The Telosian Version

Chapter 4 / The Telosian Version

The floors of the Ahto City Promenade were polished to a serpent's sheen, waxed and slippery. Ceega-gulls circled overhead like greedy beggars, swooping in and out of Carth's line of sight.

They're just birds, Onasi. Carth was so on edge that he had to remind himself not to duck, grab Revan, and roll for cover.

They'd made it through Customs, but that was only the first hurdle ahead. At least Revan seemed oblivious to the minefield they were strolling through. She was even humming softly under her breath.

Carth kept a firm grip on her arm, keeping her walking in a straight line. Ordo's armor felt too loose, and he hated the lack of peripheral vision the helm gave him. Printed readouts from the suit scrolled across his vision in Mandalorian, which he only half understood. He should have asked Ordo how to turn them off.

Revan's arm felt like a twig in the glove's sensors. He was glad Revan hadn't seen herself before they painted her face. Block patterns had formed where the dark lines of Force energy merged, like blood clotting under cold, gray skin.

If it weren't for the flashes of Polla's old humor and grace, Carth might have believed the woman he loved was gone forever. But then, she'd turn to look at him, or say something, and he'd see her again: his fearless smuggler, his Jedi hero. Polla—

Revan, Carth reminded himself. It's just a name.

If only that were true.

"What kind of birds are those?" Revan tugged on his arm, full of unnatural energy. She was actually laughing.

"Ceega gulls," he muttered. "We had them on Telos."

"Oh." She nodded, her eyes skittering across the platform to focus on something else. Her head turned, and she took three more steps forward dragging him along behind.

I didn't save you to die like this, Carth told the back of her head silently. Damn Canderous and his stims. Although Carth had to admit they'd had little choice. At least she's not in pain, she was screaming in her sleep these last few weeks, screaming in her sleep all the way from Kashyyyk to Manaan.

When he and Canderous hadn't been catching up on the galaxy's reports of their demise, (Zaalbar had lost interest after the first vid), Carth had spent the trip reviewing the Jedi's data and the holos from her files—those they'd already seen.

The rest were locked. In the weeks it took to reach Manaan Carth had tried hundreds of passwords, phrases—even songs—hoping to hit on the right one that could unlock the files she'd downloaded into her assassin droid. No doubt HK would rat him out—if Revan lived long enough to care.

As much as he'd told her the past didn't matter—it did. The destruction of Telos, Morgana's death, every friend he'd lost in the war against the Sith stood between them like ghosts—and had, ever since Saul's cracked voice had whispered the truth of her identity in his ear.

On Korriban, Carth had convinced himself Saul was wrong: that his girl wasn't Revan—that she'd been Polla—Polla Organa— who'd saved Dustil and all those other kids too. That she was the same hero he'd followed since Taris. The woman he loved. He'd convinced himself that the Jedi had saved her. Hell, at the time he'd thought he'd convinced her too.

On Lehon, he'd learned he'd been tragically wrong.

On the Star Forge, Carth had planned on shooting her. Point blank, from a distance, before she had a chance to blink. So, he'd hitched a ride with the Republic's last demo crew, then ran down the Star Forge decks looking for the Hawk, so he could do what he'd lacked the guts to do before. He knew the station would blow—knew it in his bones the second he saw the battle in the skies.

He knew she wouldn't leave the station on another ship. There was none better than their Hawk. She loved it as much as he did.

Make an end, he'd told himself.

He'd run through echoing plats, stepping over the bodies of dead or dying sents, circling an endless curve of hangar bays. And then, there she was.

Revan's eyes were just as yellow and crazed as every other Sith they'd killed. And she was almost… glowing, as if the energy of that Force-damned place was in her. Cast in her shadow, Bastila was a stooped and broken thing already—but she too shone with that same dark corona, her glittering face tinged with a scarlet glow.

He'd known then he was too late. A blaster wouldn't stop either of them. Maybe nothing short of the station's explosion could stop them.

Time, Carth had thought. I need to buy time. Let the demo team set their charges, blow the core.

He'd said the first words that sprang to mind. Sure, they'd been true, but that didn't matter. Truth or lies were all the same in the end. I love you. I always said I'd save you, Revan. Even from yourself. I know you're still in there, Freckles. I'm not giving up

Carth had never expected to live, but Revan had killed Bastila and saved him. When he picked up her broken body, he'd thought she was dead too.

Of course, he couldn't tell her that, not now. Maybe not ever.

Right now, she looked half out of her mind, stumbling over the salt-sprayed deck plates of the promenade.

"We're not really going to the Sith Embassy," he reminded her, as Revan turned down the main hall, forcing him to follow.

"I know!" Polla's bright smile in that ravaged face. The face paint made her look inhuman. Under the red visor, her eyes were colorless and blank. She was breathing too hard as if stims were the only thing keeping her upright.

Carth patted her back, lowering his voice. "Just keep walking, beautiful, you're doing fine."

"I am walking," she said. "Can't you tell I'm walking?"

"Yes. Just… keep doing it."

Zaalbar groaned his concern, and Revan just laughed.

Canderous had already debarked and registered himself as the official owner of the freighter. The plan was, they'd meet him at the Dunkside Cantina, and then check into their hotel. Send Zaalbar into the Republic Embassy to look for Ban. Rare as Wookiees were, he was the least recognizable of all them. To most sents, Wookiees looked alike.

Carth tried to ignore the twist of apprehension in his gut at being this close a Fleet outpost. Apprehension—and regret. He'd never rejoin the Fleet. They'd won, but everything he'd worked for his entire life was gone.

Zaalbar growled over Revan's head at him. "People are staring," the Wookiee chuffed.

"We expected that." Carth pulled his attention back to their surroundings. Smell of salt air and fish; the sound of the waves below them. Republic soldiers, Selkath, random travelers from other worlds. Even without kolto, Manaan hadn't changed.

And there. Sith. Three Imperial grunts in uniform walked past them, close enough to kill.

One turned her head their way—and laughed.

"Hey!" Revan called out. She stopped walking. "Hey! You! Ensign!"

Damn. Way too much stim, it's made her stupid.

The Sith ignored her, but she didn't let it go. Revan twisted her arm from Carth's grasp in one smooth movement and ran up to them, a little clumsy on her feet; but still moving with the arrogance and grace that was so unmistakably her own.

"What do you want?" The female soldier looked at her disdainfully.

"That should be, what do you want, my Lord?" Revan told her. "Show some respect."

The woman sneered. "Right. My Lord. Darth Revan. How can I be of assistance? You should really get back to the Embassy and join the other hopefuls."

"I want to ask a question," Revan said.

Zaalbar groaned softly. "This could go very badly, friend Carth."

"I know," Carth sighed. He felt frozen. They couldn't draw weapons. She didn't have the Force.

There's nothing they can do to her, he reminded himself. And nothing you can do to them. Just hope that she doesn't try and do something

"Ask away," the Sith said coldly. One of her companions whispered something in her ear and she laughed.

"How many Darth Revan pretenders are there on Manaan?" Revan's voice was breezy, almost professional. "Right now?"

"Today?" The Sith snickered. "Fifteen. Fifteen still alive, unless Lystria makes it."

"She should," the oldest Imperial muttered. "They put her in a bacta tank. Burns looked worse than they were. Tio always pulls back."

