 and K2 - called Foresight) that will focus on Revan. It should be up sometime later this week and when that's finally done I'll be started on my uber post TSL epic Ananmesis, that will incorporate both stories. Anyway, thanks again and I hope you like the Epilogue. Ananmesis picks up right where this drops off. So enjoy.


There was a bitter cold in the stagnant air of the Ebon Hawk as the ship sputtered around attempting to reach a higher speed than the current snails pace it was running in the ruins of Malachor V. The pilot was nursing a deep cut to his forehead and swearing at the controls. "Move, you stupid piece of –"

"Atton," the tired voice of a Zabrak, holding his side with his good arm (he seemed to have misplaced the other one) and favoring what looked like a broken rib, came through. "I tried getting the hyperdrive online. It should work, but there's still some damage done. I need a little more time."

Atton still had a cloth that was slowly covering in blood pressed against his forehead. "And?"

Bao-Dur narrowed his vision and winced against another onslaught of pain, "Stop messing with the controls and let her drift, you're messing up the calibrations."

Atton groaned and lifted himself out of the chair walked down the hallway to the medbay where a blonde haired, blue-eyed woman sat quietly for the last hour. He turned toward the Disciple, now known to them as Mical (though they hardly called him that), and clenched his teeth, "You gonna use your fancy Jedi powers to fix the gash coming out of my head or you just going to stare at her all day?"

Disciple frowned. "She hasn't moved for over an hour," he looked up at the gash. "Besides why don't you use your lessons to fix your wound?"

He winced as spots went in front of his eyes and leaned against the wall. "Because I didn't get that far, got it, so if you want a living pilot, fix me up!"

The younger man let out a quiet sigh and shot another concerned look towards the woman before tending to the aggravating pilot's wounds. When he was done, Atton felt much less dizzy and sore, so he experimentally poked at the bandage and stumbled. "Careful," warned Disciple.

Atton groaned loudly and cradled his head. "Oh, this is worse than that hangover during the Pazaak Championship in Coruscant."

The blond man ignored him. "How are Bao-Dur and Mira?"

Atton blinked, "The Zabrak is nursing his chest and his arm is missing, that can't be a good thing… and I have no idea where our lady of the bounties went."

He shook his head softly and left Atton in the medbay, hearing him start to talk to the catatonic woman, "So… if you can't say anything, I've got a couple of questions to ask."

Disciple decided to leave him there, it might bring her out of it, if only to yell at the scoundrel. He breathed in deeply, stepping over the buzzing protocol droid looking in search of the rest of the injured crewmembers. Mira was favoring a split lip and quite possibly a broken leg, but her face was hard from her trek on the planets surface and she had a new blade in her hands that she would not speak of. The other Droid that was left was shifting his blaster around and shooting out sparks every time he turned.

It was another hour before anything else happened, broken by a high-pitched beeping from the security room. "What the hell?" Atton's voice came from the communications relay.

Mira limped behind the rest of the crew, and Bao-Dur helped her across, apparently finding his other arm. Disciple walked, careful not to trip over T3-M4 again and HK-47 slowly brought up the rear.

"What is it, Atton?" Bao-Dur asked, still supporting Mira's weight.

Atton shook his head and his eyes were wide in disbelief. "You'll never believe this, but someone is comming us."

Mira grunted and tried to lean on her good leg unsuccessfully, "And we wouldn't believe that why? Maybe it's some Republic do-gooders."

"Or another Sith ship to finish the job," Bao-Dur said softly.

Mira frowned at him, "Great optimism there, BD."

Atton waved his hand towards the screen. "It's coming from one of the dead ships…" everyone was silent as they stared at the still beeping console. "Well?" Atton asked. No one said anything and he sighed, pressing the com button.

A crackle of static came through before a strong female voice pierced the silence. "Space it, you guys have incredible timing."

No one knew how to react to the voice, until T3-M4 started whirring and HK-47 spoke up, "Master?"

The woman still in the medbay stood up suddenly.