Chapter 10

They had been tasked with the most dangerous tasks in all of Iziz, and no one executed orders better. The Iziz Sanctum was order, and everybody knew it. His thoughts went to the days when Beast-Rider and Iziz citizen were joined together to form the society of Iziz, but now the Beast-Riders and even some of Iziz's own citizens protested Vaklu's rightful rule.

One of the junior officers walked into his office and saluted. "At ease, Mivrak," Iradros said without looking up from his datapad.

The junior officer relaxed his arm, and spoke. "Vod Turus, we have found the rebels in the merchant quarter. They're holed up in the old hospital by the cantina."

Iradros looked up. "What hospital?"

Onderon was not well, not well at all, and Vaklu was not the only one who felt this way. Several terrorist attacks had taken place, a dozen alone within the city. They weren't very large, more of small bands of upset merchants and civilians protesting the uprooting of Talia and the secession from the Galactic Senate. The most organized attacks had taken place inside of the Merchant Quarter, conducted by a group the locals were calling the Loyal Sons. The name had been said in a sarcastic fashion, and it had been adopted widely anyway. They also had been working hand in hand with several Beast Rider clans, and drexl patrols were seen outside the city routinely. Vaklu was determined to stop these terrorists. But to this point he could not predict the nature of their attacks; not even the training he had received at the hands of the Mandalorians could have helped him catch the terrorists earlier.

But what worried him more was the general public's dissension and contempt towards him. Things had drastically changed in the few months since his assuming of the throne. He failed to understand why his fellow Onderonians continued to rebel him. He admitted that there had been an extreme lack of progress in the last few months, but that was attributed to the terrorists, not himself. The traditionalists and those loyal to the Republic had endured, and Vaklu's bold new vision had now been rebuked by even his staunchest of allies. The pride of his people was one trait he was grateful for: it had given their planet back to them, but now it would prove to be their downfall; Didn't they understand that he was doing what he needed to help Onderon return to prosperity?

That night he dreamt of his wife. He hadn't seen Bastila in a very, very, long time and they danced together on the beaches of Lehon, no war, no Jedi Council. It was just them, just the two of them, alone. As it was meant to be…

Revan's eyes jotted open. His cell was colder than usual, but he couldn't tell whether it was dawn or dusk. This planet was always under perpetual darkness, advantageous to the Sith to conduct their dark business. The two Sith that had captured him anyway. He sat up from his makeshift bed, being the cold floor of his cell, and did his best to stretch his agitated muscles and tendons. He hadn't had a decent night of sleep for what felt like a decade, but he had no means of telling time here. Perhaps it was a bad dream that he must force himself to wake up from; he had heard tales of ancient cults who would use dreams and the subconscious mind as weapons. They would change the nature of their enemy without having to raise a sword against them. Many would argue that this was an act of nonviolence that would spare life, but changing an unwilling someone's values, hopes, and dreams would always be worse next to ending them.

Revan dropped his arms and pushed himself to his feet. He often found himself in philosophical rants and ideological debates. He wasn't mad however; 'friends' like the Sith Lord prevented that ever happening.

It was the Sith Lord that brought him here, with another, Nyriss her name was. The daily drugs that were used on him kept his senses groggy and kept him cognitively out of step, but not immobilized. He had been forced to tell them all he knew, everything with being captured by the Jedi, being made to serve the Republic, and destroying his apprentice, Malak and the Star Forge itself. They were not pleased with his lack of knowledge of the Mandalorian Wars, the events in the beginning of the Jedi Civil War, and why he didn't remember the Emperor.

His mind was a fragile thing at best, he need not deny this fact, but he would do everything in his power to protect Bastila, and the child he would probably never meet. They would not suffer due to his weakness.

Several hours past, and Revan meditated upon the stone floor to try and counteract his daily doses of sedatives, narcotics, or whatever it was they were planting in him now. Another method he had been using was to exercise as much as the drugs would allow. He also often created wild tales in his mind. He found all methods to help his body and tried to undo the damage that had been done to it. But when he also spent some of his time evaluating his surroundings, and the possibility of escape. He had discreetly noticed that his guards stood at the detention level's only way in; the stairs at the top. Revan noticed that there weren't very many cells in this cellblock, only four besides his own. His own cell was the largest in size as well, but the others were vacant since his imprisonment and he understood why; Nyriss wouldn't want Revan to be harmed, influenced, spoken to, or for him to harm, influence, or speak to anyone. Isolation was a common Sith tactic for their prisoners, and at most times proved effective.

Breaking out of his cell was not an option, particularly with his body as ravaged as it was. Stealth and deception would serve him best. Everything considered, Revan had decided to latch on to the Sith as much as he could, but their last encounter was a strange one at that; the Sith Lord had come to him to vent his frustrations and seeking council. Revan had honestly told him what he thought Nyriss was thinking, in an indirect ploy for the Sith Lord to free him. He may have pushed a little too far too quickly and the Sith had seen right through the scheme. But Revan, in a moment's reaction, played on the hunch of the Sith's curiosity. He had told the Sith that he had had a vision that he would soon be free. But this was a wild attempt to trick the Sith into helping him. In time he would discover if that hunch was right.

That night Revan was woken by the explosion.

He had drifted off to sleep rather quickly that night, but the ruckus caused was enough to send a bantha pack scurrying for the next system. The explosion had come from up the stairwell, and Revan was just awake long enough to hear the scurrying of footsteps and voices right outside of the cell door. He stood just as the archaic cell door creaked open, and two armed men stepped inside. He could not see their faces, both shrouded by helmets, and both covered in body armor from head to foot. Both suits were different; the one on the left was battle worn, with hues of red atop steel, the one on the left looking more new with light mauve smeared across his visor.

Revan was the first to speak. "Can I help you?"

"They're with me." A familiar voice said from behind the two men. The Sith Lord stepped through the two 'heavies' to face Revan.

Revan bowed his head. "My lord," he said. "It is good to see you."

"Not now, Jedi." The Sith said coldly. "We have to get out of here. Now." He motioned to the two men, and the 'green smear' one pulled a withered old bag off his belt.

"My lord, I'm afraid I don't understand," Revan said as one man put stun cuffs upon the Jedi's wrists.

"You don't need to understand right now." The Sith continued. "We must leave before Nyriss discovers us."

"You are operating without her sanction?"

The Sith nodded and turned his back on him. "Let's just say it's time for new management."