Until the Stars Fade

by R. Constance

As a promising young Padawan on Dantooine, Bastila Shan fell in love with Revan, the man whose bleak fate would forever be intertwined with her own. But did he love her in return? KOTOR reimagining with twists and flashbacks. Focuses on Revan/Bastila's relationship (before the War and after his reign as Sith Lord), their pasts, and introduces new characters. May be upgraded to M.

44. Chapter 44 - The Confession

Chapter 44: The Confession

"You sure you should be here, princess?" Canderous mumbled out of his mouth's corner to his unlikely seatmate. "Slim'll actually go on a rampage if you get caught."

Bastila shot an icy glance at the Mandalorian through her peripheral, wordlessly alerting him she would not relent on her decision to be present for Penn's trial. Then, she set her sights forward.

Much like the rest of Manaan, the Ahto City High Court was sterile, bland, and cold, yet Bastila felt uncomfortably warm. She knew she would remember every detail of this accursed courtroom for the rest of her life: the stark white walls; the harsh fluorescent lights; the perfectly-spaced semi-circle desks of the five Selkath Justices who would decide Penn's fate and, unknowingly, the fate of the galaxy.

Shielding her face from view beneath the hood of her cloak, Bastila's nervous gaze shifted back-and-forth between Ambassador Wann seated upon the elevated witness stand and the back of Penn's head from his perch in the defendant's booth. Her heart had been in her throat since the date of his trial had been set nine days prior, but now that she was here — seeing him in-person for the first time — Bastila feared she may fall ill. The Knight pressed her hand against her knotted stomach.

In a rare display of emotional intelligence, Canderous seemed to sense her anxiety. He pulled her hand toward him and subtly laced his gnarled fingers with hers, allowing his nemesis to squeeze his hand for support as a man clad in a neatly-pressed Sith ceremonial uniform paced, occasionally glancing at the datapad containing his notes. "Ambassador Wann," the Sith said, "did you have any previous knowledge of the recently decimated Hrakert Kolto Mining Station? Was it commissioned by the Galactic Republic?"

"Of course not, Arbiter Quinroy," Wann replied. "It's no secret that the Republic would like more kolto to supply our troops and gain an advantage in this war, but we would never jeopardize our relationship with the Selkath to get it."

It took every ounce of strength in Bastila's being not to roll her eyes at the Ambassador's blatant lie, though she remained silent as Quinroy nodded. "Indeed… Indeed… And although you had no knowledge of the illegal kolto mining station, did you know Padawan Thayer would be venturing to it on the evening in question?"

The Ambassador paused, brows furrowed, seemingly formulating the best course of action before answering. "No, I did not."

Quinroy nodded. "And in the time you have spent with Padawan Thayer, what are your thoughts on his temperament? Do you deem him capable of committing the heinous crimes of which he is accused?"

Unable to speak in open court due to Manaan's antiquated and misogynistic laws, Shefali swatted Jolee's thigh beneath the table to prompt him to action, though the hermit was already rising to his feet. "Objection, your honors," Jolee addressed the judges, visibly exasperated. "Ambassador Wann and Padawan Thayer have only spoken a handful of times. That hardly qualifies him to speak to my client's temperament or if he's inherently violent, which he isn't."

"Your honors, since the death penalty is on the line, I feel it's in Padawan Thayer's best interest for us to leave no stone unturned," Quinroy reasoned, aloof. "The defense presented other character witnesses to speak on the Padawan's behalf. Why should Ambassador Wann not have the same opportunity? In any case, are the Jedi and Republic not in league with one another? Surely, Wann's assessment could not do the Padawan any harm… Unless Arbiter Bindo has something to fear, of course."

Recalling Penn's dismantling of Wann's credibility and forcing him into an early retirement as penance for the deaths of Elassa and Yannai, Bastila held her breath, knowing the Ambassador had a score to settle with the Jedi. She prayed to the Force that the question would be deemed inadmissible.

Shelkar, the head Selkath Justice, contemplated for a moment before ruling. "Answer the question, Ambassador."

Wann's cold eyes locked upon Penn; the corners of his lips slowly twisted into the faintest of smiles. After Penn's arrest, all of his belongings — including the recording from Elassa's apartment, which had been tucked in Penn's pocket — had mysteriously gone missing. All who knew of the recording's existence suspected Wann had something to do with the disappearance, a fact that was all-but confirmed when Wann answered Quinroy's question. "I do," he replied, resulting in a dull roar of whispers throughout the courtroom. "He's not like other Jedi. He's… troubled."

Penn knew the Ambassador hoped to get a rise out of him, but the Padawan refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, he stared straight forward, feigning indifference to the potentially devastating character assasination. "Thank you for your honesty, Ambassador," the arbiter responded. "You've been most helpful." Quinroy smirked at Penn as he sauntered back to the plaintiff's booth. "No further questions of this witness."

As the Selkath judges slammed their gavels, trying to regain control of the buzzing courtroom, Penn heard the haunting voice of the omnipresent woman speak to his mind, her voice clearer and closer than ever. "Fool," she muttered. "Wann has unknowingly sealed his fate. Fret not, child: you will be avenged, in due time."

Although Penn could not help but wonder who would gain the revenge he now so desperately wanted on Wann, Quinroy's nasally voice broke through the solace of his mind. "For our final witness, the Sith Empire calls Padawan Penn Thayer to the stand." The chorus of whispers the Selkath had only just reined in swelled, prompting the Justices to seek order and silence yet again.

Shefali stroked Penn's thigh beneath the desk, fond and reassuring. "All will be well," she whispered, radiating concern yet trying to convey confidence. Returning her fondness, Penn forced a tight-lipped smile and gave a single nod before making his way to the witness stand as fast as his shackles would allow.

The stool upon which he was supposed to sit was deceptively small; he carefully balanced himself on the precarious seat, staring at the polished permacrete floor beneath him all the while. Fully recognizing this would be the final chapter of his trial, Penn collected his thoughts and took a deep, centering breath. He blinked once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then, he lifted his gaze to meet that of every eye in the standing-room-only courtroom. News of a Jedi on trial would have attracted a crowd regardless of the crime in question. A Jedi on trial for murdering scores of Sith in a mysterious underwater structure and desecrating sacred waters, however, had created a buzz unlike anything Ahto City had seen before and, in all likelihood, would never see again. He wondered if Manaan would have survived the frenzy if they knew the Jedi on trial was truly an amnesiac Dark Lord of the Sith.

Probably not.

Although hundreds of individuals lined every square inch of the gallery, Penn's eyes were drawn to a cloaked individual seated in the rear between the odd duo that was Latch and Canderous. Bastila.

