N/A: A better summary, maybe, because I couldn't fit it past the character count.
The hero of the Mandalorian Wars returned from beyond the Outer Rim driven by a new and unknown purpose. But years of war, and something never meant to be seen can stain even the brightest of souls, and she and her purpose have become twisted. She is backed by an unstoppable war machine, and now the once Hero of the Republic brings destruction to all she sought to protect.
Sometimes a person has truly fallen beyond redemption. Sometimes, the only path is to cast off oneself and begin anew.
Prologue
Bastila stood in a medical observation room in the Jedi temple on Corisont. She stared down at a loan woman laid out in a bed, her dark brown hair fanned out on the pillow behind her. Her strikingly beautiful face was serene, and only the slight rise and fall of her chest belied the fact that she was indeed alive.
Bastila marveled at how much the woman's appearance had changed since she had first arrived. After her week long emersion in a Kalto tank, there was absolutely no trace of the ravishments that the dark side had wrought on the woman's body. Indeed, there was nothing to betray the fact that this woman was… Had Been the most feared and most ruthless woman in the galaxy. The angles of her face still held a few traces of the commanding visage that she had always wore in life, and defying explanation, even now, there was a presence, a feeling of power and personality that still seemed to emanate from the woman's body. These were all parts of what she had been, but the most important part, the parte that made her who she was, the mind, was gone. The body lying before her was little more than a husk. Empty. Sloughed off and left to rot. Even now, her life, if life it could even be called, was only being perpetuated by machines that continued managing those bodily functions vital for her survival. Ever since the fateful day when Bastila had saved her life on the bridge of her flag ship, her brain activity had been scrambled. All those higher brain functions that were responsible for sentient activity were completely nonexistent. Only the most primitive, most animalistic side remained. And even that was so chaotic that they dare not remove her from the machines.
Despite the grate evils this woman had perpetrated against the Republic, despite the billions whose blood stained her hands, directly or otherwise, Bastila found herself wishing that there was something more she could do to help the woman. It wasn't the Jedi way to kill their prisoners, and no one deserved death. Especially a death such as this. Over the last week Bastila had constantly checked on her, both in person and through use of the bond she had forged to save the woman's life, irrationally hoping to see an improvement in her condition. Even knowing that an improvement would most likely mean a return of such a malevolent person and her immediate trial and execution by the republic. Bastila now new that such hopes of improvement were ultimately feudal. The woman's condition was so severe that a week of being subjected to the most advanced medical technology and most powerful and Adept Force Healers in the order had yielded nothing. For this reason, the council had ordered that she be taken off life support, decreeing that it would be a mercy to grant the woman death rather than a slow wasting away. They were of course correct in their decision, but at the same time part of her felt that giving up now would be failing the woman. Bastila felt like she owed something to this woman now that she had saved her life, and she hated the idea of failure. After all. If she were to recover, couldn't she be redeemed? Surely the wisdom of the council could lead her back to the light. The order taught that no one was beyond redemption. No one. No matter how far the fall. Besides, this woman had once been a follower of the light. She had once been one of the most powerful and promising knights of the order. Surely, if anyone could be redeemed, then this woman could.
Bastila cut off her line of thought. The Council had ordered that she be taken off life support and she, as a padawan, must obey the Council's wisdom. She moved to a small control panel at the head of the bed and once again looked down at the woman who she had had, for some reason beyond her understanding, tried so very hard to save. Brusquely, she wiped a single tear running down her cheek and whispered.
"I'm sorry Revan. I tried." She then disengaged the life-support system. The instant that the machines ceased to override the confused commands from her brain, her body went into convulsions. The sloe rhythmic beat of the heart monitor became erratic. Speeding to an impossible rhythm, slowing to a near stop, and then back to a frenzied pace. Her limbs violently thrashed about, disturbing the order of the bed. The convulsions continued for several seconds before weakening and then stopping, the heart monitor flat lining. Revan's face once again relaxed into a vision of near Jedi like serenity, a vision that Bastila herself desperately fought to maintain. Bastila stood for several minutes more, feeling the already weak bond slowly wither. Bastila sagged, forced to brace herself against the bed as the bond finally snapped with a thunderous recoil that sent a tremor through Bastila. As it did, Bastila felt as if a small part of her spirit had been wrenched out of her leaving a void where the bond had once been. This to had been a factor in the Council's decision to take Revan off life-support. They feared that if the bond she had created with Revan were to have grown any stronger, severing it may have had an adverse effect on Bastila. A fear that Bastila now felt had been well founded. The place once filled by Revan in her mind was now a void, cold and empty.
