Star Wars
Tales of the Knights of the Old Republic
Downfall
Author's Notes: This is about Darth Revan, in the final moments of a massive space battle that will ultimately seal her fate, thus crowning Malak as her successor and beginning the game in a manner we're all familiar with. This chronicles her thoughts shortly before she's confronted by Bastila and the Jedi strike team. I guess you could say that this would be the 'sequel' to Perdition's Path, which was submitted for the "How Malak Lost His Jaw" contest, though this entirely stands out on its own, as it was originally intended. Submitted for your approval, this is my entry for the "Past Experiences" challenge, as outlined by Albur, on Trillian4210's Challenge Forums supported by BaM Web Productions. Now, that was a mouthful.
Fire ripped apart the cold black vacuum of space, sending molten fragments of durasteel that was quick to cool. All throughout the Thyferra system, the Republic forces clashed mightily against the larger and deadlier armada of the Sith Empire, all in a meager bid to defeat the one person who had brought the Galaxy to its knees: Darth Revan.
Once a prominent Jedi Knight who had defeated the might of the Mandalorian Clans, she had fallen to the Dark Side and seized control over those who once followed her out of revered admiration. Now, in the recess of a year and a half, she had conquered much of known space, controlling militaristic worlds and using techniques that had begun to shatter the Republic from the inside as well as the outside. Many systems had seceded to her cause, many Jedi—once thought to be the protectors and saviours of the Galaxy—rallied to her cause in a bid to survive and fight under a new order that didn't inhibit their abilities.
For far too long the Jedi Masters of old had downplayed Revan's abilities, but now, after so many years of warfare as a Jedi and now a Sith Lord, Darth Revan had split the Republic in half, and she continued her relentless onslaught. By her side, her companion Malak had fallen to the Dark Side, becoming the strong arm in her campaigns against the Republic.
After taking Moorja and then Yag'dhul, Revan and Malak's armada had begun their assault on Thyferra in the hopes of commandeering the planet's resources.
She stood on the bridge, watching the battle unfold before her eyes, studying the movements of the Republic fleet and her own. It had only been three hours into the battle and already she had gained the advantage, sweeping away weapon defence platforms and obliterating the defence forces without so much as batting an eye. She could feel the furor of battle call her, touching her and tantalizing her through the Force, yet she held it at bay.
Revan was many things, but she was not a slave to the callings of the Dark Side.
She calculated new strategies, watching as strategists that had once been under her command guided the Republic fleet into her own designs and trappings. She had spent time getting to know each and every one of the tacticians, including the Fleet Admiral Forn Dodonna.
The good Admiral had sent her forces in a triumvirate, hoping to catch Revan off-guard, though the Sith knew better.
It was all a feint.
Dodonna wanted to separate Revan from Malak, and though it seemed like a wise idea, Revan knew something that the good Admiral didn't: there were reinforcements moving from behind one of Thyferra's moons, ready to surround the Republic fleet.
After everything that had occurred over the last nine years, Revan was proud that soon she would beat back the Republic fleet and beat back the Jedi. She smiled, knowing that in order to beat back the Jedi, she'd have to recruit her newest adversary to her cause.
"Bastila," she whispered, her voice so low and ragged from the changes over the years, that no one had heard her. "Show your pretty little face."
Before her very eyes, she witnessed a trio of black predatory Sith fighters zoom past her bridge, lancing energy into a lone Republic fighter. Revan took pleasure in the explosion, feeling the radiating touch of death warm her very soul. She touched the battle through the Force, enjoying the small tingling sensations that ran across her neck and down to her belly, symbolizing the very deaths of the people who fought outside.
It almost felt as if their deaths were satiating Revan's growing hunger, though she knew far better than that. Revan, in the plainest of terms, was a creature who was not only a genius, but thrived on the death of others, as long as it suited her goal.
"Bastila," she whispered once more, her warm, rank breath misting her mask. "Where are you?"
She tapped her fingers gently on her arm that crossed over her chest. She was safe inside the dark ominous armour that had become her home. The mask was a symbol of things that had passed and what was to come. Her abilities with the Force had given her the edge she needed to take command of a fleet and carve an empire and now, after living inside of a suit of armour that had become like a second skin to her, did she finally understand the thrill that the Mandalorians sought.
The ship rumbled slightly, but she paid it no mind—the Republic cruisers were trying to rattle her cage by firing several rounds into her flagship, though to no avail. She had spent far too long ensuring her vessel outmatched every single vessel both in her fleet and in the Republic's. She needed that edge if she were to survive and keep her Empire going.
Right now, she waited for her prize, hoping that the Jedi were already on the scene, fighting and biding their time until they thought they had Revan. She intended to give them that bait, and when they least expected it, she'd have her reinforcements deploy and then she'd massacre the lot of them before she could take the planet. She had already secured two thirds of the system—Thyferra would not be lost to her, not after pouring so many resources into this engagement.
The resources on that planet would enable the chance to heal her own soldiers if she learned how to refine the properties. By taking Thyferra, Revan would no longer have a need for kolto, though she was no fool. If things didn't work out in her favour, she always had a steady stream of kolto being supplied to her by the good graces of the Selkath. That was the benefit of keeping up appearances and alliances.
"What's the status of the fleet?" She finally asked, growing impatient with the lack of appearance from the so-called 'glimmer of hope.'
"The Republic forces are moving to intercept Lord Malak's battle group, Mistress," one of the lieutenants spoke up.
"What's the status of his battle group, then, lieutenant?"
