A/N: Chapters 1 - 25 have been revised, mostly for grammar/spelling. However, one change of note is that the one reference to Kreia has been removed, to give further freedom to the reader as to whether Arren Kae is Kreia. (Yes, that theory does tickle me a bit.) I hope this new chapter was worth the wait.
CHAPTER 26
Disclaimer: The term Star Wars, the Star Wars logo, and all names and pictures of Star Wars characters, vehicles, concepts and items are the property of Lucasfilm Ltd., or their respective holders. There is no attempt to profit by their use. The author is not endorsed by or affiliated with Lucasfilm, Ltd. The author is too poor to be worth the lawsuit.
Revan stared aghast at the ghostly image of Nomi Sunrider from his seat in one of the Ravager's otherwise unoccupied conference rooms.
"What do you mean you're recalling the Revanchists?" he said, his unmasked face bearing a scowl.
"I'm sorry, Revan," Nomi's transmission said. "The Jedi High Council will formally vote on this within the hour. I just thought I would let you know ahead of time, before it became official."
"So you haven't actually voted yet?"
Nomi's blue face shook her head. "Revan, don't even think about it. If you do anything rash within the next hour-"
"Yes, yes. You'll send Vrook Lamar to arrest me again. But really, Master, whatever happened to 'innocent until proven guilty?'"
"It's politics, Revan. The Senate is overall predisposed toward withdrawing from the demarcation line and renegotiating peace with the new Mandalore. Any offer of peace would appear insincere so long as the Revanchists are gathered for war."
Revan shook his gloved finger. "No, that's not what this is about. This is about assigning blame."
Nomi shrugged. "The old Mandalore was found with a lightsaber wound to his right lung."
"Cassus Fett is known to carry the lightsaber of the last Jedi he has slain. Do you think it a coincidence that he is the new Mandalore? Multiple Republic soldiers witnessed him entering a hallway with the old Mandalore, and exiting it alone."
Nomi raised a blue eyebrow. "Whatever happened to 'innocent until proven guilty?'" Revan slouched in his chair. "Besides," Nomi continued, "I think accusing the new Mandalore of murdering his own father will only exacerbate the situation. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Peace is not possible with Cassus Fett. The Senate is making a mistake."
"Then let me make myself clear. Even if the Council were to allow the Revanchists to remain deployed, the Senate will most likely not. I'm trying to save you the agony of having to deal with thousands of finger-pointing politicians who will happily assign blame to you, and very publicly."
"They already are," Revan growled. "Haven't you seen the HoloNet News?"
"Regardless, we can't exonerate you unless Onderon's internal security investigation reveals something more definitive on this matter. In the meantime, you are a political hazard that no politician wants to touch. Quietly coming home is your best option right now."
"Onderon's investigation will never find anything," Revan said darkly. "The Mandalorians have cut transmissions from the planet. The last transmission the Queen's security managed to smuggle out to us indicated that there was a gap in the Chancellor's security personnel. The one camera that was pointing in the direction of the shooter malfunctioned. One would think they would have spent more time investigating how two ion cannons on Dxun escaped the notice of the Republic's Disarmament Committee. We lost three ships and one landing pad to those things before our fleet could destroy them."
Nomi raised her hands placatingly. "I agree that the investigation will need to be broadened, but speculating about what happened and how won't help our cause."
"Our cause?"
"Yes, our cause. Or have you forgotten that the Jedi Council endorsed you?"
Revan choked down a derisive snort.
"Well, yes, we were late about it, but we did eventually support you. Allow us to support you now. You have a home to which to return. We will not unjustly assign blame to you, no matter how bad the circumstantial evidence looks."
Revan snorted outright.
"Well, only Vrook Lamar will blame you. And Atris. Otherwise, I see nothing but sympathy for you. I know you are innocent, as do the others. We all know you have lost too much from this personally for you to be the instigator."
The young Jedi Knight stared blankly at the table.
"Revan, we all miss Alek sorely. Come home. You'll find you have more friends here than you know. The Council is already discussing what to do if the new Mandalore refuses peace, and I think we are all in favor aiding the Republic if the worst happens."
"So you're still discussing, after all this time? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." Revan studied the faux wooden grain in the table, brooding.
"I understand your bitterness. Perhaps we deserve it. But, dear one, we worry for you."
"That would be a first."
"I know you are angry over Alek's death. Don't think I cannot sense your rage, even from this distance. Let it go, young one. Revenge will not undo your loss. I know this very well."
Revan's gaze snapped up to look at her blue projection. Her head was bowed. Had she once exacted revenge? Perhaps for her dead husband?
Her eyes finally met his once more as she raised her head.
