Pilot – Traffic – Reflection – Departure
Though it had been only a week or two, subjectively it felt as if it had been forever since last she'd seen the Ebon Hawk. Mostly fond recollections of the past flooded her mind with each familiar detail that appeared. The last few months had been some of the most stressful of her life, but with the vantage of looking back now after the ultimate success, she felt nothing but nostalgia for all that had passed within these familiar corridors.
T3-M4 was in his usual spot in the mid-deck, plugged into the main interface into the ship's systems, and chirped a cheerful greeting when it saw her as she and Enosh entered. "Hello, T3," she said as she passed by, patting the droid on the head.
HK-47 was off in a corner, his eyes glowing red. "Disgusted grumble: How patronizing!"
Enosh stopped and looked at the droid. "HK, is this any way to treat your new master?"
"Innocent query: Is there any other way?"
She sighed to herself. So much for the fond memories! This is not going to be easy.
"Abject supplication," the droid continued. "Please, Master! Do not consign me to the service of this one!"
"She has a name, HK. She means more to me than anything else in this universe, and I wish you to treat her accordingly."
Feeling the beginnings of a flush cross her face, she glanced at Enosh. He stared at HK-47 with that all-too-familiar look of intense concentration on his face. Not passionate... but focused. From conquering the Mandalorians to dealing with a recalcitrant droid, his approach was one and the same. Very few were the problems that did not yield before his undivided attention.
"Desperate objection: But Master!" HK-47 pleaded. "Even though the prospect of mocking Jedi never fails to amuse me, that alone cannot compensate for the unending inanity of Jedi admonishments I am certain to receive in her service!"
"Nevertheless, HK. I wish you to serve and protect her as you would me."
"Resigned acceptance: Very well, Master." The droid turned to her with an almost visible slump in his shoulders. "Statement: HK-47 unit, reporting for service…Master." An electronic sigh rattled through his vocabulator. "Cheerful introduction: My series has the latest of technologies sure to please the most discerning of---"
"Yes, thank you, HK," she replied. "You can skip the standard introduction; I've already heard it."
"Exclamation: What a relief! Someday I hope to finally track down those responsible for programming such a degrading introductory module into my core algorithms and provide them with a sample demonstration of my efficacy."
He led her down the corridor to the cockpit. The well-lit mid-deck slowly receded behind them as they plunged into the dark hallway, dimly lit by only running lights along the floor. Her eyes re-adjusted back to the darkness, and she saw the softly blinking lights of the cockpit beckoning as they entered.
Within the bright glow of the console instrumentation and displays, all appeared as it had before, and she quickly and easily took her familiar spot in the co-pilot seat while Enosh took over the controls.
Enosh's face was bathed in a medley of colors, as he quickly ran through the pre-flight checklist.
He sensed her attention. "There's no one else aboard... just me and HK."
"I was wondering why Carth hadn't showed up yet to shoo you out of his seat," she said with a grin. "When did you learn how to fly?"
He stopped the rundown to look at her with an amused glance. "You seem surprised. What, did you think I spent all that time sitting behind you in here because I couldn't stop staring at you? Well, I picked up a few things from watching you and Carth handle the ship... in between the staring, of course."
She laughed.
"Besides," he continued, turning his attention back to the controls, "I fly swoop bikes all the time. It's the same principle. Or have you already forgotten who won the last Taris championship and rescued a certain Jedi Sentinel at the same time?"
"Rescued? The Jedi Sentinel who stopped Brejik from gutting her would-be rescuer?"
He laughed. "Did I ever thank you for that?"
"Not that I recall."
"That's because I'm still waiting for a certain someone to say thanks."
"Oh, you are, are you?"
"Yes, and it's been a pretty long wait."
"Well, it's good you've been getting all that practice waiting, because it's going to be even longer now."
He laughed. "Is everything clear over there?"
She'd been running through the systems on her own. "Yes, though all my displays don't appear to be set up like they used to be."
"My fault. Carth needed a co-pilot after Leviathan, and we both thought it would be a good way for me to learn more about flying the big ships."
A brief wave of disorientation swept over her, and suddenly she seemed to be looking at her panels through other eyes. Enosh's eyes.
Terrible regret. Longing. A tightly controlled mourning. Touching the keys, looking at the displays. Her displays.
And then the sensation was gone, as Enosh realized his thoughts had bled over to her. "Here we go," he said firmly, a little too strongly.
I'm not the only one who still hasn't gotten used to this.
And as he pushed forward on the throttle, the Ebon Hawk quietly and smoothly lifted off from the Temple.
Still unsettled by the depths of the feelings she'd glimpsed, she forced herself to plunge into the routine. As she did during every liftoff, she cycled through the exterior cameras to monitor the ascent.
