A/N Hey everyone, sorry this one took a while, but I've been bouncing back and forth between two versions of this chapter. I think I've finally managed to merge the two into a pretty good whole. Also, I never planned for Kyrena's and Bastila's conversations to mirror each other, it just sort of happened, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 52: Rational Discourse
The space dock Coruscant's Pride was a buzzing hive of starship activity. Huge capital ships slowly drifted in and out of the external docking stations while hundreds of tiny repair ships buzzed around them. The station itself was even busier, with hundreds of service personnel racing to get to a hundred different destinations in a mad scramble unlike anything seen since the original ramp up to the Mandalorian Wars.
The Republic Home Fleet was gearing up for war, and tempers were running hot as they got in each others' way, resupply ships jockeying for position with repair tugs, while each and every one of those service-people felt the desperation behind their frantic struggle. They were getting the home fleet ready to depart. If they were gone, what was left to protect the core worlds? Perhaps fortunately, the insanely aggressive time frame of their departure meant few of them had any spare moments to think about it.
Sitting in her office on the Pride was one person that did have enough time to think about it, however, and she was worried. Very worried. Admiral Forn Dodonna had been with the fleet a long time. She'd been there during the easy days, where all it had taken was political acumen and a few good contacts to rise through the ranks. She'd survived the shakeup of the Mandalorian Wars, when the incompetents had mostly been killed off, and Revan had forced them to restructure. And, somehow, she'd survived through this newest war. So far.
And right now, all of that political and military experience was setting off alarm bells. The one inviolable rule up to this point had been that home fleet was off limits. You could wheel and deal, you could do almost anything you wanted out on the rim, but the powers that be would tolerate no interference with home fleet. And now those same powers had decided it was time for the home fleet to move out and seek out foes far from home. There had to be a reason, and a very good reason, for that to be the case, and she couldn't think of a single one. Worse, it was Admiral Gelkorn involved, who was known more for his steadfast loyalty to Senator Craglift than for his military capability. Which loyalty was probably why he'd been entrusted with control of home fleet.
All of this seemed to suggest that whatever this was, it was personal. And when things got personal between the major power brokers in the Republic, they tended to get messy. And when military campaigns got messy, they usually ended in disaster. Especially when you were already losing.
No, with the Republic already on the brink of disaster, this was not one she could afford to sit out and then point fingers at where the problems came from when the dust settled, because it was pretty likely that if it came to that there wouldn't be anything left of the Republic. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Why is it that leadership is so often willing to hold a gun to their own head in order to get those of us loyal to the Republic to sacrifice everything just to save them from themselves?
Well, it was what it was. And if she was going to do her part to save the Republic from itself, she needed to be involved in this operation. Now, if only she could think up a good enough reason . . .
Yuthura Ban watched the stars of hyperspace through her tiny (but private!) room on the Mandalorian's Bane. The assault on Dantooine had been wildly successful, but it left her feeling . . . she didn't really have the words to describe it. But she was feeling something, and that in and of itself was notable. Hunting down those padawans and apprentices . . . they hadn't been a challenge. They hadn't even been meant to be a challenge, they were just there to slow them down while the others made a break for the hills. They'd just been thrown out there, helpless, hopelessly outclassed.
She leaned on her elbow and frowned at the fleeing stars. Was that what was bothering her? That they were so utterly controlled by their cowardly Jedi masters? But she knew that. She knew it. That's why she'd joined up in the first place, to free the slaves, especially those enslaved by the Jedi's teachings that so crippled their potential. But she seemed to be killing them a lot more often than freeing them. It left her feeling uncomfortably powerless, unable to really make a difference.
The ship dropped out of hyperspace and there lay Korriban, her new home, her place of power. Even just looking at it she felt stronger, more in control. The Jedi were a problem, yes, but she could deal with them. She could deal with all of them. She just needed to train a little more, gain a little more strength, and then all of her goals would be within reach.
Carth rounded everyone up the next morning for another meeting. It took a while. They certainly weren't as responsive to his calls as they were to Kyrena's, but there wasn't much he could do about that. Especially since everyone was more than a little morose and little worried about her, or what was left of her, or whatever.