"No," Revan said, his voice low. "I can't. Not for his death, nor the for the death of millions of others. I won't waste their sacrifice."
His gauntleted fist slammed the disconnect button on the comm before she could reply. He laid his head back in his chair, thinking, trying to see past the seething fog of anger.
He needed help. In a war against politicians, he needed to become a politician. But where to begin? Fortunately, he had the perfect advisor. He sat up, and connected to another channel to Coruscant on the comm unit.
Within minutes, and through several aides, Senator Stazi's blue image materialized.
"Greetings, Revanchist. Have you lost your mask?" the Duro said, his red eyes discolored a dark shade of blue.
"No, I just don't really see the point of it when everyone has already seen my face on the news."
The Duro's head tilted. "But you made a vow."
Revan paused for a moment, wondering with a knit brow just how literally Stazi took that vow. Did the senator expect him to eat intravenously? The Jedi opted not to ask, and instead reached for his mask on the table.
"Very well," Revan said as he fastened his mask in place and threw his hood over his head.
Stazi straightened. "I assume you are contacting me regarding the vote for the new Supreme Chancellor. The Senate is still deliberating."
"Who do you think is most likely to win?"
"Not myself, I'm afraid. Sympathies lie toward Antilles' closest supporters, for obvious reasons. I am not considered a team player in our party."
"Then who?"
"Merias or Toben."
Revan hissed beneath his mask. "Is there any way to stall the vote?"
"I doubt that. However, it will take several days to come to a final decision. You have a little time, Revanchist. Use it wisely."
"About that... I could use your advice. The Jedi High Council is about to recall the Jedi Mercy Corp. If Merias or Toben is elected, I know she will likewise recall us. The Defense Ministry will follow orders and forcibly remove me from command if need be." He leaned forward intently, his hands clasped on the table. "I don't know how to fight two wars."
Stazi nodded. "Tell me, Revanchist. How did you begin this war?"
Revan leaned back in his chair. "I took what Jedi would follow me, and picked small battles in strategic places. Harassment, mostly."
"Think back before even that, Revanchist. There was a time you fought when you had no army. You had only words. How did you fight with your words?"
A smile formed beneath Revan's mask. "The press. I went to the press."
"Make your appeal to the people. But most importantly, make it to every officer in the Navy, and to every Jedi in the Mercy Corp. The more controversial your appeal, the more the HoloNet News will be forced to show it."
Revan shook his head. "That won't be enough. They will still recall us."
"You have a way with words. Do not discount yourself. But more importantly, follow through on your words. You have a small window of time in which to act. They cannot recall you if they need you. Make yourself needed."
Stazi's words were vague enough to keep his hands clean, but clear enough to give Revan the advice he needed. True, their channel was secure, but the senator tended to err on the side of tactfulness.
"In the meantime," Stazi continued, "I will do what little I can to stall the vote. If I can convince the other parties in the Senate to agree on nominating another candidate for Supreme Chancellor, the Senate would certainly take longer to deliberate."
"Thank you," Revan said.
"One more thing," Stazi said. "I am transferring some sensitive files to your care. I ask that you do not reveal their contents to anyone unless at the utmost need."
"What are these files?" Revan said.
"They are my insurance policy. You may need them to protect yourself from Merias, should she assume the Chancellorship."
"You have some sort of compromising information on Merias?"
"Yes."
"Why not reveal it now? We could stop her bid for Chancellor."
The Duro paused for a very uncomfortable moment, before utterly discarding all tact. "Because this information also compromises me."
The Jedi sat stunned. It couldn't be.
"You should understand, Revanchist, that for a very long time I was one of them. I took money I shouldn't have-the same money that Merias received, as well as Toben and Rial. Possibly Antilles, though I suspect he drew indirectly from Merias. It is how the game of politics is played. If one desires the power to shape the galaxy, one must make compromises. We all must answer to our benefactors. Some days I answer to a corporation. Other days to a political action group. Then there are those days when it is to a Hutt cartel, or worse."
Revan finally found his voice. "What changed?" But he knew the answer.
"One day, our shared benefactor wanted a Republic fleet patrolling one hyperspace lane to be moved to another, more important trade route, purportedly to discourage pirates. The hyperspace lane to be abandoned ran through Randon all the way to Duros."
Revan had to swallow the lump forming in his throat as the story stumbled to its obvious ending.
"My son is dead because of me."
A heavy silence hung between them for a few minutes. Revan had always wondered how this one senator could rise above the petty politics of all the rest, how he could not be touched by their corruption. Now he knew. Stazi was corrupt-corrupt, and atoning for his sins.
"Who is this benefactor?" Revan finally asked, his mouth feeling dry.
