Sleeping with Fish
Chapter 3 / Sleeping with Fish
Revan sat cross-legged in front of the portable console screen, trying to scan each page as it scrolled. It was hard because she kept dozing off. A cup of the local tea made from drwiooorr bark sat beside her, untouched and already tepid.
Across the room, Carth leaned against a crate, surrounded by stacks of printed-out plimsi. Her judge and would-be executioner looked almost as exhausted as she felt. They had spent hours reviewing the data downloaded from HK's link to the Rakatan computer; finding most of it locked with additional passcodes.
What they had been able to unlock seemed to be records of Revan's childhood—but nothing more recent than that. A childish song unlocks my childhood. Revan supposed that made some kind of sense; although it was a piece of sentiment she hadn't expected from the woman.
From me, she corrected herself. That woman is me. Revan is me.
But why would I want to remember old times on Dantooine?
The plimsi in front of her now was a list of lightsaber forms, and the dates when each padawan had mastered each one. Revan Starfire had been an indifferent pupil, according to the lists, but her marks always improved when she sparred with Padawan Malak D'Reev—
D'Reev.
Abruptly, the temperature of the room seemed to drop, and Revan reached for her tea.
"You okay, beautiful?" Carth gave her another strained smile.
"Yeah—just—hessi walking over my grave." She smiled back.
Hessi. Another fake memory. Polla had been a tweener champion, racing Dancer the fake hessi while, (according to this record), Padawan Starfire was mastering the Soresu form of Jedi combat.
Revan remembered Soresu; mainly because the woman who thought she was Polla Organa had never needed to master it at all.
Xxx
"Padawan Organa." The green Twi'lek folded his arms. "A Makakshi extension is not the response to every attack. We practice the forms in triads for a reason."
"But I won." Polla thought she was doing pretty good for someone who'd only been officially studying lightsaber technique for a week.
"Makakshi," Master Vrook scoffed from the sidelines. No one had invited him, but he'd come anyway—glowering from the sidelines like he was waiting for Polla to fail. "I would hardly consider what that one does to be true Makakshi—she is far too reckless. Already relying upon the Force and not her training—"
"But I won!" Polla Organa flipped her topknot out of her eyes and twirled the double-hilted training saber they'd given her. Across the training floor, her opponent—some Togruta kid who only came up to her shoulders—clambered painfully to his feet. "I won the duel." She smiled at the Togruta kid. "Nice job there, Shiron."
"Uh, you too." The kid's eyes dropped to the floor.
Polla still felt naked without a blaster, but that summer she'd spent training with vibroblades in survival camp when she was fifteen was paying off. This saber fighting wasn't child's play, exactly—but it wasn't that bad. Easier than running the Defalli asteroid field with a squad of DefSec on your tail.
"Makakshi is a poor defense against sustained blaster fire." Master Vrook's lips thinned with disapproval. "To deflect ranged assault, the padawan will need Soresu, which is a Jedi's primary defensive form."
"We've got all the time in the galaxy to learn that one," Polla pointed out. "Anyway, when am I gonna have a whole Sith base shooting at me again?"
Taris had been one thing, but hadn't Bastila said that they were safe now?
"A Jedi is always prepared," Vrook snapped.
"So's a registered smuggler, Master—" Now both masters and the other padawan were staring at her. "Besides, Knight Belaya told me combat training takes years. I think I'm doing great for a novice!"
The silence went on long enough that Polla crossed the training ground and patted the Togruta kid on the back. "You want to go again?" she asked him.
"No, thank you." The kid backed away toward the door.
"If, as you said, there was an entire Sith base firing at you right now, what would you do?" Vrook's voice was flat.
"Stay behind Bastila." It had been cool the way The Jedi had deflected the blaster bolts with her blades—even reflecting some back at the shooters—but there was no way Polla was gonna try a stunt like that herself—not yet, anyway. "What the hell else would I—"
Vrook's arm moved, rising from his belt in a gesture Polla knew all too well, even if he seemed to be moving so slow as to be underwater.
Time elongated. Everything had slowed—the blaster sounds were stretched-out and low; light-beams arcing toward her in lines of red.
Polla's saber was blazing and lit, catching the plasma bolts in a fan before she even had time to close her mouth. It was only then that she realized Vrook hadn't been moving slowly at all—and that neither had she.
The bolts she'd parried left marks of char on the stone wall directly above the Jedi master's head.
I could have killed him, was her first thought, which was foolish, since he'd nearly killed her.
"You asshole!"
"Soresu." Master Vrook lowered the hold-out Polla hadn't seen him pull. "Her form is acceptable."
"Hey! That was cheating!" He could have killed her. But Polla was yelling at empty air because Master Vrook was already walking away. She had to settle for telling his retreating back to get bent in Ryl-sign.
"I'm not sure our friend Vrook ever had an affection for ronto," Zhar's amusement was plain—and as much a part of his personality as Vrook's disdain.
"He tried to kill me!" Polla glared at him. "What the hell was that?"
"You were never in danger. On the contrary," Zhar said. "I believe Vrook had faith in your ability that I lacked."
"He has a funny way of showing it! What the hell is this place?"
"A refuge. In kinder times, Padawan Organa, we trained kindly. But the war—and your bond with Bastila—require expedience." The lines around his smile deepened. "You are both sorely needed for what lies ahead. You must be as prepared to defend her life as she is yours." His head tilted. "Isn't there a part of you that always wanted it to be thus? You will see far more of the galaxy as a Jedi padawan than you ever did as a smuggler."
"I don't know about that. I saw plenty before." Mostly spaceports. "Let me guess. You need to stop that asshole who keeps blowing up planets and you think Bastila can do it." She would never forget the sound of Mission screaming when Taris died—the way it seemed to echo in her head until it was louder than anything she'd ever heard.
"Yes." The corner of Zhar's eyes crinkled. "You grasp the objective."
"Yeah, well... I could've killed Master Vrook! His fired live bolts and I—" she gestured with the hilt she'd deactivated—pointing to the marks on the stone. "I could've killed him!"
Zhar shook his head, a funny smile on his face. "I don't think so."
Xxx
"Soresu," Revan muttered. "How the frack could I have been so blind?"
They were all smug bastards, weren't they? Probably went off and had a laugh about their mindwiped experiment doing their fracking bidding!
She exhaled sharply—but her anger felt muffled without the Force to fuel it. There was no point to anger. Not now.
