Hey guys, yeah, I know this isn't Ice and Fire, or Rose of Geass, or even any of my other stories. But it's just been something that has been sitting with me for over a year and a half now, just languishing, never really intended to see the light of day because quite frankly, its Code Geass and Star Wars. It's like trying to trapezoid shaped peg in a round hole, it's a nightmare..
But suddenly, I had a spark, and I needed a break from the frustration of just trying to churn out the next chapter of Infy or TRoG. I don't know if I'll ever update this, or it will just languish here kinda like True Avenger, Fated in Blood, or Scrubbed.
Who knows, when I actually have time, and creative talent, I'll work up another chapter. I just know, that hey, its out there, and if someone wants to swipe it, meh, go ahead. Just let me know.
Anyways, statement over, have fun lambasting this.
Prologue
Pain.
That was the only word that could describe his existence at this moment: Pure, agonizing, undiluted pain. The kind of pain that you would wish upon no one, the type of pain that sang through every nerve, that vibrated through every bone, and consumed one's sanity.
That was his world that he came back into being to.
The last thing that he remembered was a world in which he had been at the mercy of his worst enemy as the monster attempted to rape his mind and rob him of what made him who he was.
But who he was did not matter to the pain that consumed everything, doing more to him than the man who was the ruler of all darkness had ever achieved.
It was in that world that he fell back into unconsciousness to offer him relief.
RotF
The next time he awoke, it was to an existence where the pain was gone, instead replaced by warmth and comfort that was alien to him, at least in regard to his last few years. It took several minutes for him to process the fact that he was in a bed, the light flowing in through a window that provided natural luminescence for his surroundings and allowed him to take stock of where he was at.
Suffice to say, what he saw provided him no answers other than he was in someone's home, of that he was sure of. The question then became whether his furnishings were those of an enemy or an ally.
It was as he realized his clothing was sitting upon what appeared to be furniture made of wood and that he had several bandages around his chest that the door to his room opened and a woman stepped in, in her hands a tray with what appeared to be replacement bandages and a basin of water with a towel. It was as turned to face him that he found his gaze meeting violet.
"Oh," the woman said in an accent he did not recognize, "You're awake. That's good."
She then placed down the tray and walked back out, his curiosity piqued, he reached out with his senses latching onto her presence even as he heard the sound of running water. It was as she did that that he slowly brought his back against the headboard with a wince.
She then came back in with a glass of water and walked over to him, holding out the glass. His parched throat thanked her as he took the water and slowly drank it, letting the awkward silence hold court between the two of them before he finished his water.
"Thank you," he replied, watching as she tilted her head just slightly, obviously attempting to place his accent. Then she took the glass with a start as she realized she had been staring at him.
"Where am I," he asked, knowing that he had to have information. Information could be life or death in this circumstance, and as much as he accepted the fact that this woman seemed to be trying to help him, it did not discount the fact that she may not be alone.
"We're in my cabin," she responded, nonchalantly, before realizing the breadth of his question, her mouth opening to a silent 'o' before she spoke again, "I mean, we're about eighty kilometers northeast of Seattle."
Seattle, he thought to himself, trying to recall any place by that name but coming up blank. That could either be good or bad, but for now he would just work with what he had. So far the woman had shown no hostility toward him.
"How did I get here," he asked, hoping to divert her from his lack of knowledge.
"I don't know," she replied candidly, "I was out on a walk when I came across you. I brought you back to my cabin because it was the only place that you could get any treatment."
He then glanced back over his bandages, then back to her.
"You treated me," he asked.
"Do you see anyone else around here that could do this," she asked, looking somewhat peeved at his question.
"My apologies," he said.
"Do you have a name?"
That was a loaded question he knew, the fact that this woman did not seem to recognize him did not mean that his name would be recognizable when given. Which meant he had to come up with a name at least for now.
"It's Dash," he said after a moment's thought, a random thought given to him through the Force, "Dash Lamperouge."
"French, huh," she said, looking him over a moment, even as he wracked his mind for this 'French' race, "well then, I'm Hope. Hope Kingsley."
RotF
He was lost, that was the only conclusion he could come to in the weeks that had passed since he had found himself in the care of Hope Kingsley. Hopelessly lost on a pre-hyperspace planet that was likely uncharted if it had a population of humans but no Republic or Sith presence. That meant that there would be no reuniting with Bastila and Vaner, nor was there any opportunity of stopping the Sith Emperor.