Not wanting to bring attention to her whereabouts, Penn quickly averted his gaze. Since his arrest, the Sith had been searching for Bastila as they rightly suspected she was in the Station with him and wished to try her as well, something he would not allow to happen. Given the gravity of the charges against him, he feared bringing Bastila into the equation would only serve to incriminate her, too, should the judgement not be in his favor. Despite protests from Shefali, Jolee, and Bastila, Penn refused to acknowledge anyone else had been with him that fateful night, let alone entered the Hrakert Station alongside him. And, as such, Shefali and Jolee had built their case with Penn's expressed wishes in mind. Admittedly, their case was flimsy at best, relying on character witnesses and continually asserting Penn had not been aware of the Station's existence, let alone inside it. All had decried his choice to face these charges alone, but Penn's mind was set. If he was going to go down, he would not allow Bastila to go down with him.

The Sith arbiter studied his notes before beginning his line of questioning. "Padawan Thayer, I've heard so much about you," he beamed, disconcertingly so. "May I call you Penn?"

While the name 'Revan' was one he was not yet willing to accept as his own, the name he once knew was now grating and, as such, he flatly replied. "No."

The blunt response momentarily sliced through the thick tension, earning a smattering of unintentional laughter from the gallery, riling the Sith arbiter. Quinroy's upper lip snarled. "Fine, Padawan. Since you've chosen not to be civil, I'll cut to the chase: I wish to know who was with you on the night in question."

Penn was unwilling to divulge his truest reasons for being in the Station for fear of tipping the Sith off to his hunt for the Star Maps; he was even more determined not to undermine Bastila's cover. "No one," he lied. "I was alone that night."

It seemed as if the arbiter had not actually listened to his answer as he continued. "Since we all know you and your accomplice gained access to the Station and are responsible for the crimes levied against you, I'm curious: how did you lure the innocent Sith simply seeking to do their jobs to the Hrakert Station?"

Before Penn could respond, Jolee stood with a grunt. "This is too much up-and-down for a man my age," he grumbled, rubbing his aching lower back before speaking in a loud, confident voice. "Objection. Your honors, if I may, what good is this line of questioning going to do? We've said over, and over, and over again that Padawan Thayer wasn't in the Station. I'm his arbiter and I'm tired of hearing he wasn't there. Arbiter Quinroy is just trying to provoke Padawan Thayer with leading questions. They don't have any evidence he was ever in the Station, let alone involved with the tragedy."

Barely suppressing his smug grin, Quinroy lifted a single finger as he trotted back to his booth. "But we do have evidence, your honors." Jolee and Shefali shot one another concerned glances, though Penn did not outwardly react. "We Sith have been monitoring the sacred oceans of Manaan, with written permission from two of our esteemed Justices," Quinroy gloated, motioning to the suddenly fidgety Selkath seated at the bookending desks. "On the night in question, our scanners captured the following image." Before the Justices, Jolee, Shefali, or anyone else could stop Arbiter Quinroy from presenting the previously unknown evidence, he tapped a button on his holo, displaying a grainy cyan image of the submersible in which Penn and Bastila had driven to the Station.

To the horror and dismay of the Ebon Hawk's crew and his defense team, Penn's face was clearly visible from the passenger seat of the vessel, peering through the window as it approached the Station. Whilst all in the courtroom were focused on his face, Penn was focused squarely on the pilot of the submersible. Although this image dealt a crippling blow to his defense, Penn felt a semblance of peace at the realization that Bastila's face was hidden by the shadows, keeping her involvement in the affair secret. "Furthermore," Quinroy giddly continued, "one of the brave recruits who tragically lost his life in the Hrakert Station — a promising recruit from Padawan Thayer's own homeworld of Deralia — sent a final audio transmission to the Sith Embassy before his demise."

Despite the rulings of decorum in the court, both Shefali and Jolee rocketed to their feet. "OBJECTION!" the duo howled in unison, determined to suppress the previously concealed evidence for which they were wholly unprepared.

Their pleas for fairness were too late; the panicked cries of a young man resounded from a device in Quinroy's upturned palm. "Shit! Josef, the Jedi's got a lightsaber!" the Sith ensign wailed to his comrade. "He's gonna -" The soldier's message was cut short by the distinctive whirl of a lightsaber, ending with a wet, stomach-turning gurgle as the wielder of the blade ended the Sith's life.

Knowing he had played a trump card that was sure to sway the Justices, Quinroy deviously grinned at Penn as he clamped the device in his hand shut. "Would you care to continue the charade that you weren't in the Station, Padawan Thayer, or would you like to come clean? Revealing your accomplice would be a show of good faith and would lessen your sentence, I'm sure. It may even take the death penalty off the table."

Penn's expression remained unchanged. Stoic, even. "None of this proves anything."

"Of course it does, Penn," he arrogantly scoffed. "We have clear images of you approaching the Station when the crimes occurred and a firsthand account from one of your victims; one of the innocent men you murdered. Now, who was your accomplice?!"

Through their bond, Penn sensed Bastila's heart rate quicken. For the first time since his arrest, Penn dared to look directly into Bastila's eyes. Although both typically refrained from communicating through their bond, Penn whispered to her mind, breaking their stalemate and putting an end to her plan to come forward before she could act. "Don't," he wordlessly pleaded, requesting her continued silence before echoing the words he uttered in the Station when certain death awaited them. "For me."

Bastila closed her eyes tight as she turned her face from Penn, feeling yet another piece of her heart break as Quinroy continued his assault. "Alright. Have it your way, Padawan. Since you refuse to reveal your accomplice or anything else about that would shed light on this heinous incident, I do not wish to delay justice for the honorable men you so savagely murdered any longer. Given your lack of remorse, I call upon the esteemed Selkath Justices to find you guilty and enact the death penalty. No further questions. I rest my case."

"Order! Order!" Shelkar demanded, pounding his gavel as the gallery erupted once more. Instead of continually trying to quell the roar, Shelkar addressed his fellow Selkath. "Bailiff, take the Padawan to the holding cell. The Justices will deliberate and return with our ruling in one hour."

As she hopelessly watched her longtime love ushered out of the courtroom in chains, Bastila felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of her. She could stomach no more. Being sure to keep her hood low, she left the courtroom and took toward Ahto East Central to speak with the one person she had not yet petitioned for aid. Although the burden of the impending doom facing Penn weighed heavy on her shoulders, Bastila felt as if she was floating, being guided toward the Embassy as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift to a memory she had not recalled in years…

Based on the rapid movement of his lips, Bastila knew Nikolaj was speaking, but she could barely concentrate on what he was saying. Her heart was still racing at the thought of her hunt for crystals in the cavern with Revan earlier that day. Try as she might, she was incapable of focusing on anything other than him. The way his hands felt against her skin… The sound of his soothing voice and infectious laughter… The way he looked at her through the corner of his eye…

"Til? Bastila, can you hear me?"