The last camera screen that appeared in her monitor showed the door leading down into the Temple. Not ten paces from that door lay the unmoving corpse of a rancor felled by the Ebon Hawk's blasters.
That close. Death was that close, this time. A few seconds later, a few steps more, and I would have joined those rancors lying so still beneath the moons' light tonight.
Timing. So much of her life seemed to hinge on these moments, with disaster and salvation separated by the merest slivers of time.
Mere days after the last of the Jedi separatists had departed for the Mandalorian Wars, the ever-elusive promise of her Force sensitivity had finally blossomed, in the quite unexpected form of the Battle Meditation which arose in so very few. Those who had quietly recruited among the ranks of students on Dantooine to join Revan had dismissed her as a green apprentice, whose hostility toward their cause was not worth the bother of overcoming for so little of apparent value; would they have tried harder knowing she held the key to entire battles in her young hands? And had she succumbed and gone... would things have changed for the better? Or the worse?
If Malak had betrayed his Master a few moments earlier, Revan may very have been slain and all would have been lost. Had he attacked later, she may very well have been dead by then, fallen before Darth Revan's lightsaber.
And the question that tortured her from the hidden recesses of her mind... what if Malak had arrived at the Leviathan just a few minutes later? Or they had escaped just a few minutes earlier? The nightmare of the past few days would never have happened. The fall that had consumed her would never have occurred.
The blood that I see, when I look at myself in the mirror... would not be there. The cries that will haunt me forever, the ships whose wreckage will float for an eternity around Lehon, the bodies that will forever sleep in the eternity of space... would not be there. The promise of all those lives lost around the Star Forge, extinguished before they could shine... the shadows of those never-to-be-seen lights would not lie so heavily upon me.
A few minutes. Just a few minutes, and none of this would have happened! The Force has granted so much to me before.. why not a few minutes more?
The bile rose in her throat, and she had to make a conscious effort to not clench her jaw at its touch.
Something stirred in the monitor, breaking her drifting thoughts and returning her attention to the present. The door into the Temple opened inward, pushed in by the force of the air from the Ebon Hawk's repulsorlifts.
This can't be happening! That door was stuck fast!
And then, something stirred within the dimly lit shadows of the doorway. She saw a flicker of long brown hair blowing in the wind, a pale face staring from the dark depths within, staring up at the departing Ebon Hawk, staring into the camera.
Staring at her, through the viewscreen, with cool gray eyes.
"Impossible," she murmured, her eyes locked onto the shadowy pixels, the fingers of her left hand racing across the console keypad to zoom the camera into the doorway.
"What?"
As if the outside voice intruded upon the impossibility of what she had seen, those shadows suddenly resolved themselves into a swirling gust of wind, and the electronic chaos of the magnification algorithms.
"I must have been imagining things," she said finally to Enosh's question. But the door was now open, where it hadn't been before.
Out her window, she saw the lights of the Republic base glide gently by down below. She checked the altimeter; they were still climbing.
"We're not headed back to base?"
"It seems such a waste to throw away tonight," he said casually. "It's so beautiful outside."
She smiled to herself. "Don't you need your sleep?"
He shrugged. Putting the Ebon Hawk on cruise, he leaned back in his chair and looked at her over the center console that lay between them. "This is about as empty as the Hawk has ever been," he said. "It's privacy, of a sort."
"And what exactly do you propose to do with our newfound privacy, sir Knight?"
He chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'll read up on the maintenance procedures for this ship, or try and find that credit chip Mission accidentally rolled under one of the consoles in here."
She smiled at his grin.
His eyes turned serious as he looked at her. "Or maybe something else I've been meaning to do for a long time..."
The comm crackled to life as he started to rise out of his chair.
"It's a conspiracy," Enosh muttered, as he flipped the comm receiver on.
"Ebon Hawk. Ebon Hawk. This is traffic control. What is your flight clearance number?"
"Flight clearance number?"
"Ebon Hawk, you didn't file a flight clearance plan with traffic control?" She smiled to hear the incredulous voice at the other end. "This is restricted airspace—you must file a flight plan before entering!"
Enosh looked sheepishly at Bastila. "I guess there's more to flying than just learning how to turn on the engines, isn't there?" he asked her in a low voice. "Uh—sorry traffic control, I didn't know."
Bastila looked out at the tranquil night. Sure enough, she could see the glittering lights of other spacecraft slowly rise from the treetops below, and descend from the starry firmament above.
"You're a pilot and you didn't know?! Who is this? What's your ID and rank?"
"Uh, this is Revan. I don't know my ID, but I believe I'm a general."
She shook her head. Savior of the Republic he may have been—but still so innocent and disarming in so many ways.
"General Revan?" The tone of over-worked exasperation disappeared instantaneously from the flight controller's voice. "Sir! I didn't know."
