"Exclamation: Master! It is a pleasure to hear your voice again! Statement: I was worried there might have been too many hostile meatbags for you to handle on your own."
"Did they buy the decoy?"
"Answer: The distraction was perfectly executed. They firmly believe our ship to be destroyed. We have not been intruded upon."
"How are things progressing on your end?"
"Answer: Oh, splendidly, Master. Elaboration: The T3 droid and I have made considerable repairs to the ship's numerous damaged components. Recitation: The damaged components deemed in need of repairs included the cockpit windshield, navigational controls, flight stabilizers, airlock mechanisms, buffer conduits, landing gear--"
"Okay, I get the picture. You've done a lot of work. Are the packages intact?"
"Jubilant Answer: Yes, Master! Relieved Statement: I admit I was rather worried some might have been damaged in the crash, but all survived without harm."
"Good. Don't touch them until I get back."
"Statement: Yes, Master. I shall resist the temptation."
"One more thing. Have you tested the modifications we made back at the base?"
"Answer: Yes, Master. They functioned exceptionally well."
"Alright, good. Radio me as soon as the ship is ready to fly again."
"Statement: Yes, Master."
Clicking off the channel, Revan studied the night sky, watching a point of bright light ascending ever-further into the sparse stars.
The true betrayal had been made, Darth Oden had abandoned them for his own agenda, which Revan could see would be just as destructive as the Nihil's crusade. But there had been no alternative, not if he wished to save Bastila or anyone else. He'd made a choice to keep hope alive. Norryl had sacrificed herself for him to make that choice.
Now Oden was gone, taking the Nihil capital ship for his own purposes, and leaving him with only the faintest vestige of his link with Bastila. She was out here, somewhere, having been discarded from the ship like unwanted refuse. Revan knew her torturer had done his damage; he could sense the violated and brutalized condition of her body as she clung weakly to life.
Standing next to him, Juhani gently nudged him back into attention and he surveyed the ground ahead of them. In the distance fires burned where Oden's bombardment from the capital ship had eradicated Nihil ground defenses around the nearest temple. So far, there was still no trace of Kuryama's forces, and Revan could only hope that they had survived.
Darth Oden was right; his prophetic insights were being blinded. The only reason he had seen so clearly just hours ago had been because of Bastila's involvement. Their link was strong, and had been sufficient to pound visions into his mind. But anything with less of a direct connection to him was shut out.
Right now, while the droids made things ready for their eventual retreat, he had to reestablish contact with the Jedi-Sith alliance. But before he did, he would find Bastila. She was waiting for him, somewhere...
Suddenly, he felt something that caused his rage to flare to life again, strengthening the bond and giving his Force perceptions an exact point to home in on. Revan broke out in a run, drawing a single-bladed lightsabre from his assortment that he carried with him at all times. Bathed in the flickering orange light of the infernos raging in the distance, he saw a lone Nihil soldier dragging something--a body.
Racing after Revan, Juhani ignited her sabre as well, but the enemy was his. He took an enormous leap to swipe the head clean off of the white-armored soldier.
The Nihil toppled to the ground at Revan's feet, beside the naked, bloody, bruised, and battered body of Bastila. There was not an inch of her that was not covered in grime, sweat, and blood. Some of her horrific wounds were partially scabbed-over while others were freshly bleeding, and even beneath the layers of blood smeared over her, the blue and black bruises were pronounced enough to make his stomach twist.
Without hesitation or further thought, Revan tore off his cloak and cast it over Bastila's forlorn form. He bent down to his knees and gently cradled her head in his hands, instantly letting a steady flow of soothing, restorative Force energy pass to her.
In that moment of time, she was all that existed. Nothing mattered to him in the universe except easing her pain and healing her wounds. She was right on the cusp, beaten and brutalized to the point of death. He was terrified that even his healing powers would not be enough to save her, so weak was her life.
The thought of losing her scared him more than watching the whole galaxy die around him.
A supportive, protecting hand touched his shoulder and Revan felt the welcome presence of Juhani as she added her power to his. Slowly, Bastila's life force strengthened. The countless contusions, lacerations, and ritualistic gashes all over her body slowly sealed themselves, fractured bones realigned, and her mind came out of its pain-induced coma to rest in a light sleep.