"Hmm?" Bastila hummed, arching her brows before looking directly at Nikolaj's glowing holographic figure. "My apologies, Nik. I fear we may have a poor connection," she lied. "What did you say?"

Clearly seeing through her falsehood, Nikolaj squinted. "I asked how your day was since you seem a tad preoccupied this evening," he answered, his voice dripping with suspicion. "If you'd rather, we can schedule a different evening to catch up."

Needing to share a glimmer of her joy with someone, Bastila shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary," she swiftly replied before warily glancing about her spartan living quarters, which was little more than a glorified closet. "Just… give me a moment." Bastila dashed across the dormitory and locked the door, ensuring no one would intrude upon the conversation she wished to remain private. Then, she scurried back to her bed. "My day was absolutely wonderful," she admitted, unintentionally adopting a fanciful tone as she leaned against the paneled wall. "I spent sunrise to well-beyond sunset with Revan exploring Dantooine. I've rarely left Dantooine since we arrived all those years ago, Nik, yet he took me to places I had never been. Beautiful places I had no idea existed. I only just made it back to the Enclave in time for our chat."

Nikolaj stayed quiet, smoothing his blonde hair before pensively rubbing his square jaw. Only then did she notice the sleeve of tattoos adorning his right arm now extended beyond his elbow, though she dare not make note of the additions on the off-chance he had already mentioned them. "Is that so?" His voice was abnormally flat and devoid of emotion, but Bastila paid it no mind as she continued recounting her day.

"Yes. Oh, Nik, it was perfect. He was perfect. We explored the countryside for several hours before Revan guided me to the most gorgeous cavern and helped me find a new crystal for the double-bladed lightsaber he's offered to help me construct." Incapable of fully suppressing her excitement, Bastila plucked the pale yellow crystal she now valued more than anything from beneath her pillow to show Nikolaj, hoping he would share in her joy. "Since neither of us brought a towel, we laid on the embankment and talked for hours while we dried by the fire Revan built. It was so… so…" Searching for the proper word to encapsulate her feelings, Bastila twirled her wrists, praying the action would help conjure the proper word. "Enchanting," she finally said with a sigh.

"Enchanting?" he chuckled, voice sharp and laugh humorless. "That's not a word you hear all that often anymore, now is it? Well, since you're so enchanted by this 'Revan' fellow, perhaps I could meet him next time I'm able to visit Dantooine on leave? It never hurts to have your best friend's opinion on your acquaintance, yeah?"

Barely recognizing Nikolaj had downplayed her ever-evolving, ever-deepening friendship with Revan, Bastila eagerly nodded. "Of course!" she exclaimed, beginning to speak more quickly than usual on account of her elation. "Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful! Nik, I just know you'll love him, too. You and Revan will get on so well. You're not far off in age and have so much in common, and -"

"Too?" Nikolaj cut in, his expression unreadable. Bastila wrinkled her nose and tilted her head, wordlessly requesting Nikolaj expound upon his one-word question. "You said you know I'll 'love him, too.' The 'too' would imply that you already love him, Til, would it not? You're… You're not… Love as a friend, yeah?"

The warmth spreading across her face and chest intensified when Bastila realized she had openly confessed to Nikolaj what she had not yet admitted to herself. "Well, I," she blushed, stuttering through her response to his intrusive question, "he… well… I-I-I have no doubt he only views me in a… ah… strictly professional sense since Revan is a Knight… but… but, ah… I…"

"I'm sure he feels the same," Nikolaj mercifully interrupted her babbling, his voice comforting yet curiously strained. "How could he not? He would be a complete and utter fool if he didn't fall for you the moment he laid eyes on you." He stared at her for a moment, lips parted, almost as if he had something more to say, before shifting course. "But… ah… Til," he stammered, his jaw stiffer than usual as he seemed to look beyond the hologram, "I'm afraid I have to sign off for the evening. I forgot about a project I need to complete. Terribly important. Same time next week?"

Bewildered and disappointed by his rapid sign-off, Bastila tilted her head once more. "Oh… Yes, of course. Is everything alright, Nik?"

"Yes, yes, everything's fine," he assured her. "I simply forgot to do something I promised a friend. Same time next week, yeah? Goodnight, Til." Before she had an opportunity to bid him farewell, Nikolaj's hologram faded to nothingness, leaving Bastila alone with her thoughts and questioning his odd reaction…

Her focus finally back on the here-and-now, Bastila blinked several times and shook her head, ridding her mind of the unexpected flashback. She had traversed the Republic Embassy on autopilot and now, all that stood between the lifelong friends was a door. Mentally noting this would be the first time she had seen or spoken to Nikolaj since Penn's arrest, Bastila breathed deep and extended her sweat-dampened palm to enter his office.

The once bright, tidy office was now cluttered and dim, barely illuminated in an orange glow by a handful of lamps scattered throughout the space. An uncomfortable-looking cot and a pile of laundry was at one end of the office and, at the other, sat Nikolaj, feverishly working behind his desk. While it was clear he knew he was no longer alone, the architect did not shift his focus from the datapad on which he labored. Mustering her courage, Bastila padded close to Nikolaj's desk. Then, she waited to be acknowledged. "What is it, Bastila?" he finally said, his tone flat yet undeniably biting as he continued staring at the glowing screen, scrolling all the while.

Although she knew time was of the essence, Bastila's nerves got the better of her. "You've healed quite nicely," she quietly remarked, motioning to the yellow-green ghosts of bruises marring his skin. "If you'd like, I can complete the healing pro-"

"If you need anything regarding your stay in my home, I assure you my father or Shefali can handle it," Nikolaj interrupted, employing a cold, business-like tone to which Bastila was accustomed. "Now, unless you have urgent Republic business to discuss, I must insist you make an appointment with an appropriate Embassy representative to discuss any concerns you may have. As you can imagine, between the mountain of administrative work related to the Station's destruction, as well as sifting through the thousands of messages and credits Amethyst exchanged with the Sith from nearly every portal in my bloody office, I'm quite busy."

