Chapter 7: Choices

The armored warrior pursues me relentlessly. I'm cornered in the storeroom of the castle. There's nowhere left to go.

"Surrender, apostate," he says, pointing his sword at me.

"Why, so you can drag me back to the Tower in chains?" I reply. "I'd sooner die than go back to that prison."

"I can happily oblige." He lifts his sword, ready to strike true.

Time seems to slow as dark whispers echo in my ears. I could still kill him. He has drained me of my power, but there are other sources of power that he can't touch. The power of life, the power of blood, the power of darkness.

Consumed by rage, I lift my hands, and before I can react, dark power slams into my enemy. Drops of blood swirl around me, and I look down at him in a haze of fury.

"Maleficar," he snarls. "Accursed demon, begone from this world!"

Even augmented by these dark, forbidden powers, I still can't hurt him. Damnable templars, how I hate them. How I despise them. How I would dearly love to destroy this stinging insect before me.

But despite my best efforts, his sword breaks through my defenses and pierces my chest.

I wake up, sweating. What is with these nightmares? In my dreams, I seem to die again and again, over and over. How can these be memories if I've died so many times? How can they be premonitions if I can't even imagine a future they might be from?

I'm so confused. With a sigh, I write down what I remember into my journal. If these are actually premonitions, I want to be prepared should I ever encounter these situations. Of course, they might just be normal dreams. My own messed up mind churning up morbid nightmares to plague my sleep. Why can't I just dream about meeting the Jedi Council without any pants, or something?

Absently, I skim over some of the previous entries in my journal, and find myself staring as I realize that I've already forgotten things that happened only a few days ago. I don't remember ever having been on a ship named the Endar Spire. I don't remember fighting anyone named Bendak Starkiller in a death match. Shit.

I can't lose what little I have as it is. I carefully re-read through my entire journal, and find that as I do so, my memories of the events recorded refresh themselves. I even remember the events I had forgotten.

I wonder if I'd kept any journals before, and if I had stashed them away somewhere safe to later retrieve them. It seems unlikely that I would just stumble upon such a thing. Knowing me, I'd probably have put plenty of safeguards on them to make sure not just anyone could get into them, or likely even know that they contained journals.

"Master, would you like a massage?" says a female voice.

I jump in startlement, and realize that one of the former Twi'lek slaves is in my room, and I hadn't even noticed.

"I'm not your master," I reply. "You're a free woman now. You don't have to do anything you don't choose to do."

She seems confused. Poor girl. I guess she must have been a slave her entire life. She has no idea what to make of the concept of freedom. I sigh.

"What's your name?"

"Neeja," she replies.

"Neeja," I repeat. "My name is Lexen. If you'd feel more comfortable calling me by a title rather than my name, then call me Stormseeker."

"As you wish, Stormseeker," Neeja says.

"Now, Neeja," I say. "Have you been a slave your entire life?"

She nods slightly, looking to the floor. "I live to serve."

I sigh, shaking my head. "Neeja, what's your favorite food?"

"Um..." Neeja says quietly. "Collypods... I only ever tasted one, but it was the most delicious thing I've ever had... I was punished severely for it too, because I wasn't supposed to take it, or even be out of the slave quarters. I was just a little girl at the time."

I smile broadly. That's a good sign, I think. "Well, tell you what," I say. "How would you like it if I bought you all the collypods you want, when I get the chance?"

Neeja's eyes widen. "You would... do that?"

"Certainly," I say with a shrug. "But it wouldn't really help you. That would just be a gift. Take a seat," I say, gesturing to the bunk across from me.

Neeja sits down nervously. "I don't think I understand."

"Relax," I say. "You don't need to be nervous around me. I will never punish you for any reason, so say whatever you like, please." I sigh softly. "I'd like to try to help you break out of the slave mindset and teach you to be a free being. As a free being, you can do anything you choose to do. There is nothing in the universe more important than the power of choice. And there are always choices, even if it is merely a choice to do or do not, to accept or to refuse. And with every choice, there are consequences. We must make each choice, aware of the consequences that may come of such an action."