"I am uncertain. This donor uses many fronts and proxies. One proxy is the Exchange, particularly Davik Kang. This donor appears to have a keen interest in the success of the Mandalorians. I was first introduced years ago through Senator Rial. My campaign for the Senate was short on donations. He promised me he could find a donor who would change everything for me, if I would but sponsor a bill when elected. I was told to use a symbol when contacting this donor, like a pass phrase."
"What is this symbol?" Revan said.
"The symbol is in the files, as are the money transactions from every front this donor has used with me. The protocol was that I transmitted this symbol to one of Rial's contacts, and laundered money came from one or more of these fronts. Every now and then, I received instructions, sometimes at my doorstep, with this symbol as authentication. I have included all this in the files. I have also managed to trace some of these fronts, which is how I was able to more directly incriminate Merias, as she uses the same fronts very publicly. I'm afraid, however, I have reached a dead end. The multiple sources never lead to a single donor, even though I am certain only one lies behind them all."
"Why did you wait until now to tell me?"
"I needed your trust. You would never have let me help you if you thought I was corrupt. Let Merias know you have proof of her corruption, if that restrains her. When the time comes, expose her. But remember that once you expose her, I can no longer help you in the Senate. I will be tried alongside her, provided any justice will be had at all. I do not trust the courts. We must rely upon the court of public opinion."
"You're willing to make this sacrifice?"
"Yes", he said, large eyes unblinking. "I always knew what the cost would be of helping you. That cost is nothing compared to that of losing my son. This is my deserved fate. They may even kill me for this. We will see soon enough."
"I'll keep your secret safe. I promise."
"I must go now," the Duro said. "May the Force be with you."
"And with you," the Jedi whispered, but the senator's blue image had already faded.
Bastila floated in the kolto tank, slipping in and out of sleep, at times dreaming that an alien was wrapped around her face. The sensation felt so real that she nearly woke in a panic, but she retained enough of her faculties to remember that it was only a breathing mask on her face.
Their fleet had at last escaped the death trap that was Onderon, but at great cost. They had lost several capital ships before they could disable the ion cannons on the Demon Moon. Moreover, once the Republic fleet had withdrawn, Onderon itself had fallen to the Mandalorians. The queen's attempt at neutrality had not stopped Cassus Fett from taking its capital city.
Now the Republic fleet drifted around its latest rendezvous point, having been chased from multiple systems across the demarcation line. It seemed that no matter which system they jumped to, the Mandalorian fleet was not far behind. Bastila had not allowed herself to sleep for the last ten hours, using her Battle Meditation even within the kolto tank, and not daring to rest even in hyperspace lest she fail to awaken for the next attack. Nevertheless, she could finally feel that the fleet was safe-for now. The Mandalorian forces had no desire to over-commit so far across the demarcation line. Bastila's instincts also told her that Fett needed time to secure his new role as Mandalore before he could press his advantage.
So at last, she slept. Or at least pretended to. A part of her was afraid of sleep, afraid to dream, afraid she would dream of him. She settled for a deep meditation instead, one in which she sometimes accidentally drifted into sleep, only to jerk awake in a moment of panic.
So tired.
A tap on the glass stirred her from her meditation.
Bastila's eyes slid open. A medical droid's blurry face stared back through the green fluid, eyes glowing softly.
The kolto was draining from the tank. Bastila sucked in a deep breath from her mask and swam up, the tank's lid opening with a hiss as she surfaced.
The young Jedi climbed out and accepted the droid's proffered towel. She gratefully wrapped it around her bare skin-her only clothing being undergarments-to shield her from the cold air that was already creating patches of goose bumps. Some of the kolto tanks around her were filled with floating patients. All had their eyes closed, but the young Jedi still felt conscious of her exposed state.
She dressed quickly, tying her hair into a damp bun to save time. She would have to shower later to wash away the salty scent of kolto, but for now it was best if she allowed her skin to absorb the remnants of the healing fluid. In the meantime, she needed an update on the fleet. Her hand pressed the door mechanism, and she stepped out of the kolto tank room and into the medical bay proper.
The hallway was busier than usual, staff hurrying across, medical droids shuffling alongside gurneys being moved to different rooms. Carth Onasi distinguished himself by standing still at attention beside the kolto tank room's doorway, T3-M4 parked beside him. The ace pilot leaned against a crutch, nursing his wounded leg.
"Shouldn't you be in a kolto tank yourself?" Bastila asked, knitting her brow in concern.
"A few more kolto injections, and I'll be fine, Ma'am."
Bastila crossed her arms.
"I'm under orders," Carth elaborated. "No more guards except for me and your droid."
"I promise I won't challenge Cassus Fett to a duel if you get into a kolto tank."
"I also have orders to escort you to your shuttle."
Bastila raised an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean?"
