"The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be... unnatural."
-Supreme Chancellor Palpatine (19 BBY)
"Jedi create light, but the Sith do not create darkness. They merely use the darkness that is always there."
-Master Mace Windu (19 BBY)
Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
"Revan's Shadow"
Chapter Fifteen – The Shepherd's Mark
A squadron of X-winged CH-14 skyhoppers cut through the skies above Malachor V. After streaking past a set of snow-capped mountaintops, they dove down into yet another valley. With targeting sensors drawing power from all secondary systems, they were hoping they could get an accurate lock on any warm-bodies below without having to resort to a manual scan.
That was the last thing any of the pilots of the squadron wanted: being ordered to press their faces up against their transparisteel canopies and scan each valley with their own eyes. They'd never say it out loud, but each pilot was thinking the same thing.
Skyhoppers weren't meant for search and rescue missions.
And they weren't, but unfortunately for the CH-14 pilots, every ship capable of flight had been scrambled for the search. Even the Duskwind herself was hovering low over the planet, practically moving along meter-by-meter across the sky. Admiral Karath had made the mission absolutely clear: every square centimeter of the planet must be scanned both on foot and by air.
Admiral Revan must be found.
From what little intel the pilots had received, the Jedi Knight had gone on a scouting mission that was only supposed to last a few days—and it had been a week and a half since then. There were no restrictions on the search area. There was no greater priority to the war effort than to find Revan.
But it didn't feel that way to some of the pilots.
"Anyone find him yet?" Jaq Rand muttered through his headset. No one in the squadron bothered to reply; they had gotten tired of the familiar question over the passing hours of the search. "Anyone find him yet?"
"Hey, I got something on my scanner!" a squadmate replied over the receiver.
"Really?"
"No!"
"Really?" Jaq sighed. "That's how it's gonna be?"
"We never found anything the last thousand times you asked. So why would you think that had changed in the three seconds prior?"
"Sheesh." Jaq laughed and straightened his trajectory. "Someone's getting cranky over there."
"I'm not cranky. I'm just tired of hearing anything that's not, 'We found him.'"
"You found him?" Jak asked, playfully. The channel went dead. "Someone get on the comm and inform command that Orden turned off his receiver. I want him reprimanded and shot into space."
Kenta's voice croaked over the receiver. "Aw, give the guy a break, Rand. Some people weren't built for twelve-hour rotations in a cockpit like you were."
"You're supposed to be ready for anything when you drop your name into that particular hat," Jaq said flatly. "Anything. Do you all hear me? Whether it's chasing an enemy scout across two star systems, scanning a planet for twelve hours straight, or listening to my poor attempts at humor. If you're in the cockpit, you gotta deal until the mission's completed."
"Even if the mission is FUBAR, sir?"
"Especially if the mission is FUBAR. Those are the only kind of missions that really count, you bunch of spineless space jellies."
"Coming up on the end of the valley," Kenta said.
"All right, you all know the drill," Jaq sighed. "Thrust up, thrust down, look-it, and pray."
Jaq increased his thrust output and pulled back on the stick. His skyhopper pitched upward and sailed over the approaching rock wall of the valley. He looked to his radar. Every time they finished a valley, he had the strangest feeling that one of his wingmen would forget to pull up. They were all nearing exhaustion, himself included. He knew mistakes were likely to happen now more than ever.
"Okay, I got another valley picked out for us. Make for heading two-two-four and enter on the nearest end."
"Roger."
"Roger."
"Roger."
The skyhoppers shifted their flight-path toward their next valley and swooped down into it. Jaq pulled off a aileron roll as he descended, just to change things up.
"Woah, now," Jaq blurted as they entered. "Anyone notice something... off about this valley?"
"Yeah, you said it," Kenta replied, awe in his voice. "Everything's just... dead."
After nearly twelve hours crisscrossing over Malachor V's airspace, he had seen zigzagged valleys of every shape and size. They had been brimming with trees, covered in thick vegetation or fields, or simply submerged underwater—but never dead. From what he could see, there was nothing but dust and blackened decay.