"Beautiful?" Carth looked up from across the room. "What is it?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about my training." The tea was getting cold without the Force to keep it warm. A thousand things she'd begun to do as easy as breathing, after Dantooine, but now—
Should they have told me who I was? What would I have done?
Oh, by the way, you're Revan the Betrayer, who took her apprentice to the Unknown Reaches and came back at the head of the Imperial Sith Fleet—but before you betrayed us, we were all pals? Oh, and we need you to track your old pal Malak down and kill him.
You're the only one he'll let close enough.
"Revan?" Carth lowered his voice. "Polla?"
Revan remembered the way the other padawan learners had the tendency to stop speaking when she came into a room, the constant disapproval of Master Vrook Lamar contrasted with the delighted approval from Master Zhar Lestin—
Master assigned to Padawan Starfire, RSY 9-1154: Zhar Lestin.
That space-slug!
"Remember Zhar Lestin?" she said. "That asshole was my master when I was a kid."
"No, uh…" Carth cleared his throat. "This section here says Vrook Lamar was."
"Well Lestin was when I was six," she snapped. "Maybe I had more than one."
"You weren't in the Jedi when you were six." He sounded genuinely confused. "You weren't in the Jedi until 9-154. You were ten years old. It's noted right here—"
"I wasn't ten in 9-154!" I was four. No, wait. Deralian to CoruStan. I was… if I'm thirty Deralian, that's twenty-eight Coru, so….
It was at that point that Revan realized she had no idea when her real name day was—and then a millisecond later she saw it stamped at the top of a medical record for Padawan Revan Starfire, aged eleven.
The date had passed again, around the time they'd left Manaan.
Revan Starfire was born five years earlier than they made Polla Organa. Why would the Jedi make me younger?
Xxx
The birds sang high above in the treetops, and in the distance, Zaalbar could hear the bark of kath. But few forest-dwellers came to this dark place. Even the insects seemed to avoid it.
A bad place to leave a cub's ghost.
"Wish I could come with you now, Big Z." The ghost's voice sounded wistful.
Under Freyyr's command, the tribe were in the process of wiring sensors for the Mission-ghost to see more of the forests. Given time, Zaalbar thought they could construct a portable receiver for her that could be wired to the Ebon Hawk. Grarwwaar had been assigned to the task. The youngster was quite clever with the engineering of dead metal things. Carth had also engaged in the enterprise.
It would be good when the ghost could journey with them. Even if there was no smell or substance—her voice was a comfort to Zaalbar, like the carving of a tree for the cub he had lost.
"I wish so too, Mission. But you do not have to answer my father's questions," he reminded her. "If you prefer to ask questions instead, the Elders have much they can teach, and we will return to you once Polla Revan has been saved."
Like Zaalbar's real cub, this simulacrum was easily distracted.
"Naw, it's fun talking to your dad!" she chirped. "Freyyrr's a real curious guy. This installation doesn't remember designing you guys to be so curious, but I guess that's part of the fun, right? Has Freyyrr ever talked to you about wanting an ocean? Because it's really easier to just find a beach planet than to make one—and I keep telling him that, but he keeps asking!"
Oh, no. Zaalbar had a pretty good idea which inlet his father was pruning with these inquiries.
"Do not help him with any invasions of Trandosha," he told the Mission-computer's voice. "At least until I return."
"If you give me a little more time to set up my remote link, I could help more—"
"Polla Revan is out of time." Zaalbar had to keep reminding her. Perhaps, no longer being flesh, his cub had forgotten how breakable it was.
"According to the scan my predecessor conducted, I think she'll have a system failure in a month," Mission-ghost said. "That Rakatan construct was a little optimistic—I mean, he really, really wants her to live—and so do I! And not just because we were friends before she made you do the… thing." The holographic image drew a hand across her throat and made choking noises. "But that's why you guys have to help her as fast as possible—"
Mission's death was not like that, Zaalbar thought. But he didn't want to remember how it truly happened, so instead he just nodded.
Xxx
"Hey." Revan tried for a cheerful tone, ignoring the black spots on the edges of her vision. "Captain Obvious. What are you looking at?"
Carth gave an exasperated groan and pushed his console to the side. "Nothing that helps now. You okay?"
Revan glanced up from her own screen, rubbing her eyes. Had he noticed she'd fallen asleep? "Not really. She got up carefully and sat down next to him on the bench. "What'd you find?"
Carth frowned. "Just a lot they don't say. You were born on Hoth, and your surname is Starfire. But there's almost nothing here on your parents, except that your father was a veteran of the Exar Kun wars and your mother was a botanist. A botanist on Hoth… what did she study? Ice lichen? After they died, your mother's sister raised you. She was a swoop jockey, mixed up in the Exchange. Died on Telos."
"Maybe she taught me to race," Revan tried to smile. "Remember? The announcer on Taris did say I was a natural."
"Uh huh. Right before you crashed the bike." Carth's eyebrows raised. "Funny, we were at the same place at the same time. You were seven and I was thirteen. I guess it would have been strange if we'd met then."
"I was seven," Revan echoed, reaching for a memory that had never been. A picture of herself at a birthday party at seven, surrounded by loving parents and grandparents on Deralia.
All a lie. Fake Polla Organa's memory—not mine. Not even the date is real.
"Your aunt got into some bad business. I remember seeing the feeds. They didn't release your name to the press, but there was a picture on the nets. Red-haired girl, crying in the ashes. You were the only survivor of a huge explosion. Illegal stim lab in Ciras City."
"I was seven," Revan had just read the same reports. "Only seven, but I guess I knew the basics about pressurized tanks. The Jedi heard me scream half a planet away when all of those people died."
"You think that you did it on purpose?" The easy smile on his face faded.
"The Jedi thought I didn't mean to kill them—or, not all of them." She rubbed her temples, trying to smile. "Maybe just Aunt Yancy."
"No." Carth shook his head. "It was an accident. Had to be. You wouldn't do it on purpose!"
Of course not, Carth. Sith Lords don't kill people. She did not roll her eyes, but her smile was forced. "Jedi had quite a debate about that. Council archives, at the time. You want to watch?" Revan had dozed off, watching it. It was harder and harder to stay focused, or even care.
Must be what dying feels like, not caring. All and all, it's not so bad.
"It wasn't you. We don't know—there must have been a reason. Kids don't just kill people!"