"If you'll please follow me, Master Jedi."
The lieutenant's stern expression left no room for argument, but Bastila decided to find room anyway.
"Lieutenant, would you mind telling me what is going on?"
Another voice answered from the other side of the hall, old and gruff. "Perhaps I can offer some clarity."
Bastila froze, a familiar, sick feeling churning in her stomach. She turned to see Vrook Lamar gracing her with his typical scowl. The young Jedi returned it in kind.
"Padawan Shan," Vrook said with a brisk nod.
Bastila stiffened.
"Forgive me my old habit. Knight Shan. Please do allow us both to escort you to your shuttle. We haven't much time."
"Time for what, exactly?" Bastila asked warily.
"The Chancellor's remains are about to be transferred from this ship to a crew that will take him back to Coruscant. We will be leaving with him."
"And why is that?"
Could Vrook's scowl possibly deepen further? Yes. Yes, it could.
"The Jedi High Council is meeting even now to discuss recalling the Revanchists," Vrook said gruffly. "I trust you have sense enough to obey their command."
"But they haven't issued the command just yet?"
Vrook's voice went from gruff to cold. "Bastila, consider carefully your future with the Jedi Order. If you choose to stay and this fleet jumps into hyperspace, there will be no going back to the Jedi."
Bastila bristled under Vrook's threat. "I would still like to hear it from the Council for myself."
She brushed past her former Master, but he grabbed her arm, turning her around. "If my word is not enough for you, then perhaps you will at least hear it from him."
Bastila's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Revan has summoned all Jedi in the fleet to meet aboard the Ravager. Those not physically present for the meeting are to watch from the HoloNet remotely."
She glanced toward Carth. "Why wasn't I informed?"
Her guard took in a breath, eyes slightly averted, preparing an explanation that he very well knew she wouldn't like.
Vrook beat him to it. "I suppose he knows where you belong. Surely you don't need a speech from him to tell you?"
Bastila could see the beginnings of what might pass for a smile curling across Vrook's lips in celebration of his minor victory over her.
Bastila's eyes narrowed. "I'll be the judge of what I need to hear, and from whom."
"Very well. Just follow the sound of sycophantic applause to the mess hall. You can't miss it. I'll be waiting in the hangar bay for you. Shuttle Alpha One Three. It's leaving in forty minutes, with or without you."
"Is this the reason you're here? To ensure that I return to Coruscant?"
"In part. But I don't think I'll need to exert any kind of compulsion on you to make you see reason. Without the Defense Ministry's backing, what can Revan possibly hope to achieve?"
"Then why come and fetch me?" And then it clicked. Bastila's brow scrunched. "You think he'll try something, don't you?"
"It wouldn't be the first time. But don't worry. I know I can't possibly arrest every single sycophant by myself. I just thought I'd give you the common courtesy of a friendly warning. You're not like the others. You waited to join the war until the Council sent you. That goes to your credit. But I would hate to see your personal feelings get in the way of your very promising future."
If she were riled up before, she was now livid. A protective instinct rose up within her, though what it was she was protecting eluded her. "My personal feelings?" she hissed.
"I'm old, Bastila. Not blind. Even from afar, I see how you look at him."
"With all due respect, Master, how I 'look at him' is none of your business." Since when had she gained such courage to defy her old Master so? Perhaps it was because he had no real power over her, now that she was a Knight. Or perhaps she finally saw her own worth, because someone else had finally told her she meant something. She wasn't about to let Vrook Lamar take that from her.
"Still arrogant, I see," Vrook said, his voice resigned. "I suppose it isn't my business, but as your former Master, you'll have to forgive me for taking an interest in your well-being."
An old wound was reopened now, oozing. "Oh, please," Bastila said bitterly. "That would involve caring. An emotional attachment. Surely you are above that, Master Lamar?"
"Forty minutes," Vrook said, eyes darkening.
Bastila turned away again, happy the conversation was over. She stormed across the hallway.
"General!"
Carth admirably tried to keep up with his crutch, even though pain was evident on his grimacing face. But there was little time to wait for him.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I need to go."
"I have orders, Ma'am-directly from General Revan."
Bastila's resolve only hardened. "If he wants to send me away again, then he can give me those orders himself. Besides, it looks like I won't be needing your services. Now get yourself into a kolto tank."
She whirled away again, only to be stopped by squealing wheels and a shrill beep.
"T3, stay with Master Lamar."
She quickened her pace, ignoring the disappointed whistle trailing behind her. Soon she was out of the med bay and burrowing deeper into the Ravager. It took her ten minutes to make her way to the mess hall. Why was she keeping track of time? Was she seriously considering staying? Defying the Council?
Yes. No. Maybe. All she knew was that she had to hear him out.