"Who wants to place a little bet that the admiral's down there somewhere?" Jaq punched in a few commands on his onboard console to divert more power to the scanners. He was feeling lucky. "Everyone drop in a bit closer. I need one eye on your radar and one eye outside." A few groans escaped his headset. "Come on, if we find him, we can go home and you don't have to hear anymore of my Twi'lek jokes. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," the pilots replied, sans any form of enthusiasm.
The squadron flew low on the deck, kicking up torrents of black dust in their wake. Jaq's eyes darted around from each side of his cockpit, nearly pressing his face up against the canopy, as he had been begrudgingly trying to avoid earlier. Kilometer after kilometer passed, and he saw nothing but dirt and scorched tangles of things that looked like they might have been trees at one point in time.
"I got nothing over here, sir," one of the pilots said.
"Same here," Kenta sighed. "A whole valley's worth of nothing."
Jaq hesitantly admitted the same. "Damn it all." His radar blipped, but just for a moment. "Hey, hey, I got something here, guys."
"Are you joking?"
"On my honor, I found something." He was met with silence. "Okay, on Kenta's honor. I swear! We're circling back. Everyone match my heading and do a deep scan of quadrant eight-two-eight-seven."
"Could have just been a bear, Rand. Lots of the other squadrons are saying the same thing over the comm. A bunch of fuss over human-sized animals."
"That wasn't a bear." Jaq pulled back on the stick. "Follow me or you're disobeying a direct order. Do as you like, scrubs." His skyhopper ascended into a wide backflip before spinning back up level. He pushed in as low to the ground as he could manage. "Come on. Come on. I know I saw you," he whispered. "I know I did."
The section he had detected the anomaly in passed him by. He saw nothing and his radar didn't so much as beep. Jaq sighed loudly. He was beginning to think exhaustion was settling in a little too intensely. He wanted so badly to see his radar come up positive, maybe his brain was making it a reality.
Jaq's cockpit filled up with a loud klaxon. It wasn't his mind this time. He was sure of it... but now he wished it was. The alarm was signaling a massive systems failure.
"Damn!" His hands instinctually went about trying to reroute power and reboot primary systems. "Guys, my cockpit's dying on me! I'm losing power!"
"What can we do, Jaq? How can we help?" Kenta asked, quickly. "Do you have to eject?"
Jaq pressed a few more buttons on the console... just before everything shut down: lights, monitors and all. His skyhopper's engines cut out and its nose began to dip toward the ground. "No!" He gripped the joystick and pulled back hard, but it was locked up. Nothing could stop him from crashing now.
"Guess it's that time again." Jaq reached down, found the eject lever and pulled it. He crossed his arms and braced for an ejection that didn't come. He looked down frantically. The eject lever hadn't worked. He pulled on it again and again. Nothing.
He cursed loudly.
So this is it? he thought. This is how it ends?
Jaq stared out through the canopy, prepared to face his impending death head-on. His teeth gritted. His heart beat wildly in his chest. And he was scared: he didn't know what was about to happen.
And I never even got a chance to call on that girl from Coruscant…
The ground got closer and closer, and then... everything slowed down. The dirt was still coming at him, but slower. Then, only a meter away from impact, his skyhopper stopped in midair, hovering over the ground as if his repulsors had started up again.
He took a deep breath and pinched himself. He was still alive, or so he thought. Before he could question his existence any further, the skyhopper leveled itself out and came to rest in the blackened earth.
Jaq sat there, motionless, trying to figure out what had just happened. His hands thoughtlessly went through the standard motions of powering up the starfighter, but everything was still dead. He couldn't even get the canopy of his cockpit open, but, thankfully, it was the one part of the ship that would still work manually.
He pulled the latches on four parts of the canopy and yanked the safety that released the pressure cylinder. With one quick shove, the dome of transparisteel popped off of the vessel and tumbled onto the ground below.