"But I do know." She felt numb. "I was a mass murderer at seven." Polla the fake was two. "The lab was on the twelfth floor of an office building. There was a child crèche on the ground level. Luckily it wasn't during working hours, but still, two hundred people died. Fifty of them were younger than I was. How did I survive?"
His voice sounded haunted. "I remember the holos. You'd found an air pocket or something. They dug you out from the rubble."
"I was hiding." Her head hurt. "I think."
Carth frowned. "You remember?"
"Not… clearly. I think so. I'd never… felt anyone die before." Revan looked down at her hands. The dark lines mocked her. "I remember screaming."
One long scream as all the lights go out—
The rest was a blank. She couldn't remember what this Aunt Yancy had even looked like.
"You were just a kid." Carth's voice was insistent. "It wasn't your fault."
Revan shook her head from side to side. "The records say there was a fire in my mother's lab. An unexplained fire."
My mother. Ma.
The smiling face she remembered wasn't even real.
Xxx
"Happy birthday, my big girl! You're seven now!"
"Is there cake, Ma?" Seven-year-old Polla Organa closed her eyes and hoped they'd finally gotten her a hessi—
Xxx
"Do you remember how they died?" Carth's voice was soft. "Your parents?"
They didn't. Their names are Molla and Jasp Organa and they didn't die because they never existed.
"The Council records say they went away and never came back. Research expedition. Ice caves, maybe. Lots of ice caves on Hoth."
Ice. An entire planet's worth.
"I'm going to scan the feed from the Jedi Council," Carth said.
Revan shivered. "You do that." She tossed the plimsi stack she'd been reading over to him. "Scan away. I can take only so much debate about my dark side potential before I even had my permanent teeth."
"You were just a kid!" Her lover paused. "There's a vid here—" Hesitantly, he put his arm around her. "We can watch it together, okay? I'm here."
"Okay." Blind hope in his voice.
Revan closed her eyes, trying to remember the Jedi meditations she'd learned as Polla.
There is only the Force. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death.
XXX
She raised the mask to her face, felt the weight of it cold on her lips. Familiar weight now. Comforting, substantial. Holograph, a map of stars. Points of light on a grid. Her mind recognized the map of the galaxy, smuggler's memories tracing the hyperspace routes between; but this map was... larger, this map was... detailed, this map was something more.
Behind the map, a vast viewscreen. Larger than any ship she'd ever seen. The real stars, beyond. And ships too, moving like sleepy thranta in flight, swarmed by a thousand tiny fighters, breaking apart like broken toys.
One-by-one, the lights began to go out. Almost in the same millisecond, but frozen, into one long, agonizing scream-
Cold. Be cold as Hoth, she reminded herself. All just points of light. They wink out like stars before a rising sun, but that's all they are. Points of light.
Somewhere, a man was laughing.
Be cold, she reminded herself again.
"Do you feel this, Red?"The voice shook through her skull. "Can you see?"
XXX
Revan jerked awake with a jolt. "Carth?" Her head was on his lap and he'd put on a privacy visor: either to keep from disturbing her, or because he was hiding information.
Carth looked down at her, face a blank oval with the visor, and then pulled it off, revealing the familiar warm eyes, and a mouth twisted with worry. "You were having another nightmare."
"Don't humor me. I know you've got some plan to save me. Do me the courtesy of keeping me in the loop."
"We're… working on it." His voice was wary. "I'd take the Force collar off now if I could—you know that."
I do. "Who can? Suvam Tan?"
"No. It's a Force lock. Only someone trained in the Force can remove it. The Rodian didn't tell me it would kill you. It's not supposed to be killing you. I-I didn't think it could hurt you."
A slow lingering death seems appropriate, doesn't it? Revan felt that end coming now, weaker every day.
His lap was warm, but she made herself leave it, sitting up, back as straight as she could make it. "It's okay, Flyboy. You'd all be free without me. That's for the best."
"Don't even think like that! Ordo and I were up half the night scanning feeds. We just need to find one Force user to help us get that collar off! Trust me, we didn't keep you alive this long just to throw it all away."
Death here is a kindness compared to an execution, or a stasis tank. "Throw it all away on a lingering painful death, that would be, wouldn't it?"
"On any kind of death." Carth leaned over and took her hand, squeezing it hard. "We believe in hope, remember?"
Right. We believe in hope. Hope, and mercy, and love. His words on the Star Forge. "You could take me to Coruscant," Revan offered. "Plenty of Force users there."
Carth's expression darkened. "I finished the transcript. Did you know that the vote to burn Force sensitivity out of your mind at age seven was two hundred and one Council members wanting you brain-dead, twenty-three abstaining, and only one Council member opposed?"
"Then why am I alive?"
"They needed a consensus to act, and they couldn't reach one. That's the only reason. You spent three years being 'reconditioned'—whatever that means—before they admitted you to the Academy. You were ten years old, older than most of the other beginning students."
"Most. But not all of them." Something tugged at her mind, like a whisper.
Not all of them. I was paired with Padawan D'Reev.
"No." Carth cleared his throat. "Malak was twelve. You were paired together, in your apprentice training. Another three hundred-odd files here reference that. Most are locked."
Padawan D'Reev is Malak. But a part of her had… known that all along.
Revan and Malak. Revan Starfire and Malak D'Reev.
Revan stared the screen in front of them. Letters and images blurred. Angrily she punched in a query. Her laughter was bitter, like the taste of ashes in the back of her throat. "All two hundred and one of those Council members died, Carth. Most of them… about five years ago in the war."
"Lots of people died in the war." His eyes were bleak. He was thinking of Morgana again, maybe. Morgana his wife.
"A capital ship under my command exploded. Equipment malfunction. Seventy-five members of the Jedi Council were aboard."
"You don't know."
"I can't remember, but I know. I know what it feels like, to want revenge. And I read these files before, remember? I must have left them here for a reason. I'm the one who put them there." She leaned forward, reaching for the tea. "Maybe I… maybe I wanted myself to know what a real monster looks like."
"That wasn't you." His voice was tight. "The Jedi did something to your mind. They trained you. They did this."
She laughed. "Maybe they did something to yours—to make you this naive."
"Revan!" Carth grabbed her other hand. He leaned forward, and his stubble scraped her cheek as he pressed her forehead to hers. "This isn't you. I love you. And I know you. You're still you—no matter what happened before."