She paused as she approached the entry to the mess hall. Could she perhaps convince him to come with her? No, of course not. But if the Council was indeed recalling the Mercy Corp, she had to try to make him see reason.
The room was packed with Jedi, all wearing various shades of brown or white. There was no applause, no cheering. It was a somber occasion, like a funeral.
She found a nook in the back. Toward the front, she could see the press, their floating, orb-like droids snapping holographs with their flashing lights and 3D cameras. This event was indeed being broadcasted live over the HoloNet News.
Revan was still speaking, recounting his version of events, modulated voice echoing off the walls.
"General Malak lies dead," he was saying. "He died defending the Republic, and this treaty. Like Chancellor Tavion Antilles, he believed that peace was possible."
The masked Jedi paused a moment, allowing his words to sink in. Bastila couldn't help but notice how he was stressing the common goal of the Senate and his Revanchist general, and-by extension-Revan's goal. He was subtly trying to clear himself of the ridiculous charge that he had murdered Mandalore, without bringing it up directly. Clever.
"The Senate debates whether peace is still possible, and how to extend this peace after such tragedy. The Jedi Council even now is voting to recall the Jedi Mercy Corp, as a token of our good will.
"I, too, wish for peace."
Bastila let out a breath of held air in relief.
"But peace," Revan continued, "cannot forget honor."
Oh, no.
"I signed a treaty. Moreover, I gave my word under oath to Mandalore. I cannot break this oath."
By the Force, he was a genius. She knew where he was going with this.
"Mandalore was my ally, for however short a time. His people are my own allies and kin, and my honor is the honor of Mandalore. I vowed that if any attack Mandalore, that I would avenge. My word is my bond. I swore to you that I would wear this mask until the Mandalorians were defeated. I removed it only upon terms of peace. Now I take it up again. I have fulfilled this vow, and will continue to do so. Just as I will fulfill my vow to avenge my fallen ally. His blood calls for aid. I must answer.
"Who, then, is the enemy who has betrayed Mandalore? It is those who sought war over peace, who would not abide by any treaty. Even now, the Mandalorian forces drive us back, and retake hard-won territory. The demarcation line is shattered. There are factions among the Mandalorians who do not desire peace. These cannot be placated. They cannot be reasoned with. They must be defeated. Not only for our own safety, but for Mandalore's own vision of long-lasting peace.
"I once asked you to join me in this war, in defiance of the Jedi Council. You did what you knew was right, and you saved the Republic from falling. I ask you to do this one more time. Not only to bring peace to the Republic, but to the Mandalorians as well, whose peace was stolen from them."
He paused again, his masked visage sweeping the room, his gaze personal, probing. Bastila worried he could see her, even here in the back behind so many Jedi. But of course he couldn't. And yet she could feel his eyes ask of her, Do you trust me?
"We have a window of opportunity," Revan continued. "The Senate has not yet reached a decision. We still have one third of the Republic fleet at our command. How shall we spend this time?"
He turned, facing what appeared to be a row of fleet officers. Was that Admiral Dodonna's cap bobbing at the front? And Admiral Karath's balding head, she was certain, though she had to stand on her toes to see over the Jedi in front of her.
"I ask the admiralty of this fleet-yes, every soldier-what shall we do with the time that is given us? Shall we wait for a decision from the Senate while the Mandalorians ravage the Republic? Or shall we fight back, and give the Senate every bit of leverage possible to win a lasting peace?"
Boots shuffled against the deck, nervous at the implications.
"Your careers hang in the balance. I understand this. You could be court-martialed if you defy the Defense Ministry's orders to retreat. But within this short window of time, before any new Supreme Chancellor is elected, and before any new policy is made, we are the leaders of the Republic. We have the power to make decisions, to act, to do the right thing. You gave me this command because you trusted me. Trust me one last time. Act to save the Republic. Do what you know to be right."
Revan stepped away from his microphone, and suddenly lightsabers across the room ignited, waved high in a solemn salute.
Bastila just stood there, torn, watching admirals and reporters alike chase after Revan as he made his exit. What was the right course of action? What did she want to do? Did she really want to return with Vrook Lamar?
That was the sane option. There had after all been that glint in Revan's eyes she had seen on Onderon, just mere hours ago. Revenge. He hated the Mandalorians. Hated that his best fried was dead. Had hated his enemy long before that, even. So many of his other friends and comrades were dead. He could mask his true intentions with flowery words all he wanted. She knew the truth.
On the other hand, if Revan were successful in convincing the admiralty to retake lost territory, the fleet would need her help. She held the power to save lives like no other. And what if, given enough losses, Cassus Fett could be made to see reason? What if he agreed to peace?