Jaq didn't get out immediately. Instead, he relaxed in his seat and let the stale valley air cool the sweat that drenched his face. The rest of the squadron passed over head, and one of them rocked its wings quickly to indicate that at least one of them was coming in for a landing.
He gave a thumbs-up to the sky.
When he looked back down, there was a man standing before the nose of the starfighter. Jaq's hand flew toward the blaster at his side, but took a deep breath when he realized who it was. He sat back, relieved. Almost.
"You scared the Corellian out of me," Jaq said, holstering his blaster. "Admiral Revan?"
The man, clothed in a black robe, with raven hair that fell around his shoulders, stood with a bundle of crimson red garb under his arm—his expression vacant, as if the name Jaq used had meant nothing to him.
"Hello?" Jaq clicked out of his restraints so he could wave his arms more effectively. "Helloooooo?" He suddenly remembered what kind of powers Jedi could have. He pointed to his skyhopper. "Did you just yank me out of the sky?" he asked, incredulously.
The man finally looked up, bringing his face fully into the light of day. He looked pale, very pale. Like he hadn't been outside in months. "You were looking for me." It wasn't a question.
Jaq nodded patently. "Yeah, we've been looking all over for you. The whole damn fleet's out sweeping the whole damn planet trying to track you down. You've been gone awhile."
"How long?" the black-cloaked man asked.
"It's been ten days since you left."
The man nodded. "Time enough."
Jaq winced. He thought that maybe he had a medical emergency on his hands by the way the man talked. Maybe he'd been without food or shelter too long. The way he looked, it was hard for Jaq to believe the man was still standing.
"One of the other pilots should be landing soon, and then we can send out for a pickup." Jaq grinned wearily. "Command's gonna be happy to see you back, Admiral Revan. They've been standing up on their toes waiting for you to return."
The man looked confused. "Revan…" he muttered, over and over under his breath. A smile broke across his face. "They might be waiting a very long time…"
The lights in the cockpit of the skyhopper suddenly clicked on, and the ship came to life once again.
—
Meetra stepped onto the lower deck of the Duskwind and sprinted down the corridor. When she reached the door to the Research and Development lab, Bao-Dur was standing outside, nervously wringing his hands.
"What's he doing in there?" Meetra asked the Zabrak.
Bao-Dur shook his head. "I don't have a clue, General." He whipped a finger to the door. "I was putting some finishing touches on an upgraded weapon for a friend of mine and he just... burst in the door rolling a crate of supplies behind him. He told me to get out... so... I did. I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but it's been over a day now and I have a mountain of work to finish before Mandy shows up."
Malak appeared from a nearby hallway. He came to a stuttered stop, as if he had been sprinting to get here, as well. "Is Revan all right?"
"He's fine," Meetra said, although it was difficult to say. "Goes missing for ten days, shows up again and hardly says a word to us for days more. Now this."
"He's been all over the ship," Malak added. "Karath said Revan downloaded the fleet's entire crew manifest onto a datapad before he disappeared into his quarters. I didn't know he had left since then."
Meetra rolled her eyes. "Apparently, he's been here."
Bao-Dur held up a hand to interject. "Excuse me, with all due respect, what happened to Admiral Revan when he was out there?"
"Nothing," Malak replied with a shrug. "As far as I can tell, at least."
Meetra rubbed her forehead. "He hasn't talked much about it."
"Not to us, maybe," Malak corrected. "But Karath talks like the two of them have a sit-down every hour." He sighed. "And I'd believe it, too. The admiral's been walking around looking as sullen as Revan did when he came on board. Like they're both smoking from the same death stick."
Meetra walked over and tried to open the door with its keypad. It buzzed a harsh rejection at her code.
"Already tried that," Bao-Dur muttered, frustration mounting every second he couldn't get into his own lab. "He's locked it from the inside. No one short of his clearance level can enter."
"Well," Meetra began, frustrated as well, "let's get Admiral Karath down here to open it up."