Then there was the fact that for lack of a better term, he was an alien in unfamiliar territory. Hope had been a great help, with some subtle usage of the Force he would guiltily admit, providing him with a decent overview of the world.
Right now, they were located in the Britannian Empire, an entity that controlled half of the world. For the most part it was interested in holding onto what it had as a result of a history filled with bloodshed and exodus. The current Emperor, a title he did not appreciate whatsoever, was a man who seemed to be content with the status quo, even if there were significant signs of unrest within his own family. There were two other major powers, but Hope didn't seem to have as detailed information on them outside of their governments and locations unfortunately.
Then there was Hope, a woman who had not understood at first, why she would be nurse him back to health, and why she would allow him to stay in her cabin without asking for anything in return.
It was then that he found out that she had been disowned by her family through no fault of her own. It had disgusted him when he heard about how her family was well off, but had decided that she was unneeded and a 'distraction' for her old brother, it was through no fault of her own, but they had been 'nice' enough to give her this cabin and told her to fend for herself, hoping that she would be unable to take care of herself and die.
Well, it was safe to say that they had vastly underestimated the resourcefulness of their daughter, as his now healed wounds would agree.
But now, he had to decide what to do now that he was healed. To be honest, he was conflicted in ways that made no sense to him, but it seemed the Force had it out for him to be so. He was on a new world that he had relatively no knowledge of, but he also felt a certain appeal to stay here at least awhile longer, that he had all the time in the world.
Sighing, he watched as his breath steamed the now frigid air, the seasons in this region having already shifted to one where the first snowfall had been just a few days ago. All around him, the woods were covered in white even as he experienced the silence and the life flowing around him through the Force. It was strange, how this world seemed to have the Force in such abundance, yet seemed to not have anyone that could tap into it from his few encounters with other people the few times he had accompanied Hope as she purchased supplies for her home. It was raw, potent, yet at the same time calming.
The sounds of boots crunching on the snow caused him to turn around and take in the woman who had saved him and daresay it, become someone who he could trust just by the fact that she had not asked the questions that he feared were on her mind, leaving him in peace.
But now...now, he didn't know what to do, one of the oddest feelings to have considering how decisive he had always been, it was as if the Force was urging him to stay…
"I don't know about you," she said, keeping her arms wrapped around her body to try and retain her body warmth, "but I don't think standing out here admiring the beauty is conducive for anyone's warmth."
He gave a small smile at the statement, enjoying Hope's snark, it was something that he had been amused by, how it reminded him somewhat of Bastila's attempts at levity in even the most serious of moments.
Still…
"It's quiet," he replied, before looking back to the woods, "at least before you showed up."
"Well excuse me," she huffed, walking up beside him, "unlike you, I can't stand still and do nothing."
It was with that statement that they both fell silent in the comfortable silence, dwelling upon their own thoughts even as he searched his own feelings and thoughts. They were like that for what seemed like an eternity before she spoke, ruining the enjoyable silence once again.
"So," she trailed off, "what are you going to do now that you have a clean bill of health?"
"Of which I should thank you for," was his response, "if it wasn't for your gentle touch, I doubt I would be here now."
"You know sucking up to me is not going to get you out of chopping the wood."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"Good. But you haven't answered my question. Then again, it's not a question you can really answer...is it, Dash?"
He sighed again, realizing that now, of all times, she was finally going to ask the questions that had been on her mind. Of course, he had done nothing to allay her questions or concerns, but she had been respectful enough not to broach the subject. Now the question was would he answer her.
Standing there, weighing his options, he found his gaze drawn back to the woman whose violet eyes were locked upon him, not judging him, but still looking as if they sought to learn the secret of who he actually was. It was looking at those eyes that he decided that he at least owed her the truth, regardless of the consequences.
"How about we go inside," he finally said, motioning towards the cabin, "I have a feeling that what I have to say will take quite some time."
For a few moments, she stared at him, before she nodded with a smile that, while not gloating, acknowledged her victory. And then she led him back into the cabin.
RotF
"She's beautiful," he said, keeping his voice soft so as to not awaken the baby that lay asleep in her crib, the urge to place the small newborn into his arms having to be fought actively in his mind as he simply chose to stare at her.
It had been four years since he had found himself on this planet, four years since he had met the woman that had somehow replaced Bastila, something he had tried to shield himself from ever doing, but Hope, Hope had a tenacious spirit that refused to give in, eventually tearing down the wall and worming her way into his heart.