Revan was unsure of how long he crouched by her side, content just to hold her while Juhani stood on guard. He nearly cried with relief when she stirred in his arms and opened her eyes. She looked up at him and smiled one of her smiles that made the misery of life worthwhile.
"Calum, you shouldn't have.." she whispered.
Revan gripped her hand tightly. "Bastila, you mean more to me than anything else in this life. I would never abandon you. Not for anything."
Bastila winced from residual pain as Revan helped her to her feet, wrapping his cloak around her. "Who did this to you?" he asked.
"Darth Oden's Force suppressor, Rydak," she answered.
Revan's face twisted with shock and rage, and a bolt of white lightning flew from his hand, gouging a smoking crater in the ground at his feet. "That's impossible. They're all dead."
Bastila put a hand under his chin and turned his face to her. "No, Revan. You missed one."
He quivered with helpless rage. "I never wanted anyone hurt by one of them ever again. Izayus and his daughter were the last, I swear they were! There were no others!"
"Don't blame yourself for what he did to me, Revan," Bastila admonished him. "You did everything in your power to make sure there were no Force suppressors left. It isn't your fault that Rydak somehow escaped."
"I swear, Bastila, when I find him, he will pay for what he's done to you."
"I can't use the Force because of his ability, but that does not mean I am defenseless. First however, I think I should find some clothes."
Mystified by the sight before him, Atton stared in after Kuryama. It was the strangest thing; he could see straight into the vast chamber through the doorway, but he couldn't put one finger beyond the threshold. At the threshold of the ornate doors, only the Nihil Pariahs and Kuryama could pass. The rest of them - Jedi, Sith, and scum alike - could not.
This was the Treason Wall, Atton realized. It was where the barrier began that stretched through space in an enormous sphere around a small cluster of systems. He didn't even pretend to understand how it could be possible, but the evidence of it was right before his eyes. How Kuryama was ever going to destroy such a thing made his head spin.
After he and Jilon had dug Kuryama and Visas out from the rubble in the tunnels, the three Nihil women, Myr, Kal, and Siv, had led them into another passageway and to a long stairwell that led up into a large antechamber through a hidden door. They found themselves inside a sprawling structure divided internally into concentric rings. None but the Nihil and Kuryama could pass into the innermost circle. According to Visas' translation of Nihil words, the center of the Temple was a beacon to the substance of the Wall; a pocket, as it were, within the Wall itself where the Pariahs ministered to the trapped spirits making up the barrier.
Atton knew better than to ask what Kuryama was doing in there. He doubted even Visas knew, and was sure he wouldn't understand if she tried to explain. Some things he just had to accept as beyond him, and this was one.
Right from the get-go, Mira and Rigel set up a perimeter around entrances from the other parts of the temple, enlisting some of the more willing Jedi. Though early warning of intrusion was critical, this left Atton by himself in the middle of the unstable coalition; a position with which he was distinctly uncomfortable. The Sith Kasilov had not forgotten him and frequently cast hateful glances at him while pacing amongst the other Sith and Jedi, who knelt on guard around the doorway into the Inner Temple. He had drawn a few others to him, as well, including a stone-faced Jedi Sentinel and a pale Twi'lek woman. Instead of putting their minds to meditation or guard duty, the small, volatile group roamed freely.
Atton was worried. The last thing they needed right now was a civil war.
Looking for a Jedi ally, he singled out Jilon, who knelt closest to the open door with his back turned to him. He put a hand on the Jedi's shoulder and Jilon's eyes instantly snapped open and his hand went for his lightsabre.
"What is it?" he asked.
"We need to talk," Atton answered bluntly.
Cautious and wary, Jilon rose to his feet and stood face to face with Atton. "About what?"
Atton pointed beyond the open door. "The General. What's she to you?"
In a monotone, wooden voice, Jilon started talking. "She's a natural-born leader, strong in the Force, but fallen from the path of the li--"
Atton made a face. "Yeah, yeah, don't give me the Jedi crap. I want to know what you think of her, as a person. Assuming, of course, there is a person under all that Jedi Code."