Bastila took a deep breath, mentally repeating the Jedi code and centering herself. It was quite ridiculous to have feelings for the Sith lord who had brought so much suffering to the Republic. Even if she had recovered, she couldn't have been saved. The council had tried to guide her before she left to fight the Mandalorians and she had refused their wisdom then. Their was nothing to say she wouldn't do so again. She remembered back to the last time she had seen Revan alive on the bridge of her flag ship.
As Bastila and other Jedi in her strike teem dispatched the Dark Jedi guarding Revan, the solitary figure garbed in black robes stood unconcernedly watching her fleet out flank the forces of the Republic ambush, and crush the surviving ships like a nut in a vice. Weeks had been spent planning the ambush. The navy had committed a full three fleets to the Jedi Counsel's plan. The greatest number of ships ever used in a single engagement against Revan. Fully four times the number of Revans personal fleet.
Revan, true to her reputation had expected them and prepared a devastating counter. As the Republic's forces surrounded Revans small fleet they found themselves in tern surrounded by a fleet of Interdictor ships. Far more startling was the number of ships pouring out of hyper space only to flood past the Interdictors and slam into the Republic with the force of a Mandiloriean War Droid. What had started as a victory of numbers for the Republic turned into a literal blood bath as they found themselves now outnumbered nearly ten to one. The only hope of saving anything of the Republic's forces lay with the strike team. If they could capture Revan, perhaps they could order the Sith ships to stand down.
Before Bastila knew it, the last Dark Jedi fell before her yellow blade, and she was moving forward, the only two surviving Jedi fanning out to either side of her to confront the Dark Lord. Bastila felt as if she was a passive observer in her own body. Merely watching herself moving forward, igniting her light saber and dropping into a defensive stance. It was then that the full magnitude of what she was doing struck her. The shear amount of primal power that Revan controlled overwhelmed her as it rolled off the woman in title waves, threatening to wash her mind away in a flood of raw, unbridled power.
"You can't win Revan." Bastila was surprised at the strength she heard in her own words. Especially when she would like nothing more than to flee. Revan was too powerful. Three Jedi weren't enough to take someone who commanded such power in the force. What were the masters thinking, sending such a, by comparison, pitiful force against such a giant when the more obvious course would be to throw no less than five thermal detonators at the woman, and pray they did the job.
A deep throaty chuckle emanated from the black robed figure as she turned to face Bastila. The laugh sounded hollow, as if it were coming from a great distance from behind the menacing mask she wore. Even from behind the emotionless gaze of the mask's visor, she could feel Revan's cold eyes studying her. It felt as if Revan was dissecting her, seeming to measure and way every part of her with the greatest of care. The overwhelming amount of power held Bastila and her two companions as if they were caught in stasis. For all the power Bastila felt emanating from the woman, she was most afraid of something else that emanated from the intimidating figure. She had herd Masters speak of the taint of the Dark Side, but none of it had come close to describing the… Wrongness, that Bastila felt. It emanated from the woman before her, permeating the entire bridge, and disconcerting her senses. Almost as if something was slightly out of place. Something just out of focus, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. There was nothing oily, vile, or sickening about it, as Master Vrook had described it. It simply was. A presence in the background seeming to wisper. WRONG. DOESN'T BELONG. NOT WRIGHT. RUN. FLEE. WRONG. With an offhanded flick of her wrist, Revan sent a wall of energy in all directions. So great was the force, that it tore up deck plating to be carried along on the advancing front of destruction. Parting around Bastila, the unstoppable wall of debris and energy slammed into the two surviving knights with such force as to send them soaring across the length of the bridge. Bastila suppressed a shudder at the sound of their bodies hitting the far wall with resoundingly wet thuds. She didn't bother to look to see if they were safe. She had felt them become one with the Force as the wall of energy hit them. Revan smoothly drew her own light saber, twirling the blade and laughing before dropping into a defensive stance. Her laughter had been so clear. It sounded so natural, so pleased. Bastila's mind numbly wondered at what kind of creature could laugh after so casually killing two people. Her mind still numbed from seeing two of her team so easily snuffed from existence, she stood frozen at the woman's display of ruthlessness and casual use of such incredible power. She knew that the dark woman before her was only toying with her. She knew as surely as she knew that the woman had no wish to kill her, and that frightened her more than anything she had yet witnessed.
Bastila shook herself from her memories. Yes. It was better that something so evil and, utterly Wrong was gone from the galaxy. The counsel was correct in their decision to order her removed from life-support. But it wasn't a mercy to Revan, she doubted anything so evil could understand, much less deserve mercy. No, not a mercy to Revan, but a mercy to the galaxy. Once she had satisfied herself that she had once again regained control over her rather foolish emotions, she turned and left the room to report Revan's death to the Council. Stopping only briefly to dismiss the guards, and then continuing on her way. The Hospital's staff would handle the disposal of the body.
