A few hours after For the Republic: Part 9, a direct continuation.
Camp Echo, Dagary Minor, Republic Interdictor-class ship, the Victorious
Zana escorted Revan back to the Victorious. They hugged again and Revan slipped down the corridor.
Hurrying, she did a mental check. Malak was nowhere on the ship. It's better this way. I'll be back soon. Slipping into the hangar bay, Revan initialized the Starling and cycled through its pre-flight checks. Cleared for takeoff, she disengaged from the ship's gravity stabilizers and flew away from the soon-to-be battleground, the children of war, and the Victorious.
On the flight to Malachor V, there were occasions when she wondered what her friends were doing, but she was too scared to reach out to them through the Force. Instead, she closed her mind and spent most of her time meditating. She ate what was necessary to ensure her strength and the health of her child, but Revan had no desire for food aside from survival. For the first time in her life, Revan was facing true fear. She had felt apprehension, nervousness, worry...but the fear throttling her mind was new and terrible. For the first time, she felt like a mother. As she closed on the planet, she detected a landing beacon and decided to go with her instinct. She heard the voices: strangely familiar, inviting, grasping at her with desire. We can make you strong. We can make you powerful. We can show you how to protect those you...love.
Shaking her head to clear it, Revan readied the Starling for landing. The surface of the planet was mountainous and volcanoes ringed the valley from which the beacon emanated. Dead trees and broken columns leaned in all directions. The small freighter shook and dipped as it landed--strong winds buffeted the ship until it finally came to a stop with a jarring clang. Finding her feet, Revan checked the air quality, temperature, and scanned for life. A strange feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach upon landing; she felt cold and suddenly...apathetic. She felt lonely, and tired, and...Malak...she missed him...she should have--It's the dark side, I can feel it swirling in this place, in the wind outside. The voices...they're like the voices I heard on Dantooine, in the temple when... She forced herself not to finish that thought and slapped the release on the exit ramp.
Descending the ramp, Revan took a quick look at the scenery, wrapped her arms around her stomach, and screamed. She slumped to the cold metal ramp, unable to hold any thought beyond the pain. Grasping at the Force, unable to find the light in so much darkness, Revan desperately called-out to the Force in defense of her child. The darkness closed as Revan's head met the ramp.
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She fell hard, a hole in her side from a blaster shot that had slipped through her defenses--but it was more than that. Just before she was shot, Zana had felt an excruciating pain in her stomach: a deep burning ache, like something was ripping at her insides, clawing its way out. Her defenses down, the Mandalorian she had been fighting hand-to-hand found his opportunity to kill the Jedi general. He had moved on before she even hit the ground.
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When he saw her fall, it was more than he could bear. Malak betrayed his hiding spot and ran to his wife, bleeding from the gash she sustained as she crashed to the metal ramp. Her face was contorted into a silent scream, intermittently producing an actual scream that tore at his heart. He pulled her up into his lap and stroked her hair. "Serena!" She was mumbling, still holding her stomach. "SERENA!!" He stood her up, and pulled and dragged her into the ship. The exit ramp closed behind them as he moved her into the closest bunk. Aware of the dark side of the Force surrounding them, Malak's first goal was to take her off the Force-damned planet. He skipped all optional checks, and the Starling was airborne in minutes, carrying the screaming, half-crazed Jedi Commander and her quickly unraveling husband across the galaxy and back to Dagary Minor.
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The Mandalorian line wasn't far ahead. He could hear the laser turrets as they fired repeatedly.
So this is how it ends. Zana doesn't love me. She's a liar. A slag. She'll never be my wife, and she doesn't love me. I shouldn't have gotten attached. I should have just used her, the way she used me all that time. I wonder who he is. The one she's in love with. There must be someone else. Maybe it's Malak or Kavar. Hell, maybe it's Revan. Maybe it's her whole damn squad. It doesn't matter now. She won't have to look at me anymore, with her empty promises, her pity. I loved you, babe. I loved you more than I could ever tell you, and I always knew that you would push me away if I did. Slag. But I loved you. I still lov--
Tren Dorn's body fell into the dust--among the bodies of soldiers and Jedi--touching no one, alone even in death--another casualty of the Mandalorian Wars.
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On Dantooine, Master Vandar Tokare placed another stone on the ledge of a small fountain in his chambers. Eighteen stones lined the water, eighteen of his destined younglings and knights had rejoined the Force.
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Three days later.
Aboard the Starling, bound for Dagary Minor.
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"Ga…len? What are you doing here?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "I…" She tried to sit up, but fell back onto the bunk.
He stroked and held her weak hand. "Shh…don't…just stop…"
"What are you doing here?" It was more than a question this time--it was an accusation.