"Sixteen, then." The woman peered at Revan's face. "Sixteen pretenders. Seventeen with you. And you are… impressive. Not that many actually went out and had surgery. And it's interesting; you're not going for the sweet Polla Deralian thing. Where'd you get the Wookiee? Everyone has a Mandalorian, but I've never seen anyone with a Wookiee."

"He's not a Mandalorian," Revan said gravely. "That's Carth Onasi, my true love."

"Dressed as a Mandalorian?" One of the male soldiers coughed. "Not very believable."

Carth winced inside his battle suit.

"Enough small talk." There was an edge in Revan's voice as bright as a vibroblade. "You might only be field personnel, but I'm sure you know how to pay attention—where's Yuthura Ban?"

"Who?" The Sith woman looked confused.

"Twi'lek? Purple lekku? Jedi or something?" Revan sounded impatient. "Probably here to help save the kolto?"

"The Sith will save the kolto," the other male soldier said. "That is if you idiots ever stop this game." He was older than his companions and had the look of a veteran. The bars on his uniform were faded, as if some had been removed and replaced. Demotions in Imperial ranks were as common as executions, and Carth doubted this old man had always been a lieutenant. From his stance alone, Carth thought at least a commodore. Maybe higher. "Trust me, I knew the real Darth Revan, and none of you measure up."

"You did?" Revan's voice was too curious. "Tell me, what was she like?"

"Numu," Carth hissed desperately. She didn't even look at him.

"She was a true Sith," the man instinctively straightened his shoulders, standing at attention. "I was there when she killed the Mandalore in single combat. Revan toyed with him for hours, up until the end, never even using the Force; making him think he could win. Then, at the very end, she blasted him with the power of the dark side."

"Should have just used thermal detonators," Revan muttered. "I'm—sorry I don't remember. You were with the Republic back then? And you went over to the Sith? Did she make you?"

The man looked startled. "I followed her. She… she saved us."

"Saved?" Revan scoffed.

"Enough of this," the woman broke in. "Come with us to the Embassy. Then we'll see how much of the power you have."

There was a light in Revan's eyes now that made Carth's hackles rise. "Oh?" she murmured. "Do you truly want to see?"

"Numu," Carth walked over and grabbed Revan's arm. "We need to be going. Now."

"How much power she has?" A metallic voice hissed behind them. "Nothing. She is nothing."

Zaalbar growled uneasily, and they all turned to look. Carth knew it wasn't him, couldn't be—but his breath still caught in his throat; his hand still went instinctively to his blaster.

A hulking hairless man stood before them, clad in red body armor. He was heavily muscled and flanked by two female acolytes in Dark Jedi robes. The Manaan sun glinted on his metal jaw and put the patterns on his hairless skull in sharp relief.

Amusement sparkled in cold black eyes—eyes rimmed with yellow. Darth Malak laughed. "Power? Her? You're wasting your time, currying her favor, Lieutenant Wu. Not a speck of Force to be found. She wouldn't last through one round of the games."

Revan's hand clutched at Carth's, and he heard her gasp.

"I killed you," Revan muttered. She dropped Carth's hand and stood there, staring up at the apparition from her past. Her voice was shaking. "I'm sorry, Mal," she whispered. "I'm sorry I had to kill you."

"This is dull," said the Sith woman rolled her eyes. "I'm going to the cantina. If I wanted to watch a tearful reunion of the Dark Lord and her old apprentice, I'd view the Coruscanti Underground vid again."

"Numu!" Carth hissed. "Polla!"

"Mal?" Revan repeated, ignoring him. Her voice was soft, almost—hopeful. "Malak?"

The tall figure laughed, and the image shimmered, dissolving into a young fair-haired man dressed in a plain black robe. "Guess again, fool."

Holo-mask. Carth blinked. The man's new face was still familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen it before—not until Revan spoke.

"Kel?" Revan shook her head, sounding confused. "Wait. Kel Algwinn?"

Then Carth got it. One of the kids from the Academy. There'd been so many; every face a blur except for Dustil's. But Revan had known them all, talked to them all, tried to understand what made them join the Sith.

"I see my reputation precedes me." The young man sounded pleased. "It will be Darth Kel, soon enough, when I've finished eliminating all of these petty pretenders." He laughed. "You will be even easier than most."

"But you left the Sith!" Revan took another step closer. "We talked. You had doubts—and you left. Didn't you go to the Jedi? You said you were going to the Jedi—"

Kel's face was expressionless, but his hands curled into fists.

Zaalbar groaned. "This is dangerous. We need to go."

"Not yet," Revan barked back quickly.

Kel Algwinn's laughter was too loud. It set Carth's nerves jangling. "You knew me at the Academy? Which one are you, really? Natalia? Reeni? Or a new pathetic hopeful? Don't you know what the other Revan pretenders will do to a null?"

"Why did you go back?" Revan continued, stubborn and stimmed as a losing gunner. "I thought you'd go to the Jedi. And why the hell —" she took a deep breath. "Why disguise yourself to look like Malak?"

"You're asking me?" Kel's voice was incredulous. "I just use a holo-field, you've had surgery to look like Darth Revan! Bad surgery. I met Revan when she was on Korriban. I knew her. You can't fool me. " His hand reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her forward.

Carth bit his lip and willed himself not to interfere. Not yet. They could—there still had to be a way out of this.

"Do not shed your moss, Polla Revan. He is just a cub." Zaalbar's moan was a better warning than any Carth could give out loud, but Revan didn't even try and look back to them.

"What's this, make-up? Painted-on Sith tattoos?" Kel laughed, dropping his hand back. "No Force and painted-on tattoos and you expect people to believe you're Revan? Pathetic! You're bantha fodder."

Revan's head dropped, and she stared at her hands. "I thought I'd saved you, Kel Algwinn."

"Tell me your real name." There was that peculiar emphasis in those words that Carth had heard before. Compulsion. The words weren't directed at him, but Carth still bit down hard on his tongue.

Name. Name. Captain Carth Tibberus Onasi, reassigned to Jedi Command—

The Sith were all around them. Three soldiers at their back; Kel and the acolytes at their front. On Manaan any sign of aggression would mean, at the very least, a night in jail. They had no time for that. She had no time for that.

"My name is Polla Organa." Revan said. Her hand rubbed her head like it hurt. A pale mottled hand, striped with dark lines. "I mean…no. It's not. They… they told me it's Revan. Revan Starfire… I-I don't..." Her hand dropped, and her body straightened again. Her mouth tightened, jaw setting stubbornly, voice turning arctic. "I don't fracking know."

Carth grabbed her hand again. "Numu," he said feeling hopeless. "We need to go. Emilio is waiting for us, remember?"

"Tell me your name,"the Sithkid repeated, and Carth heard Zaalbar groaning his own in Shyriiwook, heard himself mumbling 'Onasi' through his clamped-down teeth.

But no one was looking at them—just at her.

"Revan," his girl muttered again, her eyes locked to the Sith's. "I'm Revan. I'm here for Yuthura Ban. Fetch her."

"Hrm." The old lieutenant frowned, tiling his head for a closer look. "Jokasta. Did they ever find the Bright?"

"The Darkstar's ship?" One of the red-robed Sith scoffed. "Docked a week ago. This isn't her."

