As one Jedi Master had said before, Revan was like the heart of the Force. And in no time was that truer than one night on the Ebon Hawk. They were a few days from their journey, soaring through the stairs on a humming hyperdrive, and every passenger on that ship realized just how much they cared for their leader…
"Hey," Carth spoke as he walked into the engine room, "I hope I'm not interrupting." He let his words carry the momentum of his feet, because he was never going to say what he needed to if he let himself stop to think.
"You're not." Revan looked up at Carth with cool regard. "Have a seat, Carth." There was plenty of space in the engine room, everywhere but around the woman herself. She'd surrounded herself with machine parts, like the nest of a particularly industrious bird.
"Thanks." Carth sat on one of the nearby crates. "I don't know how long I'm going to be able to keep my nerve, so I'm gonna get this out as quick as I can." He glanced at Revan, who gestured for him to continue. "Right. You know how much I think of you. After all you've done for me, for my family, for… Well, just about everyone. You're not the woman I thought you would be, especially after you started using that name again."
Revan flashed a smile and Carth cleared his throat.
"What I'm trying to say is, I think you're amazing… Revan." Carth chuckled nervously. "Never thought I'd hear myself say that. You're the smartest person I know, the best leader, and if anyone disagreed, I'd, well, I wouldn't punch them, but I'd seriously think about it. So I guess that's what I'm here to say." He looked up, his eyes searching for Revan's.
"You're a good man, Carth," Revan said. "And a good soldier. You make Morgana and Dustil proud every time you put on that uniform."
Carth's breast swelled with equal parts pride, guilt, and disappointment. He'd come to know Revan since before she remembered that was who she was, and she chose her words carefully. When she said she admired him, she was telling the truth. When she reminded him of his wife and son, she was telling him that he still had family and a wife who was all too recently dead. And that she knew of his interest, and didn't return it.
"Thanks, Revan." Carth reached for his belt and retrieved a small box. "I came here to give you something, too," He tossed it to her and she plucked it out of the air with ease. "It might not be the best gift in the galaxy, but hey, not like we're getting paid for saving the Republic."
"A pure rylith power cell," Revan said, as she held the glowing purple cylinder between her fingers. "A wonderful thing, if you don't mind the variance. Better for rapid fire, wouldn't you say?" Just then, she held out her hand and the power cell floated away from her. An array of parts floated up from the floor, then soared towards each other, clicking and slotting and twisting until they formed a sleek silver blaster pistol. "And even better for a man who keeps two pistols at his side."
Carth shook his head, but couldn't help his smile, as the blaster floated over to him and waggled in front of his face.
"Really? That's how you're offering it to me?" Carth asked. Revan raised an eyebrow at him and he took the pistol out of the air, then weighted it in his hand. "Perfectly balanced. I still don't get how the Force helps with engineering, but thanks."
"You're quite welcome, Carth. Come back any time."
Revan depowered her saber as the door to the storage bay slid open. There was a thin film of sweat on her brow, but her appearances hardly mattered when T3-M4 rolled into the bay.
"Hello, T3." Revan clipped her lightsaber to her belt as she crouched down to greet the droid. "What can I do for you?" She listened patiently through the series of beeps that followed, then reached out to pat its head. "Thank you. I'm quite fond of you, as well. The only way I could be prouder is if I built you myself."
There was a little whistle from the droid as a mechanical arm extended from its chest, holding a small metal object. It was flat, with a little clasp on its back and in the shape of a heart. It was dull metal, engraved with binary code that was unreadable to an untrained eye.
"A clasp for my cloak? You are too kind." Revan chuckled as she held the clasp to her chest, then put it in her pocket. "But I haven't got you a thing. At our next stop, I'll treat you to a full servicing, how about that? Cleaning, oil changes, lens replacement – you'll feel brand new."
A cascade of happy beeps and whistles emerged from the droid.