Her instincts told her that would never happen. She knew his reputation, knew the old rivalry between him and Revan. Cassus Fett would never stop, just as Revan would not. Only one would survive this conflict.
And finally, as the Revanchists began to disperse, pushing past her, she acknowledged the nagging doubt as to her true motives. Was Vrook Lamar right? Was her affection for Revan affecting her judgment? Revan frightened her, yes. The intensity behind his eyes. The bitterness. The once cold vengeance now turned hot. And her dreams, of how far he might take that vengeance. If she left now, would he see that act as the betrayal she must have done in one of those alternate realities playing out before her where he'd strangle her or shove her out an airlock-where he took his revenge out on her?
Fear. It led to the dark side. What purpose did these dreams serve? To warn her? Of the bitterness burning behind his eyes that she could clearly see in her waking hours? What was the point? Unless she could somehow change things by her presence. Was that even possible? They were both so stubborn.
She had long searched the Force for the answer to these dreams, even to make them stop. Nothing. Silence. She needed guidance so desperately. Could she save him from the course he took? Would he hate her for leaving? No, no, he wouldn't. He was sending her away again. Saving her from himself. This was her out.
But I love him.
There. She had finally admitted it. She still couldn't say it aloud. Why? Why was she afraid? Jedi fear nothing. No, she feared him. Not that he would snap her neck or impale her on his violet lightsaber. That was merely a dream, an exaggeration. It had to be. But a conflict between them would inevitably come, whether she stayed or not.
And I love him.
And that was why she needed to leave. Her feet moved at last, taking her out of the mess hall along with the crowd. She recited the Code down the turbolift she shared with other Jedi, nameless faces she avoided, locked in her own private hell. She left them when the door slid open to the deck hosting the hangar bay.
She'd forgotten to get her duffel bag from her room, already packed for her and Revan's trip to...to dinner somewhere? Did it matter if she had that bag? She was a Jedi. She could live without her toothbrush. Revan had probably sent her personal affects to the hangar bay anyway.
Her feet slowed as she entered the hangar, her conscience too stung to continue forward.
I can't change him.
But you can save lives.
I can't save his.
"Just on time."
Vrook Lamar, waiting dutifully for her. Her feet had dragged her to the shuttle. T3 was parked beside him, the droid wobbling happily at seeing her. Some of the Chancellor's security lingered, keeping watch over the shuttle lest anyone dared to desecrate the corpse within.
The ramp's hydraulics hissed, beckoning her to board before the shuttle left without her.
"You made the right choice," Vrook said, a gloating smile wrinkling his face further. Gloating over her-no, over Revan. Happy to take something away from him. And Revan was the vindictive one?
"I'd have hated to see you throw away your career for that lost cause."
The young Jedi glazed eyes turned icy. "Career? Do you truly think of service to the Republic as a career?"
"Of course not. Don't try to use my own words against me, young one. My overall point still stands. Come with me, and you'll have a future. Stay, and you'll be a fugitive. Don't expect forgiveness when the fate of the galaxy hangs in the balance."
But she heard none of the rest. Why was she leaving with Vrook Lamar? Why?
To keep your title, she thought, knowing it was shallow.
But Revan had taught her something. There was more to being a Jedi than just a title. She could never undo that lesson, try as she might. No, she would not undo that lesson, not for anything in the world. And this very lesson was why she had fallen in love with Revan. Utterly and completely, even as she feared the tumble into the unknown.
What if I can help him, save him?
And who will save you?
I love him. I have to try.
And that was it. She could not abandon him to the dark. Could not abandon the Republic fleet, for that matter. Courage in the face of fear, of danger. She would not fear this feeling. She would draw strength from it, to protect him, persuade him any way she could. She would travel the path of Nomi Sunrider, and not of Vrook Lamar.
But can you do it? Should Revan fall, can you do the right thing?
Bastila nodded at last. "Yes, Master, I understand."
Vrook smiled again, assuming. Always assumed, about her, about everyone.
Bastila drew in a deep breath. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Master, I'm late for a staff meeting. Come along, T3."
She spun on her heel, T3's wheels squeeling to keep up. She didn't bother to look at the scowl that must surely have creased Vrook's face, the accusing eyes that would tell her what a failure she was as a Jedi.
"I'm proud of you, Bastila."
Bastila froze. She slowly turned to face her old Master. Was her hearing going? Was she dreaming? Was she...?
"I always have been," Vrook said, eyes sorrowful. "Long before you discovered your Battle Meditation. I should have told you this years ago. Perhaps I would not be driving you away right now if I had."
Bastila looked down, swallowed the lump in her throat. No, this appeal to sentiment would not work. It was far too late for that. If he had just given her even an ounce of praise, of positive feedback any family pet would receive for performing a simple trick... He could have been a father to her. Could have. Might have. Chose not to. Live with it.