"Yes, but if there's one copy, maybe there's more."

"Fetch her?" Algwinn chuckled darkly. "Fetch Yuthura Ban? For you?" He shook his head. "Kneel."

Revan pulled away from Carth, her expression twisting into a scowl. "You dare?" she said to Kel. "You dare use mind tricks on me?"

Kel chuckled. "Oh, you are good." His hand twitched and the visor flew of her face, clattered across the floor.

Revan's eyes flashed yellow, and then narrowed. "You pathetic cringing fool."

One of the red-robed Sith stepped back too. The other one made a noise that could have been surprise.

Revan's hand closed on the hilt of her vibroblade. Her stance shifted, so subtly Carth wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't seen it so many times before. Her feet stepped apart, knees slightly bent, now. One hand curved. If she'd had the Force none of the scum in front of them would have stood a chance.

But the dumb kid just laughed. "Pity you don't have the power to back up your act. I almost want to leave you alive... maybe keep you as a pet. Would like that? Being my pet?"

"Draech chich'n'ya." Revan muttered and lifted her fist. "Die, imbecile." Carth half-expected to see Kel fall, clutching his throat, but the kid just shook his head.

"Your Ancient Sith's not bad." Kel Algwinn smiled. "Almost a shame to see you die for assaulting me... but maybe if you beg, I could be merciful."His hand clenched.

Revan collapsed instantly.

An alarm went off somewhere above them. Carth dove to the ground, trying to shield her even as he felt the wash of dark energy strike as Kel lashed out. Beneath him, he heard the ugly sound of Revan's strangled breaths.

Carth rolled off of her, blasters drawn before he could think. Shouldn't have even brought weapons. Should've waited for the stim to wear of before I did anything—

His first volley was deflected by three sabers, one bolt hissing dangerously close to them.

Zaalbar roared in outrage. Something about being a Kashyyyk sovereign citizen and demanding his rights.

If anyone besides Carth understood, that might have been useful. Translators. They'll have a universal translator somewhere—

"Aggression will not be tolerated in Ahto City," a disembodied voice chimed. "The citizen Numu Ran of Alderaan has initiated an act of violence against citizen Kel Algwinn, formerly of Korriban. Both parties: please remain where you are. Cease hostilities. The authorities have been notified."

Revan's eyes were clenched shut. Tears ran down her face and she was still choking. The Sith laughed somewhere above them. Carth pulled her onto his lap, as if he could shelter her with his arms. Frantic readouts scanned across his suit's visor, indicating her status. He didn't need to read Mandalorian runes to know that everything in the redline was very bad.

Carth leveled his blaster at Algwinn's head. "Let her go!"

"How much is she paying you, Mandalorian?" the kid chuckled "Brave man. I'll double it."

Carth's second shot froze mid-air, and his third one was deflected by a red blade. The Sith kid laughed—but in Carth's arms, Revan was breathing again.

At least Carth had been a distraction. The second shot sank into the wall, as the Sith it had been targeted for stepped neatly aside.

"This is really not good," Zaalbar groaned sadly above them.

"I fracking hate Manaan," Revan whispered, gasping for breath.

XXX

There'd been the press of Carth's armored arms around her. There'd been that feeling, that sickly helpless feeling, while Revan choked for breath—and then the stasis field. The Selkath took no chances. Mobile stasis units for crowd control, on them in seconds.

Probably saved my life.

Revan came awake again aching and painfully sober, surrounded by the yellow hum of an energy shield.

What the hell did Canderous give me?

She'd been stupid with stims, crazy stupid—as if all of this was some kind of game. A very bad game, where one of her few triumphs in the war of dark against light hadn't been a triumph at all.

I thought I saved Kel.

I saved no one. Not him, not Bastila, not Malak. All I've done is ruin lives. Kel made me so angry I could almost taste what it would be like to strike him down. If I'd had the Force, he'd be dead now.

Her robes were gone. And her sword. Revan was wearing a simple gray prisoner's jumpsuit, the standard on half a hundred worlds. The cheap cloth did nothing to shield her from the cold metal floor of the cell.

Revan wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes again, cursing softly.

"Freckles?" Carth's voice. Somewhere close.

"Flyboy?" She blinked, as the containment field resolved itself, the yellow shimmer separating them. Familiar.

A cell in the Ahto City prison. You've been here before.

"We've been in worse spots," her pilot whispered from his own cell. "Remember?"

Maybe. But this one we earned. I tried to Force choke Kel Algwinn and you shot at him. Her eyes took in the rest of the room. Zaalbar wasn't in it. She hoped that meant he'd been smart enough to walk away. "What the hell did Canderous give me?" Revan whispered. "Are you nuts? You set me up to face the Sith stimmed?"

"It was only supposed to bring you out of hypnosleep," Carth said. "Are you—are you okay?"

No. My head hurts. Kel was strong, he hurt me badly.

"You tried," Revan told Carth. "Maybe... I'll tell them you're just a merc. Get you out of this."

Her lover shook his head stubbornly. "Don't talk like that! We're fine. Emilio will be here soon. They let Dreeewwooowr go, and you didn't hurt anyone. There'll be a fine, that's all. Don't worry. Please!"

The hope in his voice. Those stupid fake names. Hope for her. Why couldn't he understand?

There were two Selkath guards halfway across the room, by a closed door, both seemingly ignoring them.

"Guard?" Revan called to them. "Guards? Hey! Tell Roland Wann at the Republic Embassy that you have Revan Starfire who was known as Polla Organa to him in custody. I'm sure he'd be interested. Perhaps the Jedi on Manaan would like to see the Dark Lord of Sith pay her dues. There'd be a reward."

"Numu," Carth hissed.

Why did he even bother? The game was up, the cards were dealt.

The fatter Selkath looked at her. His gills flapped. It took some moments for Revan to realize he was laughing. Frowning, she repeated the words more slowly, in Selk. "I killed your god," she added. "The Progenitor? I poisoned her water, and I lied to your judges about it. I blamed it on the Sith."

The Selkath laughed more, in that watery chuckling whisper that they used for mirth. "You've seen too many holovids. Poor, deluded creature. The Sith are bad enough with their games of succession, but you—"

"She's crazy," Carth interrupted. "We… we're actors, but she cracked. I just need to get her some help. There's a… a healer here. We—we just need to see her. Yuthura Ban?"

"I'm not insane." Revan cut him off. Succession? Games? "Call Wann. Trust me. He'll want to talk." The man hates my guts. That can't have changed.

"Actors." The Selkath burbled. "You need to see how it's done. Want to watch one of the vids? See a real Revan act?"

"Vids?" Revan asked, at the same time that Carth shook his head at her.

The Selkath flapped his gills. "Oh, ho, ho, vids. Yes, vids. We've got the Telosian right here. Jmar, put it on for the lady. Maybe it will shut her up."

The other Selkath guard gurgled, almost a giggle. "Can I forward to the interesting part?" he asked.

"No," the other guard shrugged his thumbed flippers, and adjusted his belt over his belly. "Make her watch the whole thing."

Jmar shrugged and walked behind the guard's console, punched in a few buttons. A holo shimmered to life in front of her.

To her right, Carth muttered something that sounded like a prayer.

XXX

Carth only watched her.