Revan floated in a state of conchisness not unlike being submerged in tides of murky water. Or at least what she thought being submerged in murky water would feel like. She was fully conchis but her perceptions were entirely seen through the force, muffled as if she was trying to hear something under water. Furthermore, it was a constant effort to keep herself together, as unseen currents tugged at her thoughts, threatening to spread the shapeless nothing that was her conchisness the force only knew where. She had a dim sense of her body lying in a soft bed, but it was disconnected, as if coming from a long distance. Almost as if being informed she was lying in a bed, rather than experiencing it firsthand. She was reflecting on the events that had left her stranded in this hell. She knew who was to blame of course. She was.
Oh, it may have been dear Bastila and her fellow Jedi who distracted her, and it may have been Malak who fired on her ship, nearly killing her. They may have been the ones through which the actions had been done, but ultimately it was her actions, or rather her inaction, that was the catalyst that had set it all into motion. Coming together in a final crescendo that she had not foreseen.
She couldn't blame Bastila. After all, she had practically come at her beckon call. She knew what the council's actions would be when she let slip where her not so lone and relatively defenseless fleet would be, knowing that the council would send Jedi to kill her. She also knew that they would send Bastila to use her Battle Meditation to get close to her. Exactly what she wanted them to do. The republic's use of, and near utter dependence on Bastila had been a thorn in her side for long enough. The thought that such pathetic weaklings would chain someone of such power into protecting them disgusted her, but not nearly so much as someone of such power allowing it. Truly Bastila had far to go before being considered a force in her own right, but she was the one who was great, not the incompetence pulling her strings.
By playing the council, not particularly hard to trick that group of fools, after all, It, had been doing it since before the Jedi were even formed, she had hoped to capture Bastila and lead her to the truth that the council was seemingly oblivious to. No. Bastila was most certainly not to blame. Revan had all but handed her a part to play, and dear Bastila had performed beautifully.
She couldn't even blame Malak for betraying her, or at least not entirely. True, she would take great pleasure in ending his worthless life when she recovered, but his actions were in keeping with the Sith way. A failing of the Sith, Just as the Jedi had theirs. However unlike the Jedi, they were a tool that had its uses. Yes the fault was most assuredly hers. She knew Malak was preparing to betray her. Not so soon, but she did know. She could have easily prevented all of this if she had simply listened to her instincts, and taken more than his jaw when he first showed sines of rebelling against her leadership when he had turned Telos into a mass grave. She had foolishly thought when the time came he would come at her like he came at all obstacles. Blindly, and with a club. If he had, she would have killed him, and that would have been that, but he showed a rare glimpse of brilliance that she had never thought him capable of, and here she was now.
Unfortunately, for Malak that is, he had failed to kill her, due largely in part to Bastila, something that she was surprised at. An unfortunate repercussion of Bastila saving her had left her in this limbo as her body slowly repaired itself. She was unsure if she was annoyed at Bastila for banishing her here, or if she should thank her for saving her so that she could continue her plans.
She was faintly aware of Bastila standing next to her body through the bond. When she had realized that Bastila's actions had forged a bond between them she had quickly taken measures to shield her mind from her, but also allow her to occasionally spy on Bastila's surface thoughts. It was possible to go deeper, something Revan did from time to time, but it had to be done carefully when Bastila slept, or else she ran the risk of being detected. From what she could glean from Bastila, they thought she was brain dead and for a brief time, the idea of programming another mind into her body was tossed around before thankfully being dropped. She shuddered at what the council would do if they knew she wasn't quite as dead as they had first suspected. It wouldn't do for Bastila to learn of her existence. Not yet at any rate.
