Chapter Eight: "Rebuilding the Order."

It had only taken one simple question; "Can we trust him, Juno?"

Juno Eclipse's answer of "Yes" was all that Galen Marek needed to hear. The former secret apprentice of Darth Vader decided instantly that they would lend whatever aid they could to this Master Revan, in his fight with the mysterious yet awesome force that assaulted the Galaxy. But, before he sealed the deal, he wished to meet with the charismatic Jedi Master, and determine for himself is his intentions were for good, or ill. They had sent the message with Proxy, who had proceeded directly to Coruscant, to deliver the Starkiller's summons.

The meeting was to take place, oddly enough, on the Outer Rim world of Taris; A place Revan knew very well indeed. It had been the very place where the amnesiac Dark Lord had begun his rise from Darkness and into the Light, his first stepping stone on his path to once again becoming a Galactic Hero.

On his journey through Hyperspace, Revan reflected upon his visit there, more than three thousand years ago. It was when the name "Zade Kento" had initially been planted into his mind by the Jedi High Council. A name which he still used to this very day. Part of a routine patrol fleet of the Outer Rim, the ship he served on, "The Endar Spire", had been assaulted by Revan's former Sith Apprentice, Darth Malak, in his quest to seize the young Knight, Bastila Shan. He had crash landed with war hero Carth Onasi, and despite facing insurmountable odds (in the form of Swoop Gangs, Rahkghouls, Mercenaries, Bounty Hunters and the Sith), had safely escaped the planet on the stolen Ebon Hawk (a parting "gift" from Exchange boss Davik Kang) along with Shan, Onasi and a buccaneer crew made up of street urchins and vagabonds.

From orbit, Revan could see that the planet had changed much. Where there was simply steel and polluted seas on his previous visit, mother nature had reclaimed much of the planet, and thick pockets of green and brown coated the surface like moss growing over a weathered old stone. According to the history books, a few minor attempts to resettle the planet had been undertaken in the past, but Taris, it seemed, would never again be the bustling ecumenopolis of yesteryear.

Down below, on the crumbling remains of the Upper City, Galen Marek stood in waiting. Starkiller's clone was tense, nervous, his eyes darting across the landscape and skies. With his powerful affinity to the Force, Galen could feel the billions of lives lost here calling out in pain and misery across the ages; he hated Taris. But, the dead planet was the perfect hiding place. No one would think to look for him and Kota here.

"Are you sure you wish to face this alone?" Kota's voice crackled into life through Marek's headset, and the Jedi pressed two fingers to his ear.

"Of course not." he muttered, once more checking the forget-me-not- blue skies. "But it's the only way. I need to speak with this Revan alone." Kota had previously explained his dislike of the idea more than once. He knew the tales of Revan and the details of his rise and fall and rise. As such, he didn't put the same trust in this former Dark Lord that Juno Eclipse did.

"Just be careful, Galen." the blind Jedi advised. "You've got a ship inbound. Coming in hot from the West."

Slowly, Marek's hands balled into fists, his knuckles audibly cracking as he tensed further, staring into the distance. A speck appeared on the horizon, the light from the Tarisian sun gleaming off it's metallic chrome exterior. Within moments, the droning roar of twin thrusters boomed across the wastes, and the Ebon Hawk swam into view amidst the heat haze.

It became apparent to Marek that the Dynamic-class Freighter wasn't going to stop in time, when the old vessel's nose lifted into the air a few hundred feet away from him, going into a steady climb. The Jedi took a step backwards, preparing to wave down the ship, but halted when a single robed figure leaped from the ramp, somersaulting in the air and raising it's arms. He watched as twin lightsabers were drawn from the figures belt and ignited in a flare of crimson and violet, and in a split second decision, stretched out his own arms, his dual lightsabers springing to his hands and activating in an X pattern, catching Revan's heavy downwards sweep.

The strike carried so much force behind it that Marek was knocked clean off his feet, crashing and tumbling backwards through the wreck of an old landspeeder, his sabers spinning away amidst the rubble. Revan straightened, the light falling on his masked face, and he directed a hand towards an old rusted cargo ship, lifting it into the air and flinging it towards the downed Starkiller.

Marek was quick to react, gritting his teeth as he rose and once again thrusting his arms forward. His feet slid back in the debris as he caught the husk of the vessel with the Force, and flung it back towards Revan with a snarl. The former Sith leaped forward, using the Force to increase his speed, and swung his sabers in a downwards vertical slash, slicing directly through the ship, the two halves parting like the Red Sea and crashing to Earth with a deafening boom.