He'd seen the vid before, back on Kashyyyk. This one, and more than a dozen others in the weeks from Kashyyyk to Manaan, while Revan slept in her drugged and screaming sleep.

The Telosian one wasn't the worst, but it deviated from reality pretty fast, and he wondered how she'd react—even as he wondered what in nine Mandalorian hells was taking Canderous and Zaalbar so long to get them out of here.

What if they can't?

Carth couldn't—wouldn't think like that.

XXX

"You be good to my daughter," Helena Shan said, coughing piteously in the smoky Dantooine bar. Revan's face was smooth and expressionless but her green eyes gleamed as if struck by some deep emotion.

"As if she'd listen to me," she said finally, after a long silence.

"I can tell she cares for you," Helena said.

In the background, Mission Vao giggled and covered her mouth with a delicate blue hand.

Bastila's haughty chin trembled, and Revan ran to her suddenly, the smooth mask of her face changing to something like joy.

"I can die happy," Helena Shan whispered, "knowing my daughter has someone like you to protect her."

"I love her," Revan whispered joyfully.

The two women embraced.

XXX

"What?" the real Revan whispered.

Their jailers had washed the make-up off her face while she was unconscious. Her skin was gray and black now in the harsh prison light. Sith tattoos had formed like nebulae around her eyes and forehead, black rays radiating like a dark sun across her face. The shadows made hollows in her cheeks, made her face into a skull.

"Polla." Cath started, wishing he could say more. Wishing there was something to say.

A line furrowed between her arched brows as she stared past him. "What the hell is this?" she spat at the Selkath jailers.

"The Telosian version," one of them said.

"Bastila and I—" On the screen, the two women embraced in the dim light of the smoky cantina. Revan was taller, and her head bent in a graceful arch as she pulled the smaller woman against her. They kissed, lightly, and then with increasing passion.

"If you don't like the Telosian, we have the Coruscanti Underground version," one of the jailers offered, his voder translating the Selk a beat after his burblings. "Not that I care what you like. Look at that Revan—she has beauty, passion, and power. What were you thinking, trying to compare yourself to that?"

"I don't compare myself with that," Revan rubbed her head as if it hurt.

The med sensors on their ship said it wouldn't be long now before her body gave out—maybe a few days left.

It can't end like this. "May we request an arbiter?" Carth asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"One will be appointed by the Court," the smaller Selkath said.

"But I can request the appointment," Carth said. "Right?"

On screen, Bastila and Revan were still kissing.

"You may request any sentient on the planet within a ten-kilometer radius; but the arbiter must agree to the appointment."

"Well, I want Yuthura Ban. She's a Twi'lek Jedi with the Republic Embassy looking into the kolto restoration. Ask her if she'll come and speak with us about being our arbiter."

Revan glanced at him. At the gap in her jumpsuit, the metal collar glinted. The flesh around it was red and inflamed. "Too late," she muttered. "Just make them turn this vid off."

Carth tried to smile comfortingly. "We've been in worse spots, beautiful."

Revan stared at him, her eyes as blank as yellow coins. Her face was as pale as ice scarred by those terrible lines. As he watched, her eyes closed, even as her lips pulled into a half-smile. "I don't know, Flyboy. This feels pretty bad."

"We'll see if she's willing to meet with you," the Selkath gurgled, coolly.

XXX

Bastila and Revan writhed in agony, entwined together in one tank. Across from them, Carth Onasi's chin was set defiantly.

"I'll never betray the Republic, Saul!"

The two women screamed as lightning lanced through them, outlining their bodies clad only in the briefest undergarments. They clasped each other, as if their Force bond could ease their agony.

XXX

"I refuse to watch any more of this," Revan muttered, closing her eyes again. Her head hurt so much.

Hours seemed to pass, marked only by the ragged sound of her breathing and the pounding in her head.

Dimly, she heard the lines of dialogue, words she'd never said to a Bastila that never existed.

We should have bombed Telos more. Definitely too many scriptwriters survived.

Revan winced, thinking of Carth and his lost wife, his shattered world. She couldn't look at him. Looking at him and still seeing that dumb hope was too difficult. He'd infected her with it, before she remembered that between happily ever after and the present lay the terrible gap of her past.

XXX

"I love you, Revan. You cannot deny the bond between us. Join me, and we can harness the power of the Star Forge."

"Follow me back into the Light, Bastila, for the sake of the love we share." The actor with her face parroted the words earnestly.

XXX

Revan mumbled through gritted teeth, half to herself. "What I actually said was, 'You were weak Bastila, I always knew you'd fall to the Dark Side.'" She didn't care if the Selkath heard her, obviously it made no difference.

"Shhh, beautiful. It will be fine." Carth's words were a meaningless comfort. She wouldn't look at him.

XXX

"The Jedi Council used you, Revan. You were a pawn in their plans to get the Star Forge, just as they used me for my Battle Meditation. Malak taught me the truth, taught me to embrace my hate and my anger. You are stronger than I thought possible, after what they did to you."

XXX

Those words were almost too familiar. Too close to what Bastila had actually said. Bile in the back of her throat.

XXX

"Don't do this kid," Jolee said sadly. "Love can only lead to the dark side."

XXX

Revan frowned. "Jolee would never say that."

"Don't do this, kid."

How was it, really?

XXX

The sun shone high in the sky, beating down on the ancient stones of the temple summit. Revan was terrified. Furious. Desperate. They'd come all this way, sacrificed everything—only to be stuck here, on top of the Temple roof, with Bastila Shan between them and the planetary shields.

"Jolee, can't you see that an alliance is the only way to stop Malak?" She pleaded with him, despite the scorn in Bastila's eyes.

"Don't do this, kid."

"Time to die, old man." Bastila moved in for the kill and Revan lashed out—not sure who she was fighting anymore. Just a blur of saber blades and then he was dead. Juhani fell snarling and she couldn't remember cutting her down.

Maybe she hadn't killed them at all. Maybe it was Bastila—

No. That's a lie. A lie I'd tell myself.

XXX

"Prove yourself," Bastila hissed. "If you want me to follow you, earn the title of the Dark Lord."

"I have, I've beaten you." Revan sneered at her, exulting in it. I wanted to beat you for so long, even before I knew what you did.

"Prove yourself," Bastila taunted her again. "They are lackeys of the Order, those that twisted you, trapped you, broke you. Are you still so broken Revan?"

That look in Jolee's eyes. Juhani's absolute trust slowly changing to something almost like fear.

They fell like a harvest of Deralian ferra grass, easily and softly under the hiss of her blade. They fell with their mouths open, still telling her it was not too late.

XXX

"Please," Revan begged. "I've heard enough. Turn off the vid."

The Selkath jailers chuckled, gurgling and mirthful.

XXX

After what seemed like another century, the outer door opened and there was Zaalbar and Canderous. The Mandalorian was dressed in an ordinary mechanic's jumpsuit, and beside him HK stood, seemingly unarmed.

The jailers stopped the vid abruptly. "I'm sorry," one of the Selkath said. "No visitors until after the trial."

Canderous ignored them, walking past them and standing in front of Revan's cell. "You look worse. What the hell did you do?"

"Acted like a stimmed-out fool," she said, peering up at him. He looked completely ordinary. She'd never thought anyone could dismiss Canderous without a second glance, but in this disguise, he was just one more middle-aged man in a spaceport. She wondered how he'd felt about that—if he would even care. "What the hell did you give me?"