Bastila rolled her tongue in her suddenly dry mouth before lowering herself to sit upon the chair opposite Nikolaj's desk. "I do," she replied, returning his professional tone. "I need you to connect me with Supreme Chancellor Tol Cressa. It's of the utmost importance." Nikolaj let out a dismissive snort, though Bastila paid his reaction no heed. "The Chancellor and I met when he presented me with commendation for the strike that defeated Darth Revan, and instructed me to contact him should I ever need aid. I set a private appointment — the soonest I could secure — to speak with him about Padawan Thayer's unjust detainment. But when I called the holo frequency as instructed this morning, I was told my appointment had been canceled but was not given an explanation as to why."

Still, Nikolaj focused on the various datapads on his desk. "I have no doubt Chancellor Cressa has far more pressing matters to tend to. And regardless of his schedule, isn't this a matter for the Jedi Council since it concerns one of their learners?"

Reluctant to relive her last transmission with the Council, Bastila sat on her increasingly clammy hands. Although doing so had garnered a horrid rebuke unlike anything she fathomed possible, Bastila revealed to the Council Revan had learned the truth of his identity. An identity she not only confirmed for him, but outlined the Council's involvement in destroying. Masters Zhar and Ell had been gracious — sympathetic, even — though Masters Vash, Atris, and Vrook had been anything but. She hadn't been surprised by any of these reactions. However, she had been positively floored by the fact that the Council had declined to intervene on Penn's behalf and, by proxy, on behalf of the galaxy. "I discussed this matter with the Council," she hesitantly divulged in a small voice. "They have chosen not to circumvent the 'will of the Force'."

The same righteous indignation Bastila felt when speaking to the Council bubbled inside her, compelling her to speak. "But they're wrong, Nik," she announced, voice steadily rising. "It's taken me far longer than most, but I've come to realize the Council is far from infallible and will not hesitate to put their own needs and desires before the good of others. Worse yet, the most vocal members of the Council are so blinded by their own arrogance, and their mistrust and hatred for R-"

Realizing she nearly revealed the truth to a potentially volatile party, Bastila stopped short. The verbal slip captured Nikolaj's attention; for the first time during their audience, his hazel eyes locked upon her grey ones. In spite of her breath being caught in her throat, Bastila rapidly shifted course before he could seek clarification. "Nikolaj, I know the Chancellor will grant you an audience. I need you to secure a private meeting with him on my behalf. Since the Council refuses to intervene, I need his help. I need your help."

Nikolaj's lips tightened into a straight line as he maintained blistering eye contact. Finally, he turned, opened the holoportal on his desk, and typed a series of numbers onto a control panel. Seconds later, a Halaisi woman dressed in fine robes materialized. "Yoojin," he greeted the gold-skinned woman, "Nikolaj Fel from the Manaan outpost here."

"Nikolaj," she warmly smiled. "It's wonderful to see you, though we all wish it was face-to-face. How can I help you?"

The architect returned her grin, though Bastila noted it was forced, almost as if this entire exercise pained him. "My wife and I plan to visit friends on Coruscant once the baby is born. I have no doubt we'll visit the Senate offices during our stay. But, Yoojin, I know it's terribly short notice, but I would like to speak with Supreme Chancellor Cressa about the Hrakert Station. It's rather urgent and I assure you we will take no more than five minutes of his time. Might I be connected with him?"

Yoojin hesitated, forehead creased. "Is the Jedi Knight Bastila Shan with you?"

"She is, yes," he replied, gesturing to her off-screen.

The spark of hope in Bastila's heart was snuffed the instant Yoojin's expression contorted into one of annoyance. "Nikolaj, Masters Vandar and Vrook of the Jedi Council have already spoken to the Supreme Chancellor on this matter. Padawan Thayer must face the consequences for his actions. The Office of the Chancellor, nor the Republic, can get involved in the ongoings of two deranged, renegade Jedi, especially when such a precious export is at stake."

Suddenly, Bastila realized why her appointment with the Chancellor had been blocked. Fearing she may reveal the truth of what happened to Revan in an effort to rescue Penn — that the Order had altered his mind, then covertly set the fallen Sith Lord loose in the galaxy to defeat Malak with little supervision — the Council had labeled the duo 'deranged renegades' to protect their secret and reputation. A reputation they valued more than the life of Revan and that of trillions of citizens who may fall victim to Malak's plans should he prevail. Fire churning in her gut, a scowling Bastila rose to her feet and stepped into Yoojin's view. "Deranged renegade?" she repeated, indignant. "I must speak with the Chancellor now. The fate of the galaxy is at stake and -"

When Yoojin rolled her eyes at the seemingly grandiose statement, Nikolaj stood and pressed on Bastila's shoulder in an attempt to make her sit before speaking. "Is there no way we can speak with him?" he inquired, clearly embarrassed by her outburst. "Bastila would be brief, I assure you."

"No," Yoojin plainly answered, the friendly tone she once employed gone. "I must request you not contact me again about this issue, Nikolaj, as it is not up for discussion. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

When Nikolaj began shaking his head, Bastila burst in a last ditch effort to appeal to the one person in the galaxy who could help. "I only need five minutes of his time! I will explain everything to the Chancellor! He must know the truth! I know he will intervene once he has the full story! Please! PLEASE!" Bastila begged as the hologram faded to nothingness. "Damned bureaucracy!" she fumed, slamming her balled fist on the desk. "Nikolaj, call again. The fate of the Republic — of the galaxy — depends on Penn's ability to complete our mission."

Evidently vexed by her outburst, Nikolaj wiped his hand across his face. "That's a tad dramatic, Bastila. I know you're upset, but you must collect yourself."

"Call. Again," she demanded, teeth grit. "The Chancellor will intervene once he understands."

Growing more ornery at her persistence, Nikolaj responded in a low, sharp voice. "Bastila, I cannot abuse my standing with the Chancellor — a standing you jeopardized by destroying the Hrakert Station and revealing its existence to all of Manaan — to help your paramour dodge justice."

Distressed and profoundly wounded by the Council turning their back on Revan for a second time in favor of their own safety and comfort, Bastila persisted. "But -"

"My hands are tied, Bastila," he harshly interrupted, padding toward the exit. "There is nothing more I can do. Shefali and Mr. Bindo have done their best to prepare a suitable defense. Let the system run its cour-"

"Nikky, please," Bastila pleaded, calling him by the childhood nickname she rarely used as she grasped his hand, forcing him to stop. "You know I would not leverage our relationship unless it was my last resort. I'm desperate, Nik. Penn needs -"

"I don't give a damn about what Penn needs," he growled, though it was clear he regretted his tone the instant the words crossed his lips. He closed his eyes and inhaled before addressing her in a civil but firm manner. "It's time for you to leave, Bastila. I'll escort you to the door."

