The Old and the New

The end from the beginning is a strange place to start, but sometimes time doesn't like to follow the rigid paths we set for it. Sometimes, it's almost as if reality gets bored of being as constant and predictable as we make it out to be, so it decides to act out brashly and irresponsibly, if only for a moment, before returning to its normal state for fear of hurting too many of its creatures. It serves as a sober reminder that we are not the masters of reality, but rather its interpreters; a role we ourselves lash out against from time to time only to be eventually put back in our place by the eventuality of any tension between the two parties: nature and us, acting like two juveniles rebelling against each other's self-imposed authority. But every once in a while, a truce is made between the two that offers what some people in some places might consider unnatural consequences. And after enough time, if the truce proves useful, it is put into law as a constant that satisfies both parties. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, one such truce was made, and it proved to be both a catastrophe and a blessing to the universe. It was a mystery how the truce was first made, but it seemed to lead us to two young humans who lived to uncover this mystery's application in their own lives, but who abandoned all such high ranging thoughts for the baser fight or flight response – a feeling that all rookies are accustomed to when fighting for their survival, and this in a war that loses all context of its own existence when in the mind of a troop on the front lines experiencing its chaos firsthand.

Looking up from the swamp-like landscape of a foreign world, a falling star could be seen in the distance. But unlike others that disappeared almost as soon as they appeared, this one grew larger as the seconds passed. Soon, what seemed like a flicker of light passing through the sky revealed itself to be the flaming wreckage of a ship hurdling through the planet's atmosphere. Not only was the ship burning from the atmospheric entry, but it was itself on fire from damage it had incurred from a battle raging in space, but invisible to the naked eye from the surface of this forgotten world. It lit up the night over the swampy growths that could be compared to trees as it passed over them to reach its final destination on the surface. It seemed that nothing could survive such a crash, but the wonders of technology, meant to shift control from natural laws to artificial ones, prevailed – to the chagrin of the ones who shot them down, but to the very great relief of the two men piloting the fighter.

They quickly scampered out, crawling a safe distance away from the burning wreckage. Sitting against the creepy growths that spotted the surface of the planet, one breathed a sigh of relief and the other laughed from the euphoria accompanied by their unlikely survival, soon to be joined by his sighing friend. After a few moments though, their relief turned to anguish as they realized that this planet, despite its breathable atmosphere, was otherwise uninhabited, and their only means of rescue had been forgotten in the burning husk of a ship by one of the rookies who crawled out for life's sake. They watched miserably at the wreckage of what could have already been described as a wreck before its destruction – since these two would certainly not have been given priority for a better ship above others in their unit – and pondered the loss of their only lifeline: an interplanetary beacon in the backseat of the cockpit.

"No one will come for us," said a straightforward and commanding voice.

"What do we do?" said the other.

"We do what no one expects us to. We survive."

For a moment the other young man listened to his words and a spirit of indignation and rebellion against his circumstances took hold of him and strengthened his resolve to live on, but like the end of a candle about to flicker out, that strength faded and the hopelessness of the situation retook hold of his spirit and drove him into a pit of despair, comparable to the pit they had been sitting in for the last little while as they watched their only means of salvation burn away to ashes in front of them. It was gloomy. What should have been dry was wet, and what was wet was wetter still than its observable wetness would imply, penetrating their space-flight suits to their trembling skin. Nothing like a modern human was meant to survive a place like it.

"Nothing can survive a place like this..." said the soldier, whose spirit was sinking ever still

"You're still breathing, aren't you? We only die when I say we die. That's an order, soldier."

"I don't believe you."

"Yea, well..." his voice trailed off as he started to look at his immediate surroundings, "well maybe you shouldn't."

"Inspirational as always."

"Sarcasm at a time like this? Maybe your morale isn't as low as you think it is. We need to stay close to the wreckage. It's freezing, and it's the only thing that can keep us warm through the night. We'll have to find a way to keep the fire going. Let's hope to God these hellish tree things are flammable. Go find us something to burn. I'll try to figure out a way to get the distress beacon out."