"Nothing you hadn't had before. Tolerance must be down." He frowned, switching to Mandalorian. "Not gonna sugarcoat this. The fish won't let you go until the trial, but your fine has been paid."

"So, the trial will only be a formality?" Carth asked in the same language. "Then we'll be free to go?"

Canderous snorted. "No. The Sith Embassy paid the fine. Wookiee and I got there too late. You're Sith Embassy property now. After the trial, they're gonna take you. Some di'kut named Darth Algwinn's claimed possession." He raised a weathered eyebrow.

Carth blanched, his jaw tightening. "Oh."

"Remember the good old days?" Revan said. "When there was no one left alive in the Sith Embassy?" She tried to grin, but it wasn't working.

"That's the spirit," Canderous said. "I found Yuthura."

"And?" Revan swallowed hard.

"Finding Yuthura seems to be a popular thing to do for Revan Starfire and her henchmen. She... told me to get lost."

"Where is she staying?" Carth asked.

"The Republic Embassy—like we thought."

"You went there? All of you?"

"Of course not," Zaalbar snarled at her. "We left HK in the ship. As an emissary from Kashyyyk I was welcome."

"This is touching," the fat Selkath broke in. Despite their earlier protest, the guards had made no move to evict the visitors. "Who are you all really? Actors?"

"Was Mandalorian they were speaking," his friend noted.

"Maybe a Mandalorian production?" His friend burbled. "How about that?"

"I'm just another Sith pretender," Revan told them in Selk. She turned back to Canderous, switching back to Mandalorian. "Tell Yuthura her friend needs her. She'll know what it means. "

"Oh, I did," Canderous snorted. "But Ban told her story to the vids, and that's what every single version of Revan has said. Right before they tried to kill her for being a traitor to the Sith."

"Observation: Master, surely you can see that violence is our best option at the moment."

Revan winced, wishing her droid had chosen any of the thousands of other languages he knew to say that. But he'd used Selk.

"You'd better keep that droid contained," one of the guards said warningly.

"No, HK," Revan said. She was so tired. "Carth asked you to send a message to Yuthura Ban, too," she said to the guards. "Did you send it?"

"Of course," the Selkath said. "And she's agreed to be your arbiter. When she arrives, the trial will begin."

Revan didn't want to allow herself to hope. Hope is fleeting. Hope is a weakness.

XXX

Time. The man paced the training floor slowly.

His opponent charged too quickly forward and the man-made time slow enough that he merely walked away.

Time is interminable. A march of days.

His opponent took the man's turned back as an invitation, and dove, blade outstretched too far.

Time is a scream in vacuum. Time is a waste: with each day bringing another set of hopefuls just like this one. Time is the smell of salt and mist, and dreams of water.

There was nothing good to eat on this blasted fish world.

The man cut off his opponent's saber arm. Then both legs. The pretender could have survived quite long without either—but the man took the head next.

Time was interminable, but at least the games kept it busy.

The man deactivated his saber, crushing his dead opponent's holo-projector with his free hand. The Force sang high and sweet, as pure as the blood in his veins.

The image of Malak's headless body froze and fizzled, replaced by the corpse of a gray-skinned, scarred veteran. Female. Davad rolled her head back toward the torso with his boot.

The late and unlamented Darth Shadowspear hadn't even lasted one round—having the misfortune to draw his number for her first battle.

Darth Shadowspear. The man tried to remember who she had been once in the Order and failed. Some knight, no doubt.

Time is an end for us all, eventually.

"One of the Malaks caused another incident on the Main Promenade." The flat Deralian voice interrupted his reverie, and Davad Arkan turned to the door, unsurprised. He'd caught Beya's scent in the hall. Scorched earth and metal-tinged with a fragrance that was new. Something her vanity now allowed.

Davad man folded his arms, yawning. "Again?"

"There's a court appearance scheduled. Something about an unregistered Revan null." Beya's twisted smile was as dark as her dyed hair. "The Malak claimed salvage-rights to the null and her companion." Her lip curled as she stared down at the body on the floor. "You seem to like killing the Malaks. I thought you might enjoy punishing his presumption."

"Which Malak?" Iko was too powerful to waste on games. And Phillyp had been a friend, once. Some loyalties were worth maintaining—or at least the pretense. But the others—

"One of the Korriban children." Beya shrugged. "Algwinn, I believe."

"Children are the future, I was told." The man leaned against the wall. "But that one is annoying." Bragged once too often about his friendship with Revan on Korriban. "You've convinced me. I'll kill him."

"When he returns with the null." Beya twisted the strands of her topknot. "I want the null. They say she's had surgery. Interesting surgery. A dark Revan, not the usual smuggler trash."

"You think another messy execution will win your true love back to your bed?" The man chuckled. "Oh, Beya. Sheris hates the sight of blood."

"Mind your own business, Arkan," the Deralian snapped. "And remember our deal."

"Sheris spent the night in his rooms again," he told her, smiling. "Did you know?"

The pulse of anger through the Force implied she had not. "How do you know?" Beya's fury crested like a dark wave, breaking on Davad Arkan's shields. Her rage smelled like choca and cream, like a warm fire after a long hunt. Like the pure Force itself. Like lust and life and the scream of a beast rising to hunt. "How do you always know?"

Davad shrugged. Truthfully, he would rather not know, but he did not have that luxury.

Time is a shackle that cannot be unlocked. A bond that cannot be broken.

"I could tell you, Organa. But then I'd have to kill you."

"Kill the Malak. And the null, if it means that much to you. She's even got a Wookiee. I know you enjoy a bit of a chase."

"The null has a Wookiee?" Davad frowned. That was actually quite odd. "Where would a null get a Wookiee?"

"I don't care!" Her eyes glittered, and she reached down and plucked the broken holo-mask from the corpse. "Is that Knight Sirra? I didn't know she was one of us."

Davad shrugged. "Darth Shadowspear, she called herself." But his thoughts whirled. A Wookiee? On Manaan? Since their world had won protected status, most of the beasts had returned to Kashyyyk. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen—

Davad closed his eyes, and expanded his senses, searching for the elusive scent.

Familiar musk cut through the smell of rotting fish and salt and rain like a beskad blade—and not—not alone. Tagged to it was another trace, even closer to his heart.

Sweet, like wine and wind. Faint, sickly and hollow, but there—there—

The Beastlord's eyes snapped open. "Oh, no," he breathed.

"What is it?" Beya asked.

Time is a bolt in flight from a primitive's bowcaster. Davad was gone before Beya Organa had the chance to blink.

Xxx

"Malak's gone and you're still crazy, Arkan!" Beya stared through the open door, calling after him. She could pull on the Force to follow nearly as fast; to see what had the Onderonite so interested, but that would mean showing him that she cared.

And I don't, she reminded herself. The games are an acceptable diversion—for now, but I truly don't give a damn.

Sheris always seeks the highest point. At least she tied herself to the other one. Davad would have killed her long ago, otherwise—

She glanced down at the remains of Knight Dishander Sirra, an Althiran from the Tanaab Enclave, who had been (briefly) a decent enough friend, before the war made alliances more important than friendship, and then power more important than anything.

