Chapter Four: Political Ramifications

The silent vacuum of space awaited them, cold and grim as death, ever lasting as the universe, and as lethal as time. They watched in silent horror as the Mandalorians launched their rockets toward the planet they orbited, the deadly contents a potent mixture of gases, capable of an unspeakable atrocity, their purpose: remind the galaxy that even Republic military based worlds are not safe. The bombs went off in the atmosphere, the gas clouds quickly enveloping the world. Within an hour, Telos IV was devoid of life, and Carth Onasi's life had died along with over five hundred million people, including his wife and infant son. As the men and women in the escape pods watched the Mandalorian fleet leave, not a sound was made amongst them. Silent prayers, tears, and vows of revenge were commonplace, but only Carth knew the reality of the situation, Telos IV was just a show of force, something to make the Republic fear Mandalore and his minions. He swore, if it took all the Republic fleets to get him there, he would kill Mandalore on his own ship.

The gas clouds dispersed after a few hours, the gas breaking down and harmlessly becoming one with the planet's atmosphere. On the surface, almost no sentient life remained. Plants, animals, and sentient beings, alien and human alike, were wiped out. Cities, once vibrant and ever moving, now lay empty, strewn with wreckage, from crashing speeders and ships, and great multitudes of corpses. Men, women, and children alike lay lifeless, their vital organs shut down in a painful, agonizing death. But, among the countless dead, a sole survivor lay, only sustained by the force and sheer will to live.

Three weeks after ordering the desolation of Telos IV, Mandalore stood on his flagship, Hammer of Deliverance, viewing recent reports of infighting between different conscript units, mainly ones from different planets ad sectors. He chuckled from under his helmet, relishing in the mistrust and hatred that spread, knowing that his ultimate goal would eventually come to fruition. He ordered a status report on the more clandestine Sith campaign.

"Infiltrators have been assassinating the key targets, as you have ordered, lows have been struck to both sides of the schism, and the civil war rages onward, with ever mounting casualties." The intelligence officer before him responded, her voice shaking slightly, her pale skin, bright hazel eyes and sandy blonde hair a stark contrast to her dark blue uniform. "The HK-47 series of droids you ordered be produced are proving more than effective against your enemies."

"And how is the Republic dealing with many of their planets surrendering after our demonstration on Telos IV?" He rumbled, his voice ever so slightly distorted by his helmet.

"Riots have broken out on several planets, now under your control, mass hysteria amongst the senate, mistrust and deceit has led to many senators being replaced, several admirals and generals have been sacked in the Republic military, and conscription quotas in the Republic have been doubled, while volunteer numbers have been reduced by half."

He laughed and turned on his heel, marching toward the elevator, his boots clanging on the floor, and his laugh echoing throughout the control room, sending chills through even the most experienced of personnel, whereas the Mandalorian warriors felt an immense sense of pride, their fearless leader was bringing them closer to the ultimate battle.

"The Jedi and their Republic puppets will soon be begging for mercy…" he whispered to himself, filled to the brim with pride and eagerness. "Their weakness and fear will be their doom…"

Bastila lay in her cot in the Hammer of Deliverance's medical bay, her body naked, save a gown that all patients wore, battered and beaten, still in immense amounts of pain from the Battle of Dantooine, and the unknown medical procedures that immediately followed her capture. Since then, her body had felt frail and weaker than ever before, and, despite her best efforts, she couldn't reach out with the force for anything. So, she lay there, only tended to by medical droids who checked up on her three times a day, tending to her wounds, feeding her, keeping her hydrated, cleaning her once a day, and aiding her in using the restroom.

Needless to say, the proud young Jedi Knight had never felt so disgraced and ashamed, having to rely on droids, owned by her sworn enemy, for even the most basic of needs.

Day by day, her strength returned to her and she needed to rely less and less on the droids, but her connection to the force remained severed. As she lay there, staring at the ceiling panels, she sighed heavily, the images of the battle and carnage still haunting her, the feeling of Revan's overwhelming presence on the battlefield and on her mind had never left her, she still felt it, even without the force guiding her. She recalled the boy who had never been prideful, never lusted after anything, never thought himself better than anyone, and now she saw him as the most powerful warlord in the Galaxy, waging a war against any and all who opposed him, striking fear into the heart of the Republic and collecting lightsabers as trophies, for no apparent reason other than revenge and hatred.

"How… how did this happen?" she whispered to herself, believing to be alone in the medical bay for once, not noticing the young Twi'lek girl on the cot beside her. "Did I hurt you that much?"

"Who are you talking to?" the girl asked weakly, just regaining consciousness, looking over at Bastila with a sickly gaze.

Bastila was shocked, horrified that she had not sensed the girl only a few feet from her, and turned her head toward her, "Oh, I'm sorry… just myself."

The blue skinned girl cocked an eyebrow and barely managed to grin, "Lots of time for reflection, eh? To be honest, I didn't expect to see anyone else here."

"Yes, there is much time for that, and I didn't expect any friendly company either… I'm sorry, but who are you?" she asked, bewildered that such a young girl, fourteen or fifteen at the most, would be a captive of Revan's.

"My name's Mission Vao, I guess I'm a hostage… Mandalorians took Zaalbar and me from Taris when the planet surrendered… I guess they found out he has ties with the wookie leaders and are using me to get him to try and get them on their side…" she sighed softly, "They injected me with something strong… apparently it got his attention, 'cuz he's on his way to Kashyyyk now… Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Bastila Shan, of the Jedi Order… or, at least I was." She murmured the last part, not yet sure of her current standing with the order, if there was even an order left anymore.

"Really? I've never seen a Jedi… thought Mandalorians killed you guys wherever they find you, some sort of high honor or something… why'd they keep you alive?" she propped herself up on an elbow, still facing Bastila.

"I… well, it's complicated… I don't even know, to be completely honest… I knew Mandalore before he was, well… when he was young." She nearly whispered, a wave of guilt washing over her once more.

"Whoa… that's… just wow…" Mission stammered, partly from exhaustion and partly from being unable to comprehend the magnitude of what she had just heard.

"Indeed… You had best get more rest… who knows what they have in store for us?"

Mission just nodded and lay on her back once more, her vibrant blue skin shining under the light.

Bastila watched as the young girl passed out, and cried silently, feeling that this was all her fault, the war, the pain, the death, all could have been avoided if she had merely stood up for Revan, all those years ago. Eventually, the tears led to sleep, and the sleep led to dreams.

Darkness surrounded her, engulfing her every sense, and she felt the dominating presence once more, this time ten fold. She could feel Revan in her very thoughts, and shuddered under his power. She saw his face, his lips moving and voice rumbling, but his words she couldn't understand. All she knew was his presence, engulfing her, sweeping her away, rending her helpless before him.

Then, she woke up, dripping with sweat, her mind racing, trying to decipher her dream, if it had any meaning and if it was caused by Revan directly. She could come up with no definitive answers, leaving her frustrated and confused.

"Damn you, Revan… damn you…" she whispered, tears escaping her eyes once more.