In spite of the rising tension, she dug her figurative heels in the sand, unwilling to leave this room without aid for Penn. "This isn't you, Nik," she frowned. "A man who did nothing but protect me from torment is about to be sentenced to life in prison or worse. The Nikolaj I know would never stand by and allow that to happen. I understand you're angry and hurt by the destruction of the Station. I have no doubt I would be as well if my life's work had been ruined, but the Station can be replaced. His life cannot."

Nikolaj set his sights on the door, attempting to pry himself free of her grip. "Bastila, I do not wish to discuss Penn now or ever. Please, leave."

Despite his attempts to rid himself of her, Bastila would not release him. She looked directly into his eyes, reaching out through the Force in an attempt to read his innermost thoughts. Although she could not fully break through his defenses, she sensed his heart was hardened toward her plea — unusually so — and, as such, began to press. "This isn't about the Station," she softly deduced. "You hated him before the Station's demise." Sensing she was nearing the truth, Bastila squinted. "What is this truly about?"

He exhaled, glancing at the ceiling before tersely replying. "I don't hate Penn. Is that what you'd like to hear?" he questioned, voice rising as his face twisted in frustration. "Leave."

Despite herself, Bastila matched his volume and tone, a byproduct of irritation and desperation. "Nikolaj, please. If there is any misconception about Penn I can clarify to convince you to help him by getting in touch with the Chanc-"

"I've said all I wish to say on this matter," he interrupted. "Now, for the final time, leave."

All at once, the lifelong friends began speaking over one another, louder, and louder, and louder still. "Nikolaj, talk -"

"Stop askin-"

"But why -"

"Get ou-"

"Nik, ple-"

"Bastila, I do not -"

"Why -"

Then, to both their surprises, the normally-polished Nikolaj momentarily lost control of his emotions and words. "Why him?!" Nikolaj finally shouted over her, silencing Bastila at once. "Why?" he repeated, subdued and humiliated. "Why him? What did he have that I did not?"

Her heart beating faster than she ever thought possible, Bastila's expression of anger eased, morphing into one of uncertainty. "I'm afraid I don't understand," she said, her grip on his hand easing as her breaths grew painfully shallow. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come now, Til," he chided. "You're an intelligent woman and we're both adults. Let's not make me spell it out any more than is absolutely necessary, yeah? You and I both know I've been in love with you my entire life." Stunned by the declaration of forbidden love, Bastila gaped at Nikolaj in disbelief, though he hardly seemed to notice. "For goodness sake," he laughed in exasperation, shaking his head, "even the bloody Jedi Council knew my feelings for you extended well-beyond friendship. The only person who never caught on was Latch and — apparently by some stretch of the imagination — you."

Lips parted as she searched for the proper response, Bastila warily looked him up-and-down, seeing her childhood friend in a brand new light. "Nikolaj," she breathed, barely audible. Only then did she realize that one important name had been omitted from the list of people who knew of his affection for her. The overnight shift in Shefali's temperament — from a warm hostess she was beginning to view as a friend to a distant individual unwilling to look her in the eye — top of mind, Bastila's face burned. "But… Shefali…"

"And why do you think I've been sleeping in my office?" Nikolaj prodded, motioning to the cot before revealing the truest reasons behind his retreat from his family compound. "When you and I arrived home after Penn's arrest and Shefali learned of my row with him, she confronted me and asked if the scuffle was truly about the destruction of the Station… or you. I couldn't lie to her. Not any more than I already had." Wholly embarrassed that her mother's determination that the men's fight had been about their shared feelings for her, Bastila turned her face and closed her eyes as Nikolaj resumed his confession. "For the good of my family and marriage, I chose to separate myself from the situation I created by inviting you to stay in our home."

"Oh, Nik," Bastila shakily whispered, rubbing her free hand across her rosy cheeks. "I… I don't know what to say. I… I'm sorry."

"For what?" Nikolaj inquired, though Bastila knew he was not searching for an actual answer to his questioning. "I am the one who played with fire by approaching you in the Embassy," he regretfully acknowledged, prompting each to envision their joyous reunion. "The instant I saw you, I knew I should keep my distance. I knew I should stay away. I suppose I foolishly wished to prove to myself once and for all that I had overcome my feelings for you, but…" He paused, allowing the words unsaid to linger in the space between them.

Neither was sure of what to say next or how to move on from the confession. The two stood in the thickened silence for several moments, hands interwoven. Through the Force and his body language, Bastila perceived the shame, and regret, and self-hatred emanating from Nikolaj. And, though she was unsure if her response was appropriate, she smoothed her thumb across his hand's edge to pacify him.

The simple gesture served as a catalyst, prompting him to speak. "Nothing happened in the way I wanted," he said beneath his breath, staring blankly at the floor. "After Revan left, I believed anyone's chances to earn your affection — including my own — were gone, so I moved on. At least, I believed I had… I love my wife and would do anything for her, but… Seeing you with him…" He hesitated before making eye contact, anxious and vulnerable, yet affectionate and hopeful. "Did you ever feel anything for me?" he dared to ask. "Do you… Do you feel anything for me now?"

Formulating a proper response to encapsulate her truest feelings toward Nikolaj, Bastila stood in complete silence. She focused on their joined hands before meeting his gaze once more, her voice low and soothing. "After the destruction of Telos, when I witnessed hundreds of people searching for and losing their loved ones, there was a moment where I began to wonder if my feelings for you were… deeper. Amidst the pain, and terror, and chaos, I realized how much I truly cared for you." She paused for a moment, resting her palm against his cheek before resuming. "I adore you, Nikky," she warmly revealed, allowing herself to fully express her undying fondness for him for the first time. "You are forever on my mind. Even when I was told it was wrong, I have always — and will always — love you." Regretting the words she was about to say, Bastila centered herself before finishing her statement. "But, as deep as my love for you may be, it has never extended beyond frien-"

"Please don't finish that sentence," he quietly interrupted, swallowing the visible lump in his throat. "Please. Don't. Perhaps I can still leave this interaction with a hint of pride intact." He hung his head low, upper lip stiff, before smoothing his hair with his free hand. Then, he slid his opposite hand free of hers and walked back to his desk. "You have every right to do as you wish, but I would appreciate your discretion concerning this conversation."

Heartbroken from unintentionally wounding one of those dearest to her, Bastila pursed her lips. "Of course," she whispered.

He signaled his thanks with a simple nod before recalling the original reason for her visit. "There is nothing more I can do to help Penn, Bastila. I wish there was. Truly, I do," he remarked and, in spite of all that has transpired, Bastila knew Nikolaj's words were sincere. "Should the circumstances have been different, I believe Penn and I could have been friends. Despite our differences, I recognize a decent man when I see one." The statement was bittersweet, harkening to Bastila's teenaged belief that Revan and Nikolaj would have been friends should their paths have crossed; she bit her lip, feeling a heated knot forming in her throat. "If you wish to arrive in time for the verdict, I suggest you begin walking to the High Court now. I imagine their recess is nearly complete."