Indignation flashed momentarily through Jilon's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by his usual indifference. "I used to love her, if you must know, in my weaker times, back during the war. But we both moved on rather quickly. She seems the same as always, but more bitter.
"She could always get us to do things for her even when we were sure it would never work, or didn't believe in what we were doing. This time it's different; I do believe that she's doing the right thing."
"You and me both. I need your help, Jilon."
"What is it?"
Atton cast a nervous glance to Kasilov. "I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't exactly the most stable of alliances. Pretty soon here, I think things are going to blow up in our faces. With Kuryama preoccupied and Revan off Force-knows-where, there's practically nothing holding us together. Mutiny is inevitable. When that time comes, I want to know I won't have to put a blaster to your head to protect the General."
This elicited the desired response from Jilon. He saw anger - veiled and suppressed, but present nonetheless - in his eyes. "I would die before letting harm touch her. You have my word as a Jedi."
Atton twisted the knife. "The word of a Jedi? You'll pardon me if I'm not reassured. I'm used to seeing Jedi break their oaths to save their own asses. Maybe you should rephrase."
Jilon's blank expression spoke more eloquently than the most venomous glare. "Fine. You have my word as a fellow protector, as a man. I'll not abandon our cause or betray General Nari."
"Good."
Though pleased he had gotten across to the stodgy Jedi, the manipulation turned Atton's stomach. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, it would never end. No matter how many times he murdered Jaq, he would never stay dead.
The only consolation he could give himself was that Jaq was for a purpose this time around, that he was manipulating in an attempt to save lives. But his words rang hollow in his mind, condemning him. That was an old and tired justification.
Hours passed, bringing no change. The uneasy status quo remained.
Spirits were all around her. Shimmering gossamer figures of blue light, they listlessly drifted about the chamber, whispering and breathing softly, just barely audible. What they spoke of Kuryama could only guess; ancient injustices, lost loves, or perhaps merely the mundane and simple things they missed from life. Walking among them, Kuryama could feel their sadness, longing, and regret as if it were her own. But wound beneath the surface, there was anger; a hopeless anger without an avenue of release.
Besides the spirits, the Inner Temple was dominated by a feeling of cosmic connection, making it seem like a link on some metaphysical chain; an analogy which Kuryama supposed was strikingly accurate. Substantiating her perception, she saw a hologram in the center of the chamber, displaying a sphere bound together by six glowing points.
"This is the Wall," she heard the voices of the Nihil accompanying her explain. She no longer needed Visas to translate for her--the ancient language had been burned into her mind by the Rayaj.
"Each of these six planets are part of the network that holds the spirits. They all flow through nodes such as this, where we minister to them."
"What do you do for them?" Kuryama asked.
"We remind them."
"Remind them of what?"
"They live no more. We live still, and remind them. Perhaps it cannot be adequately explained."
The glowing sphere of interconnected nodes hovered before her, mocking.
Revan had said that the Treason Wall could be bent back on itself, as it existed on a different plane of existence, but he didn't know how such a thing could be done. To Kuryama that sounded suspiciously like an unconscious hint; something to which he'd been prone during the Mandalorian war. He didn't have answers, but could often somehow aid her anyway.
She thought on what she did know: The Treason Wall spanned a vast area of space because it did not exist in a corporeal form. Six planets acted as physical nodes to allow the enslaved Pariahs to minister to their dead ancestors in whatever way was required. The spirits were traitors to the Nihil Empire held in subjugation by... what? That was the sticking point in her thoughts, what she couldn't get around. How exactly were these spirits held in their bondage?
Kuryama turned aside from the hologram and faced her companions. The distinction between those in blue and those in brown was almost meaningless in the presence of the congregation of spirits.
"I wish to talk to the spirits."
"They will not speak to you."
"They must."
"To hear their voices aloud in communion is testing for us when we are in full company, even though we bear it in concert with each other. The spirits know this, and so will not speak with one individual alone, for that person would most likely be destroyed. Furthermore, you are not one of us, and do not see as we do. They will not speak to you."
She balled her fists in frustration. "I don't care what happens to me! I stopped caring a long time ago!" Angrily, she tossed her hair back that had been falling over her eyes. "Let them do their worst, but I must speak to them!"