"The Leviathan is spearheading the assault, Mistress," the same officer replied. "Lord Malak's group is moving to engage, and they've only lost two frigates and three destroyers."
"Three destroyers?" She asked, turning around and walking across the pristine platform towards the officer. "Is he incompetent or just bull-headed?"
The officer paled and stammered, "Ma'am?"
Shaking her head, Revan looked at the large tactical display, confirming her suspicions about Malak. He'd been growing far too zealous—he'd gone so far as to bomb Telos and he'd complain about assaulting systems that had no strategic importance. Their lack of importance was what she had pointed out to him; whether or not he believed her was up to him, and it appeared that he didn't believe her in the slightest.
"Pull my battle group back, and have our heavier ships surround us, and have picket vessels placed here, here and here," she ordered, placing her gloved finger on the screen.
"Yes, Ma'am," the officer said, moving out to perform the orders.
Revan was the only real commander of her vessel—there were no Admirals or Generals, only a single Captain who stood on the bridge as a mere formality. "And inform Admiral Karath to bring his group out of orbit now—we need to separate the Republic forces as best we can before they decide to use brute force to eliminate us one by one." She looked back at the large transparisteel view and walked towards it, hoping she'd find some sort of hope.
Instead, the view she received was the Republic fleet alpha striking her forward destroyers and carriers, leaving them into molten fragments that collided with both elements of the fleet. "Whoever is commanding that fleet is good—and not Dodonna."
"Mistress Revan!" The same officer cried out.
"What is it?"
"It's unlike anything I've ever seen: it's almost as if the Republic fleet is anticipating our every manoeuvre."
Narrowing her eyes, Revan moved back towards the battle display. "Move our carriers back and have our picket vessels cover the retreating carriers." She glanced over to the fighter deployments and added, "move Red, Green and Grey squadrons to cover those ships and intercept those fighters that attempt to get past the threshold."
The officer nodded and quickly set about to his task, leaving Revan to ponder the new element in the game.
Bastila. So, the game's afoot, eh? This is the last glimmer of hope and now I know what her unique trait is. Most impressive. She looked over to the officers that held onto their consoles as the ship lurched from a barrage of energy.
Almost on command, the fleet did Revan's bidding, only to watch Green squadron wink out completely from a squadron of fighters that herded the interceptors towards the Republic picket vessels. Revan growled, her anger growing with each and every moment she was outmanoeuvered by a squadron or small group of capital ships firing relentlessly on her destroyers.
"Bastila," she growled, clenching her fist, leaving the seething rage to filter through from her body towards the Force, contaminating the pure and raw stream. She whirled around to face the officer who continued to give her status reports each and every moment. "Lieutenant, open a channel to Lord Malak and inform him to use his fleet to cut a swath between us and them." She glanced back to the tactical display, watching a swarm of the once dwindling blue arrow shaped objects begin to rally towards another cluster of blue arrows. "I want his flotilla to support our group before the Republic makes their push."
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, setting off to achieve her orders.
She continued to watch the display, a part of her in admiration and another part that seethed with boiling rage. I want to face you in combat, Bastila—I want you to know who your better is and always will be. Your little Battle Meditation is no match for the power of the Dark Side and the wisdom I've accumulated over the years of warfare.
She held her ground as the world around her lurched again, courtesy of incoming ordnance from the Republic warships, led by the Endar Spire.
Consoles around her sparked, leaving a few of her own bridge officers to crumple from a burst of debris and sparks that faded as quickly as it came.
Acrid smoke filled her vision momentarily, until she walked up the stairway and towards her view once more. The bodies that had once surrounded her had failed to move one bit. She gazed out at the crushed remains of an Interdictor-class warship, its shattered maw reminding her of the final lesson she had to teach Malak in order to join her new vision.
Ever since that moment, she had created a monster and an enemy that was controlled only through her raw power of the Dark Side. Revan knew, however, that power alone would not sufficiently control the berserker within Malak. He had become far too keen on warfare, ignoring her carefully laid out plans to keep the infrastructure of the Republic intact. As a result, his growing defiance of her latest orders on Telos had been his failure for the last time.
The battle of Thyferra was specifically about resources, namely seeking the alliance of the one person who could aid her infinitely more than just brawn and brute tactics. Bastila was her key in this war and this battle and Revan had accomplished one of her many goals: lure out the 'last hope.'
The only thing that mattered to Revan as of this moment was to survive the encounter intact and take Bastila as her personal prize and trophy. Once she had completed that, Malak would no longer be of any use to her. It was all carefully laid out, and now she had to ensure that Malak played out his role completely before the day drew to an end.
She ignored the bright flash of light before her very eyes; she already knew what grim news lay ahead: the Republic had destroyed one of her prized Vanguard Destroyers. She only had six more that attempted to block the Republic's way between them and the Banshee, her personal flagship.
"Ma'am, the Warhammer and the Slayer have just reported heavy casualties taken from bombing runs and the point-blank engagement with Republic forces."
She sighed; at least her trusted Lieutenant was still alive. The same couldn't be said for the good Captain that now lay as a charred husk behind the bloodied Lieutenant. "What's the status of the other Vanguard Destroyers?"
She watched the bruised young man look over a console whose monitor flickered briefly.
It was then that she looked around her bridge and noticed there was more damage than she had previously anticipated. When had it all happened? She cursed herself silently, knowing that she had become enraptured with the touch of death within the Force while the battle raged around her.
The officer looked up and Revan's heart sank slightly when he shook his head. "They're holding their ground, Ma'am, but they've taken heavy damage. We lost one more from a concentrated attack from the Republic."