"May you have an hour in the grass before the devil knows you're dead." Beya murmured the words of the old Deralian proverb automatically. Then she walked to the comm-link set into the wall, summoning a cleaning droid to dispose of the body.

XXX

The judicial chamber was just as Revan remembered. Bright light, too bright, streamed in from the ceiling, making patterns of rainbows on the floor. A salty smell like brine and fish, and the five judges of the Selkath court. She'd known their names once, but she couldn't remember them now.

Zaalbar and Canderous were detained outside. HK had been sent back to the freighter with strict instructions to prep the ship for departure.

Two hooded brown-robed figures conferred with one of judges on the far side of the room. On the other side stood Kel Algwinn, dressed in a formal Sith military uniform. He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow and looking bored.

"You look even less like Revan than ever," Kel said in a pleasant tone. The sneer on his lips belied the politeness.

Revan pulled her own hood over her head, trying to sink into her robes. They'd been returned to her, and Carth has his armor back. Next to her, he squeezed her hand again.

"A reminder," one of the judges said. "The use of the Force will not be tolerated in these proceedings."

"I wish to pay my fine," Revan said.

The judge waved his hand. "It's already paid," he said.

"Then why am I on trial?" Revan asked. Make him admit it. The two hooded figures hadn't moved. They had their backs to her. Why two? Yuthura came? Who else?

"We need to make sure you understand the grievous nature of your actions."

"I object." The Selkath who had been conferring with the Jedi looked up, his voice whistling like water over rocks. "The defendant has an arbiter. Do not be swayed by her words. Only the arbiter should speak."

"I demand the right to confer with my counsel," Revan said, forcing herself to ignore the chills racing up her spine.

The two hooded figures had finally turned around. A man and a woman, but the man's face was hidden in shadow. The light glared in her eyes and from this distance she couldn't make out his features.

"Accepted. Please confer."

"I am your counsel." The woman walked over to her, her face calm and serene. Revan remembered that day in the tomb, the Twi'lek's face as she pled for her life. Yuthura had changed since then: now her skin gleamed with health, and the dark Sith lines around her face had faded to nothing. If she had any reaction to seeing Revan, it didn't show on her face.

"The Jedi do not reject any who call on their aid," Yuthura continued, in her smooth voice. "But I must warn you, I have little sympathy for the pretenders."

"I wish to confer in private." Revan answered, meeting violet eyes that stared back at her with no sign of recognition. "Manaan statutes allow that, don't they?"

The judges murmured. "An escort will take you to one of the private chambers," one of them agreed. "You and the Mandalorian."

They mean Carth. She turned a little and looked at him. They'd taken his helmet off in the jail, dressed him back in the battle armor. He stood there, head held up, looking grim, but when her eyes met his, he gave her a faint smile.

"The Sith have their own means of justice. Since this woman is obviously a Sith citizen, I object." Kel sounded almost amused.

"Overruled." The Selkath gurgled.

The guards escorted them and Yuthura to a small chamber. A small chamber with very bright lights. Revan winced and rubbed her eyes, sinking into a chair. Yuthura sat down easily and looked at them both.

"I commend your surgeon," the Twi'lek said. "The resemblance is remarkable. But you can't expect to fool those of us that really knew her. Those of us that felt her die. What do you want of me? Are you actors from one of the vids? Mixed up with the Sith?"

"It might be helpful if you told the judges that," Carth began cautiously.

"I need a friend," Revan said, staring hard at the Twi'lek's face.

"I'd say you do!" Yuthura laughed. "But I don't make friends easily."

"I remember that." Revan pulled at the neck of her robe, exposing the metal collar that bit into her collarbone. "Do you know what this is?"

"It looks like some kind of neural disrupter," the Twi'lek shrugged. "Why are you wearing it?"

"My friends were afraid I'd kill them—or myself." Revan bit her lip. "Turns out, it's killing me. It's Force-locked. Only a Force user can take it off. And you're the only one I trust."

The only one I trust who I didn't already kill.

"You really expect me to believe you're Revan?" Yuthura sounded incredulous, almost angry. "You don't understand, do you? Those of us whose lives she touched, we felt her die. Revan's gone, you can't be her."

"I didn't die at the Star Forge—Carth came for me. Bastila tried to hurt him. I killed her, and we escaped."

"I understand that you're a confused young woman," Yuthura's voice was gentle. "Perhaps you think you're Revan, but you must accept that the truth. Revan suffered, Revan fell, and now she's at peace. I'll tell the judges you're a danger to yourself—then, perhaps we can convince them not to release you to the Sith. If you seek clemency, I may be able to find a counselor for you. Possibly, even a relocation to a less dangerous world."

"There's no clemency in the Republic, Yuthura." Revan rubbed her forehead. "Not for me."

The Twi'lek looked helplessly at Carth. "You seem sane enough, why do you let her persist in these delusions?"

"Yuthura," Carth said. "We met. On Korriban do you remember?"

Yuthura's face darkened. "I try not to think about those times." She shrugged. "But I recognize the face, of course. Carth Onasi, Republic pilot. You're actors, I assume."

"You—you were one of my son's instructors," Carth said quietly.

Yuthura frowned. "Yes. Of course. I did teach Carth Onasi's son. You've done your research, Mandalorian."

"I'm not a Mandalorian." Carth sounded pained. "Do you know what... what happened to Dustil?"

"I do." Her eyes narrowed. "You… I sense genuine concern."

"He's my son," Carth said. "Of course, I—where is he?"

Yuthura frowned. "We left Dreshdae—caught a Czerka freighter. Dustil, and I—and some of the others Revan had saved. After that, he—" She shook her head, and a faint shadow crossed her face. "The two of you wouldn't last two minutes in the Sith compound. If you want me to save you, tell me the truth. Who are you really? Alderaanian actors? Your papers are from Alderaan, but your identity prints have been tampered. It's a lot of work, disguising yourselves as dead heroes of the Republic. Is this some kind of trick? Are you after credits?"

There had to be some way to convince her. "Look in my mind," Revan urged. "Look in Carth's. I remember your gifts. You can see for yourself—"

"The Force isn't some kind of magic trick! I can't read a null's thoughts—only sense intent. I believe that you think you're Revan," Yuthura gave her a placating smile. "But I felt her die, and she is truly dead."

"Wait! You felt her die?" Carth broke in excitedly. "Six weeks after we blew the Forge you felt Revan die, right? Six weeks after the Star Forge, we put the collar around her neck. It cut her off from the Force. That was what you felt, not Revan's death, just the severing of her ties to the Force."

The Twi'lek' s head tails twitched uneasily. "Six weeks, yes. We think the Hawk was lost somewhere in space. She must have touched your life too for you to know that much."

"Yuthura—" Revan's voice broke and she wiped at the tears in her eyes angrily. "Yuthura, I fell. Look at me." She pulled back the hood, letting the Twi'lek see it all: her ravaged face, and her Sith-yellow eyes.

"We felt her fall, and we mourned. Then later, we felt her die," Yuthura whispered.

"I deserved to die, but I didn't."

"Polla—" Carth grabbed her hand and held it so tightly she felt her bones give. "Don't say that."

Yuthura watched them, frowning. "If Revan were alive, it might be best if that fact was not known. There are those, even on the Council and in the Order who... might not be pleased."

"That's why we came to you," Carth muttered.