"How…" Bastila's words caught in her tightened throat, though Nikolaj understood her question.

"I've been listening to the trial," he revealed, tapping a speaker near his main portal. "This is the first case of Shefali's I haven't attended in-person since we met, so I thought I might listen in." He stared at the speaker with vacant eyes before murmuring. "I'm sorry, Til," he apologized, both for the failed attempt to contact the Chancellor and the mutual acknowledgement that Penn would undoubtedly be found guilty. After a few beats of silence, he spoke once more. "After Revan, there was Penn," he quietly recalled in what Bastila could only assume to be a misguided attempt at comfort. "Should you choose to pursue it, love will find you again, Bastila, just as it found me."

The thought of finding love again seemed trite given that the galaxy as they knew it would cease to exist should Penn be imprisoned or worse. Although she knew doing so would not sway Nikolaj's decision not to intervene, Bastila felt a stirring deep within her being. Knowing there was nothing more she or Penn could lose, Bastila closed her eyes before being just as forthcoming and vulnerable as her childhood friend had been moments earlier. "I have only loved one man," she revealed, beginning the terrifying journey of divulging the truth to the masses in an effort to save Penn. "There has never been anyone else."

Nikolaj winced as salt was rubbed into his heart's gaping wound. "As the one who stayed by your side night-after-night once Revan left for the Mandalorian Wars, I care to disagree."

The normal rosy hue of Bastila's cheeks vanished as she stared straight forward, expressionless and despondent. "I never assassinated him," she breathlessly confessed. "Revan is alive."

Nikolaj's brows furrowed. "What are you saying?" he warily inquired, slowly rising to stand. "Til?"

Bastila hesitantly edged closer, her eyes locked upon his in a bid to underscore the sincerity behind her words. "The Jedi Council and I lied to the Chancellor — and the galaxy — about what became of Revan. Revan never fell by my blade, nor anyone else's. The reason Penn is so closely tied to this mission… The reason he is the only one in the galaxy who can unlock the Star Maps to uncover Malak's plan…" Her whole body began to tremble as an expression of understanding and disbelief made its slow march across Nikolaj's face. "There has never been anyone else."

The architect stood in dumbfounded silence before sinking to his chair, burying his face in his palms. "Oh, Bastila… What have you done?" he lamented. "What have you done?!"

Eyes misting, Bastila rounded the desk to kneel before Nikolaj, resting one hand upon his thigh and the other on his chair's arm. "Jedi do not kill their prisoners, and even if we did, I could never kill the man I loved. The man I always loved. Master Vandar had a vision that Revan would be redeemed and rescue the galaxy from an unfathomable fate, which is exactly what has happened. What is happening. He is the key to saving the galaxy, Nikolaj; to saving us all. If he is imprisoned or worse, the Republic may cease to exist. Trillions of people will die horrific deaths at Malak's hand. Surely you understand."

"He is a murderer," Nikolaj snarled, growing resentment taking root as the horrifying truth of the matter took hold. "He deserves to be on trial for his crimes! And you," he harshly continued, removing her hand from his leg, "how could you allow a damned Sith Lord into my home?! To spend time with my family? With my pregnant wife?!"

"You yourself said he is a decent man," Bastila interjected, quelling the mounting tension. "You and I both know he would never harm her. He's kind. And gentle. And loyal. And warm." Praying Nikolaj would fully comprehend her words, Bastila tilted her head just a fraction and peered far beyond the confines of this room. "He is exactly who he was before and yet, he's not at all who he once was. He is a good man who lost his way. And now, he's found it once more. For the past year, he has been atoning for mistakes he has no memory of making with no promise of glory or reward. Each day, we grow closer to achieving our goal, but if Penn — Revan — is imprisoned -"

"No memory of making?" Nikolaj interrupted, skeptical. "In what way?"

Bastila tightly curled her lips inward before revealing the shameful truth. "Upon Revan's capture, the Council wiped and reconstructed his mind through the Force. He has little-to-no memory of his life before. He only just learned of his true identity days ago. Revan was in the dark, too, just as you and everyone else in the galaxy has been."

His mien of condemnation softened into one of compassion, as did his voice. "You mean… He doesn't remember you?" Nikolaj quietly asked. "He doesn't remember what he did to you?" The memory of Revan's abrupt and devastating departure from the Enclave tugged at her heart; Bastila swallowed hard before looking away, unwilling to relive the hurt. "How many opportunities will you give him to hurt you in the same manner, Til?" he gently inquired, angling her chin so she met his gaze. "You already know how this will end…"

The faint crackle of the speaker humming to life punctuated the heartfelt moment, reminding the two that Revan's chance at freedom — and saving the Republic — was fast-slipping away. "Silence in the gallery," Shelkar demanded. "Bailiff, retrieve the prisoner for the verdict."

Nikolaj and Bastila's eyes met, each brimming with terror. "Revan," she gasped, springing to her feet.

Without a second thought, Nikolaj spun his chair to face his portal and summoned the Chancellor's disgruntled aide. "What now, Nikolaj?" the Halaisi questioned, exasperated.

"Yoojin, we need to speak with the Chancellor, NOW!" Nikolaj demanded. "Nothing is more important than this, I assure you." Instead of replying to Nikolaj's desperate plea, Yoojin sighed and unceremoniously ended the transmission. "Yoojin? YOOJIN?!" Nikolaj yelled, typing the series of numbers over and over again, only to realize his line to the Chancellor's office had been blocked. "Blast! Damnable schutta."

Sweat beaded on Bastila's brow and streamed down her back. Fueled by the dreadful memory of leaving an unconscious Revan to be altered and tortured by the Masters, Bastila took toward the door. "I must stop the verdict," she breathed. "I refuse to fail him a second time."

Before she could open the door, however, Nikolaj blocked her path. "What are you planning to do? You cannot reveal his identity or the true nature of your mission, Til. If you do, Revan will be tried for even more crimes and Malak will destroy the Star Maps if he learns you're searching for them."

"I…" Words failed Bastila as she shook her head, trying to formulate a plan. "I will admit I was in the Station with him," she finally decided. "I have no doubt they will arrest me as well, but the new evidence will delay the verdict and give the Council — or the Chancellor, should you get in touch with him — time to act."