She nodded and bit her lower lip, finally asking a question that seemed to hang in the air. "What are the Republic losses?"
He looked back at the screen and shook his head, and Revan could feel his despondency touch her heart, and in that instant, she could feel a dead weight press on her heart. "Minimal."
She gazed back towards the bridge, watching soldiers assist medics with bodies, whilst others carried their wounded friends away from the bridge. Shortly before her, a pair of medics treated a badly burned communications officer, until a high-pitched whine from seemingly nowhere ignited behind them, sending more shrapnel over the bridge.
The medics were killed instantly from the power surge. The wounded officer was already dead.
"What are your orders, Ma'am?" The Lieutenant asked her, his voice filled with concern even whilst the world around them ignited in a dazzling shower of sparks and bodies.
She pursed her lips and the Banshee wailed in its metallic protest as the ship shuddered once more, followed by a loud crack and an explosion that rocked the ship. "Have the fleet pull back and inform Lord Malak to focus his group on assisting us this instant." She glanced over to the transparisteel view of the cold, bloody battle that seemed to make her blood boil in anticipation.
She glanced back at the officer and added, "and tell Admiral Karath to push through the barrier—I don't care if he has to ram the Republic forces or not, just tell him to move his prissy Alderaanian artisan fleet on the double right now." She returned her gaze on her men who willingly followed her orders and for the first time in a long time, she smiled. It wasn't out of sadism, smugness or anything else for that matter. Her smile was a genuine tone of pride she had for the men and women that were loyal to her.
Revan knew she couldn't fail them—not here and certainly not now. She had a battle to win and a fleet to salvage from a poorly miscalculated error. She turned back to gaze on the incoming fleet, who seemed intent on feasting on her blood.
The Republic fleet moved with a feverish bloodlust that made even the Dark Lady of the Sith shudder. The warships continued to move towards her, ignorant of the debris and ejected pilots that blocked their paths.
Glancing over to the display, she witnessed Admiral Forn Dodonna's triumvirate turn into a spear, eager to crush through her perimeter and take her power from her.
Revan chided the poor Admiral; Dodonna failed to remember that a cornered animal is the most dangerous one. For someone who had fought alongside her in the Mandalorian Wars, the good Admiral seemed quick to forget her lessons.
Right behind her spear, however, came Saul Karath, who seemed intent on carrying out his Master's orders. Bastila can wait, she mused, quickly running over scenarios in her head with her quickly diminishing forces.
Right now I need to get these people away from here. I need to live to fight another day—and now I know never to underestimate that particular Padawan's abilities with the Force. They were right: she is their last glimmer of hope, but unlike the Jedi, I'll ensure to snuff it out and rekindle her flame as one of my own.
Turning about, she saw the good Lieutenant, whose eyes glimmered with news. She also noticed that the ship had suddenly stopped lurching from the barrage the Republic kept sending their way.
"Lord Malak is moving now to intercept the fleet and break through the line to rendezvous with us, Mistress Revan. Admiral Karath also has his battle group keeping the Republic fleet at bay until we can create a jump solution."
She nodded and looked at the display, and then she glanced back at the officer. "Order our remaining squadrons to create a perimeter between us and the massing Republic battle group. Have our remaining picket vessels and frigates support them and stand by to send them jump coordinates."
The officer saluted and quickly relayed the orders to the surviving officers on the bridge, only to be tapped by Revan.
"And Lieutenant, bank ninety-degrees to port and unload our broadsides for as long as possible. I don't want the Republic getting through to us that easily." She turned about and faced the oncoming tide of the fleet, watching them traverse their way through the deadly debris.
She saw the entire engine section of a frigate collide into the large drooping bow of a Republic warship, rupturing and igniting whatever trace amounts of fuel was left in the turbine. It must have been one of the earlier ships to have been hit from the barrage because the engine vapourized the bow, leaving small bits of the forward section of the warship to pepper its allies and destroy few of its precious fighters in the process.
The ship careened, dipping from the cold silence of space towards the impending disaster on the planet.
Before it could do that, however, Revan witnessed a volley of scarlet energy rip apart the warship, rupturing its own fuel lines. She saw the vessel burst like an overripe fruit, flames engulfing it without a trace. It was then that she noticed that she was moving away from the fight; no, not myself, she reiterated, realizing that the Banshee had begun to shift its rotation, as per her orders. It only then made sense when she had heard the sudden mechanical gyrations below her feet that it was her turbolaser cannons and batteries that were opening fire on the fleet, creating a perimeter.
She looked on with a sliver of hope for her survival while streams of scarlet energy and projectiles lanced into the debris and the fleet, turning several unlucky pilots and crewmen into fireballs. "Keep that firing solution going and do not let up until every last one of them is dead or dying," she barked, racing over to the tactical display and glancing back towards the view of the battle.
She saw one of her destroyers shattered and broken absorb some of the fire and for a moment, she wondered whether or not there were any survivors on board. She furrowed her brow and cast the thought aside, knowing there was no point in worrying about survivors when her own safety was at risk. They were all casualties of war, fighting for the greater good that not even the Republic or the Jedi could understand. She had abandoned her Jedi ways for the Sith, knowing that it might be the only key to ending the things she saw coming from the very edge of the Galaxy.
The once silver and pristine destroyer glimmered with millions of fireballs along its worn and scarred hull, both from the Sith and Republic fleets. If there were any survivors, they would surely not survive as the Republic fleet continued their trek towards their quarry, unleashing emerald salvo after salvo, desperate to defeat the Dark Lady of the Sith.