When the time came, she would reveal herself. Once she was fully recovered she would take great pleasure in opening dear Bastila's eyes to the truth of the galaxy. She would show her what she had seen with her own eyes. Show her what hungrily waited out in the blackness. Show her how the Republic, Jedi, and countless civilizations of the past all danced to the strings of an unseen puppet master, and then she would see as she had that people could no longer live in the delusional manner that the Republic, Jedi, or even the Sith saw fit to force them into. Bastila would fall, as the masters liked to say, but that was not right. It was not to fall. Quite the opposite. It was to have one's eyes opened for the first time. To see the truth, to know how wrong things were, and see how they should be. It was freedom, it was to raise oneself. With some relatively minor but, unfortunately, unavoidably unpleasant deprogramming, Bastila would come to her, and she would do it gladly. Hopefully, now that she had the bond she could help Bastila see the truth of things without the traditional methods. She truly had no wish to hurt the girl. She had no wish to hurt anyone if she could help it, but they had to be sculpted… No… Forged , into a form that could withstand the truth that she had seen, whether they wished it or not. The girl had saved her life after all. Such loyalty was to be rewarded. No matter how unintentional it may have been. Even more than rewarding good deeds, the time spent getting to know Bastila through the bond had endeared her to Revan. She could see some of herself in the girl. Granted, it was buried under Jedi teachings, and even more to her dismay, had been stifled by that stuffy old fossil, Vrook. But none of this mattered. Given enough time, and a shovel, she was sure she could dig through all the trash to the true Bastila, not this Jedi manufactured porcelain princess, and set her free. Besides, she would make a truly worthy apprentice when she killed the cowered, Malack.
Revan was jarred from her plans by an urgent feeling from her body. It had gone into convulsions and was dying. Calmly revan began casting her senses out to learn the cause. She stopped when she pulled on the bond. She felt a confusion of emotions emanating from Bastila. Finding this strange coming from the poster girl of the Jedi, she followed the tangle of emotions back to the source and recoiled when she found it. The council had ordered her death. This wasn't write, she couldn't let this happen, but she already knew it was too late, Bastila, like a good little council drone, had already pulled the plug. Revan frantically cast about to find a way to stop this from happening. She tried to force her body to move, but failed to illicit so much as a wiggle of her big tow. She tried to use the force to reengage the life-support machines, but couldn't draw heavily enough on the force in her weakened state to do so. Desperately she began to take down the barriers that hid her presence from Bastila but stopped in dismay. It was too late. She didn't have enough time. In anguish, she let out a mental shriek, even knowing know one could hear her.
As her body underwent its final death throws, a deep blackness opened up under her. It was a curious thing. as there was no true culler, let alone definable direction in her limbo, it couldn't exist. And yet it was below her, and it was dark. She didn't know how she knew, she simply did.
Desperately she probed at the darkness, still looking for a way, any way to save her body. She couldn't die; she had plans that were unfinished. She… She could feel the darkness calling to her. It was faintly distant, on the edge of her mind, almost a sound, but not quite. Cautiously she moved closer to the blackness. As she drew nearer the calling became clearer. It was velvety soft and welcoming. It sang of passion. It sang of strength. of power. Of freedom. Most important was the power, so sweet she could taste it. She could feel it clearly. So much power. Enough to save herself. She continued probing at the darkness. Seeking to understand what it was. Seeking to use its power. Seeking to grasp it. Moving ever closer. Little by little Revan forgot her body as the siren call infected her, drawing her closer. She was now surrounded by the darkness, reveling in its intoxicating power. Power that she could use, that she would use. Power to crush the trader, to crush the foolish Jedi, to complete her mission and save them all. She now charged recklessly deeper into the darkness, craving still more. Faintly she could make out an even deeper darkness. It had no shape and could not be seen, and at the same time was so much darker then the surrounding darkness that it couldn't be missed.
The calling began to change. It grew cold and harsh, with a barely perceptible undercurrent of insatiable hunger. Revan stopped her advance; she could clearly see the void ahead. It opened wide, as if a hungry maw. It called to her still speaking of power, but no longer held any traces of welcome. It was hunger and darkness and aching loneliness. So dark. So lonely. It burned.
With a start Revan realized she had felt this before, when she journeyed beyond the Outer Rim. How could she have been so foolish! She was still moving closer to the void, it was drawing her in. She didn't like it, desperately she tried to back pedal. She turned to head away only to see the same void behind her. It seemed to be everywhere, pulling her in to the black hungering depths. Revan slowed her racing thoughts and attempted to wrestle her overwhelming fear back under control. She had no time or use for fear. She was Revan. Fear was a weakness that she would not yield to. Putting the ever lessening distance between herself and the void out of her mind, Revan when through a rapid list of resources she could draw upon. It was a short list, as all she could think of was her bond with Bastila. She reached for the bond but couldn't find it. She gave herself a mental kick. The bond would have broken when her body died.
Noting her still uncomfortably close proximity to the void she scrambled to find what remained of her side of the bond. If it hadn't been too long she may still have a chance. She found the still shriveling thread of her bond to bastila and began to pore herself into it, willing it to grow. Slowly, agonizingly so, the thread became a strand, then a string, finally it snapped taught connecting to a brilliant flair of light.