"Don't be daft, Bastila," Nikolaj scolded, tugging her arm backward before she could press the door's opening panel. "The Council will allow you and he both to rot in a cell for the rest of your lives long before they ever reveal the truth. Lives that will be incredibly short if Revan isn't able to defeat Malak. And the Chancellor will never believe me if I reveal the truth of what became of Revan, especially now that we both appear to be delusional loons. There must… be… another… way…" Nikolaj's voice trailed as he glanced at the portals stationed throughout his office, then at a locked compartment beneath his desk, though Bastila did not notice.

"There isn't another way, Nik," she stated, voice cracking. "I'm willing to do anything necessary to save the Republic. To save him."

Nikolaj remained silent as he released her arm and knelt beside his desk. He breathed deep, then thumbed a combination, opening the secret compartment to reveal a hilt crafted of platinum and Brylark wood. "You still have your lightsaber?" she questioned in disbelief. "Did the Masters not confiscate it when you left the Order?"

Instead of answering, he spoke in a strained yet determined voice as he rose to his feet. "I love my wife." The seemingly out-of-place declaration caught Bastila off-guard; she tilted her head as he continued. "Everything I do is for Shefali and our child. To ensure they are safe and have futures; futures that will not be possible should the Republic fall. My father may never understand, but I need you to look after my family in my absence. I love them, Bastila. All of them."

Bewildered by the request, Bastila wrinkled her nose. "In your absence?" she echoed, searching his suddenly glassy eyes for some sort of an answer. "Nikolaj, where are you going?"

In an unexpected move, he leaned close and gently kissed her cheek just a breath from her lips before pulling her to his chest for a warm yet undeniably desperate embrace. "May the Force be with you… and Revan," he murmured, holding her tighter than she ever thought possible. "Farewell, Til. I love you." Before Bastila had a moment to process, Nikolaj released her, opened his office doors, and began sprinting with reckless abandon, lightsaber-in-hand.

She jerked her head in the direction he'd run off, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Nikolaj?" she called as she chased after him, though she could never hope to keep pace with his long strides as he dashed through the Embassy and Ahto City. "Nikolaj, what are you doing?! NIKKY, WAIT!"

---

The drastic change in lighting — from the darkened cell in which he had been held for the last hour, to the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the High Court — made Penn's eyes burn. He squinted as he made his way to the defendant's booth to sit between Jolee and Shefali.

Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed Jolee's face was unusually pale and twisted in grief, while slow tears were already rolling down Shefali's flushed cheeks. Both reactions bore witness to the fact that each had arrived at the same conclusion Penn had already come to terms with: he would not escape Manaan, nor the charges levied against him. Hoping to provide comfort to the woman he had grown to admire and deeply care for, Penn gingerly rested his hand upon Shefali's knee. "It's alright," he whispered, warm and affectionate. "Thank you for everything you've done, Shefali. I'll never forget you."

She rested her trembling hand upon his before squeezing it. "This is not the end, Penn," Shefali promised. "I will never stop fighting for your freedom. Never."

"And neither will I," Jolee added, wrapping his arm around Penn's shoulders, gently shaking his frame. "You're stuck with us for the long haul, son, whether you like it or not."

Overcome by the kindness he did not feel someone with his wretched past was deserving of, Penn truly smiled for the first time since learning of his identity.

Although he was not sure exactly what he hoped to glean from the interaction, Penn looked over his shoulder, scanning the gallery for the one person he knew he needed to see for what would undoubtedly be the final time.

He surveyed the hundreds of faces in the courtroom. Latch. Canderous. Juhani. Sunry. Elora. Shaelas. Wann. Fluug. Near the corner, he spied Mission seated between Carth and Isabet. Noticing the distraught teen's red, swollen eyes, he winked and mouthed "keep your chin up, Mish," earning fleeting grins from Mission and Isabet. However, for reasons he could not comprehend, his eyes were continually drawn to a pale, willowy woman standing just behind the trio, her weathered face all-but concealed by the hood of an umber cloak. Although he could not see her eyes, he sensed her gaze boring into his very soul, oppressive and ominous. He did not focus on the oddity, choosing instead to spend his waning moments of freedom searching for Bastila.

When he heard the gavel's knock from Shelkar's podium, however, he knew his time had run out. Penn's heart sank. Bastila was nowhere to be found. The realization that his final encounter with Bastila would be his last left a bitter taste in his mouth; reluctantly, he turned to face the Justices.

"Rise," Shelkar commanded.

As the Sith arbiters, Shefali, Jolee, and Penn stood to receive the verdict, the Padawan earnestly whispered to his father figure. "Take care of Mission and Bastila," he requested. "Please. I need to know they'll be alright."

Jolee swallowed hard and nodded. "Consider it done," he replied, eyes welling as his former ward faced certain doom.

"Jedi Padawan Penn Laszlo Thayer of Deralia," Shelkar began, beady eyes glued to Penn, "the crimes of which you have been accused are numerous and heinous, threatening not only the Sith, but also the Selkath, the jewel that is our homeworld, and our very existence. As such, after much deliberation, the esteemed Justices of the Ahto City High Court find you gu-"

"I WAS IN THE STATION!" a breathless voice cried out, interrupting the Selkath's ruling and capturing the attention of all in the courtroom. Penn, Shefali, and nearly everyone else in the chamber spun to see an out-of-breath Nikolaj standing in the gallery's aisle, followed closely by a shell-shocked and equally-winded Bastila. "I am the reason the Padawan was in the Station," Nikolaj declared. "I designed and constructed the kolto mining facility and lured him to it that night. The tragedy that occurred is not the Padawan's fault; it's mine, and mine alone."

All in the courtroom began chattering and rising to their feet, clamoring to get a better look at the mysterious figure who dared to interrupt the sentencing. Ambassador Wann and the Selkath aware of the Hrakert Station's construction began to fidget, fearing their involvement in the illegal project would be brought to light. The architect's wife, however, lashed out in anger at the revelation. "Nikolaj," Shefali furiously addressed her husband through tight lips. "Shut. Up."

The act of a woman speaking in open court earned a rebuke from several of the Selkath judges. "Silence!" they shouted, banging their gavels as the bailiff restrained Shefali.

Although he did not understand the rationale behind Nikolaj's decision to speak out in this manner, Penn was unwilling to allow anyone to take the fall. He shook his head and stepped forward. "Nikolaj, sto-" Suddenly, Penn felt an invisible hand tighten around his throat with just enough pressure to render him incapable of speech. He lifted his shackled hands to his neck, struggling in what he knew to be a futile effort to free himself. The more he fought, the stronger the hold grew. Searching for his assailant, Penn's eyes darted about the courtroom before setting his sights on the elderly, silver-haired woman behind Carth, Isabet, and Mission.