Revan watched all of this with fascination, knowing her soldiers were doing everything in their power to keep their prized leader from being defeated by the Republic—in any nature, whatsoever. It was then that she felt a slight tremor in the Force and knew that death had arrived, held in check by the leash that was in her hands.
Malak.
Bastila would be hard-pressed to combat not only Revan's influential sway over the Force, but Malak's raw power with the Dark Side of the Force that made his fleet the indestructible juggernaughts that they were.
Revan couldn't help but smile, knowing that Malak would plow through the Republic forces whilst Karath would pick them apart. Her opportunity would be growing near, yet she knew that this was not a calculated loss—it was one that was harder for her to imagine, but she wanted to learn all she can about Bastila's abilities. It was the only thing that kept her going, so she would be better prepared for the next encounter.
Before her, the battle continued to rage on, whilst the Republic fleet traversed through the deadly debris that Revan's destroyers had taken refuge behind. The remaining four wedge-shaped vessels had followed suit to the Banshee's manoeuvre and created a firing solution that laid waste to those unfortunate to escape the deadly energy.
Revan couldn't help but notice the raw efficiency in the way her destroyers were laying waste to the Republic fleet. It brought an almost pleasant sense to her, knowing that the men and women under her command would sooner die than allow their prized leader and ideals to fall. Before the Banshee laid two pairs of Vanguard destroyers, two of which were located below her flagship's hull while the other pair towered over her ship. These last four wedge-shaped vessels continued to lay down heavy fire from their broadsides, firing every single turret, battery and torpedo launcher that was available to them.
Revan felt a cold grip run through her body, chilling her skin and allowing her to take in the raw anger and hatred that quickly overflowed the foreboding feelings of fear and anxiety. She knew Malak was continuing to plunge his way through the lines, not caring if his group took losses, yet at the same time, she could feel something almost devious and menacing about the way his group manoeuvred through the waves and waves of Republic fighters.
She spoke up, her voice cold and collected, "what is the status of our hyperdrive?"
"We're bringing it online as we speak, Mistress," the young lieutenant answered, his voice weary.
"Have our fighters create a perimeter between our firing solutions and the escaping battle group," she relayed, moving towards the tactical display once more and staying firmly put. She watched Bastila's group continue undaunted, their concentrated battlegroup reducing Revan's numbers significantly. The Star Forge will have to replenish our forces. It's the only way to survive a horrible encounter such as this. Her gloved finger traced the tactical display, watching blue arrows move against red ones and outmanoeuvring them. Survival is important if I am to fight another day. Bastila will have to wait. Such a waste.
She glanced back at the screen and watched Malak's forces come into play, wreaking havoc against the Republic forces, but taking just as many losses as she was. Looks like brawn might be the only way out of this fight. It's such a pity that this battle has been resorted to a mere slugfest. She glanced back to the shattered destroyer that hung between the ravenous Republic fleet and the now battered Sith flotilla.
"Target torpedoes at the Rancor's fuselage. I want it to buy us some time."
A loud mechanical whine that repeated itself in the matter of moments was all the reply she gained, and before she knew it, the battered destroyer lit up, engulfed in flames and sending debris across the field, colliding into warships, frigates and swatting away fighters as if they were merely flies.
A large fragment of the destroyer went careening into one of the Republic vessels, shattering it from bow to stern, sending rivulets of fire across its hull and causing the large capital ship to collide into one of its companions.
It appeared that though Bastila's abilities had given the Republic fleet hope, her stamina in the Force was beginning to dwindle. It wouldn't be long before the fleet just barely matched Revan's skill, even with Bastila's Battle Meditation bolstering their abilities.
So much for anticipating my every move, she smirked. It was then—and only then—that she realized she had erred grievously.
She watched a trio of Sith fighters scream past her bridge, chased by a single Republic fighter hurling emerald energy into their wake.
A loud explosion rocked the bridge, sending her flying towards the display and crashing into it, shattering the tactical readout and bruising her back.
Rising, she looked over and saw the young lieutenant reading the damage report. Sparks showered over him and several of the remaining officers. He looked up and screamed over the blaring klaxons, "we've just lost one of our engines! Three fighter wings have dropped out of hyperspace behind us, along with six assault frigates and four heavy warships!"
She rose, ignoring the pain that ran along her back, knowing it would subside very soon.
He looked at her and stared her square in the eye, once more impressing the Dark Lady. "They took us by surprise and eliminated two of our frigates that were beginning to jump. They disabled our hyperdrive and they destroyed one of our starboard hard points. We have heavy casualties—and we're sitting banthas on that side."
Revan slumped on a chair, wincing as she rose, quickly displacing the pain with an age old mental meditation. How could I not see it? "What's the status of our broadsides on the starboard section?"
He shook his head, knowing the news was grave. "That single explosion has caused fires along the starboard section, Ma'am. All power is offline there—nothing works."
She could feel the Banshee wail in protest from the incoming fire that seared and ruptured its thick hide. Clenching in fist, she found a deep well of hatred beginning to bubble over, allowing that darker part of her—the one behind the cold, calculated tactician—to take hold.
She could hear the fighters soar past her, lancing energy into unsuspecting Sith fighters and assaulting her destroyers.
"What about communications?"
"Gone."
She sighed and felt that seething hatred begin to pierce through her, almost as if it were heralding the call of some dark seraph. Malak. Her hand went to her belt, removing a small cone shaped device that she hoped would work in the midst of the chaos. Activating the comlink, she spoke into it, hoping that there would be some reply. "Malak, do you read me?"