"Yes sir!"

He got up and crawled over the brush they were leaning against to find something dry to burn, not realizing that his friend remained unmoved and seated. What he did realize, since this was a swampy terrain, was that there wouldn't be much for burning in the near vicinity, and that whatever was good for fire would likely be higher up in altitude. He saw a hill in the near distance that seemed to peak in between the dense foliage, wanting to be discovered by the soldier but not be too forward with its intention to be found lest it become off-putting by being too audacious. He picked himself up and carried on towards that location, ignoring all the foreign sounds that sounded hungry for his flesh, and the feeling of things crawling along his skin to, in some sick and twisted sense that only nature understands, inhabit him. He had to forget all of these things in order to get to that hill and find something to help his friend. The desire to help another stay alive kept him from declaring his own life unlivable despite the shadows of many-legged things crawling along the brush and watching him.

Enough time had passed as he continued to approach the hill that he began to wonder if he would be able to find his way back. The wreckage burned brightly, sure enough, but the thick tentacles that made up what he could only interpret as a jungle reduced all hope of seeing the light to nothing. He would have to rely on his sense of direction, his intuition, and hopefully a little luck to get back. He entered a clearing when he got close to the base of the hill. The hill stuck out like a stalagmite, but it was unique considering its immediate environment and reached much higher than he initially gave it credit for. Along with this observation was the fact that nothing seemed to be growing around the base of the hill or even on it. He wasted his time and energy to get there, at least as far as finding wood was concerned. He turned to go back into the sea of growing things, but before he could enter back into the thick undergrowth, he sensed something. It was a disturbance that rose up from the base of his gut, going into his heart – making it ache emotionally and beat quickly – then higher up still it entered into his mind and filled it with obsession. He couldn't leave that hill. He had to turn back to it, and so he did.

He went up, and as he did the muddy earth became rocky, and the hard rock became coarse and grassy, as if some kind of thin, stringy mold or fungus was growing on top of it, tangling itself around the stony surface, and the hill seemed to groan at his steps. He continued to climb, but as he did, he knew he had gone too far, so he went back down to just the right spot. Turning to his right, he looked as if it was the direction he ought to go, but his feet became heavy and uncomfortable. To his left, the path felt easier, and his legs loosened up to walk along a small edge high up along the stalagmite until he reached a cave entrance leading into the hill. Whatever stringy fungus was growing on the hillside seemed to be coming from this cave, and the young soldier was not excited to see what it might be coming from. But he had come this far, and considering the ill fate that awaited him regardless, he saw the life that he had to gamble with as something of little worth to preserve, so he entered it, but not before drawing a well crafted hilt from his belt and awkwardly holding it up in front of him. Pressing the ignition button, a blade of light burst out from it and stopped a metre long from the hilt, emitting a green glow and a strange, low hum. He used it as a torch as he moved into the cave to light his way. Step by step he heard a groaning that would change from a low, long winded growl to a high pitched yelp, and as he moved forward the sound became louder and more recognizable. Something was alive and in pain. He wanted to quicken his pace to help whatever it was that was suffering, but he was also horrified that whatever it was that was causing the creature harm might be conscious enough to turn its attention to him. Therefore, he turned off his instrument of light to avoid detection.

To his great surprise, the pitch darkness he was expecting at the closing of his tool only gave way to another light that was being produced. It was soft and gentle like a candle's, but didn't flicker or waver like one; it was constant, almost able to be described as strong. The glow was a blueish purple, and as he stared in wonder he realized that it was coming from the white and grey mold growing on the walls. He reached out and touched it with his bare hand, and it was coarse, but soft, and while it ran along the wall, it didn't grow from it as if it had roots digging into it for sustenance. Its source was further down the tunnel, precisely in the direction he had to go. As he turned the corner, he saw something that would stay in his mind for the rest of his life, as if his mind were stone and the memory a hammer and chisel that etched the image for all the future of his existence. A face, that of an old man, came from the cave wall. Its eyes were closed, and from all appearances it seemed dead, but this aura that it was emanating could only be interpreted as life, only not life as any one of us could understand it; no, this was something much different from our experience of that word "life".