Malak stepped up to the door. "I've got a better idea." His arm extended outward, his face strained, and the door groaned open by a call to the Force. "There we are." He led the way into the lab with Meetra close behind. Bao-Dur made a move to follow, but Meetra held up a hand to keep him outside for the moment. The Zabrak begrudgingly abided.
Near the back of the lab, Revan was huddled over a long workbench, tinkering at something that made metallic clangs and electronic whirrs every few seconds. He reached out his hand and a hydrospanner from the other end of the bench snapped into his grasp, and he went back to work—either not caring or not aware of the two Jedi that approached him.
"Revan?" Malak asked. Revan didn't acknowledge the voice in any way. "Revan we need to talk."
"Yes," Revan hissed. "Yes, we have to talk about a great many things." He turned to face the Jedi and leaned up against the bench casually. "But now is not that time."
Meetra gripped her hands together. "Revan, we have to talk about what happened to you out there. You've been acting... strange since you returned."
"Strange?" Revan laughed. "An odd word to describe all that has happened. But, I admit to you, my friends, that I haven't been very forward about the current state of things. You have my sincerest apologies and the knowledge that I will be able to tell you everything when the time comes."
"What do you mean?" Malak asked, offended. "Why can't you tell us now?"
"Ha! Now that I can tell you, Brother." Revan playfully hopped backward to sit on the workbench. "You see, decisions are a strange thing. The longer they take to come to an end, the less sincere they are. The Jedi Order had much too much time to come to a decision about the Mandalorian Wars, and look where that's gotten them. Nowhere. They've been left behind on the warpath and will soon be picked off by the wolves looking for a helpless meal.
"But, see, their folly wasn't in making the wrong decision. It was making an uninformed one. They didn't rely on their instincts. They let their fallible set of rules and guidelines make the decision for them. They didn't make the honest decision: the one they knew—know—to be the right one. They didn't act like rational, thinking beings. They acted like droids—and droids cannot win a war of the spirit."
Revan held up his hands, signaling his audience to wait just one moment, and he slid aside to reveal his creation-in-progress. "Maybe droids can't win the war, but this one can win the battle, I think."
It was only half a droid: a chassis of dark orange durasteel with a head that had been shaped to look like a fierce jungle cat before the pounce. It sat in pieces, unmoving on the workbench, but it still looked dangerous.
"What is this thing?" Meetra asked, disturbed and intrigued by what she saw.
Revan shrugged. "Let's make introductions." His hand reached to the droid's back and locked in a power cell that had been hanging loose. There was a rising hum from within the droid as it powered up, and its eyes began to glow red with activity. Then, the humming stopped, its red eyes lit solidly, the loose arms at its side retracted up, and its head snapped in the direction of the two Jedi.
The droid's voice seemed oddly human. "Introduction: Aitch-Kay Forty-Seven, ready and reporting for duty, master."
Meetra stopped herself from questioning the droid. HK-47?
Revan put a hand on the droid's shoulder, and seemed to watch with delight as his two friends grew more bewildered by the second. "Aitch-Kay, tell my friends here what you are."
"Introduction: Why, I am merely an autonomous protocol droid commissioned for the crew of the Republic capital ship, Duskwind... or so I would say to anyone other than yourself, master."
"No, it's okay. Give them the whole thing."
"Very well. I am an assassination droid, built for the sole function of obliterating, vaporizing, or otherwise beating a living organism into non-existence." HK seemed to cough. "I should have you all know that I was programmed to relay the previously-stated introduction with an undertone of solemnity, an emotion that has not been added to my overrides. Excitement is all I can manage at the moment, I'm afraid."
"An assassin droid?" Malak asked. "For what purpose?"
"Statement: I should think my primary function has been confidently established already. But if you'd like a demonstration—"
"No," Malak cut off the droid and regarded Revan. "What use could you have for an assassin droid? The war's nearly over."
Revan stared into Malak's eyes coldly. "There will always be room for him in our particular galaxy, Brother."