Letting go of her hand, he turned away, unable to look at her any longer. "I—I followed you, when I saw you sneaking away. I shielded myself…from you, so you would not notice. I...have...taken care of your…" He hesitated, a pained set in his shoulders. "…medical situation."
They sat in silence for many minutes. Finally, he asked, his voice an icy whisper: "Was it me?"
"What do you mean—" She didn't feel right. There was an emptiness burning away inside of her, but its source…
"Was it me you were leaving? Why didn't you tell me?!" Malak still faced toward the cockpit. She felt him tremble beside her as sobs racked his body. "It was our child, Serena!! MY SON! And I didn't even know…" Screaming at her. "You killed our child! If you did not want him, I would have taken him, I would have loved him! You never asked me, you never told me! How dare you?!" He buried his face in his hands, defeated, unable to face her. The voices echoed in Malak's head, She killed your child.
Revan let his words sink in, not able to comprehend; then, slowly, "no…No! NO! NO! NO! NONONO--" The link she had not known existed was gone, leaving behind a gnawing emptiness: she was no longer pregnant. She grabbed at her stomach. "--No, Galen, I didn't mean to…I thought I could save him, save us! I wanted to find—" She gasped as Malak turned to face her, anger and sadness clouding his eyes. Whispering, she willed him to believe her, "Galen, I never meant to hurt our baby."
Rolling to her side, putting her back to him, and pulling her knees to her chin, Revan tried to understand. She couldn't cry, though it was what she wanted most--no tears would come. "Our son, Galen…Sweet Force, what happened? I only wanted to save him, like Kae told me to, I didn't want anything to happen to him." Revan winced at the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber being activated; she closed her eyes.
Malak stared at her back, "My son…" the only words that would come. He wanted to slash her in two. He wanted to beat her to a bloody pulp and then…himself. She killed your child. She tried to leave you on Dagary while she did it. She killed your son, a tiny, helpless baby. She killed your child… Their chorused chanting wove patterns of betrayal in his mind.
Revan felt him start to leave and rolled over, "Please don't go. Galen, please?!" She was reaching out to him…
The voice wouldn't leave his head, so he extinguished his lightsaber, fled to the cockpit, and locked the door. The voices continued to taunt him, and he knew he wanted to believe them. But he heard her say it again--"Galen, I never meant to hurt our baby."--and he knew it was true. He wouldn't to hurt her; he needed to hold her, to tell her it would be okay. They became louder, more insistent--Kill the woman. Like she did your child, your baby, your son! Embrace your anger, revel in it.—and he didn't dare leave the cockpit.
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Zana awoke to silence—Pristine. Perfect. Deafening. When she tried to open her eyes, the brightness of midday caused her to shut them again, automatically. Unable to do much else, she applied the Force to healing her wounds and went back to sleep.
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By the time they reached Dagary Minor and Camp Echo, Malak had made the decision not to tell anyone what had happened. He was exhausted and he didn't know what to think. At least the voices had finally fallen silent.
Mechanically, he helped Revan stand and walked her out of the ship, mostly supporting her weight. She was sluggish, and heavy in his weakened condition. Dropping her on the ground just inside the camp was all he could do before breaking down from fatigue and despair and retreating into a nearby tent.
Left to her own devices, Revan eventually found her strength and wandered away from Camp Echo, into the fields that rose above the capital city in the valley below. She tripped across the expanse of dead Republic soldiers, dead Jedi, dead Mandalorians, dead farmers, dead children. It reminded her of a dream she had so long ago. So much death when she only wanted to prevent it. So many sacrifices: from those around her, from her child, from her friends. She dropped to the ground beside one of the soldiers, his clouded blue eyes reflecting the clear sky, unseeing. Blood had dried as it trickled out of his nose and ears. Flies had already started their work, cultivating and seeding his gaping chest wound with future generations.
Life emerging from so much death. Was it the will of the Force? Some great destiny? Or had they broken their destinies by getting involved? Had they missed their chance to help people, to help the Republic?
Ripping her eyes away from his dead ones, she sensed Zana's sorrow across the field as her friend limped closer. Her clothes were covered in blood and dirt, she'd obviously been crying, and there was a burnt hole in the side of her tunic. Revan embraced her general. After a long silence, Revan asked, "Why don't I weep? Why can't I cry when I see so much death around me? Oh, Zana..." She paused, taking in the battlefield, her friend's wounds. "So much death. Are we the cause? They trust us. They follow us into battle; they follow you and Tren--"
"No, Serena." Zana gulped down a sob. "No, they won't be following Tren any longer..." She paused, unable to go on, breaking into fresh tears and saturating Revan with more sorrow.