"Alright everyone, look. Things have been a little rough, and I get that, but we need to sit down and figure this out." He looked around the group and nobody seemed to be objecting, so he plowed on. "Right now we're on course for Korriban. It was what the navicomputer had calculated when they nabbed us, and I pulled the trigger to get us out of there as quickly as possible. Now, that leaves the question of what we do when we get there. I, for one, intend to carry out this mission to the end. But I'll understand if any of you want out at this point. This is a little more than any of us asked for."
Nobody spoke up.
He supposed the Jedi were more or less still doing their assignment. Mission had nowhere else to go. And Canderous . . . well, he'd never pretended to understand what was going through that man's head. "Alright, then. If Revan wakes up, we question her about where the star map is, though the stars alone know if she'll cooperate, or if she'll remember at all. That means we're headed for Korriban, almost certainly for the Sith Academy there, and we'll have to sneak inside somehow and figure out where this star map is, get the information, and get back out again without getting killed. Now, I've done some thinking about this, and it seems that the only people allowed into the academy at all are Force sensitive trainees and their, ah, their entourages." Slaves, really, but there was no sense being more brutal about it than he had to be. "So . . . do we have any volunteers?"
Everyone looked at Jolee and Juhani, who looked at each other. After a long moment Jolee raised a hand. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Carth, I'll do it."
"No," interrupted Juhani, "I will go. I do not trust you. You have sided with Revan once, you may do so again."
Jolee rolled his eyes. "If you insist on marching into that krath nest, be my guest."
"Alright, well, that's the start of a plan, at least. But that still leaves the problem of us getting there in the first place. Right now both the Sith and the Republic are looking for us. We can't just fly in to their spaceport. We'll have to come out of hyperspace early and see if we can drift in past their sensors. So, assuming all of that works and we can get down to the surface, we still have to come up with some sort of explanation for how our insertion team got there. Ideas?"
Canderous shrugged. "Do we need one? We could just time our move for when a new shuttle comes in."
"Wouldn't they check for that though?"
He laughed. "So? Just say she snuck aboard. Honestly, I doubt they'll care even if they knew she was lying. It's the Sith. Hell, they might not care even if they knew she was a spy."
Carth looked over at Juhani and Jolee. "Does that sound right to you?"
Jolee shrugged. "Sounds about right to me. They always were confident that we'd see their point of view if we just listened to them."
Carth looked around the room. "Well, I guess that's the plan, then."
Mission spoke up for the first time. "So that's it? We're just going to move on and leave Bastila behind?"
Carth sighed. "Mission, I hate to be blunt, but she's probably dead. And even if she was still alive, we have no idea where she might be, and there's nobody to help us go rescue her."
Jolee shook his head. "Don't worry, Bastila is too valuable to Malak for him to kill her. She's still alive. And the best thing we can do for her is to help the Republic defeat the Sith."
Mission crossed her arms and looked down at the deck. "I . . . I guess you're right."
Canderous put an arm around her. "Hang in there, kid."
She sniffed and nodded, not looking back up at Carth.
Well, they made for a pretty melancholy group. It wasn't great, but they'd have to make it work. Somehow. And as the weight of what they were about to attempt started to settle on his shoulders, he felt a small surge of sympathy for Bastila. It was all well and good to be one of the de-facto leaders of this insane mission, but being the man in the hot seat was a whole different ball game. He swallowed hard and hoped he could live up to it.
Kyrena huddled alone in the dark, uncertain if she was awake or not. She felt lost, helpless, overwhelmed. How was she supposed to deal with this? How could anyone deal with this? Where did you even begin? The fact that she was a horrifically terrible person? A murderer, no, a mass murderer? A war criminal?
Oh no, that's not even the worst part! The worst part is that I'm not even me! I was never me; I was never born, never grew up, none of it. I'm not real!
She shuddered and hugged herself in a vain search for comfort.
"Hey."
Kyrena looked up and saw a woman she had never seen before, yet looked somehow familiar. Her voice, however, she knew very well.
"No," she groaned and hunched forward, closing her eyes and covering her ears with her hands. "No, no, no, go away, go away!" But she couldn't drown out the voice. Not when it was already inside her head.
"We need to talk."
"No!" she shrieked and burst to her feet, sprinting off into the darkness.