"I don't suppose you could sit down? Your movements have caused me quite a bit of pain, you know, but no matter! I haven't had a guest in ages!" said the face, only its mouth remained shut.

The soldier's eyes widened as he realized that what he had been stepping on was the hair and beard of this old man that had grown along the walls and hillside for what would have had to have been centuries. As he sat in front of him, he saw from where he inferred his hands and feet ought to be that his hair wasn't the only thing that had been growing. His nails ran along in twisted formations, continuing until they would inevitably crack and fall off under their own weight. The old man seemed to be sitting, his legs outstretched as he lay his back against the wall and his head slightly tilted forward, with his hands to his side. His body was completely covered by the hair coming from his head, and served as a cloak to keep him clothed. It was nightmarish to behold.

"Ho ho! Such a young lad! If I had known a little earlier that you were coming, I might have cleaned up the place. Or rather, had you come a little earlier, I might have been able to clean up the place. I seem to have fallen asleep here, you see, and I can't wake up. Well I am awake, as you can so clearly infer from my speaking to you, but I am not as much in my own body as I used to be either. But it is still a great honour to meet you, Qui-Gon Jinn! I hope I'm not being too familial by calling you Quin?" rambled the face.

"... sure?"

"Oh! Ho ho! An inquisitive soul! How I miss the curiosity of youth! And from a Grand Master, no less!"

"Uh... I'm sorry, Grand Master?"

"What? Did I get mixed up again? Oops! I didn't mean to give that away. It's my age, you see. I've been around so long that I forget the time. I'm not as young as I used to be. In fact, none of us are as young as we used to be! Ho ho ho!"

"Am I dead?"

"..."

"Maybe dreaming?"

"Yes! A dream! I think this is more like a dream than it is anything else. But you are not asleep, no. You are awake, and you should not throw any caution to the wind! It isn't safe for you to talk to strangers. It can be dangerous. Ask me to introduce myself."

Quin looked at the expressionless face with suspicion, then asked him what it wanted, "What is your name?"

"How rude! You should know to introduce yourself first before asking someone else his name."

A single eyebrow of Quin's rose up, and he was beginning to feel very unsure about this whole situation, as if this sickly looking old man was more dangerous than anything he could face in the jungle outside.

"But you already know my name. You told it to me," said Quin cautiously.

"What? I did?" said the old man, seemingly sincere. "Oh dear me, I lost track of time again. I introduced you to me, didn't I? So sorry for any offence I've caused."

"No offence caused," he responded almost dismissively before getting to his real statement. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, and I feel a bit crazy for even asking this, but can you see the future? Or maybe you can read my mind?"

"Oh ho, ha ha no, no my child," and the expressionless face seemed to give a soft smile as it continued on, "I've just been around long enough to know what it is that a person is when I see it."

"See it? But your eyes are closed, and as for the rest of you-"

"Oh dear me! Would it make you feel better if I had my eyes and mouth open from time to time?"

Immediately the eyes of the old man flew open to reveal dark blue eyes that stared forward, but without any focus on anything in front of them as if they were dead. As the old man started to speak again, the mouth artificially opened and closed like the performance of a bad ventriloquist, and Quin couldn't take it and protested as politely as he could to the seemingly benevolent, yet somehow twisted, spirit.

"No, please! You can keep the eyes closed. And the mouth too. Please keep the mouth closed."

"Hm... alright. I don't want to make my guest feel uncomfortable. Why are you here?"

"I need wood, or something like it, to burn, so I can keep my fire going. My ship crashed not far from here and my friend and I need to find a way to survive."

"Yes, he is a true friend. I had one once too. A long time ago, it was. She was my best friend, so I married her. I loved her so much, and I still do. I miss her dearly. I hope to find her soon."

"Maybe I can help? My friend and I are probably going to be here for a while anyway, and now that I know that there are other people on this planet it might be good to make contact with them and-"

"No, young man. It is good that you would do this for me, and I see that you would do it if you could, and so I thank you for it. But she is not here any longer, and as for the other people you infer to be on this planet, there are none. We are only three in total, and you are now acquainted with all of them. But you will not be here for long, as you seem to think."