"But I do ask that you don't tell HK-47 about this," Revan cautioned it. "You know what he's like."
The sonic shower shut off with a click and Bastila stepped away from it with a sigh. Her mind had been running amok for far too long, with thoughts and considerations that she'd put down to her fall to the Dark Side. But even as she returned to the embrace of the Light, to some of the teachings that she'd hoped would keep her mind clear and her purpose clearer, they plagued her.
The thoughts of Revan. Not of what had happened between them, or rather, what she'd done to Revan. Not of the battles they'd had before that, nor her fears of what the woman might have become. No, Revan had more than acquitted herself of any accusations of malice. What troubled Bastila was the fact that her affection for Revan was becoming more than that of partners, of a master and student, or even of friends who'd explored the galaxy together.
It was simple, she decided, as she pulled on a fresh set of clothes. She would have to speak with Revan and work through the feelings. Not the burning passion of the Sith or the emotional repression of the current Jedi Masters, but a healthier way of doing things. Despite the fear that fluttered in her heart, she would come out the better for it. She opened the door to the women's quarters and found herself face to face with Revan, who'd stripped down to her underwear with a fresh set of clothes tucked under one arm.
"Oh my." Bastila blushed and glanced to the side, then corrected herself and looked back at Revan's eyes. "Good evening, Revan."
"Hello." Revan offered Bastila a smile, which she returned. "Is the shower free?"
"I don't see anybody else here." Bastila said, then blinked. "Sorry, I mean, yes, it is." She'd have to avoid putting her foot in her mouth if she hoped to get through this. "But before you do – may we talk? I'll try not to take up too much of your time."
"I'm happy to, but I really need to get this grime off." Revan stepped through to the refresher and placed her clothes to the side. "Do you mind if I shower while we talk?"
"That's fine." Bastila said, then dutifully turned her gaze elsewhere while Revan stripped off and stepped beneath the buzzing sonic shower. "I have to confess something. I'm sure it will come as no surprise, considering… Well, I've no doubt it has happened before. I find myself having certain feelings towards you that are unfamiliar to me. Romantic feelings."
"Ah," Revan could just be heard over the shower, "I'm flattered. Although I wouldn't say it's common."
"I'm sure you're being modest to spare my feelings."
"Not at all. You'd be surprised by how few people find revolutionary leaders attractive," Revan's voice held a hint of amusement. Bastila ought not find that trait attractive, but the occasional dash of sarcasm, the smirk that graced her lips… Well, Bastila was only human. "And Sith Lords? Almost as disfavored as a Hutt."
"I'm glad one of us is able to take their fall in stride..." Bastila shook her head. She was being uptight again. "Regardless. I was wondering whether it was something you would consider pursuing. On a trial basis, of course."
Revan could be heard humming from behind the shower screen.
"I don't think it would be wise right now," Revan finally said. "We've both been through more than enough strife for a lifetime. You have fallen and returned to the Light in a matter of months, and all of it centered around me. I've lost and gained memories and slain my oldest friend. Neither of us are in a position to make an educated choice about our love lives, whether with each other or not."
"So, no." Bastila clenched her fists, then released them. She couldn't let venom seep into her voice.
"I can hear the Force trembling from here," Revan poked her head out from behind the screen and smiled at Bastila. Despite herself, it did help calm her nerves. "Give it a few months, let your emotions settle, and mine, as well. Nothing good will come of rushing."
"I see your point," Bastila admitted, begrudgingly.
"Will you stop pouting if I admit that you're pretty?" Revan offered.
"I am not a child," Bastila huffed. "… But thank you."
The components of Juhani's lightsaber floated before her. She'd put it together a million times before, but this time, it wasn't working. It could be put together, but it could not turn on. So she tried different ways, but then it didn't fit. With each attempt, she was growing more and more frustrated with herself. Her brow furrowed, her lips pulled back to snarl, her eye twitched, until finally she let them clatter to the floor and lashed at the nearest wall with her claws.
