Part I
Chapter 1

The battle outside her transparisteel window was a diversion. She knew that, but she still put her full attention on it as they approached the ship that Revan had claimed as his flagship. Until they docked with it, her orders were to keep her attention as far away from it as possible. Only when it was absolutely necessary should she risk alerting Revan to her presence. The Republic's Hope was grateful – she had no desire to be a part of this particular battle. Arrogant her Masters claimed she was, and arrogant she may well be, but she was not so foolish to think she could best Revan in a duel. That was better left to the Masters and more experienced Jedi on the mission. She knew she was here for her skill at Battle Meditation, not for her combat abilities.

The hull of Revan's flagship loomed up, and the faded, scratched lettering scrolled past: Varojan. She briefly wondered what the word meant. The smaller vessel shuddered as it docked, and Master Najash came in, a petite Twi'lek with pale blue skin.

"Bastila, you know what you are to do. Stay here and use your Battle Meditation to help us defeat Revan here, on his ship, so that we can end this war before it goes any further," Najash said.

Bastila nodded. She had no intentions of leaving the relative safety of the ship. Najash left, and Bastila was free to engage her not inconsiderable talents at Battle Meditation. She couldn't say how long she'd been in the small room alone; she tended to lose herself in her Battle Meditation, time had no meeting to her. She was surprised, therefore, to see a cloaked and masked figure step into the room – she should have sensed him, but he seemed to have cloaked himself from her in the Force.

"Hello, my pretty little stowaway. I have uses for you, but now is not the time to discuss them. Unfortunately, I have need for your ship. It seems that mine is about to be, shall we say, useless?"

Bastila lost her control of the threads of the Force upon which she had so desperately been concentrating at; focusing all her attention instead on the Dark Lord standing in her presence.

"You cannot win, Revan," she said, her voice betraying none of her fear.

"Yes, love, I expected you to say something of the sort. But you see," he said, as a massive wave rocked the ship, "we're both in a bit of a bind at the moment, so perhaps we can dispense with the pleasantries. Curse Malak for the fool he is, he's decided that now would be the opportune moment to betray me. Unless you'd like to have a Dark Lord without the Republic's best interests at heart, I suggest you aid me, and not him."

"The Republic's best interest at heart?" she echoed disdainfully. "Did you have our interests at heart when you destroyed worlds in your need for conquest?"

"Really, love, your song and dance is wasting precious time. I need your ship. With or without you on it. Come with me, aid me against Malak, and you'll live to see tomorrow. Otherwise, I'll remove you bodily and let you die with the others on this ship. It's really quite simple."

His words sunk in. Malak was the one firing on the ship, not the Republic. Malak was turning on Revan; Revan intended to confront Malak about his betrayal. She could assist him in this, and use the opportunity to bring Revan down, possibly ridding the Galaxy of the both of them. He watched her, she was not foolish enough to think otherwise.

"Your thoughts play out quite charmingly across your face, you know," he said conversationally, as though the ship was not rocking precariously beneath their feet. "I can assure you that you won't succeed, but you're more than welcome to try. By all means, join me and take your best shot."

His confidence would be his downfall, she decided quickly.

"Can you fly this ship?" she asked. He nodded. "Good. I will concentrate on getting us there in one piece and using my skills to make sure that he doesn't get any more shots on your ship while we are en route. That should buy us the time we need to surprise him. If the Force is on our side, he will never see the attack coming until the blade is in his back."

"I think I shall call you Viha," he said, and she thought that perhaps he was smiling behind his mask as he headed to the cockpit. Within moments they were flying out of the landing pad and towards Malak's ship, while she concentrated all her energies on making sure that the other Sith didn't know of their impending arrival while simultaneously misdirecting his fighters and volleys away from Revan's ship. From her position, the damage to the other ship didn't look too bad. His ship should be salvageable.

It didn't take them long to reach Malak's ship, and when they arrived, Revan came to her, lightsabers in hand, and she wondered if he would kill her now that she had served her purpose.

"Come, Viha, there is work to be done. Malak has one of my top generals on his ship, and she is bound to be imprisoned at the least. I need her alive." She stood and grabbed her double-bladed saber, preparing to back up the Sith in front of her, wondering as she did so what her Masters would say to this. She decided that the ends justified the means. There simply were some things the Code did not cover.

She and Revan raced along hallways, meeting no resistance, which surprised her; whatever rebellion Malak had planned, he clearly had not anticipated that his troops being more loyal to Revan than to himself. Revan clearly knew the ship well; within about fifteen minutes, they had found the brig, where sure enough, an old woman was being held in a Force Cage.

"Youngling, you should not be here," she said. "The whelp is already celebrating your demise aboard the Varojan."

"All the more reason he will not expect my presence here," Revan said with a trace of wry humor Bastila did not expect. But then, she admitted to herself, nothing about this man had been anything like what she had expected of him since he had commandeered her ship earlier this day.

"And who have you brought with you?" the old woman asked, as they released her from the cage. Her weapon had been foolishly left nearby, and she reached for it as one embracing a lover.

"Do not ask questions to which you already know the answer, Traya," Revan said, sounding annoyed. Traya laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent chills down Bastila's spine. Whoever this Traya was, Bastila knew she did not want to meet her in armed combat. Her plans for taking down Revan were becoming seriously complicated merely by the presence of this unknown third. Nowhere, in any of the intelligence of Revan's armies, was there a mention of a Traya.