"You know a way off this planet?"

"Of course. The easiest way is to go up through the atmosphere with some sort of flying machine!"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I believe you meant to ask me my name."

"Of course. What is your name?"

"My name... well it has been a long time. Let me see now... ah yes. It is Revan."

Quin's cautious apprehension turned to fear and dread. The Terror of the Old Order, the Dark Knight Revan, was a name that no one spoke but everyone knew too well – a nightmare from the distant past somehow made its way to the present, and Quin somehow knew the old man was speaking the truth about his identity. Frozen by the fear being stirred up by his mind, Quin sat expressionless as he turned pale and gave in to his fate. But this fear stood in stark contrast to the presence of the old man in the cave. A gentle warmth surrounded him and pressed against Quin's mind, raising it up to a place where he could rationally receive the information about to be presented to him.

"Do not be afraid, young one. I am not the Terror I once was, as you can clearly see. I am only a shadow of that man. In fact, all that is left is a story waiting to be told before I finally fade away. Will you listen to my story?"

While Quin's body was still experiencing the instinctual reaction of fear – the beating heart, the cold sweat, and the stiffness – his mind began to rise above that state and converse with Revan.

"Yes, I am willing. Tell me your story, Sir Revan."

"You certainly know how to please an old man. Where should I begin? Oh yes. Circles. There are so many circles! All the time, all that is time... always around it goes! But I thought I could make it go forward without curving backwards. Ha! The brashness of youth, indeed! I was once a young lad like yourself, eager to fight for what I believed in. All I knew, however, was fighting, and the Grand Masters of my time knew this. They didn't stop me as I crushed the foes of our Order, but they were never pleased with my performance. I began to resent them for this, and this resentment eventually caused me to see them as foes of the Way of our Order because it didn't conform to my order. I fell into a pit of bitterness and let it twist me. My gifts and my talents were turned against my own brothers and sisters, and I slew them in droves, without mercy or compassion. I would force the Way, our Way, onto the rest of the galaxy and bring about an age of enlightenment. But brute force does not bring about change, it only stifles it. You see, there are many minds that make up the galaxy, and so the forcing of one mind over the rest slows change proportional to the amount of minds that are being suppressed. Also, despite my affinity for it, it turns out minds are very difficult to control. The most difficult one to manage was hers.

"Oh my... it is coming back to me now... she was so beautiful, and strong willed as well. But she would not love me. I saw in her the galaxy I was trying to rule. Try as I might, I could not have her. In her I found what I wanted, and what I wanted was the antithesis of my actions. And so, I realized my shortcomings, and so did my apprentice. My epiphany was my moment of weakness, and so he turned against me and struck me down in an attempt to kill me, as any good apprentice of mine would have done. However, she saved my life from the brink of death. She would not have me for what I was, but she was still willing to save my life. Not much of my life was left, however. After the many blows I endured from my apprentice, and her nursing me back to health, I could not recall anything of my life before the attack. But not only was my memory left behind, but so was my deeply rooted bitterness. No longer blinded by it, I saw the galaxy I had shaped for what it was, and it disgusted me. I fought against it with all my might, and in the process lost many people close to my heart who were gracious enough to give me a second chance to make things right. When I finally succeeded, there were only ashes left of the Old Order. Ashamed of my actions, I went into exile."

Quin was surprised at what Revan was telling him. The human who terrorized the galaxy was also the one who rescued it from the legacy of that terror. Another bit of information lost by the fragmentation of the Holocron eons after the Star Wars, no doubt.

"Is that when you came here?" Quin asked.