Revan would have let out a sigh if she couldn't feel the darkness starting to pool parts of her away, as if it were a Black Hole and she were only so much cosmic dust. Setting her sights on the beacon of Bastila
Revan clawed her way away from the void as fast as she could. To her dismay, the harder she struggled against the pull of the darkness, the stronger its pull became, until it felt as if it had physical hooks in her, tearing parts of her vary sol away as she struggled against them. She had to succeed. She had to live. She was Revan, Hero of the Republic, Dark Lord of the Sith. No force, physical or otherwise, could stand against her will. She had plans, a purpose, a mission. It was all that mattered. She had to get to Bastila if she was to live. She shuddered as another hook tore free with another part of her being. The pain was almost too much, but she had to continue. She was Revan. She had… She had something. Something important to continue. Bastila. More hooks tore away and she sobbed in pain. It hurt so much. She was… She was… She couldn't remember. The pain was too great. It wasn't important. She had… She had to get to the light, something to do. Had to get away from the darkness. Something important. It didn't feel right. Something about the light. Something she should remember. She cursed her forgetfulness. This wasn't like her, or... Or was it? Still more hooks tore free. The pain was so great she wanted to die. No. She needed to get to the light. Something important. It was so close. The darkness was scary. She didn't like it. It hurt her. Desperate to get away from the scary darkness she began casting off those parts of herself that the hooks had imbedded themselves in, sending them streaming into the darkness. Whatever it took to free her of the painful hooks. Whatever it took to get to the light. She was scared. The darkness scared her and was mean and painful and not right. Something important. Finally she reached the light. It flared in a brilliant flash of blinding blue, and Revan knew no more.
Bastila sat in her quarters, meditating on the events of the day when she felt a tenuous pull on her mind. Curious she reached out to search for some disturbance in the room but found none. As the pull grew in strength, she realized with a jolt of surprise that it was her bond with Revan. Abruptly it snapped back into place with a sharp tug on her mind. Caught off guard, Bastila was unprepared for the torrent of desperation, fear, and pain that flooded through the bond, slamming into her conchisness with the force of a head on speeder collision. Her body went ramrod straight, her gray eyes wide, as all the mussels in her body tensed with the overwhelming psychic strain. As the last of her mental barriers finally shattered, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed in a heap on the Flore of her room.
30 minutes later
Revan's body still lay serenely in the bed of her room. Still waiting to be collected and disposed of when the heart monitor emitted a faint blip. Then a second stronger blip. Suddenly the woman's eyes snapped open revealing the reflective silvery sheen of mettle. She convulsed as she desperately gasped for a breath of fresh air. She abruptly shot up into a sitting position, still taking long and ragged breaths. Her mind was a torrent of confusing emotions and sensations. Fear, panic, cold, curiosity, and still more fear. As her breaths came more steadily and her hart began to slow, she wrapped her arms around her legs and began to rock. The motion had a soothing effect on her, calming her and warming her limbs. She sat like this for some time until her shivering subsided. Feeling her curiosity beginning to surpass her fear, she climbed rather unsteadily off the bed and stood. She glanced around the room and froze as she saw a figure standing in a corner. Warily she turned to regard it. The figure did likewise. The stranger was a woman. She wore simple loose fitting white coverings and had dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders. Her eyes were featureless silver orbs that seemed to regard her with piercing curiosity. She tilted her head and blinked as the other woman copied her. She moved closer to the stranger, and disconcertingly the other woman appeared to copy her without moving. She let out a grunt of curiosity at the stranger and was surprised to see the others lips move but with no sound. Tentatively she reached out to touch her, the other woman copying her exactly, but felt a cold surface between them. She felt a moment of loneliness pass over her as she realized she couldn't touch the other. This was washed away by annoyance that the other persisted in copying her. In an effort to force the other to stop, she proceeded to jump up and down, flailing her arms, the other mimicking her perfectly. Her annoyance turned to anger and she screamed at her. The other did the same in complete silence. In a fit of rage she lashed out with a fist to strike the other, only to jump back in both pain and surprise as the other shattered, cutting her hand.
The woman gingerly cradled her injured hand close to her chest waiting for the pain to pass. She was startled by a tinny mettle voice from behind her. With a startling burst of speed she spun to see another figure. Unlike the one that had hurt her hand, this one had round glowing eyes and reflected light off its silver skin. She instinctively fell into a crouch, slowly backing up. The fear that she had previously forgotten returning in a cascade. Her eyes darted around, frantically looking for a way to escape. It was no good. The only root of escape was the door, and the new other was blocking the way out. She didn't know what to do, this new other had done nothing but it frightened her.