"Quite all right—I didn't know myself. My apologies."
"Sir, do you need an escort?"
"No, no—I think I'm doing okay so far. But thanks."
"That's his way of trying to get you to leave the airspace around here," she whispered to him, smiling. She activated her own comm. "Controller, this is Commander Shan. We apologize; the flight was rather hastily arranged for a time-critical issue. Can you give us the nearest vector leaving central section?"
"Yes, Commander." He sounded relieved to finally be talking to someone who knew what she was talking about. "I can route you out to unrestricted airspace just south of here; upload on channel C. Watch your clearances; we've got a lot of traffic."
"Will do. Thanks, Controller." She cut off the mike and brought the flight path up on both of their console displays. The green line of their path wove circuitously through the sector, weaving through the forest of green dots which marked the other craft in the region. She zoomed in more closely on the immediate vicinity of their ship.
"Watch that climb coming up," she said, looking out the front at the blinking lights of a descending shuttlecraft just ahead of them.
"It's okay, I've got it," he said.
A flash of annoyance crossed her thoughts. Stubborn as always. So confident in his own abilities.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
She glanced at him across the center console. His face was a study in concentration, as he glanced at the myriad of displays arrayed before him, guiding the ship carefully along their designated corridor.
Revan. Everyone calls him Revan now. It's as it should be. That is who he is.
But he will always be Enosh Polo to me.
So worried about revealing his true identity through our nascent bond, I deceived myself too well. The name Revan still is clumsy to my lips, a stumbling block in my thoughts. At some point, I will need to reconcile the two personas into one.
But not yet. Not yet.
Lying there, near death, amid all the carnage and destruction of that battlecruiser—I saw the man he was—the hero he should have been, had the Mandalorian Wars not intervened—and admired the inner strength, the latent compassion, even as I mourned its passing.
And when you came back as innocent Enosh, and everything I had seen returned, without the darkness of war tingeing the whole, how could I not find myself entangled even further?
The Masters did the work. They wiped his memories clean, as clean as they could, and instilled this new persona in its place.
A new persona, but more a repair than a replacement. The Masters took what was already there, pared away what had gotten diseased, corrupted, pruning those dead, malignant growths, to try and rejuvenate what had always lay hidden underneath.
But I was there as well. I held him in my arms as it happened. I held the spark within him, when it would have fled before the—the violation that was forced upon it. I saw what happened—how could I not?
But I also helped create the Enosh that emerged. As his mind reacted to the cuts, the Masters' powers flowed to fill those gaps. And as I, through our bond, also reacted, I influenced the flow, the energies, the shape and direction of that creation.
Were they aware of what I'd done? They must have been. But what could they have done about it? Already I was inextricably linked to him, in the best position to influence the process.
And so I did, subconsciously instilling upon him my own ideals, my own desires, my own aspirations, about whom he should be. Before our bond inevitably frayed, torn asunder by the same powers which had formed him.
And so I thought I was free. I thought I had escaped a trap of my own making.
But it wasn't to be. The memories of that link were in the both of our minds, and were so readily able to reconstitute.
So if he drives me crazy, or touches me in ways no one else ever has or ever could—it is my own doing.
I tried to resist. I tried. But did I ever have a chance, fighting against myself?
She looked into the mirror.
The woman who looked back had seen better days.
Her solid black Sith robes were torn. Blood soaked the entire right side, flowing down from the wreck that had once been her right shoulder. Her right arm hung limply by her side. Thin rivers of blood traced the lines of her face, and matted her dark brown hair, seeping from an angry scar across her forehead.
That doesn't look right.
She looked away from the mirror, down at herself. She was wearing her Jedi robes, but they were torn and shredded. Her right arm ached, and the white bandage hunched over her right shoulder was marred by a dark crimson spot, soaking from within.
She looked back, at the disheveled Sith woman in the mirror.
With her left hand, she carefully touched the surface of the mirror.
A dark-clothed, trembling hand rose in the reflection.
The glass was frigid to the tips of her fingertips as she brushed them along the surface.
Suddenly, the pale reflection of her left hand reached out of the glass and grabbed her hand in an icy cold grip.
No!
Panicking she pulled. And her reflection pulled as well, all the harder.
Relentlessly, she was pulled toward the reflection. No!
Her reflection struggled mightily. "No! You cannot escape me!"
Who? Who said that?!
Crazily, the muscles on her face stretched into a terrible grin, and the face in the mirror grinned, as the eyes shone.
"I am your Master," the cold voice said. The lips of her reflection moved, but she felt her own mouth moving as well, and the voice she heard was her own. "You think the nightmare has passed, and you are in control, but yet again you deceive yourself. I am your Master.
"I am you Master."
"Master? Master?"