"No no. I lived a quiet life as a farmer on the planet Dantooine. She came to visit me from time to time, and then she loved me. I could not have been happier. I became strong in the Way, and unravelled the mysteries of the universe, not as a mighty general of an army, but as a farmer loving his wife and being loved by his wife. But as all things come, they must eventually go. The hole in my soul, created by her departure, cannot be filled by anything in the universe but her, but all things considered, I handled her death pretty well. I didn't run off and blame the universe like I had before. Even now my head still hangs in shame for those events I caused. After several centuries on Dantooine-"

"Wait a moment," Quin interjected. "I've been meaning to ask this for a while now. How is it that you lived for centuries on Dantooine? How are you here, talking to me right now, thousands of years after the Star Wars?"

"It is quite simple, really. I live in the Living Force, you see. It is the energy that is all around us. It moves us, sways us, it binds us to each other. It is what brought you here. Surely you've felt it! I simply lived and kept on living, just as the Force is alive."

But Quin pressed on further: "I am a Jedi Knight of the Order. I know the teachings of the Masters and am one with the Force. How did you-"

"Ha! Are you truly one with it, child? Then why did you have to exposit your titles, status, and learnings before so declaring it? You did not choose to be born. Life is its own gift. It is the gift of the living Force. All living things are one with the Force, not only the Jedi Knights."

Quin protested, "But the Sith! They gave themselves to the dark side of the Force and brought about death and destruction! They skew the will of the Force and bring confusion and imbalance. Do you expect me to believe that the enemy of the Order is one with the Force?"

"I do not call into question that there are those who would set themselves up as enemies against all that is alive," responded the ancient Jedi. "I was Sith, once. But they are themselves alive, you see, and they are not seeking the destruction of all things but the destruction of things that oppose their own desired order of things; a galaxy better suited to their own needs and wants. Therefore I ask you, is there really a dark side to the living Force, as you and your Order have always taught, or is there simply the twisting of its will to accommodate the dark side of your own nature?"

A dedicated student of the Jedi Order, Quin declared, "Heresy! You were twisted by the dark side and now you seek to turn me. I will not fall to the dark side."

Revan's face now smiled calmly, but this smile was not as artificial as the previous ventriloquist's performance. Revan was indeed smiling.

"No, you will not fall. You will rise above as a true student of the Force. May I continue my story?"

Quin considered the consequences of continuing to listen to the old soul that could very well sow the seeds of the Dark Side in his mind, but perhaps because of the encouragement provided by the the very man he was suspicious of, he was brave enough to let him continue.

"Please, go on."

"Good! Now where was I... yes of course. I was centuries old at this time, and my heart was still broken by her death. I decided once again to try and break the cycle, only without power and control as my weapons. Instead, I would make things move forward by cutting off the present from the past."

"It was you! You fragmented the Holocron?! You plunged the galaxy into another dark age! Do you even know what you cost us-"

"Only fragmented? I thought I destroyed it. And you seem to know quite a bit about me so... oh dear me, I see now what this has cost you, your friends, and others like us. I am very sorry. Again, the brashness of youth overcame me and I thought I could do what only the will of the Force can do through its chosen instruments. I have failed the galaxy twice, but I will not fail it again. Now it is time for me to leave it, and trust in the Force."

"It would have been better had you never been here in the first place," said a bitter Qui-Gon Jin.

"Your words cause me great pain, for there is some truth in them. The bitterness you express is a direct result of my actions. But the words you have used to express that pain are incorrect. It would not have been better had I never been born. Whatever the will of the Force may be, it cannot ultimately be destroyed by anyone, but can only be slowed, and this only because of its humility. It is arrogance to suggest otherwise." Quin had no answer to give to the heretic, and so Revan continued, "It is time for me to leave. I want to go to her at last. I have told you everything you need to hear, and shown you everything you need to see. Fear not, you will not die here, and neither will your friend. I have summoned your allies, and they are coming. Go back to your friend, young one, and I will now go see mine, to be made whole once more."

Returning to his body, Quin felt his wet jumpsuit as he sat staring at the shell of Revan. Slowly, the glowing aura coming from Revan's body faded until finally the pitch darkness of the cave took all sight away from Quin. He reached for his hilt and ignited the green beam of energy once more, but the face in the wall was gone. He looked around and even the hair along the walls and the nails stretched across the ground had disappeared. Was Revan ever even there in the first place?