Neeja stares at me, listening intently, but I'm not sure how much of what I say she really understands.

"Do you have any questions, Neeja?" I say. "Is there anything you don't understand? Anything you'd like explained further?"

"Um..." Neeja says, hesitantly.

"Go ahead," I say, encouragingly.

"How do you know what the... consequences... might be?"

I smile softly. "Forethought, guessing, conjecture. Nothing is ever certain, but it may take a lifetime to comprehend how to weigh the consequences of one's choices. Up until this point, the only consequences you were probably concerned about would be what would get you punished, am I right?"

"Ah," she says. "Yes. I see. I think I understand."

"Good," I say, smiling. "Now, here's a choice before you. I'm probably going to be travelling a lot in the near future, but I won't mind having friends along for the journey. Would you like to continue travelling with me, or would you rather find your own way at our destination? I can help you find work if you like, so you could get money, live on your own... buy collypods, if you wanted."

Neeja thinks it over for a moment. "I would rather travel with you. You are very wise. There is much I could learn from you."

"Heh," I say with a grin. "I don't know if I'd flatter myself by calling myself wise, but then they say that only a fool thinks himself wise, I suppose." I give a shrug. "Alright. You're welcome to come along. It may be dangerous, but I'll try to keep you out of harm's way as much as possible."

"Thank you," Neeja says. "I'll try not to be any trouble and stay out of the way..."

I shake my head. "No need to do that. You're not confined to slave quarters anymore. I'll even give you an allowance so you can buy things you might want when we're in port. But feel free to come out and mingle with the crew, and don't hesitate to speak up if there's something on your mind."

I head out to grab something to eat. Mission and Zaalbar are currently hanging around the common area.

"Hey, Lexen," Mission says. "Care for a game of Pazaak?"

"No thanks," I reply. "I'm not much of a fan of Pazaak. Too much chance involved. I prefer games of strategy. Maybe later. I need to talk to Bastila a bit once I'm done eating."

Mission snorts softly. "Bastila keeps treating me like a kid. She's not even much older than I am!"

"Heh," I reply. "Everyone would always like to think they know better than the next person, whether they do or not. But you? I don't remember much of my childhood, but I hope that when I was your age, I was like you. You're competent, intelligent, clever and skilled."

"Well... thank you," Mission says, grinning.

"Anyway, regardless," I go on. "She may be a little rough, but she's a good person. I owe her my life, and more, I suspect."

After eating, I head to the cockpit, and find Carth and Bastila there. The atmosphere in the cockpit is quiet and calm, but I'm suspecting that Carth and Bastila would rather not talk to one another unless they have to. And also that if there were a conversation going on, it halted the minute Bastila sensed me approach. I don't really care, though.

"What's the ETA on Dantooine?" I ask.

"Three hours," Carth replies.

"I'm a little surprised that you decided on heading to Dantooine," Bastila says. "I would have thought that you might try to avoid the Jedi."

"Why would I do that?" I wonder, raising an eyebrow.

Bastila smirks. "Obviously, I seem to be more suspicious of you than necessary. What do you intend to tell them?"

"What do you?" I ask.

"I think there's more going on with you than they realize, or even suspect," Bastila says. "I will surely be reprimanded if they discover that I told you of your identity."

"I would have found out on my own anyway," I say. "Mandalore called me by that name in my dreams. And I'm not foolish enough to think I was just dreaming about Revan. Not when I saw everything through his eyes. How else could you explain that? Some bullshit involving a Force bond with you and echoes of Revan's memory due to your battle due to your battle with him or some other such nonsense?"

Bastila pauses thoughtfully for a moment. "You speak of Revan in the third person."

I sigh faintly. "Grammatically easier. Besides, what else am I to think? I barely remember being Revan. I've been called Lexen plenty of times in other dreams. I'm guessing that's my real name, anyway."