HK turned to Revan. "Observation: Your mood has suddenly dropped, master. Would the obliteration—slash—vaporization—slash—beating of this individual please you?"
Malak's fist clenched. His eyes burned in the droid's direction. "You're not even fully operational, droid. Your legs are on the other end of the room."
The droid's head dropped into a sneer. "Clarification: Although legs would be a vast improvement to my current situation, I can wholeheartedly assure you that, even from where I'm sitting, I calculate there are two-hundred and forty-two different ways to kill you. If you don't believe me, the demonstration I offered is still... on the table... so to speak."
Malak turned to Meetra, who had a restrained smile upon her face. Seeing she would be no help, he turned back to Revan. "Did you program him to be like that?"
Revan shook his head. "I just gave him the tools to learn as he pleases. Apparently, he's acquired a good sense of humor since I first activated him."
"That's a sense of humor?"
HK nodded. "Assurance: Oh, yes, I have a grand sense of humor. Of course, I'd never harm any of my master's companions without reason.
"Clarification: But one word from my master and the two-hundred and forty-three ways to down you would come into play. And believe me when I say that the only hesitation on my part would be picking one from the list."
Malak looked to be at a loss. "I thought... you said two-hundred and forty-two?"
"You've taken a step forward since my last calculation," HK snapped. "It's a shame, really. Judging by your meatbag make-up, I would only be able to employ one technique from my... happy list before you suffered critical internal failure. Disappointing, if I do say so myself."
Meetra watched Malak's hand edge toward his lightsaber.
"That's enough," Malak huffed. "Pull the plug, I'm done with introductions."
Revan complied with a smile, pulling the power cell back out. The assassin droid groaned the word "Meatbag" as it powered down.
Malak got up close to Revan, close enough that they were exchanging breaths. "I'm done. When you want to talk, you know where to find me. But remember this: you never had a problem telling me anything before, Brother." He nearly spat the word. "Do what you like." He turned and stormed out of the lab.
Meetra was about to do the same when Revan called after her.
"Wait," he said.
The girl sighed. "What is it? If you're not going to let us help, what could you possibly want?"
Revan stood. There was no regret in his expression. He knew what he was doing. "I know it may be difficult, but this is for your own good."
"How can it possibly?" she asked.
"When the time comes, and the decision comes with it, you will have to make a choice—I need your heart behind it, not your mind. Please, understand this."
Meetra stepped back. "Whatever," she said. "When the time comes."
As she walked away, leaving Revan behind, she thought she heard his voice whisper a response to her.
"It won't be long…"
—
Admiral Karath stood on the bridge of the Leviathan, taking in the sight of Malachor V from the main viewport as he sipped at a steaming cup of ahn tea. His eyes shifted from the planet below to the stars surrounding his ship, waiting for something to happen.
He took another sip. Each one tasted better than the last. Then again, it must always seem that way to a dead man.
But he did what he could, and gave his full trust to the young Jedi Knight, Revan, and his apocalyptic plan for victory. He had no other choice, and he had no reason to not trust the Jedi—even after what he proposed. If it would put an end to the war, Karath didn't care how the end came.
Even then, he still wasn't confident he'd be alive to see it.
Doesn't matter, he thought. As long as it ends.
"Sir!" Carth Onasi's voice called out from the other end of the bridge. "We have contact!"
The bridge came alive with activity, with every crewmember within wanting to know if this was the moment: the one they had been waiting for since the war began.
"Is it friendly?" Karath asked, simply.
Onasi turned back, face pale. "No."
The bridge fell silent. All eyes fell to the Admiral, and he stood unshaken. His hand slowly brought his teacup back to his lips, and he finished off what was left. It scorched his throat, but he didn't so much as blink at the pain.
"Battlestations." Karath's voice carried across the bridge, through the comm, and across the HoloNet; as the radar screens of the Leviathan filled with enemy contacts, the galaxy held its breath.
All that would ever be would start from this day.
Everyone in the galaxy would live under the shadow of Malachor V—forever.
The end starts now: