Returning to the Saviour was like waking up anew. There was no war here, no death, none of the sadistic brutality on the moon below. Instead there was camaraderie, the feeling of safety, and the reassuring routine of military life. As she stepped off the transport, Meetra took a moment to simply breathe it all in. Granted, the ship wasn't as peaceful as the serenity of the Jedi Temple or the warm family of the Dantooine Enclave, but compared to what she'd just come from, it was heaven.

Waiting for her, and looking quite harried, was the ship's commanding officer, a Twi'lek woman who looked far younger than she was; a common occurrence with the species, who aged more gracefully than most. Despite looking the same as Meetra's own thirty one years, Captain Nao was actually sixty four.

"Welcome back General," she said respectfully to Meetra. "We were wondering if you'd ever come back from the mudball. How's he doing?"

She didn't need to specify who she was talking about. Not in this fleet. "He did it," Meetra replied wearily. "And may the Force help any Mandolorians still down there."

Nao nodded grimly. "Days like this make me glad to be a Navy woman. We're all set, by the way. The remaining Mandalorian ships went to hyperspace last night. Revan's ships took the brunt of the fighting, by his orders-" (Nao scowled to show what she thought of that) "-so our battlegroup is still more or less in good shape. We also received reinforcements an hour ago, from Bothawui. Eight ships under the Ravager, placed under your personal command on Revan's orders."

"Ravager…" Meetra wondered aloud. The name didn't sound familiar, but she could guess. "That's one of those big brutes, isn't it?"

Nao grinned at her friend's subtle denouncement of the battleship. "Dead on. I think Revan is expecting you to transfer your flag there, but-"

"-but he's not that stupid," Meetra said with a smile. She glanced around the Saviour's landing bay with affection. The ship was tiny compared to the Ravager. She was only a Hammerhead-class cruiser, one of hundreds in the galaxy. However, this ship was home. It had been her flagship ever since the war had started, and had fought in more battles than most. "To hell with what Revan wants. I'll take a veteran ship over one of those pigs any day." She raised her voice a little so that some nearby crewmen could hear, and they smirked in appreciation. "Speaking of which…could you arrange for one of the meeting rooms to be set up for the High Command? Meeting at…" she paused, as Revan had not specified a time, then shrugged. "Meeting at 0800 hours. Top security."

Nao considerd her general's expression and winced. "We're going back into the meat grinder, aren't we?"

As she turned to leave the landing bay, Meetra sighed. "You know what they say. No rest for the wicked…"

The following morning, after a surprisingly restful sleep, Meetra strode onto the bridge of the Saviour. It was a comforting feeling, even though she'd been back aboard the ship since the previous day. The officers and crewmen maintained their professionalism, completely ignoring her, as they should. Outside the viewports were dozens of ships, ranging from small support frigates to combat cruisers like the Saviour to giant battleships like the Ravager, Leviathan, and Revan's flagship, Coruscant's Wrath. It was an impressive sight, especially with Onderon's natural beauty below. Meetra was privately grateful that the fleet had assembled in orbit of Onderon, rather than Dxun; even at a distance, the moon exuded pain.

Nao glanced back at Meetra as she walked up, and nodded in greeting with a distinct look of mischief in her eye. "Looking quite…formal, today, aren't we sir?"

Meetra glared at Nao briefly. Rather than the simple fatigues she usually wore, she'd instead chosen her Jedi robes. "The occasion does seem call for it," she said drily. "Besides, the last time the HC met I was covered in blood. I want to make a good impression."

Nao nodded. Truthfully Meetra had never liked wearing the traditional Jedi robes, even before the war. They were heavy, the fabric was a pain to wash, the cloak was a constant irritant and they were just unnecessary. Kavar had drilled it into her time and time again: if you need robes for somebody to recognise you're a Jedi, you're doing it wrong.

"When do Revan and the others arrive?" she asked absently, thinking nostalgically back to her days as a Padawan under Kavar.

"Malak got here ten minutes ago," Nao reported duly. "The others have been trickling in for the past hour. Revan and Captain Neral will be here in…" she paused, squinting at an overhead monitor. "Twenty minutes. Just in time. Ravager and her support ships have also slotted into formation without any problems. They're green as can be, of course. Half of the ships just came out of the shipyards, but they've got plenty of firepower."

"Firepower." Meetra frowned at the word. Maybe it was because she'd just been thinking of Kavar, but a part of her disapproved of the word, as it was so alien to her upbringing as a child of the Jedi. Force knew Kavar would've disapproved, despite his own formidable prowess as a warrior. When her old Master had learned she was going to war he'd wished her well, but he hadn't been able to hide his disappointment.

Nao raised an eyebrow at her non-sequiter but didn't comment. After a few minutes of simply standing on the bridge enjoying the spectacular view before them, Nao and Meetra wordlessly departed for the meeting.

They arrived at the door of the meeting room at precisely the same moment as Revan, who was accompanied by the captain of his own flagship, a young and distinctly attractive Miralan. He was deep in discussion with her as Nao and Meetra approached, and only briefly acknowledged his hosts before proceeding inside. Although Nao followed without hesitation, Meetra didn't, briefly amused by what she'd just witnessed. Although Revan's mind was as well shielded as always, the mind of his captain was not…and there was no denying the lust she'd been exuding while talking to the Supreme Commander. It was bizarre given that the man never took off his mask nowadays, but maybe that was just Meetra. She could still remember Revan as a lovesick teenage Padawan, puppy eyes and all.

She followed behind Nao after a moment, taking a seat at the large circular table which had been installed overnight. Nao and the other captain (whose thoughts had turned strictly professional upon entering the room) stood off to the side, technically only being observers. The chat between the admirals, generals and other Jedi ceased the moment Revan reached his seat, Malak at his right hand as always.

"My friends," he began brightly, "I believe, and you can trust me on this, that this war is about to end. The Senate is dispatching four entire fleets to take up patrols of the Mid Rim. The Jedi Council has finally decided to send Jedi Knights out with those fleets to help planets that the Mandalorians invaded, the planets that we have liberated." There was no doubting the emphasis on the 'we', and everyone smiled. "They'll be our backup, protecting the borders, so we can take this war to the next logical step. The all out destruction of Mandalorian civilisation." There was a general murmur of approval at this, Meetra right along with them. They'd been dreaming of this moment for years. "With Dxun recaptured, Mandalore is retreating back to the Outer Rim. He wants to extend this campaign as much as possible. Intelligence suggests that he plans on moving along the Outer Rim, raiding and pillaging, never staying in any one place too long. He'll lead us across the galaxy and back again, fighting a rearguard action, never letting himself be drawn into a pitched battle. As you can imagine," he said with a scoff, "I'm not going to let that happen."

Behind him, a large viewscreen came to life, showing a starmap of a small part of the galaxy. "This is the Rotok sector," he explained, careful to keep his voice and tone especially clear. "It's a long way away, everyone. It's on the edge of the Outer Rim, a stone's throw away from the Wild Space where the Mandalorians came from in the first place. We've identified this system-" (an isolated star was highlighted, tagged 'Galor') "-as his main staging area, once his fleet actually reaches that sector. It's a pretty poor system, really, which is why he doesn't think we'll find him. It's just a blue supergiant star and a few uninhabitable planets. Merely a layover."

He stopped for a moment, allowing everyone to absorb the information. Meetra paid especially close attention while exchanging a glance with Nao, who surprised everyone by speaking up. "With the utmost respect Supreme Commander," she said gently, "from exactly what do you base this belief that the enemy will assemble there?"

Revan ignored her, focusing on the staramp. Instead, Malak calmly stood and walked around the table, eventually standing right in front of the starship captain. He towered over her, his expression utterly passive. Despite being more than twice his age, Nao stepped back, eyes wide.

"We have excellent sources," Malak said calmly, "of the utmost reliability. You really shouldn't question us." He paused, and tilted his head in feigned bewilderment. "In fact…why are you even here? A mere captain…and an impertinent one at that…"

That was more than Meetra could bear. She herself stood, glaring at his back, then just as calmly walked up around Malak, facing him with Nao at her back. "She's the captain of this ship Malak," she said very quietly, folding her arms as she glared up at him. "More than that, she has ten times more experience on a warship then you do. You will treat her with respect."

The larger Jedi persisted. "She has no right to be here, Mimi."

The use of her childhood nickname threw Meetra off-balance. The contradiction was just ridiculous. She'd known Malak since he was eleven years old, had played with him, trained with him; Malak had teased her and Revan constantly back then, always merry, always lightening the mood. During his Jedi Trials he'd been presented with an illusion of an angry Sith Lord, and he'd passed by telling jokes in the middle of the lightsaber duel. In the end Master Zez-Kai-El, who'd been posing as the Sith, lost by simply laughing too hard, breaking the illusion. Contrasting that Malak to this Malak…

With a sigh, Meetra looked straight up at her childhood friend who glowered straight back. The memory calmed her, soothed the flame inside her. "Just relax, big guy. She has the security clearance, and I invited her. Besides, she saved your butt from that escape pod at Habbal Prime. Even let that pretty doctor tend to you, and I know how much you like pretty doctors…"

The tension in the room, which had been rapidly approaching boiling point, suddenly broke. Several of the senior officers chortled, and behind her, Meetra could hear Nao's stifled giggles. The doctor in question was actually Nao's wife, and that particular story had run rampant throughout the fleet a few years ago. How Malak had slept with the doctor, learned she was married, and in a panic confessed the whole thing to Nao on the Saviour's bridge the next morning, all while completely ignorant of their open marriage. Malak's mouth twitched, and without a word he whirled round and returned to his seat. Meetra couldn't sense a thing from him as she also returned to her seat, which was just as well. For such a clown, Malak was easily embarrassed when he became the butt of the joke.

"To answer your original question," Revan drawled, dark amusement in his voice, "I have multiple sources. Fleet Intelligence has narrowed down Mandalore's potential next move to that sector. I've studied his strategies, his mindset, and I believe he'll assemble there. Also, I've reached into the Force to validate this assertion." Meetra raised a skeptical eyebrow at this, as did the other two Jedi Knights present besides Revan and Malak at the table, but the drama just seconds ago made them reluctant to comment. "This gives us an invaluable opportunity. We know where Mandalore will be. We have our entire fleet assembled. Most important of all, he doesn't know we're coming." Revan's voice took on a new urgency now, his fists on the table as he stood, leaning forward. "In six days time the main body of our fleet will arrive in the Galor system right next to the Mandalorian staging point. I'll broadcast a challenge to Mandalore: to face me in honourable combat, one on one, on the bridge of his dreadnought. If I win, the Mandalorians abandon the right to make war on the Republic for all eternity, and we let them leave the Galor system without incident. If he wins, then my ships present in-system immediately and unconditionally surrender."

For the second time in a week, complete silence surrounded Revan. He didn't look confused this time, though. Instead, he looked supremely confident even through the mask, looking around at everyone with a slow, penetrating movement.

Meetra,glanced around at everybody in utter bewilderment. They all seemed conflicted, and none seemed to have the courage to speak up. Nao, having been so firmly put in her place before, didn't say a word. Meetra considered staying silent herself, feeling an odd compulsion to do so; this was Revan after all, the most brilliant Jedi and man she'd ever known. Trusting him was the most natural thing in the world. But…

"Rev." Her voice began as a whisper, but grew in strength as it pierced the tense silence. "That's a risk. A huge risk. If we lose those ships…lose you…we are right back to where we started. The Mandos will be back on Dxun in a month. You have no way of knowing he'll accept the challenge, no way of knowing he won't betray you and blast the shuttle to smithereens while you're headed over, no way of knowing he won't just turn his guns on your fleet and shred them. Stars, Revan, you don't even know if you'll win! Mandalore killed Master Pol last year, do you remember that?"

Revan's reply was measured and utterly calm. In the Force, however, the perennial storm that raged within his heart seemed to grow in intensity, the edges of its power reaching Meetra even from across the room. "I am certain, Kay. I know the Mandalorians. I know Mandalore, and I will kill him. After I kill him, when my shuttle is back onboard the Wrath, we attack." Meetra opened her mouth to protest, but Revan didn't let her, his Force presence growing, smothering her with sheer force of will. "We'll shoot at them, piss them off then run like hell. We'll arrive at this system, Malachor, where you'll be waiting with your fleet. And then we will wipe the Mandos from the face of the galaxy, once and for all." He continued staring at her as if they were the only two beings in the galaxy, his gaze penetrating her even from behind the mask. With a flash from the Force, Meetra thought she saw his yellow eyes (weren't they supposed to be amber?) burning. "I know what you'll say, that breaking our word and attacking them is dishonourable. Well I tell you now, honour is a fool's prize. When the Mandalorians retreat from Galor and begin burning their way through the Outer Rim, those millions of innocents won't give a damn if the promise of one Jedi was kept. We will destroy them at Malachor though, I promise you that. Now, and forever."

With that the High Command, one and all, began clapping, even cheering. Meetra and Revan ignored them. The two old friends continued to stare at each other, both dismayed at what they were seeing.

The rest of the meeting took three hours. Countless contingencies were discussed, battle strategies shared, logistics were organised, ship assignments and promotions were sorted. Meetra participated where necessary, but absolutely refused to look Revan in the eye. There was no more drama, just business. When all was said and done, people began leaving the meeting, finally leaving just Meetra, Malak and Revan. The larger man looked between the two, sensed the tension, and made a quick exit, leaving his two closest friends standing at opposite sides of the room.

"You questioned me," Revan said softly. He took off his mask with a deep sigh, collapsing back into his chair; he hadn't sat in the thing for two hours. "Why, Kay? Why? Can you tell me why?"

A thousand replies bounced around her head at that moment, and Meetra hedged by leaning onto the desk, her hands clenched, head lowered. "Honestly," she said quietly, "I'm not sure any more. Do…do you even know what you did back then?"

When Revan didn't immediately respond, she raised her head, and got her first good look at his face in over a year. What she saw scared the hell out of her. His skin, once beautifully pale, now looked almost grey. His brown hair, which Revan had once allowed to grow in a long and lustrous ponytail, was cut brutally short. There were even lines beneath his eyes, the kind of lines people shouldn't get until they were twice his age. His eyes were their proper warm amber, at the very least, not the horrible sickly yellow Meetra had thought she'd sensed earlier, but there was a terrible sadness in those eyes. A sadness which made her own grief yesterday look pathetic by comparison. He allowed her to examine his features, regarding her evenly.

"Rev…" she whispered. "I…"

"It's nothing," he said in reply. For the first time fatigue infected his voice, sounding utterly out of place coming from someone so vibrant. "A side effect of…exhaustive…Force use. It'll pass."

"I wasn't talking about your face," she said, forgetting that she hadn't actually said anything. Without another word she strode around the table, bent down and hugged him. A small part of her noted how bizarre this was, but she didn't care. Through the Force Meetra dropped her mental shields, letting her sympathy and affection shine through, as pure as she'd ever felt them. Revan froze for a moment where he sat before awkwardly putting his arms around her, muttering senselessly under his breath.

After a long few seconds had passed, Meetra let go. She erected her mental shields once more, smiling cheekily at the broken man before her. "Sorry."

"No." Revan shook his head. "I'm the one who should be apologising. I was pressuring you earlier, wasn't I? When you protested? I was influencing you." When Meetra nodded, he closed his eyes briefly. "Slimed Hutts…if everybody knew what it was like to be this powerful, they wouldn't be so bloody envious all the time."

Meetra blinked rapidly in response, disbelieving. "You mean…that was unintentional?" When he nodded, she smiled again. "Well…no harm done. Just-"

"-remember that power is both a tool and a curse, as likely to wound as to heal, and more than likely to lead you down the dark path," Revan finished. He grinned. "Vrook taught me too, you know. I've got his sayings burned into my brain."

"While we're on the subject of Jedi teachings…" Meetra let her voice drop dramatically, mischief erupting within her. Revan took the opportunity to take a gulp of water from Malak's unused bottle. "How much time did you spend making love to Captain Neral last night?"

At that the Supreme Commander of the Republic Army snorted water out his nose, and then continued snorting as he choked on it, sputtering. Meetra laughed for what felt like the first time in years, thoroughly enjoying her victory, doubling over with her merriment as he rubbed his eyes. When he'd regained control of himself, Revan scowled at her. "How long have you known? There is no way you sensed anything from me earlier, I was strictly professional…"

"…but she wasn't," Meetra replied with a grin. "Bad luck for you. When we were in the corridor earlier, she was thinking of the reverse tauntaun-"

"No, she damned well wasn't," Revan interrupted, blushing madly. In an attempt to regain some dignity, he added "At no point in the Jedi Code does it expressly forbid…er…casual…"

"Sex," Meetra supplied with a smirk.

"Sex," Revan said with a scowl, blushing even more. "It forbids attachments, such as personal relationships and marriage, but not…sex. That's purely physical, and completely natural."

"If it's any comfort," Meetra said, her grin settling, "I agree. I haven't tested it myself yet, but I appreciate the reasoning. Good luck explaining it to the Council though."

"Yes, well," Revan muttered, clearing his throat hoarsely. "Anyway…there is something I need to talk to you about."

"Does it have to do with why I've been given command of a space engagement that a half dozen admirals are better suited for?" she asked drily.

"Well…yes," Revan said, nodding. He was back to business now. "Although there are perfectly valid strategic reasons for that as well. Historically Mandalore has targeted flagships in large fleet engagements, aiming to cut off the command and communications of our forces. He'll have no idea that you are directing the battle, especially when you've been on Dxun for four months. He'll aim for the high ranking admirals in their fancy battleships so you can manage things without your ship blowing up around you. That's not all of it, though." Leaning forward, he pulled a datachip from his pocket. "Tell me. Have you ever heard of the Mass Shadow Generator?"

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