"The Council said your mind was too badly damaged to ever recover," Bastila says quietly. "That implanting you with false memories and a new personality was the best kindness they could give you. It's hardly your fault that the Force had other plans for you, apparently."

"I still don't like the idea of a former Dark Lord running loose," Carth mutters from the pilot's seat, not bothering to look over at us.

I sigh again. "I'm not a monster, Carth," I remind him gently.

Carth shakes his head and turns to examine me for a moment. "I don't know what to make of you, Revan. But I'll keep my damned mouth shut and go along with whatever you Jedi decide to do."

I give a nod, and turn back to Bastila. "What do you think the Jedi would do if they knew?"

Bastila thinks for a moment. "I'm not certain. They wouldn't kill you, certainly. Jedi don't kill their prisoners..."

"Might they try to make what they did to my mind stick this time?" I say darkly. "I don't think it would work, but I'm not sure that I want to risk it."

"They wouldn't!" Bastila says. "I don't think... Damn it, Revan, are you trying to make me doubt the wisdom of the Jedi Council?"

I snort softly. "I don't need to try to do that, and you don't need me for that, either. Look at things through your own eyes and draw your own conclusions."

Bastila sighs and rubs her temples. "If left to your own devices, what would you intend to do?"

"Me?" I say. "Well, recovering my memories is pretty high on my list of priorities. Beyond that, stopping Malak is of paramount importance. And I swore to take up the mantle of Mandalore and rebuild the Mandalorian clans."

"You what?" Carth says, almost falling out of his chair.

I smirk. "Why do you think I was able to convince Canderous to help us so easily?"

"You can't be serious!" Carth exclaims. "Those monsters butchered and enslaved millions of people!"

"And I don't like slavery," I say. "So if they tried that shit again, they wouldn't like my response."

"Still, you're a Jedi," Bastila says. "What would you do with an army of Mandalorians at your beck and call?"

I shrug faintly. "Stop Malak, perhaps?" I reply. "You asked me a question. You asked what I would intend to do if left to my own devices. I answered. That's my choice. If you choose to try to stop me or sway me to another path, that's your own choice."

Bastila sighs and puts her face in her hands. "Very well. I think we should tell the Jedi Council the truth. They would know if we tried to deceive them, regardless."

"I've considered that possibility," I say. "Of course, it's also possible to trick them. Force users aren't infallible." I look at her and cock my head. "Although I think I'd be better at that than you. I doubt you'd be able to deceive anyone." Bastila looks annoyed, and I put up a hand to cut off her retort. "No offense intended. I could teach you sometime, if you like."

"I won't be your Sith apprentice, Revan," Bastila snaps. "You won't turn me to the Dark Side."

I sigh and rub my head. "That was not my intent," I reply patiently. "And I have no desire to make you a Sith nor be one myself. Frankly, the Sith philosophy is, by and large, idiotic."

Bastila relaxes a little. "I'm sorry. I must seem paranoid to you."

"It's alright," I say dismissively. "I'd be wary in your position as well."

Bastila goes quiet again, her eyes flicking about in thought. I wonder what's going on in her head right now, but even if I remembered how to read her mind, I would not attempt to do so.

"I think we should tell the Jedi the truth," I say quietly. "Come what may."

"You..." Bastila begins, but is unable to form the sentence.

"Surprised?" I say, grinning crookedly.

"I- well, yes," Bastila admits.

"If you like, we can tell them that my own dreams revealed my identity," I say. "It would be the truth, regardless."

Bastila gives a nod, relaxing a little. "Very well."

First, however, I have preparations to make. I make an addition to the information stored in my journal. I head back to locate the droid, T3-M4. This little droid will be my safeguard should the Jedi try anything. I carefully install a concealed copy of my journal into the droid's memory banks, with instructions to provide them under specific circumstances. And for the droid to find me no matter what, should we become separated. The Jedi won't suspect anything of a simple utility droid.

Then I go to see Canderous, who is tending to the ship's armory. "Mandalore," he says respectfully as I enter.