"You can't be her," the Twi'lek said, but there was an edge of doubt in her voice now. "May I touch the collar?"

Revan nodded. "Of course."

The woman's cool hand pressed against Revan's skin, tracing the place where it had grown around the metal.

"This thing is an abomination," she said finally. "No simple disruptor. I can feel the damage it's causing. But if you... if you were my old friend..." the Twi'lek frowned thoughtfully, "—and I took off the collar, all of those who felt you die would feel you live again. Sith and Jedi both. What would you do then?"

"I don't know," Revan kept her voice sincere. " It's been a long time since I had a life to choose, if I ever did." She felt laughter freeze her throat. "The Jedi say there is always a choice."

"Revan made great choices, important choices, but she had little control over the hand that was dealt her. It is one of the things that makes her story so sad." Yuthura grimaced. "If I take this off, Kel Algwinn will know who you are. Vrook Lamar will know as well."

"Vrook is here?"

Master Vrook, Revan's old master. Revan's old master who hated me.

"He came with me, yes." Yuthura nodded. "More than anyone, he took the news of Revan's fall hard. Every Revan pretender is like a vibroblade in his heart, but when he can, he looks at each and every one."

"Why?" Revan frowned, trying to sort through the pieces of her shattered memories. Vrook trained me. The Council sent him away. He came back. He'd—they'd argued about something. What? Vrook was proud of me and he loved me very much. Why?

"Who is Vrook to me?"

"It's fairly well-known," Yuthura said. "Although he's never admitted it publicly. It's something one of the pretenders would know, I'm surprised you'd ask."

"Well I don't. I don't know. The things I remember are fragments, pieces, nothing. Just tell me!"

"He's your uncle," Carth muttered.

Revan shot him an astonished glance.

"The vids," her lover said. "The Council votes. His was the only dissenting opinion. I wondered about that. I remembered how he treated you on Dantooine. I ran a search."

Yuthura regarded their exchange, her face expressionless. "I must be mad," the Twi'lek said, finally. "I believe you, friend."

"Perhaps you should wait," Carth urged. "Take the collar off after the trial."

"No," Revan said. "Please. Take it off now."

Carth reached for her hand. "Don't do anything stupid, beautiful."

"I won't. But if they release me to the Sith without any Force, Kel will kill us."

"Kel's strong now," Yuthura broke in. "Much stronger than he ever was on Korriban. When he fell, he fell far. It may be madness, but I agree. You gave me a choice once, not so long ago." Her t'chin crooked. "I owe you the same."

Yuthura's hands reached out and touched the collar. With a snap, it fell open. Revan tugged it off her neck, feeling the skin rip and tear.

"You're bleeding," Carth's pressed the folds of her robe against the wound. It didn't matter. Revan shook him away, staring at the metal ring in her hands. She dropped it on the table, shivering.

A wave of nausea hit her gut and her head spun.

Then, abruptly everything snapped into focus. A warm bath of energy embraced her. Revan felt the world shift, felt the Force shimmer and tremble around her.

"Here—" Yuthura leaned over and put her hands on Revan's neck. She felt the familiar warm burn of healing as the wounds closed. Then the Twi'lek's violet eyes blinked back tears. "It is you," she said softly. "Oh, my friend. It is truly you."

Revan sank back in her chair and closed her eyes. She struggled to calm herself, dull the aching in her head. She tried to reach for the Force, but it danced away from her, slippery as a tissnek eel. She took a deep breath, and then another.

"Don't draw on it, not yet." Yuthura's voice floated above her, a ball of purple and white light. "Your control is gone completely. You will have to work very hard to regain it."

"But I will," Revan whispered. She opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. The same gray flesh striated with black mocked her.

"It takes time," Yuthura said, seeing her expression. "Time for the marks to fade."

A warning bell chimed, and the door slid open. "The prosecution requests that the trial begin now," the Selkath guard said. "Further delay will not be tolerated."

"I'm ready." Revan took Carth's hand and stood up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in her body.

The Selkath guard noticed nothing. Revan leaned on Carth's arm. Yuthura strode on her other side, glancing at her occasionally as if she couldn't quite believe what she saw.

Revan pulled the hood back over her face.

"Let me do the talking," Yuthura said gently. "Just breathe, my friend. Stay calm."

A whisper of Selkath voices when she entered the chambers again. One of them looked agitated and she felt the unease from him, even half a room away. Force sensitive, Revan thought. Every Force sensitive person on the planet felt that. I only hope most don't know what they felt.

The Force sang to her like her mother's lullaby, warm and safe. Beckoning and alluring and so beautiful.

Stay calm. She clung to Carth, feeling the press of two Force-trained minds on her own like a vise. Her walls did not falter.

Kel's face was empty, but again his hands betrayed him. They were clenched into fists. Across the room the other man— my uncle, my old Master— Vrook was a still statue in a brown robe. His hood was thrown back, and his eyes glinted dark in his weathered face.

Revan looked away quickly, staring at the ground.

"We will begin," the agitated judge said. "The defense may speak first."

"My client is unhinged and delusional," Yuthura murmured. "She's part of an Alderaanian theatre troupe. Their ship was wrecked on Kashyyyk, where she suffered injuries severe enough to affect her mind. Although she raised her hand as if to strike the worthy Kel Algwinn, I will attest that she has no real Force affinity. I humbly request that you release her to my custody. I will ensure she poses no danger to herself, or anyone else."

Revan counted the tiles on the floor. They depicted a mosaic on the floor of a great shark surrounded by a myriad of swimming Selkath. She'd never noticed it before. That's their god. The one I killed.

The judges deliberated with a clapping of fins and gurgles, their words too soft and swift for her to catch. An undercurrent of tension wavered like lines drawn in the sand between Kel and Vrook. She couldn't begin to guess their thoughts.

"You raise interesting points," one of Selkath said finally. "And your story checks with the data we have compiled. We will now hear the prosecution."

Kel raised his head. On Korriban, he'd been young and soft—a nerf calf in a herd of malraas. He had changed since. His features were etched now with a trace of darkness and set into a cold, hard mask.

"I wish to withdraw charges. I agree with the Jedi." His lip twisted a little and he looked at Yuthura with loathing. "The woman Numu Ran poses no real threatened. As recompense for her injuries I would offer her hospitality in the Sith Embassy, under my own personal guard. Her... person and her companions would be quite safe there, that I can assure her." He glanced at Revan quickly, and then looked away again.

The judges conferred. "Most unusual," one of them hissed.

"Let the Sith sort it out themselves," another gurgled.

"The Jedi Yuthura claims the woman is no Sith," another, more agitated Selkath broke in. "How can we release a citizen of Alderaan to a hostile environment?"

"The fine is non-refundable," one of the judges reminded Kel.

"I don't care about the fine. And you misunderstand. Numu Ran is free to go where she wants. I would be honored if she would come with me. It's a request, nothing more." Kel looked at her again and bowed his head slightly.

"If there are no charges the case is dismissed." The Selkath waved his flippers formally and the other judges echoed the gesture. "You are both free to go, but please understand that more infractions of Manaan laws will result in permanent exile from the planet, at the very least."

"I understand," Revan said quietly, and Carth nodded his head.