She ignored the shuddering of the Banshee, knowing that it was only through the heavy modifications to its thick hull that was now saving her life. It wasn't infallible, however, and Revan knew that if the Republic forces continued to hammer against the Banshee's hull, it would soon give way. "Malak, respond."
She waited, knowing that all eyes were on her. She had led them into this and she knew that she still needed those strong enough and loyal enough to follow her through the worst. She looked at the young man and said, "get the Legionnaires here, on the double." She looked back and waited for Malak to respond, only to hear a soft, metallic voice that somehow seemed to reverberate in her skull.
"What is it, my Lady?"
She ignored the sour tone in his voice and with a strong command in her voice she replied, "move to intercept the group behind us. We've lost our communications from their surprise manoeuvre."
She could hear him growl, knowing the promise of bloodshed was competing against the will of his Master. "Very well—we're en route. Have your remaining destroyers blanket your opponents and wait for our arrival."
She rolled her eyes, yet she sensed something in Malak that she hadn't sensed in him before. For a moment, there was a wisp of some feeling that had quickly become as elusive as it was tangible. What could it have been? Had she more time, she would have known, yet the elusive slip only made this battle far more complicated.
A more prominent feeling was coming towards her and she knew what it meant. She found herself touching with the cool, warm presence of it, and though she wished she could touch it once more, another part of her felt revolted by it.
The doors hissed behind her and she could feel the presences of the Dark Jedi she had dubbed 'Legionnaires.'
Clad in the same dark robes and masks over their faces that marked them as Dark Jedi, the six figures bowed before her, the lead one—a man—spoke before her. "You've summoned us, Mistress?"
She nodded. "Yes, the Jedi are coming—I can feel it."
"I feel it too," he concurred.
"You are my most loyal subjects—ready to die for me, yet you are the best trained fighters in the Sith Empire. Today, you shall have to once more prove your mettle against our enemies."
He nodded, "I would expect nothing less."
Revan smiled, knowing this was the epitome of loyalty. The men and women who stood before her were ready to die for her and she knew that their lives would have to be forfeit when she'd begin her escape. The last groups to have been called the supposed 'best of the best' had fallen to such things before. She ensured no one ever really knew the grim fate of the Legionnaires.
The Banshee lurched, reminding her of the dwindling moments she had left. "Take up positions on the bridge." She could feel them through the ensuing chaos—three distinct presences in the Force, followed by a handful of other beacons, all of which were drawn in by one powerful bastion. It was a powerful light that was willing to shine through the all-encompassing darkness.
Revan found herself surprised by the potency as it made its way aboard her ship.
The Banshee had stopped its wailing protest against the massing Republic fleet, and she could feel Malak's presence growing ever closer as it dwarfed and consumed the lives in its wake. Almost there, she pressed, only to find herself thrown off-balance. Colliding against the transparisteel glass, she found herself dazed, shaking it off and ignoring the ringing tone that seemed to drown out the cacophony of battle and the loud, blaring klaxons. She could feel a warm, yet quickly cooling metallic liquid across her face and when it reached her tongue, she knew that she had broken her nose.
The sharp, mind-numbing pain that once would have heralded her injury had long since dissipated. It was one of the prices she had paid for shouldering the responsibility of becoming the unchallenged Master of Sith Lore. She ignored the dripping liquid, knowing that it would only pool across her face and hardly affect her performance. With a wave of her hand and regaining her balance, Revan sealed the wound without so much as blinking an eye.
It was one of the few beneficial tradeoffs that came with the Dark Side, though she loathed using it often. She didn't enjoy the idea of becoming enthralled to an ability that wiped away pain without a second thought. The blood also served as a sober reminder for her current plight.
It was in that moment that she finally heard a strong voice pierce through the ringing, causing her to gaze through the acrid smoke and the mounds of corpses on her bridge.
"We've just lost engines," the young lieutenant cried out. A body loomed before him, crumpled, yet just as bloodied as the man.
Revan recognized the body as one of her own Legionnaires.
The commander had come to a grizzly end, and Revan found herself growing weary of attempting to replace her personal elite bodyguards. She looked to see the five standing, their weapons in hand and ready to defend her.
It irked her that not a single one of them had bothered to pick her up, though she cast the thought aside, allowing herself not to get carried away.
Moving sluggishly at first and then regaining her composure, Revan strode to the young lieutenant and asked him, "is the Banshee worth salvaging?"
He looked at her, his soft blue eyes revealing all she needed to know.
"Are the Vanguards still there?"
He shook his head.
"We're dead in the water, aren't we?"
He merely uttered two words. "Yes, Ma'am."
Revan sighed, knowing that she had truly allowed herself to be duped by a mere Padawan. She hadn't been bested in such a manner in almost six years, when she had fought against Mandalore's battle guard. She let her hand rummage through a pouch on her belt, until she produced the comlink, miraculously undamaged. "Malak," she spoke into it, knowing that it was with a heavy heart that she'd utter the next phrase. "We've taken heavy casualties. I'm abandoning ship—stand by to receive survivors."
What bothered her most was whether or not he'd actually receive the survivors or allow them to be killed. Even Malak isn't stupid enough to lose out on valuable resources such as these men and women. She paused, waiting for his answer. Is he?
"Very well," came the synthetic, yet melodic reply, "we're forming up a protective barrier with the surviving group, led by Admiral Karath."
She sighed in relief, yet another part of her, the instinctual part, felt that uneasy touch once more. Something was afoot, and soon, Revan found herself probing through the Force. It was insidious, and she knew Malak's power had grown considerably for him to have a will stronger than she had previously anticipated. Perhaps my previous attempts to persuade him are rubbing off. A lesson or two may be required. Narrowing her eyes, she quickly felt his presence recede into nothingness once the doors ignited into molten halves. But that will have to wait.
"Get to your escape pods!" She cried to the remaining bridge crew.
With a rush, the surviving crew rose and began to leave; moving with haste as their lives sorely depended on the next few moments.
Pausing for a moment, the Lieutenant glanced at Revan and her Dark Jedi and asked, "are you not coming, Mistress?"
"I'll make my stand here before I abandon my flagship, Lieutenant. Leave now, while you still can. I'll take my escape pod once I'm finished here."
Nodding, the young man saluted and uttered, "best of luck to you, Ma'am." With that, he left, not bothering to look back.
With a singular snap-hiss, Revan and her Legionnaires activated their lightsabers. It was then that she felt the beacon of light present itself, not only in the form of the Jedi strike force, but more to the point, surrounded by a single entity—a young woman, no more than twenty-one years, standard.
This mergence was nothing more than a child compared to Revan's wizened experience, yet even the Dark Lady of the Sith knew better than to call the renown Bastila Shan a child.
Before the Padawan stood a trio of Jedi Masters, all of whom Revan recognized.
Along with the trio of Masters stood a pair of Knights and another Padawan, all of whom seemed to fight the inherent wave of trepidation they now faced.
"Well," she spoke, in her cold, calm manner, "it seems the Jedi Order has finally put out all the stops to take me." She nodded to the trio of Masters that stood before her, a small glint in her mask's visor targeting each and every Jedi in the room. She stiffened for a moment and tilted her head, sighing. "It's such a shame that Master Kavar isn't with you to complete the ensemble."
Each of the Masters gripped their lightsabers, yet appeared calm, stoic.
"I guess some things just aren't meant to be," she said, knowing that the Masters were waiting for her to make the first move. Revan couldn't help but grin underneath her mask, the rush of adrenaline washing away whatever traces of doubt and fear remained in her. "Instead, the Masters of Old send in their best swordsmen, but it will take more than just skill to defeat me."
It was then that one of the Masters spoke up while taking a step forward. "Did you forget all of your lessons as a Jedi when you renounced your oath as well, Revan? A true Jedi can always defeat a Sith."
"It's Darth Revan to you, Master Jedi," she finally acknowledged. "I see that you, Master Kalist, are as stout as ever."
Kalist, the one who stood before Revan, clenched her jaw. She was clad in the signature robes of the Order, along with all the other Jedi on the strike team. Her dark skin glimmered with sweat under the room's light, and Revan couldn't help but smile.
Her soldiers aboard the Banshee had not made it easy on the Jedi whatsoever. That was another testament to the dedication and loyalty she had accumulated through years of warfare and victory.
"And I see you've brought Masters Sien and Dragan," the Dark Lady added.
Both men completed the trio of Masters, all of whom were human. For all that could be said of the two, their similar demeanour had shaped them to become some of the most powerful Masters in the Order.
Dark hair, blue eyes, golden skin—both men could have passed for brothers, were it not for the fact they hailed from other planets.
"Come quietly," Dragan spoke, his voice deep and ragged. "Fess up to what you've done and end this madness."
She nearly scoffed, quickly analyzing the strength and weaknesses of the Masters before her. Revan needed that edge, especially since they were outnumbered. She couldn't deny the Masters' prowess, given what she had heard, which made her marvel at their power as being infinitesimal next to the single Padawan who had earned them this chance to defeat the Dark Lady.
She couldn't help but wonder who was really leading the engagement after all. "Tell me," Revan began, after a moment of tense silence, "how does it feel to have feats insignificant next to the abilities of your little Golden Child?"
"You cannot win, Revan!" Bastila replied.
"Yes, that's it," Revan replied sourly, "let the inexperienced lead the way. I could have expected this from the Republic Navy, but from the revered Jedi Order?" Revan snorted, amused by the prospect and at the Masters who vehemently stared her down, confirming her suspicions. "It seems some things will never change, will it?"
"This is your last warning, Revan," Kalist barked. "Surrender—,"
"Or what?" She spat. "You'll take action? The Jedi are pacifists who claim to use force to bring peace and justice. You're the largest group of hypocrites known to the Galaxy. You've waged wars on the basis that you're bringing peace when you've raided a planet and left them to burn, saying that you've helped them find the Light. What happened with the Mandalorians, then? Where was your vaunted ability to bring peace and justice to the Galaxy then?"
It was obvious the Padawans appeared more apprehensive, whilst the other Jedi began to take their stances.
It seemed Bastila's confidence hadn't yet been shaken.
Revan knew that if she were to turn Bastila, she'd have to shatter her confidence and beliefs in the Jedi Order. So far, Bastila had proven that she might be harder to turn that most Jedi, but of course, that was the way it always started.
"What happens when you leave countless millions to die when they relied on you to protect them? What happens when you leave your own behind, condemning them as traitors to the Order and the Republic?" With an outstretched gesture, she waved her arm across the damaged bridge, unaware that there was no longer any rumbles or lurching. "I had to create all of this, don't you see? In order to survive, I built this Empire in order to unite a new era of peace and justice. This convoluted scheme of always claiming the Light Side is the way to peace has come to its end." She took a step, lightsaber blazing in her left hand and her right hand reaching out towards them; then with a slow and purposeful tone, she asked them, "how can you say you have peace and justice for all when the Galaxy is burning around you, built around treachery and corruption you have yet to weed out, but choose to ignore?"
Almost as if taken a comforting tone, Kalist took another step towards Revan, followed by Dragan and Sien, both of whom watched cautiously.
The Legionnaires and the Knights hadn't made a single move.
"The Jedi don't deal in absolutes," Kalist said softly, her voice reassuring. "We forgive and we try to move forward, as the Force wills it."
Revan could feel the touch of the Force, the ray of Light against the blanket of Darkness, though it did nothing to appease her. A slight twitch, on the other hand, had tipped her off that Malak had arrived, and she could feel the collection of her Sith surround the Banshee, ostensibly to provide cover for the survivors. It bothered her then when wisps rippled through the Force, filling her unquenchable thirst for death. The survivors fleeing towards Malak's ship were dying quickly.
Darth Revan had run out of time, as she could feel Malak's fist grip the Republic fleet and hold them at bay. Something else was brewing and now she knew that she'd have to break out of the corner, lest the new element catch her unaware.
Taking another step towards Revan, she stared at the Sith in the eyes, wide with horror when her world went white with a sharp pain in her chest.
"On the contrary," Revan hissed, "the Jedi Order is the most corrupt power in the Galaxy." With a quick gesture, she removed the blade from the gaping hole where Jedi Master Kalist's heart used to be and balanced herself.
Almost on command, the Legionnaires and the Jedi launched themselves at each other, leaving Revan to engage both Dragan and Sien, who were outraged at the death of Master Kalist.
Deflecting Dragan's cleave, Revan quickly pirouetted slashing for Sien's chest, while gathering enough momentum with her pivoting hips to knock Dragan away.
Sien took a step back, though Dragan moved forward, only to be greeted by the boot that sent him stumbling back.
Gathering her wits, Revan angled her lightsaber to meet the oncoming lunge from Sien, knocking his sword away and launching herself into a series of flurries, leaving blinding and lacerating crimson streaks in her wake.
She kept herself focused, watching the movements of her enemy, as he continued to block her strikes with quick downward deflections, while her blade twirled in one hand.
Dragan rose, shaking off the dazing feeling and glaring at Revan, whilst she held Master Sien expertly at bay. Growling, the Jedi Master ignored the sounds of his fellow Jedi fighting for their very lives, as he jumped back into the fray with the thirst for blood glimmering in his eye.
Darth Revan saw the manoeuvre for what it was and she couldn't help but find herself lost in the graceful dance of blades between her and her opponents. There was something about the macabre dance that ultimately decided between life and death that hearkened to Revan, and she knew that the very same call entranced all of those who fought aboard the dying Banshee.
Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed young Bastila wield her blade expertly against one of the Legionnaires and without even thinking twice, Revan knew who would emerge victorious from that fight. Her Legionnaires were undoubtedly highly trained, yet they were no match for a Padawan whose prowess far exceeded their own.
Revan gripped the pommel with both hands, deflecting both Sien and Dragan's thrusts for her chest, followed by a quick revolution before she blocked another set of flurries from both of the Masters. She studied them carefully, knowing that her test had come to an end. "So it would seem we're at an impasse, then, brave Masters," she quipped.
"We outnumber you two to one, Revan," Dragan spat, angling his blade with a menacing glare that didn't faze the Dark Lady in the slightest.
"You will find that you have no choice but to surrender," added Sien, who seemed far calmer.
She had decided that it was Sien she liked more than Dragan. The Jedi Master would find himself with an honorable and quick death. Dragan certainly wouldn't. "I've faced numerous odds before, this won't be any different, Masters—that I can assure you."
"This time you won't escape," Dragan replied, hurling himself into a series of strikes and thrusts, all of which Revan deflected with relative ease.
In a single moment, she blocked his lunge, angling the blade over her shoulder and kneeing the Jedi Master in the stomach. With quick, precise movements, she flipped over his body and extended her hand, sending the Master towards a damaged console and changing her attention to the oncoming Master Sien.
Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment, Revan deflected his cleave, sending the azure blade into a panel, following through with a 360-degree spin where she brought both of her hands to help add momentum to her impending slash.
In a single moment, Jedi Master Sien's expression became permanently etched as his head landed, bounced and rolled away from where the rest of his body fell with a meaty thud.
Revan inhaled deeply, taking in the immense satisfaction of Sien's mergence with the Force and feeling his life ebb into her being. The touch between life and death and the chaos in between made her feel almost whole again, yet she could feel the growing, pulsating presence that was Malak, quickly growing agitated.
Her apprentice couldn't hold the defence perimeter for too long.
A quick shuffling of fragments and groans, she witnessed Dragan rise with a face flushed red with anger.
Had it been another time, perhaps she would have considered turning him, but now the stakes had grown far higher than she had anticipated. Lightsaber in hand, she took her stance, angling the weapon in front of her, waiting for his charge.
Dragan had been far too predictable in his fighting stance and abilities and once more, he charged, eager to drive his cerulean blade into her chest.
She knew it was time to end this, capture Bastila and leave the Banshee before the Republic fleet made short work of it. Her focus was now on escape—there was still time to salvage her goals. Spreading her legs apart slightly, she braced for the oncoming blow, as Dragan charged into her field, and once more began their tangle with lacerating energy.
She ducked and deflected the slashes and attempts to cleave her in two, though the Sith Lord knew that her patience had come to its end. She blocked his strikes, quickly shifting herself towards defence, noting the not-so-subtle irony of the twist in the fight, and the stature of both Jedi Master and Sith Lord.
Dragan continued to thrust, pirouette and jump into flurries, all of which Revan successfully parried. Snarling in frustration, the Jedi Master finally knocked her blade aside and with his free arm, he struck her across her mask, taking in the satisfying sound of her mask breaking her nose.