"Canderous," I say, nodding to him. "We'll be arriving on Dantooine soon. I've something to ask of you." I pull out my journal and hand it to him. "After I've spoken with the Jedi, I want you to find me and bring this to me. They're too cowardly to kill me, but they might try messing with my mind again."

"Why would you put yourself in their hands in the first place?" Canderous says.

"I've made my choices," I say. "I'll face the consequences. I'm still a Jedi, more or less. Also... it's a test, on their part. I want to see what they'll do. I want to see if they're desperate enough to accept the help of someone like me." I grin wryly. "But I'd be a fool if I didn't prepare a contingency."

I don't tell him that I've given the same instructions to the droid. The Jedi might read his mind and find out about the secondary contingency. T3 is my ace in the hole, my final backup in case all else fails. If they'll stop Canderous from seeing me, that'll say something about them as well.

"I won't fail you, Mandalore," Canderous says, giving me a quick salute.

Soon, we arrive on Dantooine, and Bastila and I go to see the Jedi Masters. I tuck my red lightsaber away rather than wearing it on my belt openly. I can't deny that I'm nervous about the prospect. I don't know what they might do, and they might wind up doing something I hadn't planned on, like try to cut me off from the Force or something. They'll want me to return to the light, at best, but I have no intention of rejecting the dark, either. But despite the slight unease, I find no fear at the prospect of anything they might do to me. I'm calm. I'm in the eye of the storm.

"Thank you for speaking with us on such short notice, Masters," I tell them quietly.

"Not at all," says one of them, a Twi'lek whose name I have forgotten. "Thank you for coming to speak with us directly."

"I'm afraid some introductions are in order," I say. "I do not know your names."

"Ah, my apologies. I am Zhar. This is Vandar, and that is Vrook."

I nod to them, and reply with a crooked grin, "And I am Revan."

My talent for inducing speechlessness continues. Vrook says after a few moments, "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Be at ease, Master Vrook," Vandar says.

"I didn't come here to fight," I say. "And I still have amnesia. But my memories are starting to return, piece by piece."

"I see," Vrook says, glaring at me. "So why have you come here, then, Revan?"

"Malak needs to be stopped, one way or another," I say. "I don't think any of us can argue that. I'm offering my help."

"Why, so you can get revenge on your betraying Sith apprentice?" Vrook says. "Regardless, we do not seek the aid of the Dark Side."

"Vrook," Master Vandar says calmly.

"I apologize if my offer seems out of line," I say diplomatically.

"If your intentions were true, you would be humbly begging forgiveness and asking us for help to guide you back to the light!" Vrook snaps at me.

I shake my head. "I cannot repent what I have forgotten. I cannot atone for what I do not remember. I cannot keep an oath that I no longer know I made."

"He has a point," Zhar says.

"However," I say, looking to the floor. "There is much anger and hate in me. I fear it will destroy me if I do not learn to control it. I no longer even remember how to use the Force, but I can still feel the Dark Side, ready and waiting for me."

"He is correct," Vandar says. "If we do not assist him, the Dark Side will take him again, regardless."

"And what if we should undertake to train him, and the Dark Lord should return?" Vrook says.

"Would you have us execute him, Master Vrook?" Vandar says. "He came to us freely and willingly, in good faith. If we turn him away now, the chances of him falling to the Dark Side again are that much greater."

My mind is not so weak as he seems to think it is. If I actively chose to reject the Dark Side, I could do so. But it's not so much a matter of temptation with me. It's a matter of choice. Why should I reject half of the Force, solely because the Jedi believe it is evil? But on the other hand, why should I reject the other half of the Force, solely because the Sith believe it is weak? Perhaps the best course lies in finding a balance.

But this is not for the Jedi Masters to know. Let them believe I am willing to fully return to the light. I will accept their teachings in fullness, and then when I am gone from here, I will find a new path to follow of my own. Perhaps I can even convince Bastila to become my apprentice after all. But not as a Sith, nor as a Jedi. I'll take a third option, even if I have to make it myself.