I don't remember what happened before. You mean after, Carth. What happened after I knew who I was—
She'd give anything to be just Polla now. Polla Organa, the Deralian smuggler who never had to think beyond her next run.
"Say... we do save my life. We just need one Force user?" Revan pulled back, pulled her hands away, reaching for the tea she didn't want to have something to do with her hands—only to realize stupidly it wasn't going to levitate into her hands from a meter away. "One Force user who won't try to kill me or turn me in. How hard can that be?"
Pretty hard. I killed what had to be most of the Sith. The Jedi shattered my identity and programmed this shell in its place—this shell who served her purpose.
Who killed Bastila Shan.
Carth looked away. "We found a… a rumor last night. On Manaan, there's a Jedi—maybe not exactly a Jedi, but someone who might help. Someone who wouldn't betray you to the Jedi Council or the Republic. We think."
Revan had to laugh. "Convenient. I'm banned from Manaan. And they scan everything: retinas, brainwaves, handprints. We're all banned from the planet. You too, Carth. And Zaalbar. You were both with me when I killed their god. Maybe Canderous could get in, but not in the Ebon Hawk. Even if we forge false landing codes, she's still a conspicuous ship."
"We're… working on all of that." His smile was strained, creasing lines in his face she didn't remember before Korriban. "I've seen worse odds with you."
Hard to meet his eyes. Revan bent back to their screen, pulling up a random holo from the decoded archives on the central viewscreen so that neither of them needed to talk.
XXX
Two children faced each other across a training mat. The girl was slight and red-haired, the boy broad-shouldered and tall, his face framed by a cap of curly hair that kept falling in his eyes—
XXX
Revan heard herself gasp.
"Is that—?" Carth sounded as startled as she was.
"Yes." Like a kick in the guts, she just knew.
Even half grown, Malak loomed over her younger self, the planes of his face still soft and young; a pleased smile stretching across his perfectly unremarkable mouth.
XXX
"You're looking at me again. We're supposed to be concentrating." The smile changed to a mock scowl, but his boy's expression was amused.
"You've grown, I was just noticing." Child-Revan ducked her head.
"My mother was a heavy-worlder. Of course, I've grown. You've grown yourself. You're not quite as scrawny as you used to be." The boy got up, stretching lazily, tugging at the belt on his robe.
"Scrawny?" the girl snorted. "I grew two centimeters last month. And I made First in Makakshi Class last week."
"First in a class full of five-year-olds?" He was taunting her, even though his voice was perfectly even. "I thought for sure by now you'd be promoted. Jedi Knight at least."
"And leave you behind?" She smiled at him. "You know what they say. The more gargantuan they are, the longer it takes them to learn the forms..."
The boy sighed. "Seriously, if you want to be a padawan like me, you've got to focus. Master Shandar told me the masters say you don't try. What if they send you away?"
"They won't send me away. I asked, last month. They said no. Something about untrained Force users being a danger to themselves." Revan scowled. "I hated it here when you were gone on that mission. I hate everything about this place except you."
The boy's face turned serious. "You don't hate. Remember. You're too young to understand why yet—but you will."
"Oh yeah? When you were twelve like me, you were crying for your mother!"
"I'm not twelve now."
Revan walked over to him. Her head came up to his chest.
"No," she said. "You're not. And I'll be thirteen next month."
Xxx
"Polla Organa had just turned eight," Revan felt nauseous.
"Pol—beautiful—" Carth took her hand and squeezed it.
He still did that, called her by that false name. Sometimes Revan didn't notice. Now wasn't one of those times.
"Nice save," she muttered.
Xxx
Malak looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. "You're still too young for this—and for me."
"Only right now." Revan looked up at him. She crooked one hand—
Xxx
Using her hand as a focus—she was afraid before. Now she isn't.
"She was afraid before," she told Carth. "I. I was afraid before."
"What?" His voice was soft.
"I was afraid to use the Force. Before. But then he—"
"Then he was there. Malak. You two were close." Carth swallowed. "We... we knew that."
Xxx
"Quiet. I need to concentrate." Behind Revan, the pile of stones she'd been afraid to balance all day spun into an intricate pattern.
"Not bad," Malak said. "Can you hold them still?"
"But they want to move."
"It's relative." He smiled down at her. "They're in the Force either way—just slow them down."
Above their heads, the stones all froze, hanging in mid-air.
"Good job. For a novice."
"Novice, huh?" Revan's eyes narrowed. She put her hand on Malak's arm. "We've had enough practice. You want to go to Spacer's Cantina with me."
Malak's eyes glazed a little. "Enough practice, we'll go to Spacer's—hey!" His heavy arm reached out with Force-enhanced speed and twisted hers behind her back, pinning her between him and the wall.
It hurt. Revan gasped. The stones clattered behind them.
"Don't do that Rev," Malak snapped. "To anyone, especially not me."
Xxx
It hurt, but the girl had a gobsmacked expression that Revan recognized.
I remember looking at Therion like that. Maybe that's one mercy in this fracked galaxy. Therion D'Cainen isn't real.
Xxx
"Do what?" Revan batted her lashes, looking up sideways at Malak. She tossed her hair back—
Xxx
Like Seriina Starr and Thanto Moons in those holo-vids we used to watch on Derra City— "Is there an actress called Seriina Starr?" Revan asked Carth.
He put his hand on her forehead. "You're burning up!"
"Seriina's not real" she whispered. "Maybe I'm not either."
Xxx
Malak's lip curled in disgust and he dropped her arm immediately: crossing his arms and turning his back.
"Sometimes I worry about you," he muttered, staring at the wall. "I thought maybe, with me being away, you'd grow up a little, take things more seriously."
"I am serious. I don't want to be a Jedi. Would you still like me, if I left the Order? Other people leave all the time. They go on and have lives and be whatever they want. Why can't I? We'd—still be friends, wouldn't we?"
"Probably not. You'd be a cantina waitress, or a swoop mechanic and I'd be off saving the galaxy. We'd have nothing in common."
"Hey! I'd be a fighter pilot, or an Admiral... or something."
Malak turned around to look at her. "Rev, you can't shoot or fly your way past level one in the fighter sims. Face it, there's one talent you have and that's the Force."
"I'm sick of it!" She kicked one of the stones. "It's too strong. It's stupid!"
"It's why we're Jedi," he argued back. "It's all that we are. You have to let it in. Learn control."