"Tren...?" Revan sent out a tendril of Force, moving among the living soldiers in the capital ships and the ground troops in the valley below. Tren was gone. She felt her own lack of tears and the emptiness threatened to engulf her. She gripped her friend's hand as tightly as she had that night on her bunk, when she'd asked Zana to help her block her feelings for Malak. Then they sank to the ground, among the dead.
Blast! When will it end? When will the toll on the galaxy in defense of the damned Republic stop its constant rise? Many had died because she and Malak hadn't been there; no one would convince her otherwise. Will we continue to lose? Serroco, Eres III, Duros, and now Dagary…They were all slaughters. The small victories in between don't outweigh them, don't balance them out. We came to prevent this, but everyone underestimated the Mandalorians'…ferocity, their willingness to kill and be killed— A sound in the distance broke Revan's inner monologue. Her eyes came back into focus, seeing soldiers running across the field. They were bound for Camp Echo, and Revan guessed these were the last of the troops on Dagary Minor. They didn't see her or Zana sitting amongst the dead, ruined bodies of their comrades.
Tossing Zana's nearly catatonic body over her shoulder and using the Force to manage her extra weight and carry her own, Revan brought the small general into camp and placed her on a medical gurney. The medics assured her that they would get her to the Victorious' medical facilities immediately. Zana just stared at the sky, an unblinking, unseeing gaze that worried Revan. She dismissed those worries, however, focusing on the gruesome task at hand.
Walking out into the bloody field once more, she sat down and opened herself to the Force. Then, she searched. Her mind was cycling through every dead Jedi on the field. It was excruciatingly slow because the Force could only detect the faintest echo of itself within their otherwise lifeless bodies. And what she and Zana--even Vedric, having lost Samosh months before--needed at that moment was a body to mourn. Unbidden, the thought of a beautiful child with brown eyes and a kind smile...she never got a proper goodbye...
A mental spark caught her attention and she followed it, across the field and down toward the valley. Tren lay alone, surrounded by fallen soldiers, but not touching any. The robes he always wore so handsomely were riddled with the distinct, ragged burns of turret fire. A defunct Mandalorian laser turret slumped in front of him, pointed at where he would have stood; it was obviously damaged by a lightsaber. Revan's eyes flicked to the lightsaber still attached to Tren's hip; he hadn't caused the damage. It's as if he wanted to die. He didn't draw his weapon, most of the shots hit him in the chest... Halting this line of thinking, she carefully gathered him into her arms, again using the Force to lighten the load as she carried him back to Camp Echo.
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Three weeks later.
Republic ship Victorious; in hyperspace.
Tren was wrapped in red silk and tulle. Underneath the expensive fabric lay the mangled body of a friend, comrade, and lover. Zana was still wearing the tunic from the medical bay. She had spent the last few weeks staring at the ceiling, sedated, repeatedly whispering Tren's name and "I'm sorry..." She was temporarily released to Revan just before Tren's funeral, but now she stood, staring at his swaddled body, unresponsive and glassy-eyed. So, it was Revan who spoke for her friend.
"Tren. We commend your ashes to the black, your spirit having already rejoined the Force. From whence you came, you have returned." The words were formal and strained, but they were proper for the occasion. She pressed a round black button and the doors to the crematorium opened. Tren's body moved down a conveyer, and the doors creaked closed behind it. After a moment, a red light near the button flicked on. "Goodbye, old friend. May the Force be with you." Pressing the black button again, Revan watched as Tren's ashes floated out of the crematorium and into the stream of hyperspace. They were scattering him across a wide swath of galaxy, becoming part of something larger than himself.
Walking slowly down the corridor, followed closely by Vedric and Malak, Revan returned Zana to the medical bay. Instead of going back to the apartment wing, however, Revan neared the ship's cantina and abruptly turned. Getting drunk might not be the best answer, but it was what the three friends needed more than anything else at that moment.
Between his fourth and fifth drink, Malak leaned over and kissed Revan on the cheek. It was his first real acknowledgment of her since Malachor V and the Starling, weeks before, and the smile she gave him was warm enough to melt the icy planet of Hoth. If not "back to normal," they were at least "back together." For Revan, that was enough. However, after her tenth drink, feeling like she was walking on the Telosian Sea, she had to giggle when Malak suggested they should return to their quarters. Leaving Vedric with a female ensign and weaving and tripping her way toward the door, she followed him to their apartment on the Victorious, both of them collapsing on the floor just inside.
They made love like it was the first time on the plains of Dantooine, taking comfort in the fact that they still had each other and a future after the war.