Behind her Akima sighed and started walking after her.
Jedi Knight Bastila Shan gasped and coughed as the suffocating black hood was torn off her head. It took a few moments for her to start breathing normally again and take in her surroundings. A dark room with two chairs, one of which she'd been roughly shoved into, around a plain utilitarian table. She didn't know how long it had been since Malak had knocked her out, didn't know where she was, or even if she was still on the Leviathan.
All of that melted away as Darth Malak himself sat down across the table from her. She fought against the rising panic to sit up straight, clenching her fists in her lap to hide their trembling. "I'll never betray the Jedi!" she forced out, voice shaky.
Malak sighed, a strangely metallic rasping sound, as he leaned back in his chair. "You know, every single person who has told me that has broken, usually within a few hours."
Bastila didn't know what to say to that.
Malak watched her closely for a moment, then shook his head, disappointed. "The Jedi really made a mess of you, didn't they. Oh, stop shaking, I'm not going to hurt you. And you might as well take those binders off as well. It's not as if they're actually restraining you."
Bastila blinked, confused and suspicious, but reached out with the Force to trigger the release mechanism on the restraints. "You're . . . you're not going to hurt me?"
"No. Change requires pain, of course, and great change requires great pain. But you've already experienced all the pain necessary at the hands of the Jedi. All you need to do is open your eyes and see it."
"What are you talking about? No . . . no, I'm not going to listen to this, it's all a trick, all lies."
Malak leaned forward, interlacing his hands on the table. "Why not?" he asked, voice reasonable.
"Bec . . . there's nothing you can tell me that would change my mind. The Dark Side is nothing but lies and pain and fear." She put as much power as she could into a glare across the table.
"Is it now? Then you have nothing to be afraid of just listening to me, do you? It's quite simple, Bastila. I'm going to tell you the truth. Then you can decide to join me, willingly, or you can remain here. No harm will come to you. So . . . are you ready to hear the truth?"
"No, no, it's all lies, lies lies lies!"
Malak shrugged and stood. "As you wish. I'll be back when you're prepared to hold a reasonable conversation."
Admiral Forn Dodonna stood across the desk from Admiral Gelkorn, who sat back in his chair while he looked up at her incredulously. "You want what, Admiral?"
"I said, I want to be a part of the fleet movement. You know as well as I that whatever mad notion the senate has had," (even here she would not come right out and name Senator Craglift) it must succeed in putting the Sith on the defensive, or we will be left wide open. Let me help it succeed. Let me help you."
Gelkorn scratched his chin, his face expressionless. "And how would you propose to be of help?"
"I've been around a long time, Admiral. I have contacts throughout the fleet, the army, and even," she added with the slightest of emphasis "in the Jedi." Gelkorn's eyes flashed at that, quickly hidden. She knew it, she knew this had something to do with the Jedi.
"What sources are you talking about? Are you hiding information from Intelligence, Admiral?"
"Of course not. I placed a soldier I know and trust close to a particular secret Jedi mission. Now, the Senate and Intelligence have not spoken a word about any suspicion of the Jedi, or of course, I would have mentioned it."
Their eyes met, weighing each other. It was crap, and they both knew it. Just as they knew that there was something happening between the Republic and the Jedi, they also both knew that nobody at any level was prepared to acknowledge that it was happening. And yet, it was there between them.
Gelkorn stared at her hard for a full thirty seconds before he grunted. "Fine, Admiral. You're in. Bring your flagship to the departure point by 0900 Coruscant Standard in four days."
"Thank you, Admiral." She turned and left, and her brain was busy behind gray eyes.
Bastila did not know how long it had been when Malak sat down across the table from her once more. She'd eaten once, but hadn't managed to sleep despite the burning in her eyes and the exhaustion that dragged at her limbs. She was too afraid to sleep.
"Ah, Bastila, here we are once more. Are you prepared to be reasonable now, and listen to the truth? Have I not kept my word?"