"And does this new ally have a name, or shall I make one for her?" Traya asked, a trace of venom in her voice. Bastila could read this tone easily enough. Traya was jealous. The sightless eyes that stared at her as though measuring her against an invisible standard found her lacking in some way, and Bastila bristled against the judgment.

"Viha, I believe, though if you find it unworthy, you are free to give her another," Revan said.

"I am not your ally," Bastila said, her own fury mounting at this exchange in which she seemed to have no part. They were speaking of her as though she were not even in the room, or as if she were a child, somehow incapable of understanding what was being said about her.

"And you will learn to be silent when you are in the presence of your betters until you have learned your place," Traya spat. "Consider that your first lesson, Viha. If you need reminding of it, I will show you ways in which the Force can be not an ally, but a weapon – one that can break the mind and the spirit."

Images assaulted Bastila, images too horrible to have names, and she felt a small crack in her mind, as though she had taken a step on the road to madness. She could not speak through the images, and she was grateful, suddenly, for Revan's voice.

"Traya, that is enough!" His voice was commanding. "I need Generals, not incompetent fools bent upon destruction and mad, to boot. Look at Malak and all he has wrought."

"If you insist," Traya said, her voice subservient and still managing to be disdainful, but the horrifying images stopped immediately, leaving Bastila gasping.

She dropped to her knees and Traya laughed, a deep cackle that unnerved the young woman even further.

"Look at her," Traya taunted. "This is what you claim to be a General? She is weak. Pathetic. You need strength and she offers you nothing except the chance to warm your bed. Do not think me so old and foolish that I do not know what you truly see in this pathetic excuse for a Jedi."

"You tread a thin line, Traya," Revan said, his voice through the vocabulator dangerously low. "She is the Republic's Hope. With her, we crush what little they have left. It is strategy. Nothing more. And we have more important things to deal with at the moment. Or perhaps you have forgotten the pressing matter of Malak?"

"Ah, yes," she said with a snide little smile. Bastila looked up from her knees, trying desperately to keep up with the conversation. "What shall we do about the whelp?"

"There's either the Academy or the Forge. Either's a risk. He'll turn on me again, someday soon, but if he sees he's failed today, he'll think twice about it," Revan said.

"If you send him to the Academy, where will you send her?" Traya asked, her snide tone replaced with one of practicality.

"The Forge it is, then. I can't trust him with the Fleet, obviously. He'd just muck things up, and I hate to kill him," he said. Bastila heard what sounded like – well it almost sounded like regret coming from the modified voice. Surely she must be mistaken.

She struggled to her feet. "He tried to kill you, and you're just – going to let him live?" she asked incredulous.

"It's the way of the Sith, love. If he hadn't tried, at some point, I would have thought less of him, to be sure." Revan laughed, an unholy sound through that mask of his. "All this means is that he's growing ambitious, and needs something better to do with his time than command one of my ships. Besides, I hate to kill prisoners."

"Oh, and I suppose you have all those Sith Assassins just for show?" she demanded hotly.

"Actually, their job is try to turn Jedi," he said. "They only kill the ones they can't turn. And I'll be sending my best man with Malak. Malak will think that Jaq is answering to him, but Jaq will know better – it's the best solution, really."

"So, what is this Forge?" Bastila asked, trying to glean as much information as she could.

"Oh, no, Princess, none of that, now," he said, teasingly. "Can't tell you all my secrets. Traya will train you up and perhaps, in time, I'll tell you all about the Forge, but for now, your only job is to learn how to be the best Sith you can – after we show Malak a thing or two."

"I suggest we get moving," Traya said drily, "before you mount her here in my prison cell. Not that I begrudge you a chance to slate you passions, Revan, but surely you can wait a little longer. There is work to do, after all."

As it happened, they were able to take Malak completely by surprise. He had seriously underestimated how loyal his crew was to Revan, and no one raised the alarm that the Dark Lord was on the ship. The team of three Sith – well, two Sith and one Jedi – were able to reach the chambers of the new Dark Lord (or so he thought), where he was indulging himself with a slave girl, without any interference.

Malak's shock at seeing Revan still alive gave them the upper hand, and the battle was short-lived. He was even more surprised that Revan wasn't going to kill him, but he glared daggers at Bastila. As he was led away by a team of Revan's loyal guards, bound for the Forge (wherever that may be), his parting words were for her.

"Someday, bitch, he'll grow tired of you, and when he does, it'll be my blade that detaches your head from your shoulders – and at his command. That's always been the way of it. Don't think you're special."

After he was taken away, Bastila tried to find a weakness in either of her companions, but wasn't much surprised when she found herself bound and placed in the Force Cage on her own ship that was meant to contain Revan and being taken back to the Varojan, where repairs were already underway.

While en route, Traya had stood outside her cage and looked her over appraisingly.

"He wants Generals, Viha. That's what I'll have to make you into. I won't lie to you, or call you pretty names to turn your head. He won't bother himself with training you himself – not at first. He doesn't have the time or the patience for it. He has a war to win," the old woman said. "That's what he has me for. Do exactly as I tell you, learn your lessons well, and we shall never find an opportunity to find out if your mind is easily broken. Cross me, and I will turn you into an example of what the Force can do to a body, and we'll see if he still wants to bed you when I'm through."