And now they had together produced this child…
He found himself looking to the exhausted, yet satisfied woman who sat in the bed, small beads of sweat still on her brow from her labor to bring a new life into the world. Even now, he found himself lost in her beauty.
Who could believe that this woman took everything he had offered and accepted it without judgment even though some of it was so fantastical. And now look at them.
"We have to name her," she said, the tiredness readily evident in her voice.
"You know I'm horrible with names," he replied.
"Vaner," she laughed, shaking her head, her laugh soft yet with an effervescence that made him feel alive, "God, I doubt I could ever forget that."
He couldn't help it as he chuckled himself. He had to admit he wasn't exactly the most creative outside of the Force and Hope had always taken personal enjoyment in that fact.
"How about Marianne," she asked, causing him to think on the name.
"I like it," he said, looking back to the babe that was unaware of the discussion taking place between her parents, "Marianne Lamperouge."
RotF
"You can't be doing this," Hope said, her voice carrying even though she tried to prevent it from doing so. It was hard to keep your voice down so your ten year old daughter would not hear her parents arguing, but that was what it was.
But it was happening regardless as he continued packing, double- and triple-checking that everything was in order.
"You can't be doing this," she repeated, as if trying to convince herself that this was not happening. After fourteen years together, it was hard for her to see the man that she had fallen in love with deciding that he needed to leave.
"Hope," he responded, "I have to. My visions are getting worse and if I don't…"
"To hell with your visions," she hissed, "what do you think Marianne with think? She worships the ground you walk on Dash, and here you are running out without saying a word."
"What do you want me to say, love," he tried to placate her, "that her father is having visions of death and destruction and if he doesn't leave now, then those visions may come true for her and her children, our grandchildren? She wouldn't understand."
"You know perfectly well she would understand if you tried to tell her."
"This isn't her fight, Hope," he snapped, losing his composure for a moment and watched her flinch at his outburst. The last month had been hard for the both of him, each night he had been bombarded with visions of the galaxy on fire, a vast shadow consuming all life in darkness, visions of monsters who used living weapons, of the Sith Emperor once again ascendant. Every night he woke up in a cold sweat and sometimes, when the visions were at their worst, screaming loud enough to wake them up.
Closing his bag again, he slowly walked over to the bed and wrapped his arms around her, he dug his face into her hair, taking in the cherry scent of her shampoo as he breathed it deeply. He could feel her normally strong bearing crumble as she shook in his grasp, silently crying at the fact that something so perfect was now ending.
Fourteen years of happiness, and an angel of a daughter who had so much potential to be anything in the world if she put her mind to it. But now, now he had to leave.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I really am, you know I would not be doing this if it wasn't something I had to do."
"I know," she whispered softly into his chest, trying to dry her tears on him. It was so unlike the strong woman that she was, but then again, she had to be strong for so long until she had met him that he had opened her back up to the world and allowed her to be free to be who she could be.
"I promise I'll come back as soon as I find what I am supposed to find, Hope, I promise."
RotF
He broke his promise.
That was the only thing that could be said as he looked upon the grave marker set outside of the cabin that contained so many memories, the building now abandoned and growth beginning to retake the land that had been so carefully tended to. The very nature that he had helped shape to provide a better home for the three of them.
He brought himself down into a crouch, brushing off the biological detritus that had threatened to overgrow the beacon even as he read the name upon the large stone, etching it into his memory.
Hope Lamperouge
March 6th, A.T.B. 1952 - June 13th, A.T.B. 1994
He placed his fingers upon the name, even as he felt tears silently trek down his cheeks, the only show of emotion he could give this solemn moment.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't come back any sooner, love," he whispered, his voice easily carried away in the wind.
He had tried, Force, had he tried. But for some reason, there were people in Britannia who were aware that he existed and sought him out, for reasons that he could only attribute to the darkness that he felt emanating from the capital.
For some reason, he could only believe that it was because of his daughter, now the Empress-Consort and wife of Emperor Charles zi Britannia. He had watched with pride as she was able to climb the ranks, wanting so desperately to connect with her, but finding his way blocked. And now….now…
"We have a grandson," he continued, "Lelouch," he shook his head at the name, and Hope had accused him of being poor at naming, "he looks like you from what I've seen. I think you would have loved him."