"You can't hide from destiny, child." Master Vandar's voice broke in, interrupting them. The cam drew back, outlining the short Jedi Master in the doorway "Padawan D'Reev is right. The Force has some purpose with you. Accept this, and your training will begin."
Revan scowled. "I accept it all the time, but all you do is say that I don't!"
The Jedi closed his eyes for a moment, wrinkling his ears. "Patience."
"When is Vrook coming back?" The girl's voice whined. "I miss Vrook."
"Master Vrook has important work to do on behalf of the Council. You know this."
Xxx
I missed Vrook?
Revan heard herself snort incredulously.
"Seriina Starr is real," Carth said out of the blue. "I remember thinking she was the hottest thing since turbo engines when I was a kid. But that was three or four faces ago. That woman has had more cosmet surgery than a Coruscanti senator."
"What?" Revan held onto his hand, but the world was slipping away—
Xxx
Revan wasn't supposed to be angry, but she was. Master Vandar pretended to be nice; but he was the one in charge—the one who told Jedi to come and go on Dantooine. He was the one who kept sending them away from her.
"You've sent Vrook away just like you sent Malak. You send everyone away from me!"
"Revan," Malak's voice sounded so young. "Show respect."
She glared at both of them and lifted her hand. The stones rose again and began to spin, so fast they were almost a blur. "You want me to control the Force? Fine! It's easy!"
Master Vandar drew his lightsaber.
Revan raised an eyebrow in surprise, took a step backward.
"Keep the stones spinning," the old Jedi said, and advanced.
"I'm unarmed," She wanted to cower behind Malak, but he stood there, just watching.
"Do you really think I'll hurt you?" Vandar's ears twitched, and his eyes were half-lidded. Deceptively sleepy.
"This is a test?" Her voice came out in an alarmed squeak. The stones scattered across the floor.
Vandar stopped his advance and looked up at her, his lightsaber burning between them. "Try closing your eyes, Novice Starfire," he said quietly. "And make the stones spin again." His eyes were half-lidded and calm.
Revan swallowed hard and nodded.
Xxx
"Just a kid," Carth said. He put his arm around her again. "You were just a kid. What is that?"
Revan thought of Vrook shooting at her with those damned plasma bolts.
"Training."
She felt the whir of electrical energy brush against her arm and her cheek—so close that one twitch would send her into the blade's path.
Revan blinked. I felt. I knew that one twitch would send me into his blade, but I knew he'd never hurt me—
Xxx
"Open your hands," Vandar said. The girl on the vid brought them forward, palms up in front of her.
Xxx
I did. I brought them forward, palms up in front of me—my eyes were closed—
Her fingers closed around something smooth and round—training stave. The lightsaber hummed close to her ear and she smelled the scorch of her own hair. Her hands closed over the object in her hands she instinctively reached for the end of it—searching for the hilt. It wasn't there. The sharp blade cut her fingers she ran her hand back up to the center, recognized the balance for what it was.
She'd never trained with a double-bladed staff before. The weight was different. The stances—she kept both hands on the pommel and tilted it up towards the sound of Vandar's saber coming towards her. It clashed, particle energy meeting cortosis.
Somewhere, not with her eyes, she felt the stones still spinning.
"Keep your eyes closed," Master Vandar intoned, and Revan did, reaching out somehow with a sense that had nothing to do with her eyes, seeing the room, and Malak and the old Jedi levitating before her, lightsaber held close against the back of her neck.
"Block," Vandar said quietly, and even without seeing, she felt his yellow blade swung forward. Vibroblade met particle with a hiss and a clash of metal. Revan shifted her stance to a defensive one.
Again and again, the yellow blade hissed, and again, and again, her vibroblade met it.
"Malak," Vandar said, quietly. An entire command was in her friend's name.
Xxx
My friend. My friend who would never hurt me.
"Revan?"
Presumably, the concern in Carth's voice was because her eyes were closed. Revan didn't know how to tell him it didn't matter. She didn't have to see this part.
She hadn't before—that has been the point of the exercise.
Xxx
Revan could hear the reluctance in Malak's steps as he came forward, the snap-hiss when his blue lightsaber ignited. The stones faltered. Revan's hands shook. Malak was stronger than she was, and Vandar's attacks had not stopped.
She closed her eyes more tightly, willing herself not to open them, feeling him looming on her flank. The stones spun raggedly now.
She spun to meet the hiss of his first cut, one edge of her sword catching his strike a hairsbreadth from her shoulder. She slanted the blade and met Vandar's thrust with the other end. She was sweating now, and every muscle was tensed.
"Relax," Malak murmured. "Don't be afraid." His voice was gentle, as his blade bore down again and again. She blocked it, again and again, and Vandar's too—for hours it seemed—until the effort itself became a dance.
The stones spun evenly again, and Revan moved in a place that was a balance of motion and stillness. She could see, somehow, where the attacks would fall and how to counter them. Her breathing was smooth and even and controlled.
Eventually, after what seemed like days—or years—the attacks stopped.
"Open your eyes, Padawan Starfire."
Revan did, blinking a little at the sudden brightness. Her vibroblade was loose in her hands.
Master Vandar looked up at her, his kind face smiling.
Sunlight streamed in from a window. Her mind felt as blank and new as an ice pond.
The old Jedi chuckled. "You may let the stones go now, padawan."
"Oh." Revan's voice felt hoarse. Her mouth was very dry and suddenly she trembled, muscles aching with an exhaustion that caught her completely by surprise. The stones clattered to the floor. Her vibroblade followed, milliseconds after. She wiped her hands on her robe.
"The double-blade suits you," Malak said and caught her in a clumsy hug. He smelled like sweat and boy and Revan burrowed her face in his chest.
"Yes," Master Vandar said. "It does. Out of fashion, but I'll tell Zhar to give you a hilt for one. You know that you must set the crystal alone."
Revan nodded. Her thoughts were jumbled. She was excited, and so very tired. Had she wanted to leave the order? Never feel the Force again? She felt it around her now, singing to her. The rest of it—even Malak and her promotion to padawan—seemed secondary compared to that song.
"You did very well," her best friend whispered. His hands released her, and she took a step back, staring up at him.
"Every test is different," Vandar added. "Young Malak needed to learn the art of diplomacy. You needed to learn to trust what you feared. Do you understand?"