She walked away.
Yelling, shouting over each other...at him.
Revan had a headache. He wished he could rub his temple under his mask.
"Court-martial, Karath," Dodonna stressed. "Think on it. Our own XOs might lock us up."
"After that speech on the HoloNet?" The grizzled man replied. "The Defense Ministry will look like nerfs if they don't take up Revan's offer." He leaned forward over the conference table from his seat, standing like Dodonna. No one sat in this meeting. "You could put pressure on them to back down."
"Need I remind you that the same HoloNet News is still accusing the Revanchist of murder?"
Admiral Tiin perked up. "An absurd accusation! I was there."
"Did Onderon security ID the shooter? No?" Admiral Yun.
Karath's shoulders slumped in surrender.
Did Revan have no allies in this room?
"It was wrong of you to put us on the spot like that, Revan." Dodonna. Back to yelling.
Dunwell ganged up on him, even from his holoprojected image, joining the meeting remotely from his flagship. "I don't think we should make any move until a Supreme Chancellor is chosen."
"That could be days," Karath said. "Weeks, at the rate the Senate argues."
"No," Revan interjected. "It will be days at most." He leaned back on his heels, causally clasping his hands behind his back. "In the meantime, how far are you willing to retreat? Fett will push further."
He refused to call that creature Mandalore.
"Our orders are clear," Yun said in his gravelly Mon Calamari voice. "Retreat to Ord Mantell. Protect necessary hyperspace lanes until the Senate sends ambassadors."
"All our progress abandoned so easily?" Revan said accusingly. "So that you can retire in comfort?"
"That's not fair, Revan," Dodonna said.
But Revan could tell he had stung her conscience. She always had been a fence sitter, and she needed to be prodded to take any risk. He prodded her harder.
"It's not about what's fair. It's about what's right. I won't abandon the worlds Fett is already ravishing."
"And we won't," Yun said. "We will work out another treaty."
"With what leverage?" Revan said. "More worlds ceded?" He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. "Remember what Fett did to Serroco. He hasn't changed."
The entire room fell silent. So many dead. Cities turned to glass on the whim of a cruel Mandalorian general.
"I haven't forgotten," Admiral Karath said at last.
"Now ask yourselves if peace is even possible with this man," Revan said. "Defeat is the only thing he understands. We need the other Mandalorian generals to see the futility of fighting us, to pressure Fett to stand down. He is only Mandalore so long as they are willing to follow him."
"You know what I think," Yun said, arrogant voice grating through his holoprojection, making Revan bristle. "I think you want to fight."
Yes, yes he did. Until it was finished. Until the threat was ended. Until all the dead were avenged. His own best friend had been a casualty. He would face Cassus Fett, if it was the last thing he ever did.
"Whether you arranged for Mandalore's execution or not, you want this," the Mon Calamari said. "But even if you truly want peace, how do you expect to win this 'leverage'?"
Karath interrupted, his brow creased. "You want to try out that new weapon, don't you?"
The room fell eerily silent, all present-or remotely joining-momentarily frozen in shock.
No, what had been happening previously did not truly constitute yelling. What followed now, however, did.
"It hasn't even been tested!" Dodonna said, her hands flattening against the table. "Anything could happen. Anything could go wrong."
"And what better time to test it than now?" Karath shot back.
Others joined in to argue, while others who had not been briefed demanded an explanation as to what this new weapon was.
Not for the first time, Revan wished Alek were here. His brusque manner might offend the admiralty, but he had had a knack for bringing order to a cacophonous room with a mere slam of his fist into the table. Surik, of course, likewise had a knack for calming everyone down, but she also tended to empathize with Revan's opposition to try to "understand" everyone better. That meant the meeting would last longer as she probed everyone for opinions and acknowledged their feelings, nearly siding with them in the process. Revan naturally preferred making the jump to hyperspace sometime before the next Supreme Chancellor was chosen-which, of course, was why he had not invited Surik to the meeting.
Instead, the Jedi General folded his arms, and waited patiently for the gathered admirals to turn their attention back to him.
Admiral Yun was the first to break from the nerf herd. "General Revan," he said, "do you have any new data from the engineers as to the effectiveness of this weapon?"
Finally. "Yes," Revan said. "Bao-Dur has been running simulations. The results are promising."
"Still no field tests, then?" Dodonna said, her arms crossed skeptically.
"We don't have time for that, I'm afraid," Revan said. "It's now or never. If we try nothing, we will lose more systems to the Mandalorians long before any new treaty can be agreed upon. We have little to lose. I doubt the Defense Ministry will truly reprimand anyone here for buying them leverage."