She saw HK-47 above her, his cold, metallic hands tugging at her left hand. The background behind the droid resolved itself into the familiar environs of the starboard dormitory of the Ebon Hawk.
I must have fallen asleep! How did I get here?
"Explanation," the droid said, releasing his grip. "You could not be roused by less tactile methods. Suggestion: Consult with medical professionals to inspect your ears for damage."
"I am not hard of hearing," she said, rising to a sitting position from her bunk bed. It must have been lack of sleep. Or these vivid dreams I've been having lately? "What is it?"
"Explanation: We have docked with the Fury and need to disembark quickly, Master."
The Fury. Dodonna's flagship. Enosh. He must have put me here, then taken us up to the fleet. Why didn't he wake me?
She looked about her, and noticed that all her meager possessions were gone.
Looking back at her, the droid departed, and she felt herself tugged onward by the droid's obvious sense of urgency.
The mid-deck was a picture of industrious purpose. Numerous people milled about, carrying things off ship, loading things on, and fiddling with various consoles and maintenance panels.
A young man looked up from a datapad he was holding and saw her. "Ah, Commander Shan. We've already got all of your personal effects offloaded. We're ready for you to disembark."
She nodded silently.
It's not fair! For months he tortured me with his mere presence. And now that Malak is no more, and the Republic is saved; now that my worst fears have been proven unfounded, indeed misguided... I only had a few hours. A few hours, before I am whisked away from his side, and the emptiness that I had ignored for so long returns so quickly again, when I thought it banished.
She saw Enosh emerge from the corridor leading to the cockpit, and grabbed his eyes from across the crowded room. "Why didn't you...?!"
Weaving his way deftly through the throng, he made his way to her and engulfed her within his arms.
Her anger melted away at his touch.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You looked so tired when you drifted to sleep, I let you be. And then the base called back; apparently you caused quite a stir by suddenly disappearing from your hospital room like that."
She started, suddenly recalling her abrupt departure.
He grinned at her discomfort. "I offered to take you directly to the Fury. They had to juggle schedules to do it, but here we are, wedged into their tight schedule. So I think you'll understand that we don't have a lot of time left."
"Don't say it that way," she said.
He grinned, then turned serious. "Take care of yourself. I need you to promise me that you'll take care of yourself."
His grip around her was firm, and she found herself instinctively holding her breath, caught within the unwavering focus of his attention.
"Promise me," he repeated.
"Of... of course," she whispered.
He stared deeply into her eyes, as if evaluating her, then smiled slightly.
Blinking, she suddenly realized where they were. Looking around hastily, she noticed a few amused faces looking at them.
"Everyone's looking," she whispered, instinctively trying to avert her eyes.
"Have I ever mentioned how cute you are when you're embarrassed?"
"It does me wonders to know you're enjoying this," she replied, wondering how red her face must be by now. "Stop joking around," she said, slapping his side a little with her hand.
"You're right," he said, and she felt his grip loosen a little. "I hate to waste everyone's time like this—so I guess we'd better give them a show worth watching."
And before she could do anything but gasp, he bent down and kissed her.
The embarrassment of her present, the anxious uncertainty of her future, the echoing turmoil of her past—all of it floated away, set adrift like detritus by the incoming tide. The only thing she cared about, the only thing that mattered, was that they were together, here and now.
Slowly, the freighter that she had called 'home' for the past few months lifted quietly off the deck of the landing bay.
She blinked against the onrush of air blown out by the repulsorlifts, her eyes locked on the cockpit and the figure she could faintly see through the glass.
"Nice and easy," she heard Carth say beside her. "Nice and easy, Revan. Take good care of her, and she won't let you down."
She glanced sharply at him, but quickly realized he was talking about the ship.
As the Ebon Hawk slowly backed out, she seemed drawn forward, as if attached by an invisible string to the hulking freighter. Her entire world fell away, until it seemed as if only she and the Hawk existed. She tentatively raised her arm, and could feel a response from Enosh.
A sudden, terrible vision struck her. Worlds across Republic space on fire, blazing beneath the scything rain of orbital bombardment. Death and destruction everywhere; so many voices crying out in fear, in terror. And an emptiness amid the despair. A terrible, heart-wrenching emptiness in her heart, where there should have been warmth and love.
I'll never see him again! I'll never see him again!
Her heart racing, her breath vanished, and she felt something tugging her forward, as if to follow the Hawk out into the darkness of space.
A hand grabbed her shoulder.
"Bastila?" Juhani.
The contact, the words, broke the terrible sensation that had overcome her. Blinking away the sudden tears of anguish that had threatened to well forth, she sighed.
"Are you okay, Bastila?" the Cathar asked, concern in her eyes.
"A… a momentary mood," she replied, trying to smile. She looked at the Ebon Hawk, now only a bright star among the other stars shining steadily outside.