"I will try to understand, Master Vandar." Revan bent her head.
"An honest answer," the old Jedi chuckled and bowed to her. She returned the bow, blushing a little. Padawan! Her! Revan, the hopeless case of the Academy! She struggled to keep the excitement from showing on her face.
Vandar laughed and waved his hand. "Go! Wash up. Nourish yourself! When you are ready, go to Zhar and begin the next step in your journey."
"Yes, Master Vandar." Revan bowed again and went to the door. Malak started to follow her.
"Young Malak, a word." Vandar said.
Her best friend stopped.
XXX
"Revan?" Someone's hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. Carth's worried voice. "You fell asleep."
It took a second for everything to come back—the image was so vivid in her mind. That moment when she stopped fighting the Jedi, and the joy she'd felt at their acceptance, the pride she'd felt at making Malak happy; and the way the Force had welcomed her, like an old friend. It was disorienting because the image was still frozen on the console in front of her: Malak and Vandar in the room, her vibrosword on the floor, stones scattered carelessly around it in a pattern like stars.
Revan looked up slowly and found Carth watching her, his eyes earnest and a little sad. "I remember it," she said, surprised to find it true. "Malak, and Vandar. My padawan test."
"You weren't such a bad kid." Carth reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Though I can't say I approve of Jedi training methods, they could have killed you!"
She tried to match the smile on his face. "About the only thing I knew was that they wouldn't kill me, Carth. Jedi don't kill their students. I could have been hurt, accidentally, but they'd never—Malak and Vandar—would never—" She swallowed hard, remembering Malak's face on the Star Forge when he came at her—nothing left in those eyes but hate. "It was only a test."
"There's a more on the vid," Carth said.
"There is?" Revan frowned and tapped the screen. The images moved again, Malak and Vandar, talking alone in that empty room.
XXX
"I know what you're going to say, Master." Malak looked down at the floor.
XXX
It was strange seeing such a chastised expression on such a large face, especially next to the tiny Jedi.
XXX
"I must still say it," Vandar replied. "You shouldn't have given her instruction. That peace was something Revan needed to find within herself, not from you."
"But you made her a padawan anyway. What do you want from me, Master? You sent me away, giving me a lecture about not becoming too close. You bring me back and instruct me to stay with her. How can you say we're linked and then stop me from helping? She was so close to breaking! I know that you felt it, just as I did!"
"With great power must come great control, padawan. You both have such potential, but Revan is… a special case. You've never been told how she came to the Order."
"She told me," Malak's voice was angry. "What of it. She made a fire when she was seven, it burned out of control. She didn't know any better. No one was hurt."
"That's what she told you?" Master Vandar's face was expressionless, and he began to tell Malak the truth.
XXX
Blast you, Vandar! "Did he die on the Star Forge assault? I remember… he commed the ship—the fool thought we were on his side at first—"
"He was on the Wayland Destiny with Admiral Dodonna. Yes." Carth's hands tightened hard on hers. "Vandar died." He held her as if she might break. His voice hesitated. "You're remembering now."
"A little. Pieces. I was just a kid." Revan Starfire was just a kid once. Then she grew up—
"You really wanted to pilot a fighter?" Carth laughed. "You're the worst gunner I've ever seen. That time we let you man the turrets on the jump to Dantooine? If Zaalbar hadn't taken over, we'd be space dust."
"I know." Revan grimaced. "I thought I knew how to handle myself. I remembered doing it before."
"I think we've seen enough for now." Carth stroked her hair, pulling her close. "You know, your hair's growing in. I ever tell you that I like redheads?"
Revan blinked, suddenly remembering the feeling of seeing her hair fall out, strands covering her dark-spotted hands.
XXX
The Dark side's price isn't so high, she'd thought, coolly amused. She turned her head and looked—down—
"Master," a voice said—male. A man knelt before her. Brown skin, tinged gray. Black hair braided like ropes. His Sith-maddened eyes burned. "I came back, Master. I came back for you." The expression on his face. Twisted with hate and... and something else.
XXX
"You mentioned it, Flyboy." Revan tried to match Carth's tone, banish the ghosts from her past. All she could see of the man in her memory were those burning yellow eyes. "So—Manaan. You're saying we need to go to Manaan. And get them to let us into Ahto City, which will be impossible."
"We're working on it, I told you."
"You haven't told me anything."
"Well, it's—" her pilot seemed to hesitate. "We still have some details to iron out. "And you… you need to preserve your strength."
"There's something in your plan I won't like," she guessed. "Or you think I won't like." Revan gestured at the vid screen. "What aren't you telling me? I know you've restricted my net access."
Carth still hesitated. "Do you trust me?"
"Obviously." This time she couldn't cover her yawn.
"As soon as it's finalized, I'll tell you." Carth's hand brushed against her cheek and his arms tightened around her.
"You don't want to upset me," Revan closed her eyes again, exhausted. "That's why you're blocking my access to the nets. You don't want to upset me about what they're saying—especially when I'm on my deathbed."
"No!" He was overdoing the outrage. "First of all, you just need rest. You're not dying. And when we know for sure—I promise I'll tell you."
"You'd better." She was drained as if reading a few archive records had taken all of her strength. "I'll know if you're lying."
"You can still tell when I'm lying?" He sounded surprised. "I thought that was a Force trick you did."
Revan snorted indelicately. "You're holding onto me so tight I can't breathe, flyboy. Yeah, I can tell."
XXX
"Did you tell her?" Canderous asked as Carth cracked open the pantry in the Hawk's small galley. They'd started making ship rations for Revan again, after a dinner cooked from Kashyyyk's local flora left her sick and covered in hives.
"We agreed not to give her details." Carth gritted his teeth and popped open a bulb of nutra-milk, slipping in the sedatives that the Mandalorian had assured him were safe. "But I told her we were going to Manaan."
Canderous scoffed. "Fur-sheb owes me a hundred credits. He said you wouldn't crack."
"That's all I said. I didn't say… who. Or-or what—what's going on there."
"There's another vid on the wide-bands." Canderous shrugged. "From Telos. Even worse than the first one."
"The vids don't matter. She's worse. We're running out of time." The recordings that he and Revan had watched today haunted Carth. That confidant red-headed kid with the galaxy at her feet bore little resemblance to the dying woman in the next room from him, but in her childish face he saw too much of the woman he'd fallen in love with.
He saw Polla's bravery. Her pride. And more than a little of her fire.
That bastard Malak. They grew up together. I knew—there were rumors about them in Fleet—and I knew when I saw him on Leviathan. That's when I knew that Saul hadn't lied. All in Malak's laugh. The way Revan froze, the way she looked at him like she was waking up from a dream.
Revan Starfire and Malak D'Reev. They were the best of the Jedi. The worst. And she was in love with him.
Over the last few months, Carth had begun to understand how much love and hate could stand as sides of the same coin. He wondered if that had been what had shifted D'Reev to the Dark in the first place. Maybe that was how it began for Jedi just like it did for grunts. You love someone so much, you'll do anything— anything— to save them.
Revan and Malak been just kids in those vids, but what they'd become was all there, laid out like a bad map of the galaxy. They'd been kids with power. Kids who could float rocks. Kids who moved so fast that the recording only showed a blur. Even as kids, Carth didn't think he could have taken either of them in a melee.
Just kids? Just kids like Dustil was, on Korriban.
Mission had sworn she'd gotten Carth's son on that damn ship away from Dreshdae. But there was no word of Dustil or any of the other Sith students anywhere now… just that damned woman Yuthura Ban, telling her story on the vids.
That damned woman might know something about Dustil too.
"Onasi?" Canderous's voice nudged him back to the present. "You're running on empty. You want me to take the food to her?"
"No, I got it." Carth forced his thoughts back in line like good soldiers. "Revan's weak," he said slowly. "But she's better. Her mind… she's not raving anymore. She's sleeping better too."
"She's not fighting the tranq as much," Canderous agreed. "Could be tolerance. Or, she's getting weaker—"
"Polla's better," Carth insisted. All that they'd been through, it had to count for something. He'd make it count. "Her mind's better. She's more… she's snapping out of it. What she did with the computer in the Shadowlands… I think it gave her some peace." Her and Zaalbar, at least. Canderous refused to speak about it the copy of Mission Vao. And Carth… Carth was trying to pretend that his comm-link flashing with messages from a dead Twi'lek kid was normal. The recording of Mission barraged him with questions he couldn't answer—just like the girl had herself.
Why is Big Z so sad? Why won't Canderous answer my pings? When are you guys gonna give me a mobile receiver so I can come with you?
Why are the Trandoshans such sniveling cowards that they have to hunt in packs? Why doesn't anyone hunt them in packs?
Why did you put a Force collar on Polla Revan in the first place?
Why did she make Big Z kill me?
"So… the Telosian vid," Canderous changed the subject so abruptly that Carth knew the man was reserving judgment on Revan's improvement. "You gotta see it. With a stiff drink, first."
"Not sure I feel like watching anything about Telos."
"Oh, it's not about Telos." Canderous chuckled. "Think that's where the producers were from—or something. Hate to knock your pride, but you're hardly in it at all, Republic."
"Good," Carth muttered. "Less of a hyper-loop wreck, then?"
Canderous shook his head. "Hah! No."
XXX
"You woke me up for this?" Revan fought back a yawn. "This is the ship we're taking to Manaan?"
The ship in front of them had been a Czerka supply carrier once. Now, all insignia had been stripped from its dull metal hull. It was too big to be graceful, and too clunky to be more than pirate-bait in open space-built on the cheap and meant to be one in a line of carriers with an escort train. Polla Organa's fictional father would have called it a piece of corporate Kuati space-junk, and Revan herself couldn't disagree.
She yawned again. "We could have modified the Hawk."
"Too conspicuous," Zaalbar growled.
"Well," Canderous added dubiously, "I guess it'll fly. Where's the cannon?"
"It's a Czerka freighter." Revan shrugged. "Doesn't have any."
Carth's easy smile faded slightly. He and Zaalbar was covered in oil and singed fur. "She's faster than she looks. We made some modifications to her hypercore. She'll move, if she needs to."
"If we're going to Manaan in a freighter, shouldn't we have cargo?" Revan's head pounded, and she wanted to sit down. It was a week later, and she felt weaker than ever. The walk up the platforms to the docking bays had left her winded. She tugged at the neck of her vest and pushed her visor up again, hiding her eyes from the glare.
Canderous noticed her swaying a little and reached out an arm to steady her.
Revan took it, trying not to feel ashamed of the weakness, trying to match their enthusiasm for her supposed rescue. They worked so hard on this. She hated to disappoint them by dying.
"We do," Zaalbar said. "Tach glands and kinrath venom. One of the Czerka stores wasn't looted."
"Ah," Revan nodded and then translated the Wookiee's words for Canderous. "Might as well make a profit while we're at it. We're short on credits. I looked."
They all glared at her.
"A joke," she said. "Really!" She hadn't really looked. She'd been much too tired.
Zaalbar's nose wrinkled as he yowled. "My people will have to establish exports if we want any dealings with outsiders, Polla Revan. But they have not reached for that branch. They help us now only because I asked."
Revan was suddenly ashamed of her carelessness. "I'm sorry, Zaalbar, this is a big risk for you. Are you sure you want to mix Kashyyyk diplomatic affairs with my problems?"
Zaalbar groaned back at her. "There is no choice. The Mission-ghost and I have been over several scenarios. This one has the only chance of success."
"We still don't know how the three of us will be able to get through security. And you still haven't told me who this mysterious Force-user is. And you're still blocking my access to the nets too. Why?"
Canderous sighed. "They have reasons, Revan."
She frowned. It nagged at her that she wasn't fighting harder, that they were getting away with whatever it was, but a part of her just didn't give a frack. "Where's HK?"
"Loading the rest of the cargo."
"Yeah, I bet. He's going to be busy all morning until we leave, then hypno-sleep for me, so I don't get sick when we jump… then, when we're landing on Manaan, perhaps you'll tell me the rest of your plan—when it's too late for me to stop it? What could there possibly be that you don't want me to know? You're not going to turn me into the authorities, are you?"
"I'm a warrior," Canderous shrugged. "I don't make these plans up, I just execute them."
"Nice choice of words," Revan muttered. "Execute. I love Manaan's prison, I got to spend so much time there. That smell: salt water and fish breath. I can hardly wait."
"Trust us, beautiful," Carth said. "We'll tell you everything when we dock on Manaan. Want the grand tour of the ship? We've given you the captain's quarters."
Revan walked over to him and took his arm. Politely, he didn't seem to notice how heavily she was leaning on him, or the pallor in her face.