Kuryama had thrown caution to the winds. If she didn't succeed, the Nihil had already won. And she wouldn't come close unless she could speak to the spirits of the Wall.
Perhaps sensing her steadfastness, the spirits began to talk.
Thousands of voices joined into one, the monumental weight of their presence bore down on her with agonizing pain, searing into her very soul through the well of emptiness in her heart left by Malachor. It was the opposite of Malachor's life-rending agony; not the screams of the dying echoing through the Force, but dead voices mourning for life screaming through the Force's converse--the omnipresent domain of the dead that had had its claws in her for years.
Helpless before the onslaught, Kuryama fell to her knees. Inundated by the torment, she drew back on her only possible means of survival; the balance.
She took the pain into herself willingly, and in so doing pushed herself onto the brink, onto that razor-thin line between life and death that she had walked once before. As before, she felt herself lose contact with the world around her, and became little more than a spirit herself, tied to her body by a fragile line of consciousness. The Force came with her, separating from her physical body and creating an infinitesimal field of pure energy around her, protecting her.
Free from any physical constraints, Kuryama could manipulate the Force effortlessly. More importantly, Malachor's scar could no longer touch her. It was distinct and separate. She now knew it was no natural part of her, and was not tied to her in any way. She could have been rid of it at the first, when she entered the balance to pass through the Null field, if she had known. The echoes which reverberated through that scar no longer affected her. She was tranquil and calm, in perfect harmony with the Force.
Around her the spirits gathered. Kuryama was much closer to their plane, and could see them clearly, while her body and her companions were visible only as indistinct blurs. They resembled a conglomeration of several different species, blended over many millenia into a vaguely humanoid form. One came near her. By appearance, it was no different than any of the other uncountable spirits she stood among, but this particular spirit resonated deeply with her.
"Hello, Kess."
Reverently, the spirit bowed. Master.
"I have something to say to you--to all of you."
We will listen.
Collecting herself, summoning all the power she knew she possessed, Kuryama focused her energies into her singular gift - forming connections - and spoke to all who would listen. "You all are traitors to the Nihil Empire, yet in death you do their bidding. Why?"
Kess answered, but Kuryama could hear from her the voices of all the spirits speaking as one. The Rayaj have power over the energy of death, and have bound us to keep others such as ourselves from entering holy territory. We have no choice in these matters.
"If you could be free, would you abandon this slavery of duty?"
We can never be free.
"That is not true!" Kuryama insisted, feeling her fledgling connections strengthening little by little. "You are trapped here because you were born creatures without the Force and bound under the will of the Rayaj through the power of death. I offer to bring you into unity with the Force, to break your chains and release you from death's dominion!"
It can be bent back on itself, Revan had said, because it exists on a different plane of existence. That was the clue he'd given her without thinking; on this plane there was almost no limit to how far-reaching and change-affecting her Force connections could be.
The ruins of the Jedi Council had wanted to kill her in fear of her natural ability to form bonds, and Kreia had tried to exploit her gift to further her manipulative goals. If there was one thing Kreia had taught her it was to accept herself, bonds and all. They had given Atton and Mira a taste of the Force, allowed them to tap into her own well of Force powers. Now she had to give the spirits more than a taste--she had to make them return to the Force.
"There is no death, there is the Force." At least there was some truth to be found in that code.
Finally, Kuryama heard the spirits respond. Please help us.
In that instant, she felt her bonds with them solidify. Soul to soul, they were connected to her, and by extension, the Force. It was time for them to be free.
Nevertheless, even on a different plane of existence, where using the Force was almost effortless, this was a strain unlike anything she had ever imagined. The spirits occupying the node seemed to be tugging her in a million different directions. Kuryama felt like she was being ripped apart.
Just when it seemed she could take no more, she found herself alone. The spirits were gone.
Exhausted, she felt for the gossamer tether between herself and her body, and began pulling herself back into the world of the living.
Anxiously peering down a deserted hallway over the barrel of her blaster rifle, Mira knelt to check the proximity mine she'd laid a few feet from the entrance. Behind her, Rigel was resetting the sensors on a cluster of similar charges in the doorway itself, his blaster rifle hanging on a strap around his shoulder, not far from his hands should he need to use it. Her quick diagnostic revealed no problems with the mine, but she continued to crouch motionless, knowing better than to move while Rigel fiddled with the two mines only a few feet away. The empty expanse of the temple beckoned to her as she stared down the hallway.