Revan pressed his attack again, dashing lithely across the rubble-strewn ground, and Marek summoned his blue lightsabers to himself again, checking and parrying artfully executed combinations from Revan. Starkiller raised his blue blades horizontally to catch another killing slash from the former Sith, feeling the bones in his wrist and forearm jarring painfully from the force of impact. "What are you doing?!" Galen roared, struggling to hold his position. "You came here to find help, not a war!" Revan pressed forward in response, looming closer and closer to Marek, and lunged forward, booting the Jedi squarely in the chest and knocking him clean from his feet. Marek was back up again in an instant, ducking beneath one savage swipe from Revan, and pressed the attack.

Starkiller fought with blinding speed, the four lightsabers humming and clashing, sparks issuing from every glanced attack. Marek swept low, and Revan leaped, backflipping and landing atop a ruined water tank. "Enough!" he shouted, holding out a halting hand. A stunned look crossed Marek's face, but regardless, he slowly lowered his humming blades, eyeing Revan with the utmost curiosity. The former Sith deactivated his lightsabers and returned them to the clips on his belt, before reaching up and casting back his hood, pulling the ancient Mandalorian mask from his face.

"Forgive me, Marek." he said quietly, offering the stunned Starkiller a perfunctory bow. "I needed to be sure it was you, and that I wasn't walking into a trap."

"You could have killed me." Marek growled in disbelief. "Or I you. Surely there were better ways to determine my identity?"

"I'm afraid there were none." Revan replied. "Even the greatest Jedi can be deceived with words. But no man, alive or dead, can hide their identity through combat. Your style is very unique, Starkiller. It was the only way of truly determining who you were."

Marek continued to stare in disbelief. Even though he could see the man's point (considering that Marek himself was a clone of the original Starkiller), the surprise greeting and it's method had rocked him considerably. Slowly, he returned his lightsabers to his belt, nodding his understanding. "You had a reason for coming here." he said swiftly. "What did you want, Revan?"

Revan leaped down from the rusting tank, straightening his robes. "I'll not bore you with the details of the attack on Coruscant, as I'm sure you're already aware of them. But in light of the destruction of the Senate, and the powers of the monsters who assaulted us, I have assumed control of the Empire, and am readying the defence of the Galaxy. There is one crucial piece missing, however."

"The Jedi Order." Marek offered, knowing the missing element. He swept his gaze over the former Dark Lord, as if measuring his intent with his eyes. Kota had briefly explained the rise and fall and rise of Darth Revan, the rebellious Revanchist Movement, and the Galactic Hero's bizarre disappearance. Despite knowing Revan's history, he could detect no evil from the man. "You want my help in rebuilding the Order." It wasn't a question.

Revan concurred by inclining his head gravely. "Any Jedi remaining out there would hardly embrace me, while I am commonly known to be at the top of the Imperial hierarchy. But the names of Galen Marek and Rahm Kota inspire courage and freedom. They would flock to you, seeing a chance for safety and shelter, and with time, the Jedi Order would flourish again."

"It would take centuries for the Order to become as strong as it was forty years ago. But if these foes are as powerful as you believe, even a handful of Jedi Knights could mean the differences between victory and defeat." Starkiller had read the reports, heard the scared mutters of the people of the Galaxy. "I must ask... What happens if we succeed? Will you keep to your word, and demolish the Empire, setting the Republic back in its rightful place?" he asked, arching a brow, once more scanning the impromptu Emperor for any hint of a lie or deceit.

"I went to war with the Mandalorians and my own Sith Empire thousands of years ago for the Republic. I left my wife and unborn child when another threat to the Republic rose in the Unknown Regions. Just as I did then, I now fight for the Republic, and its freedoms. You have my solemn word that once the war is won, the Galaxy will have its peace. A Supreme Chancellor will sit in the centre chair of the Senate, not an Emperor." He spoke solemnly.

That was enough for Galen. "Very well. I assume that you, Kota and myself will form the beginnings of the High Council?"

"You assume correct." Revan nodded. "I recommend you make use of the ruined Enclave on Dantooine. In the early days of the Empire, I'm told, the Rebel Alliance re-purposed the facility as a hidden base. I believe you will find it quite adequate, once repairs have been made."

Galen racked his mind, going over just how Jedi had approached him and Kota since the original Starkiller defied the Emperor. It was far from an sensational number, to be true, but Galen felt that within a few short weeks, he could have close to thirty trained Jedi Knights ready for combat, with perhaps another twenty younglings and apprentices. It would be a difficult task, but he had a knack for overcoming the odds. "I'll begin immediately." he replied with a stout nod. "I'll send word with Proxy once everything is under way."

"I thank you for your time, Master Marek." Revan imparted with a bow.

Dragging his fingers through his closely cropped hair, Galen uttered an abashed chuckle. "Master Marek. That's going to take some getting used to..."

…...

Across the Galaxy, in the Hoth system, a Mon Calamari Cruiser hangs in the heavens. This vessel flew under the call sign "Freedom", and was the flagship of Alliance General Jon Cry'ton, Revan's ally from the skirmish on Dxun. The man himself sat in the Commander's chair, going over fleet movements and various reports on the Rebel Alliance's interactions with the Empire. Over the last month or two, much to Jon's confusion and joy, the Imperial troops had been pulling out of confrontations all across the Galaxy.

He'd heard the mutterings and whispers, that the Empire had been stricken ever since the assault on Coruscant, but the Corellian soldier knew better. The Empire had been steadily increasing their numbers, bolstering their fleets, to the stage where the Rebels could no longer engage them in open combat any more, restricted to utilising hit and run tactics on their supply lines and liberating low security worlds from Vader's iron grip.

The most recent of these had been a spec-ops assault on Kashyyk just four months ago, laying waste to the Empire's under-the-table Wookiee Slave Trade income. Jon and forty of his best had descended into the forests and joined forces with an elusive sect of the Wookiees who had thus far eluded capture, and using their own technology coupled with the Wookiee's knowledge of the forest, infiltrated the Imperial Compound, destroyed the garrison, freed the caged Wookiees and turned the facility's impressive AA placements over to the Chieftains, effectively blocking any chance of Imperial reclamation. Any ships coming within twenty vertical miles would be incinerated by the satellite and ground defences, and any long range assault would be thwarted by planetary shielding. Losing Kashyyk forever was a serious blow to the Empire, as Vader knew perfectly well that to drop a small team into the Wroshyr Trees where the Wookiees had been living and hunting for time out of mind would be like feeding them into the Sarlaac Pit on Tatooine.

Jon rose from his chair, his hand habitually resting on the butt of the pistol at his waist, dressed in his usual black flight jacket, and moved out across the bridge. He hadn't heard so much as a peep from Zade Kento since being saved by the man following the massacre of Endor, and some (namely Han Solo and Crix Madine) suggested that the man had popped his head out of the ground where it wasn't wanted and been taken down by the Empire. Even now, Jon knew otherwise. Kento had been too strong, too intelligent to get himself killed stupidly. He was one of the best. Better, Jon was willing to bet, than the late Luke Skywalker.

"Anything, Shran?" Jon called, approaching a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and matching walrus moustache, who was reading a datapad in his gnarled hands.

"Not so much as bleep on the radar." Captain Shran, a thirty-five year veteran replied with a shake of the head. "Imps are still pulling out of engagements, but there hasn't been a shot fired since the cease-fire."

Jon closed his blue-green eyes, nodding. He'd assumed as much. "Any word from Solo or Madine?"

"Madine sent word in that they've uncovered an abandoned Imperial Outpost in the Manaan System and they've bolstered their armouries, but little else." Shran nodded, taking a sip from his mug of coffee. "Captain Solo hasn't reported in since that encounter with the Zabraak on Kalprice. He and Leia are probably laying low."

"We're all laying low, Captain." Jon muttered in mild annoyance. "We've been hiding too long."

At that moment, a warning bell went off in the communications section of the bridge, and a female officer glanced over her shoulder towards the Corellian. "General, we've got an Imperial Squadron inbound." she announced intrepidly.

"Impossible." Shran gawked. "They have no way of knowing we're here. No one outside of the Alliance knows we're here!"

Jon remained silent for a moment. He had a very shrewd idea of who sent these men. "What are their numbers?" he asked, folding his arms and gripping his chin.

"Ten, sir." the officer replied.

Shran breathed a sigh of gentle relief. "Could be they're lost." he said quietly to Jon.

"I don't think that's the case. But we'll see." he replied quietly, before turning his attention to the bridge at large. "I want a welcoming party for our Imperial friends. Red Team, one through eight, neutral formations. Try and open a comm link, and keep their fingers off the triggers unless provoked. Find out why they're here, and bring them aboard."

Down in the hangar, Jon's orders were relayed, and the flashing orange lights blared out across the open bay. Blast shields were lifted, and Red Team clambered into their X-Wing Fighters, fired up the engines, and moved towards the empty vacuum of space. "This is Red Leader." a lieutenant announced. "Flying neutral formation, preparing to engage communications. Keep a light on for us, Control."

Jon's beliefs on the identity of the man who gave the orders to this small squadron would ring true. On Zade Kento's instructions, ten men from the 518th Battalion departed Coruscant, headed for the Hoth System. Their leader, a veteran of the Clone Wars, was Clone Captain Palimar Andolla. "Keep 'em steady, lads." he called to his men across the communications channel. "We'll be within communication range in about five minutes. Forward deflectors up, no engaging the Rebels." A chorus of "Aye aye!" rang out in reply.

"We've got company, Captain. Eight strong, coming in hot."

"Remain in formation, keep the comm channels open, and let me do the talking." Andolla advised. "Stay calm, and we might just make it home for dinner."

The Rebel fighters piloted nimbly through a sparse meteor field towards the incoming Imperials, all nervously gazing ahead. "X-Foils open, shields up." the leader ordered as they exited the debris, the starfighters taking on their attack positions. "R7, patch me through to those TIE Fighters." the little astromech droid gave a whoop of acknowledgement. "This is Lieutenant Kane of the Alliance." Red Leader barked over the comm. "We have you in range of our proton torpedoes. Identify yourself and your mission immediately, or we will have no choice but to open fire."

Andolla took a breath behind the controls of his Interceptor. "Captain Palimar Andolla of the 518th Battalion." he responded. "I'm here on a diplomatic mission, bringing a message to one General Cry'ton."

"Keep your formation, Captain." Kane directed. "I'm escorting you to the Freedom. Once on board, you and your men will submit to a search and be relieved of your weapons. Your men will be held in the hangar under guard, and you will be brought to the bridge in binds. Do you agree to my terms?"

"I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" Andolla grumbled in annoyance.

"No Captain, you don't." the eight X-Wings passed the TIE Squadron, their thrusters glaring as they performed banking manoeuvres, falling upon the rear of the Imperials. Andolla felt a sudden surge of discomfort, with eight enemy fighters training their cannons on his back. The Imperials were shepherded like cattle towards the Freedom and into the hangar bay. As instructed, they disembarked their fighters with hands behind their heads, were relieved of their weapons, and Andolla was placed in cuffs before being escorted to the bridge.

The Clone felt the distrustful gaze of the Rebels all around him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He'd expected to broadcast his message from the safety of his Interceptor's cockpit, and making his escape immediately after. Not being driven to the Bridge in chains with a bunch of trigger-happy rebels eyeing him hatefully.

"Remove his helmet." Captain Shran ordered once Andolla reached the bridge, Cry'ton gazing curiously at the Clone from his chair. The white helmet was removed, revealing his olive-skinned and battle-worn face, a long thin scar running from the bridge of his nose to his ear; a parting gift from a long dead Echani mercenary.

"I'm told you have a message, Captain Andolla." Cry'ton called. "Speak it, and speak it quickly."

Andolla nodded. "Of course." he tapped a button at his wrist, and a panel on the guard flipped open, causing the Rebel troops to draw their blasters in the blinking of an eye. Andolla swiftly raised his hands in submission. "Easy, gents." he said slowly, feeling cold sweat trickle down his brow. "Just a holo message." With slow deliberation, he tapped a few buttons, and a life-size hologram of Revan flickered into life from the helmet's inbuilt projector.

"Greetings, General Cry'ton. I hope this message finds you alive and well." the robed figure accosted with a bow. "As I'm sure you are aware, Coruscant was sacked in recent weeks by an unknown enemy of immense power. In the brief but violent attack on the Senate, Emperor Darth Vader was taken captive by these insurgents, and I have been given impromptu control of the Imperial Navy, spearheading the defence of the Galaxy. As such, I ask that you recall our discussion on Dxun, and take note of the steady disappearance of Imperial Fleets from entanglements with the Alliance. Time is of the essence, so I'll make this as short as possible; I implore you to marshal your fleets at Corellia, and proceed with utmost haste to Coruscant. I will provide you with any and all information you require upon your arrival." The Jedi performed another bow. "Look for me in the Emperor's Suite, General, and may the Force be with us all."

Jon's brows knitted together as the hologram faded into nothing, feeling his entire crew's eyes on him. That explained why they hadn't been in a single fight in weeks and had been discovering deserted outposts ever since. He also recalled his promise to Kento as the ancient Dynamic-class freighter zoomed away from the jungle moon, to aid him when the time had come.

"General?" Shran muttered, glancing curiously towards his leader.

The silence was so thick, Jon could have cut it with a knife. He raked his gaze across Shran to Andolla, and after a few moments, gave a sharp nod. "Send word to Admiral Madine and Captain Solo. And plot a course for Coruscant."