He sighed, shaking his head, feeling a whisper in the Force, something that could not be ignored as he slowly rose to his feet, pulling his cowl back up and over his head. Immediately, he turned and found himself surrounded by several men all wearing black, their weapons drawn and leveled at him.
"Can a grieving husband pay his respects to his wife," he said, his voice like a calm in the storm even as his hand placed itself upon a cylinder that he then unclipped from his belt, taking in the threats all around him.
"You will come with us, Dash Lamperouge," the leader stated, his weapon not lowering, "by the order of the Emperor."
Emperor, that word always caused him a mixture of unwanted feelings as he could feel the rage that was always there slowly rise before he soothed it, his eyes locking upon the leader.
"You have two choices here, sir: Either you walk away now and return to your Emperor and tell him I wish to be left alone, or I send you back as the message, the choice is yours."
He let that hang in the air for a moment, noting the tension in the air and realizing he was only left with one choice.
"Very well," he said softly, regret hanging in his voice as he lowered his head, allowing the Force to flow through and guide him in that moment, "I warned you."
His left hand snapped up and he introduced his attackers to powers far beyond their comprehension.
RotF
He strode down the corridors of the research facility with a singular purpose in mind, the only sound dominating the hallway the dull hum of his lightsaber as it was held low by his side as he marched through the facility that held the key to the outside galaxy.
Already there had been several attempts to stop him, either through soldiers he quickly recognized as the same men and women who had hunted him the last few years. It was no surprise that this 'Geass Order" would be here, protecting and researching the one technology that could jump the Britannian Empire light years ahead of its competition.
At least, that's what they thought, he reminded himself mirthlessly as he came to a stop in the room that held his objective, a Rakatan transport of the kind they used for their conquest. How it ended up on Earth escaped him, but it did provide him an opportunity if it was still operational in some manner. Still, he found it unlikely that these scientists would be able to crack something like this at their technological level.
The sound of footfalls caused him to turn around, watching as armed scientists came running down the hallway. Taking them in for a moment, he turned away, already summoning up the necessary energy to quickly kill them, not even paying them heed anymore as he shot lightning towards the duo, sending them to join the rest of the dead.
Taking in the ship for a few moments, he then walked forward to where he knew the access door was only to stop as the door opened to reveal a bespectacled, lavender-haired teenager with a spoon in his mouth, a nearly empty cup of pudding in hand. They both stood there, saying nothing, even as the teen's eyes trailed down to his purple-bladed lightsaber before they lit up in an expression that Revan knew perfectly well having seen it on his face a few times.
"Plasma sheathed in a magnetic containment field," the teen asked, the awkwardness of the situation, even with the now fresh smell of recently cooked bodies cloying the air, "right?"
"Uhhh...yes."
"I KNEW IT," the teen shouted, cup of pudding hitting the ground, "I told that old coot that your weapon could only be that, but he insisted that it was some type of arc generator but that was stupid, something like that would kill the user. That man owes me a month's supply of pudding…," he then trailed off before sighing with a look of defeat as he realized his situation, "which I'm not going to collect, am I?"
"That depends," he decided to respond, finding his curiosity piqued by the teenager that looked like he should be buried in books, not in a top secret research facility managed by cutthroats, "how did you open the door?"
"Oh. That," the teenager replied, "it was actually quite simple, don't know what my esteemed colleagues were thinking, it was just a matter of figuring out the password. Tricky language, I will admit, but it seemed to share some commonality with numbers. It's not my fault that the password was so simple my colleagues wouldn't believe that the password was the equivalent of our 1-2-3-4-5," he then shrugged, "I just decided that since I didn't want to get harassed while I had my pudding that I'd have it in here."
What. The. Sithspit. He could only think to himself as he continued to stare for a few moments before shaking his head.
"And did you do anything in there?"
"Well...I may have gotten some pudding on the chair, but I swear that wasn't my fault, I just was curious and touched a button and it showed all of these images. Not that I could make any sense of them."
"Good," Revan replied, making a decision as he waved a hand, watching as the teen slump over and fall facefirst onto the cup of pudding, what little of its contents were in it now ended up all over his face. He winced at the fact that that had just happened, but he didn't have the time, it was likely whoever was in charge was going to converge on them sooner rather than later. Taking a moment to pick up the teenager and put him across the room, he strode back into the transport, noting that indeed, the password was the Rakatan equivalent of 1-2-3-4-5, and got to work.