Mira's trigger finger had been itchy ever since the tunnels. Not a good sign. Killing indiscriminately wasn't her thing, but every once in a while she'd have a nearly overwhelming urge to shoot something. This was one of those times. She glanced back at Rigel, wondering if he was feeling the same way.
Watching Lara die had done something to the formerly cheerful and upbeat bounty hunter. His sense of humor was all but gone and he barely ever talked, except to give concise and clipped status reports when asked.
"I'm done," Rigel announced.
"Good," Mira replied. "Let's finish up here."
Instead of gathering up to leave the deserted hallway, Rigel hesitated. "No, I want to stay for a bit. You can go on back to the others, I'll catch up." He was looking at the blaster in his hands in a way that made Mira distinctly uneasy.
"How did you end up here, Rigel?" she asked, feeling like if she didn't do something to distract him, he might do something very stupid. Mira didn't think he'd gotten to the point of suicide, but she'd been wrong before.
Rigel turned and gave her a haggard look and a bitterly cynical smile. "I'm here," he said, "because my hyperdrive screwed-up royally. We were supposed to be making a routine random jump. But somehow the hyperdrive computer sent us way off-target. I don't have any clue as to how it happened. My life has been going downhill from there.
"Me and Lara, all we wanted was to go our own way and take our next job. That's kind of all a bounty hunter ever thinks about. I don't even know what I'm doing here, in the middle of a Jedi war."
Mira heard herself sigh. "I know what that's like. To speak for myself, I'm getting a little tired of sitting on the sidelines while the Jedi do all the important things. But I've got this feeling that something's coming real soon. And we might just have our hands full if Atton's trouble with the Sith is any indication of the condition of this little army."
Rigel nodded.
"Revan had better get here soon," Mira muttered.
Back in the antechamber, the disorganized state of affairs alarmed Mira. Everyone was standing, most holding lightsabres either at the ready or activated, and everyone was casting suspicious glances and glares at everyone else. Shoving her way through, Mira saw why.
Three Jedi were dead. Or, more accurately, one Sith and two Jedi. Atton, Jilon, and Visas, all holding lightsabres, stood together, firmly blockading the entrance to the Inner Temple--though what good that would do Mira couldn't figure, since no one could enter anyway. The blue sabre in Atton's hands looked rather incongruous, but he appeared confident in himself. Mira wondered which of them had killed the Jedi on the floor.
Almost no one besides the three at the doorway even noticed her and Rigel, too intent were they on finding threats from within.
Before Mira could open her mouth, she felt a prickling sensation and turned around to see Dark Lord Revan himself coming up behind her, flanked by the red-robed Juhani and an odd figure dressed in the armor of a Nihil soldier but wearing no mask and a Jedi's cloak--Bastila, she realized. She clamped her mouth shut and got out of the way as Revan swept into the room, transfixing everyone with a hot glare. Lightsabres clicked off, Sith bowed and Jedi inclined their heads respectfully as he passed them.
Revan approached Atton expectantly, all but ignoring the bodies on the floor. "What happened, Rand?"
Atton didn't flinch. "Mutiny."
"I see," Revan remarked. To Mira, the Jedi and Sith present seemed to shrink slightly at the blunt acknowledgment, as if sensing Revan's frame of mind. He didn't need to utter a word to let them know that such things would not be tolerated.
"Where is Norryl," Jilon inquired.
Juhani answered. "She is dead."
In that moment, as relief and gratitude washed over Jilon's face, there was a sudden blinding flash from the Inner Temple. Pure white light cascaded from within, for an instant turning the entire chamber totally white. A wave of air rippled through the gathered crowd as the intensity of the flash passed and mellowed to a mild glow.
Tentatively, Atton put a hand to the open doorway and was astonished to encounter no resistance. Immediately, Visas rushed in, followed closely by Atton and Jilon. They emerged alongside the robed and masked figures of the Nihil Pariahs, carrying an insensate Kuryama by the shoulders. On her face was a smile of peace and fulfillment.
The Treason Wall was no more. The glow from the Inner Temple gradually subsided, like the tide being drawn back out to sea.