She hesitated. The Dark Side was full of lies, that was one of the very first lessons she'd ever learned, and it had been repeated often. It promised much, but the cost was far higher than it claimed, higher than could be imagined. But this . . . Malak wasn't actually promising anything. And after spending time with Revan, listening to the messages she'd left behind . . . she'd had to admit to herself during the long hours lying on the floor searching for sleep, she was a little bothered that nobody really knew why not one but many of the best and brightest of the Jedi had fallen. Surely . . . surely just listening to what he had to say couldn't corrupt her . . . could it? She'd be learning more about Malak, his perspective and goals, information it was clear her fellow Jedi didn't have and desperately needed. And of course, she would know he was lying, that it was all false. So if she was gaining information for the Jedi she wasn't giving in, she was fighting back, in a way . . . right? And every moment he talked was one that he wasn't torturing her, and that was definitely a big factor to consider. She . . . she wasn't sure how well she would do under torture.
Bastila swallowed. "What . . . what truth?"
Malak leaned back in his chair, relaxed. "Anything. What did you want to know? What questions have you always wanted to ask, but never been able to?" He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm the 'bad guy.' Surely the Masters won't blame you for what I'm 'forcing' you to listen to, right? They'll never know."
She took a deep breath and began with something neutral, something safe. "Where are we?"
Malak shook his head affectionately. "Ah, dutiful Bastila. The Masters don't deserve you. As for where we are, it's difficult to explain. Ah!" He held up a gloved finger, forestalling her accusatory interruption. "Difficult, but not impossible. We are now on the planet Lehon, the capital planet of the Infinite Empire."
Bastila just stared at him. She certainly hadn't expected that. "I've never heard of it," she said flatly.
"I told you it would be difficult. Of course you haven't heard of it. The Infinite Empire collapsed millenia ago, and both the Empire and the planet are completely unknown to the Republic and the Jedi. Their only traces are the emergency maps scattered across the galaxy, a handful of degenerate locals here on the planet waving spears at each other of all things, and of course, what all the maps point to—the Star Forge, in orbit above us."
He was telling the truth. She could feel it; it was in the way he spoke, in the echoes of the Force. He was actually telling her the truth. But why? Was he planning on killing her if she didn't turn? This was all vital information!
Malak chuckled. "You're wondering if I'm going to kill you, if I can afford to let you live, yes? I'm not going to. We have all the time we need, Bastila. There is no hope of rescue. This whole planet is protected by an energy field, another relic of the Empire, that disables any ship that enters orbit. Thousands of ships have crashed here over the millenia, and word of this place has never gotten out. And even if the Republic does find its way here, my fleet is waiting for them, protected from the field. If they do come, they will die."
That . . . that was impossible, but . . . but he was telling the truth. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to center herself, to be calm and emotionless. "Wh—what is the Star Forge?"
"Just what it sounds like. A massive factory that feeds off the local star, powered by a curious mixture of technology and the Dark Side of the Force. It has been producing ships for us faster and more efficiently than the combined efforts of the Republic's remaining production yards." He leaned forward again, eyes intent. "Now you've done your duty, child, done all the Masters could have asked of you and more. Now, it's time for what you want. Ask, and I will answer truly."
She bit her lip. He had a point. She had done everything she possibly could have for the Jedi except escape, and that was impossible. But . . . but the Dark Side was all lies! Only, Malak had told her nothing but the truth.
"What . . . what did you mean the Jedi had made me suffer?"
"Good, Bastila, good!"
She shuddered and closed her eyes. And listened.
Carth and the rest of the crew sat around the holoprojector in the common area of the Ebon Hawk as it hummed to life, reading the information they'd taken from the star map on Manaan. Once again they saw more fragments of the navigational data, information T3 and Juhani quickly added to the rest of the maps. They were close now. They were only a few parts missing, a vital course for skirting past a cluster of black holes it looked like. And then, as he'd both hoped and feared, the map faded and Darth Revan appeared in all her terrible power. And the broken shell of what was left of her sat two rooms over, tied down to the medical bed, comatose. He did his best not to look for it, but he could see hints of Kyrena in the way she moved, the way she spoke, everything. Stars above, it was her.
Revan looked through the room slowly, creating the eerie illusion that she could actually see them. "I'll admit, I'm impressed you've made it this far. Perhaps the Republic and the Jedi have some hope after all." She shrugged, indifferent. "You have learned now of the history of the Tusken people, of the masters they drove back into the stars. You now follow, as I did, the maps left behind by those masters millenia ago, left as guides to the Star Forge. But now you must understand why I fell. The masters, the Rakata, were powerful Force users. The Force was so fundamental to them that it formed the basis of their identity, their culture, and even their technology. I found the Star Forge, an incredibly powerful tool. Unfortunately, the only way to make use of it was through the Force—through the Dark Side of the Force. And I had to use the Star Force. Because if I did not, someone else would have, and both the Republic and the Jedi would have been doomed to oblivion."
She paused again, then nodded to herself. "The last map you seek is on Korriban in the ruins of the tomb of Naga Sadow. There you will find the last navigational data you need. And there, you will be ready to learn why I needed the Star Forge, and why I turned on the Republic."
The image winked out and everyone paused for a minute, digesting that. Eventually Carth stood. "Well, that was cryptic, but at least we know where we need to go, and that's a hell of a lot more than we knew before. Somehow, we need to break into the tomb of Naga Sadow."
"The Jedi have harmed you, Bastila, by undercutting you, belittling you, and most of all, by betraying you."
She shook her head. "No, no that's not true, they never betrayed me!" She had felt like they were undermining her, but surely that was just her pride talking. And either way, he certainly didn't need to know that.
Malak laughed, a deep laugh of real humor. "They have betrayed you, Bastila, they betrayed you when they abandoned you. You are, perhaps, the last true Jedi left in the galaxy. You, and you alone, believe in the Jedi Code. There was yet one Master who believed, and he died for it on Dantooine." He shook his head in grudging respect. "Take comfort, if you will, in the knowledge that Master Dorak died well."
Bastila went bone white and gasped. Dantooine . . . surely Dantooine hadn't been . . . wasn't . . .
"Dantooine is gone, Bastila." His voice was almost gentle. "It had to be done. The rot had to be purged—it could not be spared even for the sake of a lone true Jedi."
Bastila struggled to maintain a grip on her emotions which danced wildly inside her. She wanted to break down and sob for the deaths of so many friends, of her true family, and to scream and rage at Malak, and to hide her face in shame that she was powerless to stop it, to fix it, to do anything when it had mattered most.
Eventually she managed to choke out another question. "H-how can you . . . say they were rotten? They were . . . they were good people, kind people. They were Jedi!"
Malak reached across the table and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She shuddered and wrenched herself away.
"They were not Jedi, Bastila. Think back to your training. When they sent you after Revan, what were your instructions?"
"To . . . to capture Revan, or if it was impossible, to defeat her."
Malak shook his head. "You are lying, Bastila. I have not lied to you, and I will not permit you to lie, not even to yourself, and especially not to protect them. They don't deserve your protection," he half-snarled, but regained his temper quickly. "They didn't sent you to 'defeat' her, they sent you to kill her. To assassinate her."
Bastila hugged herself tightly. She felt strange, sick to her stomach, like she was leaning over the edge of a precipice she couldn't see or understand. "No, no they said . . . they said to capture her . . ."
"Open your eyes, Bastila. Think! When you returned with Revan, how did the Masters react? Were they surprised?"
"Well . . . yes, but that was because they didn't think I . . . they didn't think anyone could capture her."
"No!" shouted Malak, pounding the table with enough force to leave dents beneath each mailed fist. "They were surprised that you hadn't killed Revan when you had the chance, out of fear or hate or even seeking glory. Surprised that you had believed that it would be best to capture instead of kill. Surprised that you still believed the Jedi Code was right."
"That . . . that's not . . ."
As quickly as it had appeared, Malak's rage disappeared and his voice was soft once more. "Search your memories, Bastila. Did the Masters have any idea what to do with the captured Revan? Had they discussed any plans, made any preparations at all? Had they even considered the possibility that you would follow the code?"
They hadn't. They had been stunned to find Revan there in that battered escape pod with her, clinging to life. The Council had debated for weeks about what to do with Revan, and even then they had never reached the unanimous decision they were accustomed to. They were surprised. Surprised that she had succeeded, yes . . . and surprised that she hadn't killed the Sith Lord.
Bastila closed her eyes and rocked back and forth, helpless, unable to take back the thought, to turn off the knowledge. And Malak's voice kept talking smoothly, calmly.
"They used you, Bastila. They turned you into an assassin, relying on your belief in their flimsy cover that you should try to capture her. Why do you think they hounded you constantly about the Dark Side, about the temptation to do what was necessary instead of what was right? Because it was a temptation they knew well. And because if they kept you looking inward, wrapped you in guilt and fear, perhaps you wouldn't look out and see how they had already fallen."
"But . . . but . . ."
"You remember Dorak's teachings. The Jedi are a belief, an idea. You can kill the Jedi, but you cannot destroy them. The only way they can be destroyed is if they betray those beliefs. This war is a test, Bastila. A test to see if the Jedi are prepared for a far greater struggle that awaits us all. I pushed them until they had but one choice—die for your beliefs, or betray them. And the entire Jedi Council, save one, have failed.
Bastila shook her head desperately. "No, not all of them. Maybe . . . maybe on Dantooine, but the High Council . . ."
"Even they, Bastila. Even they." Emotion, a tangled mess of bitter sadness, roughed his tone. "The Republic has protected Dantooine for years now, sacrificing much to ensure its safety. Backwards, is it not? But how do you think I was able to attack them after all this time? It took weeks to be certain, but now it is clear. Master Kavar pulled away the fleet protecting the academy and leaked the information to me. You are welcome to go through the evidence for yourself, free from obstruction."
And she would. But she already knew, deep down, what she would find, though she refused to admit it even to herself. She gasped in shocked horror. "No . . . no, I don't believe it, I can't. Why? Why would he do . . . do that?"
"It is simple, Bastila. He did it for you. He sacrificed an entire planet, the lives of everyone you've ever known and cared about, so that you could escape Kashyyyk. Did you never wonder where we had gone?"
Bastila stared straight ahead, not seeing Malak, the cell wall, or the planet beyond. No, she was seeing again the Academy. Her home, and all the people there. The Masters, the younglings, the cooks and assistants, all of them just . . . gone. Sacrificed by the Jedi. For her. She stared down at her hands that trembled before her. So much blood spilled for her. By the Sith . . . and by the Jedi.
I . . . I'm not worth that. I wish they'd just let me die.
"So you see, Bastila, the Masters are no longer Jedi. They have been hiding their corruption for years now. And do you know how I can be so certain, Bastila? How I can have absolute confidence that I'm right?"
"H-how?" she whimpered, afraid now, sliding down the edge of that precipice. But she had to hear it. She had to know.
"Because when I arrived on Dantooine, every single soul had been left to die save three. Master Vrook, Master Vandar, and Master Zhar had fled the day before. They'd tried to convince Master Dorak to abandon his pupils, abandon his beliefs as they had, and he refused. They're having a funeral for him tomorrow. All three will speak, regretting the tragedy of his death."
Something broke inside of Bastila.
She leaned forward against the table, tears running, arms wrapped desperately around her middle, trying somehow to hold closed the yawning hole that had wrenched open inside her. She trembled as shards of pure, animal rage bolted through her system. They wouldn't. Those hypocritical bastards wouldn't dare dishonor his loyalty, his sacrifice, his belief with their slimy lies. They wouldn't turn Dorak's moment of triumph into regret and tragedy.
Not if she could help it.
"Yes, Bastila, I feel your righteous anger. You are the last of the Jedi now. But you and I, we have too much blood on our hands. We're not worth saving; not one more will be sacrificed for us! The cost is too high. But there is one last thing we can do, one last service to honor the loss of the true Jedi, and we will be monsters to do it. You know what we must do."
Bastila felt a great weight, the weight of the entire Jedi Order, lifting from her shoulders, and she looked up into Malak's hard eyes with her own, bloodshot from tears, and for the first time in a very long time she wasn't afraid at all. "The pretenders must be defeated."
Malak raised a sardonic eyebrow, echoing the Jedi's pale, lying euphemism. "Defeated?"
Bastila snarled. "Destroyed!"
Kyrena lay curled up in another dark corner when Akima found her again. She struggled to rise, to run yet again, but she collapsed back down with a despairing groan, exhausted. All she could do was curl up tighter, clutching her knees to her chest, clamp her eyes shut, and cry.
Akima sat down next to her, and for a while the only sound was Kyrena's occasional sob, which slowly gave way to hiccups. Neither of them knew how long they sat like that. Time had no meaning in this place.
Akima sighed. "I tried to warn you, you know. I told you the end of this path was here, with more pain than you could imagine."
Kyrena sniffed, wiping the snot from her nose with the back of a hand. "Go away. I hate you. You're evil!"
Akima looked down at Kyrena sadly. "You don't mean that. You're afraid and overwhelmed." She smiled weakly. "Believe me, I understand exactly what that feels like. Unfortunately, we don't have time to mope in self-pity. We've been unconscious, probably catatonic, for a while now. Time is hard to keep track of in here, but it's not on our side. You need to accept this. You need to accept me."
Kyrena shook her head furiously. "No, I won't, I won't." She sniffed again. "Why . . . why do you even need me, anyways? I'm just a . . . a fake, a lie," she wailed. "I'm not even real. Just . . . just take your life back and leave me here alone. Please."
Akima put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She jerked away. Akima sighed. "I probably could, you know. The truth is, though, that I don't want to."
Kyrena sniffed again, her curiosity overcoming her despair for a moment. "W-why?"
Akima chuckled softly. "For the same reason you don't want to. I have a lot of memories I wish I didn't have." She stared down at her hands, clenching and opening them again. "Almost everyone I knew is dead or mad. Some of them we killed. Force, I helped you kill some of the best, most loyal men and women I've never known. And the few that are left think of me only as the monster I was becoming when I was captured. You think I'd want to go back to that?"
Kyrean blinked back the tears and watched Akima carefully. "There's more to it than that."
Akima glanced down at Kyrena in surprise, then chuckled again. "Ha, you would be able to tell, wouldn't you. Yes, there's more. The truth is, I'm tired, Kyrena. Used up. I fought the Mandalorians, bled and suffered and wept to keep the Republic safe. Then I fought another war you've never even heard of, and then returned to wage war on the Republic. And for years now, I've been fighting a private, personal battle against the Dark Side of the Force. It's got its hooks into me now. I can feel it, even now, pulling at me, trying to drag me down, to let the beast take control for good."
Kyrena shuddered at the thought.
"Not an appealing outlook, I know. No, I don't want to go back. And that leaves you."
Kyrena finally managed to drag herself into a sitting position next to Akima and together they looked out over the vast expanses of her mind. "But . . . but I don't want to face that either. I can't be you. I'm . . . I'm an invention, a damned artificial intelligence. I'm a Jedi slave!"
"No, you're not."
Kyrena looked at Akima in confusion. "But . . . but you heard what Malak said, what Bastila said. I'm a program! That's why I didn't question them, why I was so loyal to the Republic."
Akima smiled grimly. "Nope. Oh, they certainly tried, don't get me wrong, but the Jedi really didn't know what they were doing with us. They did indeed create a program. Jane, I think her name was." Akima's smile turned into a grin. "Up against you? She never had a chance. You forced her out before you'd even fully woken up."
"But . . . but then who am I?"
Akima shrugged. "You're me, only not. When the Jedi took a damned sand blaster to our mind they pretty much wiped us clean. I was a mess at the time, and considering where I'm at now, that's really saying something. This part of me, the old me, survived by letting go and floating around in the detritus, asleep, and you were born. They tried to stick a personality in there, you shoved it out, and the Jedi gave up and dropped the hood, calling it good. Of course they told Bastila you were a program. She was terrified enough as it was."
Kyrena felt a surge of protectiveness in Akima as she spoke of Bastila, but was preoccupied with another thought. "You mean I'm . . . I'm you? But I don't want to be you! You're evil, a monster! Even if you're me, I don't want to be you!"
Akima sighed. "I'm not a monster, Kyrena. I'm you, but with more experience."
"No, you are, you are, look at all the millions of people you've killed!"
"And you would have made the same decisions I did. You did make those same decisions. Is it so hard to believe that I, that we wouldn't have done those terrible things without a good reason?"
"But . . . but why? What could you have possibly have done it for? You fought to save the Republic and the Jedi, then you fought to kill the Republic and the Jedi. There's nothing left to fight for!"
Akima bristled. "No, Kyrena. For the Republic, for my friends, and for my men; those are the things I've always fought for, no matter what. I can do no more and no less. It's who I am."
Kyrena shook her head. "I don't believe you."
Akima looked out into the distance again. After a few more moments she spoke. "Let me ask you a question. If you had to do something terrible to save your friends, would you do it?"
Kyrena didn't answer.
"If you had to accept a burden you never asked for, never even dreamed of, to save them, would you do it?"
Again Kyrena didn't answer.
"You would. And I know you would, because that is what I did. Now, let me ask the question in a different way. I can sense now, out there, that your friends are in terrible danger. They're wandering the Sith Academy of all places, and unless you stand up and do something about it, they'll die. Now, would you accept that you're Revan if it would allow you to wake up and go save them?"
Kyrena fought the urge to act. They were in danger? Carth, Mission, and the rest of them, they were at risk right now, right this very second? She needed to get up, needed to get out of this place. But . . . that was exactly what Akima had done. And that was exactly what she wanted to do now.
"I'm sorry, Kyrena, but it's true. Just like you, I couldn't do anything different. For the Republic, for my friends, for my men. It's not just me. It's who we are."
Deep down, Kyrena felt something shift. It was true. That was who she was, at her very core. But there was a hole there, a gap, and it was slowly starting to fill. Akima nodded. "You're beginning to see. I can feel bits of me slipping away, pulled into you."
The thought of losing Akima, however threatening she might be, shook Kyrena. "But what will happen to you?"
Akima relaxed completely for the first time, and Kyrena stared as the years seemed to melt off of her. Force, she was so much younger than she'd thought. Akima giggled. "No younger than you." She stuck her tongue out at Kyrena. "And that's a silly question. What could possibly happen to me? I'm you, remember?"
"But . . . but . . ."
Akima turned serious once more, but she was still relaxed, free from the staggering weight of responsibility for the first time in a decade of constant warfare. "Kyrena, I'm done. This, who you're talking to, is not a whole, complete person. There's enough of me left to try to hold on, try to take control perhaps, but that's not what either of us want. I am an echo, a rogue shard of an older version of you. We may be the same person, the same morals and core beliefs, but we are also two people. You are who I might have been in different circumstances. As time passes I will fade as more of our memories shift from me to you, but the only place I can go is into you."
She rolled her eyes. "The Jedi may have been hypocritical morons, but Bastila was right about one thing. Somehow, despite their best efforts and intentions, they have given us a second chance. You're me, with all our wisdom and skill and knowledge coming back, but without the scars and pain it took to get them. The Dark Side doesn't haunt your every move as it does mine. And at last, when I'm joined with you completely, I'll be free at last."
They sat in silence for a while more, until Kyrena brought up a question that had been bothering her. "I don't understand. Why do you want me to go on at all? We could just lie here like this, you know, until it all went away. No more pain, no more suffering, no more killing people or watching them die."
Akima sighed, and a shadow of the crushing weight returned to her shoulders. "Because the Force guided me to that war. I don't know why." She gave Kyrena a sidelong glance. "Trust me, I've asked. I've begged and cried and screamed and railed, but the Force has never answered. But somehow, despite it all, despite everything, I've never given up on the hope that there was a reason for it. For all of this. And I can't let go of it now, not unless you're there to carry on for me. No, if you can't go forward, then . . . then I'll have to carry on. Somehow."
They sat for a while longer, each lost in their own thoughts.
Kyrena couldn't help but be impressed by Akima. Somehow, despite losing everything, despite all of her plans and hopes turning to nothing, despite having her very soul shattered and being forced to turn against her own people, despite being battered and bent, she remained unbroken. Committed. Determined. That was . . . amazing. Even if it does feel bizarrely like I'm flattering myself. But I didn't do those things . . . only I also did do them. Force this is weird.
And yet, when it got down to it, Kyrena couldn't let her do it. She couldn't sit by and let someone else, even herself, suffer for her. For the same reasons Akima was determined to press on, Kyrena couldn't sit idly by, surrendering her body and mind to do the work she should be doing.
She smiled to herself. I guess we're the same person, after all.
"Alright, Akima. I'll do it."