He knew that the transport would not be able to get him out of here, but the fact that the teenage scientist had said that one of the holographic displays had started up meant that at least there would be power, which meant that he could likely use the communications terminal.
It only took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for, his history with the technology providing him the knowledge to change the transponder code to mimic a Republic distress beacon with a 'do not come to this location' tag. The next part of it was to piggyback a secondary message on the beacon to provide a second set of coordinates for recovery. It was an advanced Republic SAR method, but it would be easily recognizable for any of those in the know. Finally, he attached his personal ID tag to it, so whoever came knew who they were dealing with.
Taking one last look at it, he then locked the terminal, making sure no one would be able to use it or disrupt the message outside of destroying the ship, and quickly began his journey to the coordinated that would place him in Area Two.
RotF
That...was not a Republic shuttle, he thought to himself as he watched in the distance as the vehicle settled onto the clearing he had created for the shuttle in the last few months. Since he had put out the distress beacon, he had waited here in the hope that it would be heard and that there would be someone coming, whether they be Republic or Sith.
But these were neither, the lines of the shuttle, the inverted y-shape, everything about it screamed strictly utilitarian and uniform. Then again, if he was honest with himself, he had demanded the same thing of his men when he had been in charge of the Sith….though Malak had left quite a bit to be desired in the conformity department.
Instead of dwelling upon the matter further, he watched as the boarding ramp on the bottom of the shuttle lowered to the ground and from there stepped several humanoid figures that came down to the bottom and assumed a defensive posture for the shuttle, weapons at the ready, scanning for threats. Black hair, blue skin, and red eyes, they reminded him of a race he heard of but could not remember their name.
It was now or never he realized as he strode forward towards the shuttle, leaving the copse of trees that had served as his vantage point.
The troops reacted automatically, weapons coming to train on him, before lowering. From the shuttle came another of the blue-skinned humanoids.
"Lord Revan," the male asked, to which he nodded, somewhat surprised by the usage of the title, "I am Kres'ten'tarthi, you may refer to me by my Core Worlds name of Stent. We are here to pick you up."
"May I ask who you represent?"
"You may. We are the Empire of the Hand."
RotF
The last few days had been rather interesting to say the least. From the moment he had been picked up on Earth he had been largely left alone, his escort not providing any more information than necessary and he had not pressed them for information, realizing right away that whatever this Empire of the Hand was, he was likely being taken to someone with a lot more authority.
This of course had left him plenty of time to meditate and dwell upon his own thoughts, which were unfortunately ones he wished he did not have to do as it had left him open with glimpses of his vision, of the galaxy still on fire and trillions upon trillions of sentient beings dead. Suffice to say rest was something that was fleeting even now as he continued down this unknown road. And then there were the rumors he had began to hear about his daughter before he had left, rumors that had left him worried that maybe he was making a mistake.
Yet, as much as he had wanted to investigate those rumors, the needs of the many had outweighed the needs of the few, and he made it a point to return back to Earth as soon as possible, but right now he had to focus upon the galaxy as a whole or it wouldn't matter what happened, everyone would be dead.
Which led him to this point as he was led down the corridors of a ship that he had only been able to gain a passing glance at as they had approached, the large arrowhead shape that reminded him of his own ships, but yet wasn't. Now, instead of the blue-skinned Chiss that had accompanied him for the majority of the trip, he had found himself surrounded more and more by humans, an underlying message he wasn't exactly sure how to take it considering. It was as he dwelled upon those and other thoughts that they finally came through a door and into a larger antechamber.
It was as he stepped into the antechamber following the Imperial officer that introduced himself as Voss Parck, that everything felt wrong, immediately his eyes snapping over the room, even as he sought to tap into his connection with the force as his senses were screaming danger. Only, to his shock, he found that while he could feel the Force, he could not use it. It was then his eyes were drawn to the solitary Chiss sitting in a command chair, hands steepled in front of him as he stared evenly at him, red eyes glowing in the dim chamber, studying him.
"It seems that you are Jedi at least," the figure stated, "if you were not, then you would not be showing distress at the fact that you suddenly find that you cannot access your so-called Force."
"And how are you doing that, if I may ask," he decided to ask, knowing that at least there would not be violence yet, even without the Force, he could tell that whoever this person was, they were merely testing him at the moment.
"Have you ever heard of a species called Ysalimiri, native to the planet Myrkyr?"