The Masters conferred, and agreed to take me on as a Padawan again. My identity as Revan would remain a secret known only to those who already knew and who I might choose to reveal myself to. To anyone else, I would merely be Lexen Skywalker.

Today, however, is nothing more than simple meditations. They want to make sure I can meditate and be calm, before anything else, before even considering trying to teach me much of anything. And my own meditation technique is working well. I can find the eye of the storm more easily with a little practice. Is this really what Bastila was trying to show me, or was this a technique I came up with on my own and since forgot about? I'm leaning toward the latter, honestly.

I'm heading out from my first short lesson since returning here, and to the quarters that had been assigned to me, when a Jedi woman stops me in the courtyard.

"Padawan!" she addresses me. "Why are you not wearing your robes? You disgrace our traditions!"

Self-righteous idiot much? I feel anger rise up in me at her daring to speak to me in such a way, but I remain in the eye of the storm, taking a deep breath and keeping myself focused. I've nothing against wearing robes or anything, but it hadn't really occurred to me and the Masters hadn't exactly handed me robes and told me to put them on.

"Robes do not make a Jedi," I reply smoothly. "If you judge people on what they look like or how they dress, you will often find yourself making assumptions that may not be true."

The Jedi doesn't seem certain whether she should feel reprimanded or insulted at my words. She winds up merely being confused, and I take her momentary speechlessness for an opportunity to walk away. I don't really care to continue this confrontation.

I'm meditating alone in my quarters in the Jedi Enclave in the evening, when Canderous comes in. "How'd things go with the Jedi?" he asks.

"Better than I could have expected," I say, nodding to him to close the door behind him before going on. "I didn't think I'd be able to trick them so easily."

Canderous chuckles softly, and hands me my journal back. "Then I suppose I'll just return this to you, then. Just to be sure, you do remember who you are, right?"

"Lexen Chelseer Skywalker, the Stormseeker, Darth Revan, Mandalore. That about cover it?" I set the journal aside for the moment, but I'll be adding a thorough entry to it once Canderous leaves. "The safeguard was unnecessary this time, but who knows what the future might hold? My current memory spans a few days, and I've already started to forget entire days of those, if it weren't for keeping this journal."

Canderous frowns deeply. "I didn't realize it was quite so bad."

"Yeah, it's bad enough that I can't remember my past, I don't need to go forgetting my present, too." I sigh and lean back on my hands. "This journal's just a bandage to a badly hemorrhaging mind. I'm going to need to come up with a more permanent solution somehow."

"Well, if there's anything I can do for you, Mandalore, let me know," Canderous says.

I chuckle softly and say, "Perhaps there is. I'd like to hear some old war stories. I'm sure you've got plenty of them. Maybe that will help shake something loose."

"Heh," Canderous says. "You want to hear about planets getting wasted? Sure thing."

After listening to Canderous talk about assaulting a planet with Basilisk war droids, I mention to him the dream I had last night. Of a warrior with old-style medieval armor, who could apparently suppress Force powers.

"Have you ever heard of something like that, Canderous?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Can't say that I have," he replies. "What kind of a backwater planet would still use armor like that? Though I've heard about things that could suppress Force powers, they're all rumor and legend, nothing substantial."

"Hmm," I say. "How about this one?" I pull out my journal and open up the entry to get the details, and describe to him what seems to be my earliest chronological memory, of being attacked by Sedder in a place with a weird purple sky.

"I don't know of any planet that matches that description," Canderous says. "Sorry. That might be the place you're originally from?"

"Possibly," I say. "I wish I could at least remember the name."

"That would make looking up information a lot easier, yeah," Canderous says.

"Well, thanks anyway," I say. "I didn't really expect much, though. We'll be staying on Dantooine for a bit. At least long enough for me to re-learn how to use the Force again. And then afterward... well, there's a lot to do and a whole galaxy out there, and I don't mean to be beholden to the Jedi for it."