She had to admit that the quarters were nice enough; although she wouldn't be awake long enough to enjoy them.
XXX
"I should come with you, there's no telling what trouble you'll get into on your own." Bastila glared at her.
"I told you already, no. Place is crawling with Sith and you're a target." Polla snapped the buckles of her Republic jumpsuit in place and strapped the lightsaber to her thigh. Frowning, she added a blaster to her belt.
"You look like a Jedi in a really poor disguise," Bastila said. "Do you think anyone will be fooled by that silly costume?"
"Probably not, but I'm no one. You, on the other hand, have the fate of the galaxy in your hands. That's why you're staying on the ship. Guard the others. I'm only bringing HK. You and Mission nearly died on Kashyyyk. We can't lose you, Bastila. You're too important."
"Just who do you think is in charge here, you or me?"
"Let the kid go, Bastila." Jolee leaned against the doorway, eyebrows raised. Polla wondered how long he'd been standing there. "She's right, no one will recognize her. You're way too visible. And Polla's proven herself. Let her get the lay of the docks then and report in. We'll know what to expect soon enough."
Bastila scowled and began to argue.
Polla Organa shrugged and walked away from them both. She tilted her head at HK and he followed her down the deck, clutching his blaster in his hands. She tried to ignore the hopeful bloodthirsty gleam in his metal eyes.
Come alone, the datapad had said.
Perhaps there was a clue—or at least a good business opp. She couldn't afford to pass it up.
Later, when Carth and Jolee had to bail her out of the Ahto jail for insulting a Sith (who'd started it), Polla Organa decided that she hated Manaan. Between the Republic, the Sith, the sanctimonious Selkath, and a guild of mysterious assassins trying to recruit her—not to mention the smell—it was a fracking pest-hole. Polla could tell that much after only four hours.
Five days later, after she'd managed to send a man to his death, destroy the one source of the healing herb kolto in the entire galaxy, and wipe out an entire Sith Embassy, her opinion of the planet had not improved.
Shattered, they set a course for Korriban but were caught in Saul Karath's web instead.
And then everything she'd believed turned into a lie.
XXX
For some reason, Revan woke up smiling. All things considered, things could be worse. And here was Carth, carefully dabbing her arm in the place where the wake-up stim had pressed.
Carth looked adorable in his pilot's jumper, face freshly shaved, hair combed back. He had a pile of black clothes with him. She reached for them. The way the fabric shimmered in her hands, reminded her of something that she couldn't quite place. It didn't matter. It would be soft on her skin and Revan was sure this would be a good day. How could it not be? Here she was on Manaan, about to be cured. Her brave companions had a top-secret plan to save her! Why worry?
She giggled.
"Um," her lover said. "Are you okay?"
"Fine!" she said brightly. Everything was crisp and clean, especially around the edges.
She slipped out of the blankets and examined the clothing he'd brought more closely. What a funny joke this was, her robes from the Star Forge! Well, they were really nice after all, even if they hung a bit loosely now. Maybe she could find a belt or something… she slipped them on over her head.
"Nice." She nodded her approval. "That will be all, Carth. Leave me. I need to fix my hair."
She looked around for a mirror but there were none.
"I need a mirror," she added, a little impatiently. He should anticipate these things.
"Um," he said again. "I think I gave you too much stim."
"Stim?" She blinked.
"Sit down, Revan. I need to tell you the rest of it."
She frowned at him. "Oh, I think I understand. We're on Manaan. Some Force user is going to take off this collar, so I don't die. You figured out a way to get us past security. We have cargo to trade, so the venture will be profitable. And, if none of that works, I still have a secret connection here with an ancient order of assassins called the Genoharadan. They owe me. What else would I need to know?"
She beamed at him. His eyes were golden-brown, and that worry line between his eyebrows was really charming.
"Um..." he said. "Wait. Secret order of who?"
Revan put a finger to her lips. "Shush," she said. "It's a secret! I wasn't supposed to tell." She shrugged, laughing because it was funny. "But you know what? The Rodian, whatshisname, said no one would believe me anyway."
"Definitely too much stim," Carth muttered. He sat down on the bed and took her hands. "Listen, beautiful, here's the plan..."
It was probably the stims, but Revan thought the plan sounded pretty good. She only balked when he urged her to wear her lightsaber. Carth had to call Canderous in, and they convinced her to carry a vibroblade at least because really, it wouldn't be appropriate for them not to be armed on a planet full of fish pacifists.
She sat on the bed, swinging her legs back and forth while the men whispered furiously amongst themselves for a while. The edges of the happy feeling wore a little thin, but Revan still felt pretty good. She didn't even protest when they sprayed white make-up on her face and drew Sith tattoos with a tiny brush.
Canderous was really good at details, she thought, admiring herself in the mirror she'd insisted upon having. And her hair was growing in, which was a relief. Her eyes blinked back at her hazily—yellow Sith eyes, with only a trace of green.
XXX
Alarms went off as they approached the Customs gate. But the Selkath behind the desk didn't even look surprised.
"Name?" He sounded bored.
"Darth Revan Starfire, Dark Lord of the Sith," Revan said.
"Right," the Selkath muttered. "We never should have released those identity prints to the nets. But who knew they'd be so easy to duplicate?" He gave her a patient look, waving a flipper. "It's a formality, Lord Revan, but could I see your identity chips and the names under which you and companions are traveling?"
"Oh, that," Revan shrugged. "Numu—something? I think my slaves have the chips somewhere."
The Selkath glanced at Carth and Zaalbar, his gills fading green with a hint of surprise. Carth was wearing a Mandalorian battlesuit and helmet, and Zaalbar was wearing a blaster. "That's odd," the Selkath official muttered to himself. "I'm getting a match for you both as well."
"Lord Revan is very thorough." The helmet distorted Carth's voice; made it into a stranger's.
"More than most contenders," the Selkath murmured. "Where did you find the Wookiee?"
"We have a life debt," Revan was beginning to tire of this pointless delay. "Can we go now?"
"Certainly," the Selkath said. "Welcome to Manaan. Enjoy your stay. The Sith Embassy is—"
If she'd actually had the Force, he would have been fried. Revan tried to convey the threat with her eyes. "I know where it is," she snapped. "Don't mock me, fish breath."
"Wouldn't dream of it," The Selkath became suddenly busy with something on his desk.