It took him a few moments of thinking before he recalled reports during the Mandalorian Wars of a planet in which a few Jedi reported difficulty in using the force.
"I remember hearing of incidents on a planet by the name of Myrkyr, but I do not recall if we ever ascertained the cause of it. The war took too much of our time."
"I see," came the response as the alien's eyes narrowed further, "I find myself intrigued, Lord Revan. By you, specifically. Here you are, a man that history regards as dead for millennia, suddenly appearing on a pre-hyperspace world. You aren't a clone, the scans confirmed that, nor do you show any sort of after-effects of being held in stasis through known means. Yet at the same time, you appear older than what history records you as. I do not consider myself an expert upon your quasi-religious order, yet there are only a handful of reasonable, if fantastical in their deductive point of origin, conclusions that can be made."
Millennia, he thought to himself, keeping his expression from changing, even as those words impacted him. He had a feeling that it would be true, but for it to be confirmed...there would be no reunion with Bastila, everyone he knew was likely dead.
"So," Thrawn continued, hands steepling, "I'm left with the question: Why appear now? What does this...Force of yours tell you that is so important that you resurface, so far from home and time?"
Knowing that when he started this all there was no turning back, and despite everything this was likely the only chance he had if the Force had guided him to this point.
"i have seen a vision," he began, "a vision of the galaxy on fire. Consumed in a tide of flesh and blood. In that vision, the name of the perpetrator, screamed in despair, Vong. The reason I am here, before you, guided by a series of events that I can only hope has led me true, is to offer aid to fight this enemy, before they consume the galaxy. For while they may not be here now, they are coming."
For a moment it was as silent as death, as if the very galaxy had chosen to hold its breath out if fear that if it had breathed it would doom itself. All that mattered were the two men, one with power and one seeking it.
Then, the silence was broken, as the Chiss spoke, his cultured cool voice dominating the room.
"For years now, we've called them The Far Outsiders," he began, hands unsteepling to tap a command into his chair, which brought up a series of holograms, showing a map of the galaxy, "the Chiss Ascendency, former Republic, and now the Empire have been aware of the existence of these extragalactic enemies for some time now. Unfortunately, preparing for them has been…problematic."
Revan nodded, knowing perfectly well how difficult it was to prepare a galaxy for war.
"Currently, for lack of a better term, the galaxy is a mess. The Empire, formerly led by Emperor Palpatine, a Sith," he paused, watching as Revan's eyes narrowed slightly, but did nothing more, "is currently losing ground to a rebellion the wishes to restore the corrupt republic that the Empire replaced. If it were not for my mission in preparing the Unknown Regions for these Vong, and the fact that the Empire has splintered into several warlords who would not take kindly upon my presence, I would have already returned in order to stop the hemorrhaging and restore order."
"A wise decision," Revan murmured, looking to the holograms, hand cupping his chin, "yet you still intend to return."
"I do. But not before I establish contingencies in the event that I fail to restore the Empire in time for the Outsiders. With your services offered, what may have been feasible would become assured outcome. Of course, it would be predicated upon bringing you up to speed upon the galaxy as a whole."
Revan stood there, eyes focused upon the map before him, weighing the options presented to him. He was honestly surprised that he would be offered an opportunity like this so quickly, let alone by a man he had just met. Yet, knowing what was coming, and knowing that to hold back the darkness, he would have to become involved with everything he had, he knew that this was likely his only option.
"A few things…"
"You may call me Thrawn."
"Admiral…?"
"Grand Admiral."
"Grand Admiral Thrawn, then," Revan corrected himself, "first, what is the status of the Jedi Order?"
"The Jedi Order was, for all intents and purposes, destroyed twenty-five years ago on order of Emperor Palpatine. If there are any survivors, it is likely they number less than a few dozen of Knight quality or below."
"I see," Revan said quietly, taking a deep steadying breath. It wasn't a breath that stemmed from a sense of loss that the order no longer existed, it was a reaction borne of the fact that an entity that he knew from his own time was gone, just like so many others.
Yet it also explained why the Force had remained so quiet, straining silently, pleading to be let loose once again.
"Very well then," he recovered, "I will offer my services to you, Grand Admiral. In return, I would like to request a boon."
"And that is?"
Taking one more look at the holographic map, he stared at it contemplatively, even as he pondered the events that he would start into motion with this request. But, knowing that he while he had failed in his promise to her, he would not fail him, nor would he fail the Force again.
"I wish to retrieve my grandson."