Xxx

Sheris was with him when they both felt it: an echo in the Force that grew louder and louder. Like a stone cast into a small pond, Revan Starfire returned to the Force with a splash before sinking beneath still water, leaving only reverberations from all who had felt her return. Ripples of emotion tangled in her wake, encompassing the entire planet: joy, fear, regret, anger—

Hate. Hatred welled up in Sheri's Darkstar's breast like a fine ice wine, leaving her gasping and stunned with its raw vehemence.

The man stopped walking when they felt it, forcing Sheri's, whose arm he held, to stop too. "Oh!" the Gamemaster said. Then he began to laugh.

Sheris did not laugh. They were in the medbay and there was a woman with her face floating in the kolto tanks. Normally, Lady Sheris Darkstar would have barely noticed the sight of another injured Pretender, but now she paused, staring carefully at the freckled arms, the mass of red hair streaming in a cloud around the woman's delicate face.

The face was beautiful but flawed. The nose ran slightly too long, the chin too pronounced, and the eyes were set wide enough apart as to make the face's features permanently startled—even in repose.

Sheris thought her former face had been more beautiful, but it was gone forever now. The woman in the kolto tank had used a clever surgeon to make a stolen face, but she was still nothing.

Sheris Darkstar was not nothing. A millisecond ago she had been the most powerful woman on this planet—even if no one knew why.

"Oh," she echoed the Gamemaster. "I thought she had died."

Her companion chuckled, following her glance. "Well, that's Lystria," the man chuckled beneath his mask. "Not—"

"I know," Sheris said fiercely. "That's Lystria, but if Revan's alive then you are just as much of a liar about her as Beya is!"

"Neither of us claimed we had killed her." The Gamemaster's voice always sounded so young when she'd confused him. "I thought she was dead too." He sighed, the visor turning it to a rasp. "She's supposed to be dead."

"She will be soon," Sheris assured him. "Beya promised to kill her for me before. I shall hold her to it."

The Gamemaster nodded, and Sheris saw her own face— her own and no one else's— blur in the reflection of his mask. "And if she does not, Lady Darkstar?"

"I'll issue a challenge," Sheris nodded, a faint smile playing across her face. "Against her."

"I would hate to see you sacrifice yourself." His hand brushed a red curl back behind her ear. She watched the reflection, distorted and curved in the mirror of his visor. "You are no duelist, Sheris, and Darth Organa—"

"Beya will not hurt me," she told him. "That is the difference between us. She'll yield."

And then Beya would kill Revan and all would be right again. After all, it was Sheris's face now—and all the Pretenders would answer to her in the end.

Everyone would.

Xxx

Revan kept her head down, not daring to look back at Kel or Vrook. Flanked by the others, she began walking out of the judicial chamber, trying to keep herself from breaking into a run.

"Thanks," she muttered to Yuthura.

"Don't thank me yet," the Twi'lek said at her side. "Walk a little faster if you can."

"They're following us," Carth said. "Not doing anything, just following. Both of them, Kel and Vrook."

"They're afraid, I think." Revan tried to walk faster, ignoring the ache in her disused muscles. "Afraid and... and hopeful. Expectant. The hope is the worst."

Across the courtyard, Zaalbar and Canderous were talking to a small Rodian.

Oh no. Not that small Rodian. Not now!

Zaalbar roared a pleased hello. "You move better, Polla Revan! Are you cured?"

"Start walking with us," Carth whispered. "We're being followed."

"It is always good to see old friends," the Rodian said brightly.

Revan stopped dead and looked at him. "Hulas." She nodded. "My apologies, we're in a hurry." A hint of the Force around the little assassin. Just enough to tell who I am. Revan wondered why she'd never noticed it before.

"Ah now," Hulas said. "I see you have more friends now."

He looked back to where Vrook and Kel stood, almost side-by-side. They weren't speaking to each other, only watching with expressionless faces. Their intensity made the hairs on her arms prickle.

"I don't want to interrupt," the Rodian continued. "But we have some unfinished business. Two out of the three contracts were fulfilled. My thanks. Rulan Prolik won't amount to much stuck on Kashyyyk... I'll withdraw that one. I owe you for your work. Here." He pressed a datapad into her hand. "Good luck, Lord Revan."

"Who are you?" Carth interrupted. He put his arm around Revan defensively, as if she still needed his protection.

"She knows," the Rodian chuckled. "Read the datapad, it's important. Clever of you to fake your death. You even fooled us. The Jedi believe in the Force—but pardon, Lord Revan—I'd say luck has been on your side."

"Thanks," Revan told him, and pulled away, pocketing the datapad. She began walking again with her companions trailing behind her like a herd of confused trawler deer. Thanks for nothing. I'll be damned if I get tangled up with you Genoharadan again.

"Who was that?" Carth demanded again, close at her side.

"Former business partner," she said from the corner of her mouth. "Later, Carth, later. We need to get off this planet." Revan felt that very strongly suddenly. Like a voice inside her skull.

"I'll try and delay them, Vrook and Kel both," Yuthura murmured. "May the Force keep you safe, my friend."

The Twi'lek turned back and walked quickly to where the two men were standing. Revan walked faster in the opposite direction.

I need to run. I need to leave—

"No cameras in the landing bay," Canderous reminded her. "If either side tries any tricks it will be there."

"I know." Revan sighed. Please let us get off Manaan without killing anyone.

—Revan

The thought broke through her panic like a spark in her mind. Familiar as an uncle's kiss on her forehead. Vrook's thoughts pierced her defensives as gently as a hug. She hadn't known he could do that—hadn't known any Jedi could do that, except for her and Bastila.

But then—she hadn't known much about the Jedi at all.

Let me go, please, she thought back at him.

If Vrook had any response it was only that feeling again. Warmth. A welcoming. Approval. Peace. It seemed to radiate out from him, calming the… the other. The fear.

Run. You need to leave. But the thought was weaker now, an afterthought. Easy to ignore. It didn't even feel like her own.

I need to run, she noted. But I'm not afraid.

"Yuthura's not having much luck," Revan said out loud. "At least not with Vrook. Start running."

"What, no let's stay and save the kolto, redeem the Sith, and do some favors for the Republic?" Canderous asked, breaking into a light jog. Beside her, Carth's armor creaked. Mandalorian armor wasn't built for speed.

The docking bay doors were ahead of them. Revan didn't dare look behind. "Run faster," she whispered, pulling at the Force a little to speed their steps, and stop the ache in her unused muscles, the stitch in her side." Her fear fed her power and she felt it flex sluggishly, just another muscle rusty from disuse.

The bays to Dock 1290 slid open, and there she was: their freighter, engines humming. The docking ramp lay down like a welcome. Carth had named her, Revan noticing the Aurebesh on the side of the hull. The Lady's Luck.

Pray I have some.

"Cameras deactivated." The disembodied voice spoke. "We hope you had a pleasant stay on Manaan."

"Thank the Force," Revan said, running up the ramp with Carth and Canderous on her heels. Zaalbar was already inside barking out commands to HK. The ship was huge, but the bridge was right off of the cargo hold, next to the ramp. Huge and clumsy. She'd been too out of it to notice before.

Hope she flies better than she looks.

"Pleased Assessment: Master, you look restored. But we have a problem," her droid said flatly. "We are accused of breaking the Manaan law regarding the import of prohibited substances from proscribed worlds. The hangar doors are locked. We do not have permission to leave."