"Excuse me miss. Are you all right?"The droid asked. The woman didn't understand the noises the new other was making. She could feel her fear building into full-fledged panic. She growled at the new other, hoping it would go away. The other seemed not to notice her growl. "I am afraid you are in a restricted area miss. If you will follow me, I will lead you back to the nearest unrestricted area." She didn't like this new other. It was scaring her, and it wouldn't stop making those strange noises. She was feeling an increasing need to escape. This new other was going to attract attention. Attention meant more others. She didn't know why but she didn't want to meet these others, but she couldn't go anywhere with this shiny other in her way.
Confused, the droid started toward her. "Miss. I'm sorry, but you must allow me to lead…" Startled by the new others advance; the woman lunged at the shiny other. The Droid fell over backwards. The impact jarred its internal workings, causing its photoreceptors to flicker. Before the droid could cry out, the woman leaped atop of it grabbing the head and repeatedly slammed it into the floor until the eyes went dim. She screamed at the shiny other one last time, then stood and bolted out the door.
Coriscant two hours later
The woman had escaped from the place with the others that frightened her and made her way down deep into the underbelly of Coriscant. She didn't understand it, but she had the feeling of being lead. When she was still in the scary place, there was something that seemed to be helping her. It told her when to hide, when people were coming, and which turns to make. She didn't understand it, but it felt as if she needed to be somewhere, and following this feeling was guiding her closer to where she needed to be. She was now making her way through a small Allie hidden by shadow. The feeling told her to stay hidden, the shadows were her friend. No one could find her in the shadows; no one could hurt her when the shadows hid her. Despite the assurance of the mysterious feeling, she still held fear of the shadows. Especially the patches that were almost completely devoid of light. Whenever she stared into the darkness for too long, she became increasingly afraid. It felt like the darkness was a deep and bottomless void, and it was trying to pull her in.
She shook herself. She could begin to here sound further down the alley. It was a strong pulsing beet that made her feel energetic and excited, calling to her, leading her on.
When she reached the end of the alley, careful to stay in the shadows, she saw a building lit with bright red and blue neon lights that flashed, strobed, and blinked in complicated patterns. This building was the source of the rhythmic sound that had drawn her in. She could feel the low thumping base in her chest, almost feeling as if it were beating in time with her hart. She beamed with child like glee. She liked this sound, it made her feel happy. Another other walked out of the door, and as the door was open she could hear more others. They sounded happy and energetic. The energy and feelings of joy emanating from the building called to her. She found it difficult to stay in the shadows, and in no time she ignored the desperate warnings of the guiding feeling in the back of her mind, and started toward the building. Before she had even made it half way to the door a pair of strong callused hands came around from behind, clamping down over her mouth and rapping around her waist, trapping her arms and pulling her back. Surprised, she struggled, but her arms were locked at her sides. Still struggling, she found herself throne up against the wall of the alley she had just emerged from. She could see the outlines of five others, all mail. The one who was holding her made some noises.
"Looks like we got lucky today boys. We got ourselves some good looken meet." He turned to the furthest other. "Rolim, get the light; let's get a look at her." The woman didn't like the sounds these others made. They sounded vary unfriendly. She struggled harder as alight shown on her, making the others appear to be dark shadows. There was a whistling sound from one of the others.
"She's pretty alright. Freaky eyes though. How much you think we'll be able to make on her?"
"Nothing if we can't get the port authority to overlook our cargo." Another voice said.
"Don't worry about it." The first voice said. "I've got the port authorities taken care of. Give me the neural restraint collar. This one seems lively. We don't want her making a fuss." She saw a hand reaching toward her with a collar. For some reason the sight of the collar awoke feelings of anger and hatred deep down in the darkest recesses of her being. She stopped struggling as the anger took hold, her breathing and hart slowing, and mind going com. With impossible speed, she lashed out with a kick to the groin of the man holding her, and raked her nails across his face as His grip fell away. He dropped to the ground in agony, a hand clutching at both his face and groin. Quickly the others moved to grab her. She side stepped one man who charged at her, allowing him to crash face first into the wall with a thud. Ducking the grasp of another, she came back up with a short chopping motion of her right arm, smashing into another mans throat. She ignored the crunching sound and gasps as she spun to face yet another, catching his fist on her arm and lashing out with a strike of her own that sent the man staggering. She felt a tug as a man grabbed at her from behind, missing and grabbing hold of her shirt. He pulled in an attempt to bring her within arms reach, but the shirt tore and fell away from her body. Paying no mind to the fact that she was now topless, she turned her attention back to the man who stupidly stared at the Torne shirt in his hand. She let loose with a powerful strike; cracking bones in the man's face and making her hand go num. Before she could continue her savage onslaught, a bolt of blue energy struck her. Her mussels slackened and she staggered forward. Still in a blind rage, she spun and blindly lunged at the attacker, only to be struck by another bolt of blue energy. This time her mussels became liquid. Her body, still holding the momentum of the last lunge, and now with no way to stop, crashed into the leader, who she had first taken down, sending them both to the ground. Desperate, she through all her strength into strangling the man, but her hands could only feebly grasp at his throat. Shoving her off him, he got to his knees, took aim and fired. This time, lacking anything more to put into the struggle, her mind descended into a dreamlike haze.
The leader lowered his stun blaster, still on his knees and with blood running down his face from the woman's nails. He coughed.
"The dam schutta is a fighter. Everyone ok?"
"I think Owin's dead. The kriffing schutta crushed his windpipe. It looks like Rolim will be joining him soon if we don't get him to a hospital fast." The leader climbed to his feet.
"Forget Owin. Give Rolim a shot of Kolto. It'll have to do until we can get him to a doctor. Someone give me a hand with the schutta. It took three hits to stun her, I don't want to take bets that she'll stay down until she's in restraints." The man grabbed the woman's arm to bind her wrists when something caught his eye on her forearm. He froze in surprise. "Boys. We just made a fortune. The dam schutta is a kriffing Mando." As soon as he spoke the two remaining men were at his side. "Look at that." He turned her arm into the light so they could see the clan marking. "You know how much some people would pay to get their hands on a Mando? Especially on the outer rim. They're a lot of people looking to get even with them for what they did."
"Hell boss, I've got some ideas of how to get even." the man to his left said with a smirk.
"No one touches her. She just became too valuable to become damaged goods. Finish helping Rolim; we'll fix him up at the ship. Someone get me that restraint collar. I don't want her waking up on us."
Caton Maru staggered out of the cantina and promptly collided into a wall. After gods new how many drinks the world seemed like it would never stop moving. He slid into a sitting position, his back against the wall and tried, unsuccessfully, to stop his head from spinning. If he knew how much alcohol an Aqualish could put away before getting drunk, he never would have started playing pazock with one. He had started the night with a simple plan. Come in, pick a likely mark, start a friendly game of pazock while continuing to buy his opponent an unending round of drinks until he became sloppy and stupid, and then take him for all he was worth. It all went as well as could be expected until it came to the unending round of drinks. His mark wasn't as stupid as he would have liked, and Caton had found it necessary to match the Aqualish drink for drink. No problem, this wasn't Caton's first time. He had continued his plan, all the while injecting stims under the table when he felt himself start to go dull. The reel problem came when he ran out of stims, around the 15 or 20th glass of Tarisian ale, He couldn't really remember, didn't care either. The part that really irked him, was that the Aqualish didn't have the common courtesy to look even the slightest bit inebriated. He had finally struck it rich when the Aqualish, still showing no sines of impairment, passed out face first on the table. Caton, who had been fearing he would have to call it quits due to a lack of funds and near lack of good judgment, thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen as he took all the credits, both on the table and in the pockets of his rather sleepy opponent.
Feeling better, which was to say that it felt like a Wookiee was beating his head like a drum, opposed to having a herd of Bantha on a mad rampage inside his skull, Caton pulled himself to his feet. He had to get back to his ship before he passed out like his Aqualish benefactor. As he walk/ stumbled in the general direction of the spaceport, something caught his attention. In an Allie across the street from the cantina he saw a group of thugs attacking what looked to be a lone woman. As he drew nearer, he revised his previous conclusion. It was a lone woman massacring a group of thugs. Correction, a very beautiful, topless woman. He was brought out of his trance by a flash of blue, quickly followed up by another. By time Caton realized that one of the men had used a stun blaster, he saw the man get to his knees and shoot the woman a third time. The men started moving around, checking their wounded and securing the woman. All the while apparently oblivious to Caton's presence. He knew the men were slavers. Vary stupid slavers, if they were on a planet that didn't allow slavery. Then again, it was a well known secret that there were occasionally slavers in the less reputable areas of Corisontt. Of course this was never talked about in public, lest it shatter people's image of the capital of the Republic, beacon of freedom for all. He didn't like slavers. On the other hand, this had nothing to do with him. If he knew what was good for him he wouldn't get involved. Besides, the woman could fight. She'd probably free herself in no time. If that wasn't enough, he was hammered, and obviously in no shape to go playing Jedi Knight in shining armor. The smart thing to do would be to turn around, continue to his ship, and forget he saw a thing. He squeezed off around from each of his blaster pistils dropping a man instantly. He didn't have a reputation for doing the smart thing when he should. Especially not when any combination of alcohol, women, or slavers was involved. A third man stood up from near the woman drawing a blaster. Caton squeezed off another three shots, all of which when wide. The world was starting to spin again, and he didn't want to hit the woman on the ground. Just then Caton's legs decided to lose balance, dropping him on his ass and saving his life as a bolt passed through where his head should have been. Feeling that his chances of accidentally hitting the woman while firing at an upward angle were greatly decreased, Caton opened up with a stream of blaster bolts. He didn't care where he hit the man, so long as he did. He finally stopped firing when the man when down, his front chard beyond recognition.
Caton let out a sigh of relief and lowered his blasters, swearing to himself under his breath. His headache had just gotten worse. If it could be any sine of things to come, then the hangover was going to be just heavenly tomorrow. Holstering his weapons', he got to his feet, and made his way over to the woman on the ground, forcing the world to stay still the whole way. He lifted the light left by the slavers to get a better look at the woman and stopped. She was a vision of beauty if he had ever seen one. She stood just slightly taller than him at five foot ten, with long dark brown hair. Her face was narrow and angular. Her body was toned and well muscled, with curves in all the right places. Her features made her look truly elegant, but he could make out lines made by tension. Whoever she was, she had obviously seen a lot to leave such lines of worry in her face. He searched around on the ground for a bit before finding her Torne shirt. It was too badly damaged to actually be worn, but it would at least allow her to keep a degree of modesty. Taking a brief look at her chest once more… Just a brief one… To see if she had any wounds… Ok so it wasn't just to see if she had any wounds. He was a man after all. A vary inebriated man. he began draping it over her when he noticed something on her right forearm. Turning her arm into the light he dropped it as if he had been scolded. She had a fracking clan marking. He hadn't fought in the Mando wars, but he knew plenty of people who had, and he knew what a clan marking looked like. Caton sat back on his heels
"Caton old buddy. What The Hell Have You Got Yourself Into Now?" On one hand the galaxy was short a couple of slavers, always a good thing. On another hand he had just saved a Mandiloriean who would probably rip his head off when she woke up and found him still there. He suppressed a shutter on thinking what she would do if she caught him ogling her breasts. On yet another hand, if he left her here and she didn't wake up soon, she was likely to find herself in a similar situation as she was just in, and this time she wouldn't be awake to go down fighting.
Caton made up his mind. He went to the five bodies and liberated there credits before coming back to the woman's still form. He stared down, his eyes running over the woman's face.
"You know, if I was sensible, I would leave you here. If I was vengeful, I'd blast you for what your people did and not give it a second thought. Hell, I could probably do that last one in front of the authorities with their blessing. The thing is, I'm neither of these. Sensible or vengeful I mean. I just want you to know this so when you wake up, you know what I could have done but didn't. Maybe that'll be enough to dissuade you from killing me. I don't know." Caton shook his head. "First you're saving Mandilorieans, now you're talking to women who can't here you. What's next? Maybe you should go see if there is a Sith lorde that needs saving nearby." He shook his head again. "Just great." Sighing, he bent down to pick the woman up. His last memories were of the sound of a blaster and a flash of blue before darkness claimed his mind.
One Hour Previous
Jedi masters Vrook and Vander stood watching the holo footage of Revan's escape. Vrook spoke in his normally dry voice without taking his eyes from the woman pouncing on the protocol droid.
"I knew that the demise of the dark lord was too good to be true. We should have carried out her sentence sooner. If we had, this could probably have been avoided. Now as it stands, we have Malak wasting no time in laying claim to Revans throne, and Revan still alive. Likely plotting her revenge as we speak." The diminutive master Vander said nothing for a time. Despite Vrooks dry, almost taciturn way of speaking, he could hear the suppressed frustration.
"Perhaps, but on both counts I fear you are wrong. The Force is still strong around her. I feel that Revan has a part to play in events still to come. As for Malak. If our intelligence is to believed, he will be busy cleansing the Sith ranks of those who were loyal to Revan, and putting down others who seek to take her throne as he has. It will be a while yet before the Sith are organized enough to begin advancing. Whatever the case may be, we can do nothing but wait and see." Vrook let out a consenting grunt.
"You may be right. At any rate, it is too late to run after her. By now, she could be anywhere on the planet. If she is indeed still on the planet. Padowone Bastila may shed some light on things when she is recovered from her ordeal."
"I sense that the bond between bastila and Revan is still intact. I am afraid their destinies are greatly entwined. The Force clearly has set events in motion, toward a destination we do not know. For now we can only wait and watch events as they unfold.
A/N: I've had this going round in my head for years now, and finally decided to see if I could make it work. Feedback is appreciated. Feel free to flame or praise, as the mood takes you.