Mira pressed in for a closer look at Kuryama - a difficult task considering Visas and the Pariahs stalwartly kept everyone away from her. Physically, she looked inhumanly exhausted, but the peaceful smile on her comatose face put Mira at ease even while she wondered what had happened inside the Inner Temple to put Kuryama in such a state.
For the most part, Mira stayed silent while Revan led the group out of the temple. But she was unable to hold her tongue when they reached the ravaged courtyard outside, where amidst burning craters, scattered limbs and body parts, smoking debris and rubble, the Ebon Hawk and close to a dozen ships had landed. At the base of Hawk's boarding ramp stood the skeletal rust-red figure of HK-47, beckoning to them.
She gaped at the sight before her. "Okay, there must be some kind of explanation for this."
Revan smiled. "While we were waiting at my stronghold, I had some technicians make modifications to all the ships that would allow the two droids to control them remotely. Some of them thought it impossible, that they would not be capable of handling such a task, but these are no ordinary droids."
"Interjection: An assassin droid of unrivaled sophistication such as myself could not possibly be considered an 'ordinary droid,' Master. I told this to your technicians, but they were unimpressed."
Mira rolled her eyes. "Good old HK, I guess." She could've sworn she saw the assassin droid tilt his head in satisfaction. She turned another question to Revan. "Have a brilliant plan to break the blockade?"
"Yes, actually. A last resort that I would have preferred not to use. But without Darth Oden we may have no choice."
"Care to clue me in?"
"Just a few mementos from the Star Forge."
There was no blockade. No Nihil ships awaited them in orbit, only floating debris from the earlier battle. The reason was so obvious Revan couldn't believe he hadn't considered it before. With the Treason Wall down, the Nihil Fleet would be converging around Malayvin to protect the seat of power in their empire and the Sacred Saint.
Revan cursed. "This is not good."
Juhani cocked her head quizzically at him. "There will be no costly battle to break free of this planet. Why is this not good?"
"It means the final battle is going to be this much harder. I don't think we'll have sufficient forces to make the decisive breakthrough."
Leaving the Hawk's controls to his droid co-pilot, Revan got up from his seat and paced with Juhani by his side.
The end was coming, and his forces were dangerously depleted. This quick insertion and guerrilla raid had spiraled out of control and cost them dearly. They had lost Darth Oden's fist of destruction to a betrayal and almost half their number were killed in the fighting. All that was left of the last alliance of the Jedi and the Sith were a handful of individuals and some Nihil outcasts.
Revan stopped. He'd overlooked some of his options.
Rapidly, he made his way to the main hold and activated the communications array from the briefing computer. With typed a few quick commands he was through to his asteroid stronghold on the edge of the former Null field. It was patchy, but the signal was established.
"Lord Revan?"
"Commander Jalek, it's time to abandon the stronghold and take to the Gauntlet and Righteous Judgment. These are my orders. Man the ships and leave the base, the end is upon us."
"As you command, Lord Revan."
Revan hung his head as the blue hologram of the Sith officer faded. Gauntlet was an old Interdictor and seriously undermanned, but its gravity well generator was a card he had to play. As was the small destroyer Righteous Judgment. The two warships and the remaining personnel at his base were the last forces he had.
They were at the end of their rope. This war was consuming them all.
Still deeply troubled but slightly comforted by the fact that events were finally drawing towards their conclusion, Revan left the holopad and made for the infirmary.
The hallway outside the infirmary was lined by the silent Nihil Pariahs, for within lay Kuryama, still unconscious from her ordeal inside the Temple Of Sacrifice. Beside her on another cot was Bastila, freshly dressed in new robes and getting some demanded rest.
Revan entered quietly. Bastila was in a light sleep, and awoke when he sat on the foot of her bed.
"How are you feeling," he asked.
"I feel like I'm facing the Star Forge, except this time there is no Darth Malak, no figurehead for me to lash out at," she answered, staring at the ceiling.
"Is there any hope left?" Revan asked, not expecting an answer.
Bastila sat up on the bed and clasped his hands in hers. She looked him straight in the eye. "Prophecy does not give us all the answers, Calum. No matter what happens, never give up hope."