Tiian snorted. "Not after you publicly shamed them. The media will be talking about your speech for weeks."
Dunwell nodded slowly. "With General Shan's ability, I think we can mitigate the risk of using an untried weapon."
Revan smiled beneath his mask. Dunwell was the most important person in the room to sway, other than Dodonna. Morale was a mere state of perception. He didn't have to tell them-
Admiral Yun's giant eyes narrowed to practically pin Revan where he stood. "I understand Bastila Shan has departed for Coruscant."
How did he know?
"I'm sorry, General," Dodonna said, answering his unspoken question. "I saw the manifest for the Chancellor's shuttle. I thought the others had the right to know."
To know that they wouldn't have Bastila's support. But they had beaten back the Mandalorians before without it. They could do it again, if they pulled together.
Revan's eyes swept over the room. The eyes betrayed dread and paralysis. Had they all become so dependent on Bastila's ability? It was as though Battle Meditation were spice for them, and they were experiencing the shakes just even thinking about engaging the enemy without their fix.
The Jedi swallowed hard, at a loss for words.
"Well, then, I think I've heard all I need," Dodonna said. "I'm sorry, General, but perhaps if we at least had Shan... I hope you understand."
A few others nodded their agreement. Yun still stared at Revan, the hint of victory sparkling in his eyes, the holoprojection tinting them blue. He had only technically come under Revan's command after Taris had been reclaimed. He had so happily withdrawn his fleet back to Ord Mantell when the Chancellor had commanded it. Revan and the Mon Calamari had not agreed on much from the start, and somehow Revan knew it was personal. Yun was a political animal. Most admiralty were, but especially Yun. He was the type who would position himself to run for Supreme Chancellor someday. And with one speech, Revan had threatened that. No matter what Yun did now, he would look bad to at least some significant portion of the galaxy's population.
One by one, the other admirals murmured their agreement with Dodonna.
"Well, then," Tiian said, "if that is all there is to say..."
No. It couldn't end like this. But what else could he do without a fleet? Even with the Jedi following him, he could not hope to turn back the Mandalorian hordes without the Republic Navy. How could he have miscalculated the admirals' reaction so badly? How could he have underestimated their dependency on Bastila's gift?
The door slid open at the far end of the room. A figure stood in the way of anyone leaving.
There were no words that could possibly express his gratitude in Basic or any other language he had ever learned. Bastila Shan entered the room, her back straight with confidence, her stride graceful, and all despite having spent hours in a kolto tank.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said. "Someone forgot to invite me." She looked pointedly at him as her hands went to her hips.
Dodonna took in a deep breath. "Well, I see I was mistaken. My apologies, General Revan."
Revan wasted no time in seizing the opportunity. "Apology accepted, Admiral. I suppose we can proceed, then?"
The older woman cocked her head to the side for a moment, considering. "I think your plan is worth the risk." She nodded, as if reaffirming her earlier decision. "Yes, I am willing to commit my fleet. Even if the weapon does not work as promised, we have a fair chance of turning things around with General Shan's support."
Tiian nodded with her, as did Karath. Dunwell nearly smiled. The rest shrugged indifferently. Except for Yun, who still pinned Revan down with a glare. Bastila, of course, raised an eyebrow at the word weapon.
"Very well," Revan said. "Meeting adjourned. Task orders will be sent to your ships. We jump in twenty."
And one by one, those present in the room left, while others calling in remotely vanished as the holoprojections shut off. Bastila, naturally, stayed, her hands still on her hips. The door slid shut behind her.
Everything in her posture dared him to send her away again. Dared him to give her an order to disobey.
Instead, he tore off his mask, discarded it on the table, and grabbed her in a bear hug, holding her close. She stiffened in his embrace, as if uncertain of what to do.
"Thank you," he murmured into her still wet hair, voice cracking. He inhaled the salty scent of kolto, not caring that she smelled like a fish freshly caught from Manaan's waters. "I wish you had left," he whispered. "Oh, I wish to the Force you were away from here. But thank you for staying." He planted a kiss in her wet tresses that he knew would warm her cheeks.
She stiffened more for a minute, before finally relaxing in his arms. Slowly, she returned his embrace.
"I'm here, Revan," she whispered. "You don't have to do this alone."
Revan's throat thickened. Suddenly it was very hard to swallow, to breath. He held her more tightly.
"Don't you ever send me away again," she said, voice more firm. "You ask me what I want."
"I promise," Revan said. He took a deep breath. "If you're going to stay, there's something I need to tell you."
Bastila pulled back a little, looking up into his eyes. Her gray eyes betrayed curiosity, though they wouldn't for long. He enjoyed the view for a moment. But only a moment.
"I can't keep you safe."