"My poor wall." Revan's voice broke Juhani out of her frustrated reverie. She span her head arounnd the cargo bay to spot the woman, who was standing just a few feet behind her.
"Revan, I..." Juhani glanced at the wall, then at the woman standing behind her, then down at her lap. "I apologize. I did not mean to damage your property."
"You're forgiven," Revan said, as she crossed the distance between them and knelt beside Juhani and her scattered components. "What's troubling you?"
"It is..." Juhani blushed as she realized just how silly she was being. "It was foolish. A child's thing to do. My lightsaber is not working. There are three other Jedi aboard. I should simply have asked for help."
"You're right." Revan nodded. "So what are you going to do now?" She asked. Juhani peered into the older woman's eyes before the realization sunk in.
"Can you help me? Please?"
"Your vortex ring is damaged." Revan said, as the circular component floated up beside her. "It's not always easy to spot, but if you look at the lining here," It hovered in front of Juhani and lingered there until she nodded. "It's cracked. Do you remember how to fix it?"
"No… Yes!" Juhani nodded. "Any thin film is enough to preserve the integrity of the vortex ring until such a time as it can be replaced."
"Excellent memory." Revan smiled. "Fortunately, we have plenty to spare." A nearby toolbox opened and one such spare part made its way over to the pair. "But we're not done here," She cautioned, as Juhani reassembled her lightsaber in a matter of seconds. It sprung to life with a pristine blue glow and a grin spread across Juhani's face. "What damaged the vortex ring?"
"I do not know." Juhani depowered her lightsaber and let it sit in her hand.
"Not even a guess?"
"Please, Master..."
"Revan," Revan corrected her, not unkindly. "I am no Master of yours, Juhani. But I'm feeling kind, so... It's because of throwing your lightsaber. When you call it back, you do not slow the lightsaber's momentum before it hits your hand. You've been letting your Cathar strength take the brunt, which shakes the casing, which damages the components."
"I did not realize..." Juhani sighed. "At least now I know. Thank you, Revan." She reached out to squeeze the older woman's hand. "I do not know what I would do without your help."
"You're welcome." Revan smiled.
"I really do love you," Juhani confessed.
Revan smiled, kissed Juhani on the cheek, then unclipped her own lightsaber.
"Time to practice lightsaber throwing."
"Statement: I have a gift for you, Master."
Revan turned her chair away from the navigation console at the sound of her assassin droid's voice.
"You've already given me so many, HK," Revan said. "Granted, all of them were death..."
"Statement: You do not need to banter with me, master. I am content with our current relationship." HK-47 said, as he stepped up to the table and laid a datapad before the woman. "It is in the interest of both of us that you are aware of what duties I'm most capable of performing, and those which I enjoy most. This recording will demonstrate my preferences."
"Very well." Revan hit the button on the front of the datapad and watched as a great many scenes of violence played, one after the other, all of them from the perspective of HK-47's eyes. From burning people alive, to snapping their necks in close quarters, to sniping them from a few skyscrapers, all set to some kind of generic, aggressive beat. It ended with a shot to someone's knees through a tri-light scope.
"What an interesting recording." Revan smirked. "Did you edit it yourself?"
"Answer: I used an automatic editor from the holonet. I was wary of integrating anything else, lest they corrupt my assassination protocols."
"That explains a great deal. Thank you, HK-47." Revan pulled the datapad closer towards her. "I'll treasure it always."
"Statement: That will not be necessary. Just retain the core message."
"That would be killing people, yes?"
"Statement: Your analytical skills have not waned, master."
"Just making sure."
Canderous pushed the button to the women's quarters and waited with his hands behind his back. Mission, Bastila, and Juhani were all elsewhere on the ship, and this was where Revan was seen last. Perhaps the other men on board would have been nervous about approaching the women's quarters, but not him.
"Enter." Revan's voice came through the intercom and the door opened. The room beyond was all metal and thin mattresses, just like the men's quarters, with barely a thing to distinguish them. Bastila, Juhani, and apparently Revan kept their spotlessly tidy, while Missions had a few of her belongings tucked beneath the bed and scattered across the sheets. Revan was sitting at a table in the center of the room and her eyes flicked up to meet Canderous'. "What do you need?"
"I wanted to talk to you, Revan." Canderous chuckled as he pulled out the seat opposite Revan's and lounged in it. "You're a fearsome warrior, a brilliant tactician, and the greatest threat Mandalore ever faced. You're the kind of woman I'd be proud to see clad in our armor."
"What's your point, Ordo?" Revan asked, as she glanced through the contents of her datapad.
"I would like to court you." Canderous said, as easy as could be. "We could take reunite the Mandalorian clans and take on the galaxy before the month is through before the year is over."
Revan pushed her datapad to the side and met Canderous' gaze.
"You may remember I've worn Mandalorian armor before. Just a small piece, a mask, but quite well known. Do you know the story behind it?"
"Of course." Canderous nodded. "It was the mask of a woman who stood against her Mandalorian kin on the planet of Cathar."
"It was the mask of a woman who stood against Mandalorian brutality," Revan agreed, "and died for it. It was the mask that incited me to take up arms against the Mandalorians. Their cruelty boundless, their honor a lie, their forces… Almost unstoppable." There was a flicker of a smile on her lips. "It stood as a symbol of hope, of rebellion, of justice against the cowards who would commit genocide for nothing more than their pride."
"You kn-"
"Silence." Revan's voice was frost. "You might not see the mask, Ordo, but I am still wearing it. I will not forget Cathar. I will not forgive the Mandalorians. Perhaps before I regained my memories, I might have settled for a dislike of you, but now I know better. You disgust me. Your experiences interest me as a scholar. Your skills are useful as a commander. Those account for the entirety of your worth to me. Do you understand?"
"...yeah, I understand." Canderous nodded. He disagreed with it, every word of it, but he couldn't challenge Revan. Especially not on how she felt about him.
"Get out of my quarters."
"Revan." Canderous bowed his head and strode out.
The main hold of the Ebon Hawk was filled with the savory scents of fresh cooking, all as a result of Zaalbar's crafty claws. He'd been to visit everyone on the ship, delivering to each of them a plate of delicious dinner. Some had taken it with less gusto, especially the Droids, when he'd simply brought them some oil for their joints, but overall, everyone was fed.
Save for one person, who entered the main hold with a curious nose and a hungry belly. For Revan, Zaalbar had laid out two dishes on the table, one for each of them, with plenty of food to spare. There was jaar and chyntuck, celto and bantha rump, rillrrnnn, and even a small basket of Wookie cookies.
Zaalbar greeted Revan with a series of soft roars, as he sat on the Wookie-sized chair beside her.
"All of this for me?" Revan asked, as she sat beside Zaalbar. She was answered with another series of roars and laughed. "No, I understand perfectly well. Did you make all of this yourself?" Zaalbar looked at her and roared out a few words, which earned an understanding nod from the woman. "Ah, I see. Thank you for the dinner, regardless. I consider it a particularly fine use of your life-debt," She said, and he roared. "I'll do my best not to take advantage."
"Hey, can I do your hair?" Mission asked. She was sitting on her bunk, a couple of mine templates between her sprawled-out legs and her lekku tastefully pulled back.
"Certainly." Revan said, as she glanced over at the young woman. She opted not to put her cloak on just yet, as she strolled over to the bed and raised an eyebrow.
Mission gestured before her.
Revan pushed the templates to the side and sat between Mission's legs on the bunk, her back to the girl.
"You have such nice hair," Mission said as she started to run her fingers through it. "I'd be jealous, if I had hair. It's not even going gray yet, and I hear that happens a lot."
"Especially to Sith," Revan agreed. "They lose color quicker than a card-counter in a Hutt casino."
"But not if you're a Jedi, right? Not if you're on your best behavior," Mission said, with a particularly Bastila-ish accent on the last few words.
"For the most part, you're right. The Force seems to do its best to keep its favorites alive. For as much as it has a will, that is." Revan knew one particular individual who'd have agreed with that sentiment.
"For what it's worth, I hope you live for a long time."
"Thank you, Mission. You too." Revan laughed.
"But if I get wrinkles before you, I'll die. Right there. Right on the spot."
"And all the galaxy will weep for the loss of Mission Vao, the craftiest Twi'lek to have ever lived."
"I like the sound of that." Mission smirked as she let one of her hands slip to Revan's back. "And one of the best-looking, right?"
"Hm." Revan put a finger to her lips. "Debatable. Zaalbar makes you look much better by comparison, and he's always with you."
"He's not always with me..." Mission bit her bottom lip as she slipped her hand a little further down, to Revan's waist, then around her, then a little up. "Like right now." Her hand brushed higher and suddenly Revan was on her feet and a few paces away.
"Mission." Revan met the girl's wide eyes. "Did you mean to do that?"
"Uh, yeah." Mission flashed a smile. "That's how you do it, right?"
"Absolutely not." Revan shook her head. "It's not proper to grope people without their permission."
"That's how it works on Taris!" Mission frowned at the older woman. She didn't like the tone Revan was taking with her, like she was some kind of kid in need of teaching. "I saw Gryph do it all the time and nobody complained. And it's not groping unless you don't want me to do it."
"I don't," Revan said. Her tone was stern, but tempered. "You're fifteen, Mission. Any kind of relationship between us would be malicious on my part."
"How? You're not one of those creeps, you're nice, and I like you. So what's the big deal?" Mission crossed her arms over her chest. "You said I was cute."
"Mission..." Revan sighed. If teenagers were battlefields, she could have convinced Mission of her folly in a snap of her fingers. "You are tough, smart, kind, and determined. You are a talented slicer, a skilled gunslinger, and one of the best bluffers I know. I would trust you as much as myself to navigate the underworld. When it comes to that, you are no child. But when it comes to romance, you are. In mind and body."
"So I need a teacher." Mission said, though some of the conviction was gone from her voice. "Who's better at that than you?"
"People your own age. You, when you're older," Revan said. "I understand this may hurt to hear, but I am not interested in you in a romantic way. Not a single one. This doesn't mean nobody will be, or that you're unattractive. The same goes for anyone your age. And just like the rest of them, you'll get older, more experienced, and when that happens, I'm certain you'll have your pick of… Suitors. And hopefully, some better examples of courtship than Gryph, of all people."
Mission frowned down at her feet. She wouldn't have survived Taris if she didn't know how to reign her emotions in, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
"Okay," Mission breathed. "I… I'll think about what you said. But only 'cause it's you. You can leave me alone now." She said.
"Of course." Revan turned to walk to the door.
"And don't tell anyone about this!" Mission called after her.
"I won't."
"If you do, Big Z'll tear your arms off!"
"I'd do it to myself," Revan assured her, as she reached the door and let herself out.
Revan and Jolee were both sat in the main hold of the Ebon Hawk. While others were doing their own thing in the various corners of the ship, they were quite content to play pazaak in silence. The only sound was their breathing, the shuffle of the cards, and the ship in the background.
Revan smiled to herself as she won another set and Jolee leaned back in his chair. He stared at her for a few seconds before speaking.
"You're a good kid, Revan."
"Thank you," Revan furrowed her brow, "But I am thirty eight years old, Jolee."
"That's right." Jolee nodded.
"… Alright then." Revan shuffled the deck. "Another game?"
"Fine, fine," Jolee waved his hand like it could swat away his losses. "But I'm going to play for real this time. Buckle in."