To Darth Revan's credit, however, she didn't let out a single groan. Instead, she took the bludgeon with a warrior's grace and used it to her advantage, rotating her grip with her lightsaber and locking it with Dragan's lightsaber. "Game over," she hissed, extending her right hand and snapping her index finger and thumb to a hair's breadth apart.
Gasping, Dragan instinctively reached for his throat and took an involuntary step back, until he finally realized that Revan had been controlling his movements, sending him back with each and every strike, making him falter until she had the ability to crush him under her boot.
Taking three purposeful strides forward, Revan watched as Dragan's eyes bulged, along with his veins over his temples, forehead and at his throat. Enjoying the spectacle, she finally clamped her fist and heard the gratifying crunch of bone in his throat.
Moments later, Jedi Master Dragan fell heavily on the cold, metallic floor.
Revan looked over and saw the moment she had been waiting for: Bastila in Revan's reach.
Unfortunately for her, the young Padawan was still accompanied by a pair of other Jedi, both of them looking nervous.
"You cannot win, Revan!" Bastila declared, removing her lightsaber from the last Legionnaire's chest and taking a few steps towards the Dark Lady.
"On the contrary, my dear," Revan spoke quickly, "I've already won. You've seen the faults of the Jedi first hand and you've seen the damage I've wrought single-handedly. Your time has come—I'm aware of your abilities and I can show you how to truly use it to your fullest potential." Extending her hand, almost as if she were grasping for Bastila's soul, she declared, "join me at my side. Do the rightful thing—the Jedi way. Sacrifice yourself so that others may live."
"The Sith do not take prisoners and do not sacrifice themselves so readily," the young Padawan snorted, her voice filled with steely resolve.
"I'm unlike any other Sith the Jedi have known, Bastila," Revan replied. She could feel that time was running short—that slippery feeling had begun to return, leaving her mind to trace its source.
The large, pulsating presence of Malak continued to grow with each and every passing moment, until it began to touch Revan's presence, almost wrapping over her in an icy, cold-hearted and bone-chilling blanket.
"I have found things in the Outer Rim that even your mind cannot comprehend. The Sith way is the right way—if only for a moment."
"The Dark Side will only continue to consume you, once you begin the path," Bastila stated firmly, reciting her old lessons.
"The Dark Side is merely an illusion, brought on by the Jedi, Bastila. Join me—take my side and I will show you the truth of the Force."
"And what of Malak? Surely the Sith cannot rule with three leaders."
"Malak has grown restless—too caught up in the wrongs of his newfound power. He's become too eager in destruction and senseless slaughter."
"And you have a conscience?"
Revan paused, feeling a small spark light in her chest. "A conscience? Perhaps that is what I have left—perhaps that's why I ask that you join me. With your abilities, we can end this war quickly and bring peace and order to a Galaxy that has forgotten those very words and its meanings."
Taking a step forward, Bastila brought her lightsaber up, clearly unaware of her faltering expression that Revan obviously noticed.
"We'll stand together," replied one of the Jedi beside her.
"Surrender, Revan," Bastila finally announced, her voice filled with unwavering strength.
Growling under her mask and ignoring the rush of blood and the lightheadedness she was beginning to feel, Revan spun her blade and readied herself, poising it over her shoulders and aimed at the Jedi. "If that is the way you feel about this war and saving lives, then perhaps it is better that we end this once and for all."
"By stopping you, we'll be ending this war and saving lives."
"You're only postponing the inevitable, my dear Bastila," Revan replied. She could feel Malak's increasing presence and knew that the Leviathan had managed to draw itself up parallel to the Banshee. She knew there lay one available escape pod left in the briefing room and that only left her enough time to render Bastila unconscious and make her escape.
She saw them slowly making their way towards her, and she held her ground, lightsaber thrumming and filling the deathly silence. "Imagine the power you could have wielded, Bastila," she encouraged, knowing that Bastila had made her choice. If anyone was going to change her mind, it would have to be done forcefully—or in a way that sparked a bond as powerful as the one Revan had molded with Malak so many years ago.
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, Revan could feel the faltering presence slowly begin to reveal itself.
In a blinding flash, Revan found herself in a world beyond the Living Force, a place that fed the very currents and streams. In it lay those she knew, both alive and dead, and almost as if there was no time, she watched a cold, dark shadow begin to creep away, recoiling from the burgeoning light that came from Revan's back.
Stepping forward, she saw the shadow take form, receding back to reveal a cold, deathly pale face, filled with white, remorseless eyes bent on taking revenge. Tattoos adorned his head and a cold metallic glint caught her eye and her gaze lowered, leaving her to witness a metallic jaw.
"Malak!" She cried, finding her world tumbling around her as a loud crackling explosion came from behind, burning her suit, and leaving her cape to wrap around her body in a protective embrace as it absorbed the impact. Colliding face first onto the ground, she felt that cold touch, a menacing laugh and the truth behind Malak's actions.
He slaughtered all of the survivors and destroyed the Vanguard warships.
With a single stroke, he allowed the Republic fighters access to destroying frigates and corvettes that had sustained too much damage to make the jump to lightspeed.
The final strike came from a barrage of energy that came from the Leviathan's batteries.
The only reason why Revan didn't find the cold vacuum of space was due to the Banshee's thick hide. In a pool of her own blood, gasping for whatever burning air she could inhale, despite her popped lungs, she cursed his name.
You've damned us all, Malak, she cried silently, unable to utter a single word, save for a painful moan that quickly cut short as the world went black.
The Galaxy will die, knowing that you were to blame…