While everyone else in the courtroom was staring at Nikolaj, she had angled her body to face Penn, her knobbed fingers clenched beneath the cover of her robe's overlong sleeves. Her thin, wrinkled lips bore the ghost of a smile. "Silence, child," she whispered to his mind, bordering on glee. "Let the pawn play his role. It is his destiny."

Before anyone could protest Nikolaj incriminating himself, Shelkar directed his attention to the architect. "Who are you? Explain yourself. Speak quickly or I will have you arrested for your insolence, off-worlder."

Finally catching his breath, Nikolaj shot an apologetic glance at his flabbergasted father before stepping toward the Justices. He shrugged free of Bastila's attempt to pull him back as he weaved his web of lies and half-truths. "My name is Nikolaj Fel and I am the architect of the Hrakert Station. I constructed the facility with the full knowledge of the Republic and the Sith."

The bold claim prompted the Sith arbiter to go on the defensive. "Your honors, this man is clearly a liar," Quinroy complained. "The Sith had nothing to do with -"

"SILENCE!" Shelkar roared, the typically-mild Selkath asserting his dominance. "The next off-worlder to speak out of turn will be forcibly removed from this court and will endanger their government's access to kolto supply." The threat seemed to work; a subdued and embarrassed Quinroy lowered himself to his seat. Shelkar then gestured to Nikolaj, prompting the architect to resume his tall tale.

"During the construction of the Hrakert Station, I grew disillusioned with the Republic and defected to the Sith. Instead of being open with my defection, it was decided that I should remain outwardly loyal to the Republic. Since it was an illegal project and the Republic would have no recourse should anyone attack and lay claim to the Station once it was complete, I was instructed to finish the facility using the Republic's credits in hopes of benefitting the Sith. You can check my office's portals," he urged, twisting Amethyst's betrayal in hopes of saving the Republic. "I've been receiving payments and directives from the Sith Empire for months."

Ignoring his wife's fierce yet confused gaze, Nikolaj faced the Sith. "Your assumption was correct, Arbiter Quinroy. Padawan Thayer was not alone in the Station that night. I was with him. The Sith wished to murder him and, as a final test of my loyalty, instructed me to deliver him on a silver platter. I knew the privacy afforded by the Station would be the perfect place for such a deed.

"I lured Padawan Thayer to the facility under the guise of showing him the Station's capabilities, and how it might turn the war in favor of the Order and the Republic. He was unarmed as his weaponry was confiscated the instant he arrived on Manaan, while I had my lightsaber," Nikolaj added, lifting the hilt and engaging its emerald blade as further evidence, earning gasps of shock and awe from the gallery. "Shortly after we arrived, the Sith ambushed, as expected. Padawan Thayer recognized my betrayal and attempted to escape without harming others, myself included. However, in spite of his grace, I feared he would reveal my betrayal to the Republic should he escape. I also feared the Sith would eliminate me given my failure and, because of these anxieties, I chose to destroy the Station and everyone in it. But my attempt was not fully successful," he noted, gesturing to Penn. "Padawan Thayer did nothing wrong. His only crime was believing in someone who did not have his best interests at heart. And, in spite of all I did, he refused to implicate me because I have a wife and child along the way, but I cannot allow another man to atone for my sins.

"I…" Nikolaj paused to look at his panicked wife before closing his eyes, a pained expression etched across his face. "I stand here before you today, humbly requesting that any consequences that are to be passed down be given to the rightful man: myself."

Penn was absolutely certain his heart stopped when he heard Nikolaj's plea to the Justices. Though bewildered as to what could have prompted his false confession, the act of Nikolaj falling upon his sword on his and the Republic's behalf brought stinging tears to Penn's eyes. Once more, he parted his lips to protest and, once more, the vice grip on his throat tightened until his vision began to blur. "Your misguided nobility and honest nature has always worked to your detriment, my apprentice," the mysterious woman recalled as the Justices huddled behind Shelkar's desk to discuss the revelations brought to light. "I am saving you from yourself. Silence."

Much like everyone else in the courtroom, Penn strained to listen to the Selkath's deliberation, but the sound of his heart pounding in his ears drowned out all other noise.

Moments later, the harrowing moment arrived; each of the Justices returned to sit at their respective desks, and Shelkar rose to his feet. "Rise," he commanded yet again, instantly silencing all in the courtroom. "Padawan Thayer, although recent developments have forced us to deem you innocent of the most heinous of the crimes of which you are accused, the Ahto City High Court cannot allow your abhorrent, reckless behavior to go unpunished. You and all those associated with you are hereby banished from Manaan, as are all of your descendants. A return would be punishable by death. You will be immediately removed from our world, while your associates will have two hours to collect their belongings and leave, never to return again," Skelkar declared before setting his sights on Nikolaj. "As for you, Nikolaj Fel, given your admission, the Ahto City High Court finds you guilty of inciting violence, the murder of one hundred Sith, polluting our sacred waters, and possessing illegal weaponry. Like Padawan Thayer, all those associated with you and your descendants are banished from Manaan. The penalty of your crimes is ten years of hard labor, followed by execution, which will be neither painless nor swift."

Despite the order for all to remain silent, Shefali let out a bloodcurdling wail Penn knew would be seared into his memory for all eternity. Struggling to process that an innocent man's life and that of his family had just been destroyed on his behalf, Penn stood in stunned silence, slack jawed and eyes watering, as Shefali pressed her hand against her swollen belly and collapsed to the floor, inconsolable. Although the death grip on his throat had eased, Penn could not breathe.

Before he could be restrained by the guards, Nikolaj rushed to Shefali and drew her into his arms. He rocked his sobbing wife back-and-forth, smoothing her raven locks as he murmured in her ear. Initially, her piercing blue eyes were overflowing with sorrow, pain, and fear. But, when Nikolaj whispered something that prompted her to look at Penn, her expression morphed into one of hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.

Penn did not have long to focus on her rapid shift, as the Ahto City Authorities began pulling him by his bonds, dragging him through the crowds toward the hangar bay. He passed each of his crewmates, all of whom were sitting in dumbfounded silence, stunned by all that had transpired. The sight of Latch slumped in his powerchair, one hand clutching his chest and the other holding Bastila's hand for support, however, nearly broke him. His knees began to falter and his entire body went numb. The recognition that Nikolaj and the Fels were just three more casualties of decisions he no longer remembered destroyed what little self-acceptance he had reconstructed during his detainment. Now, the fallen Dark Lord despised himself and everything he stood for even more…

Fearing the worst on account of the elder man's ragged breathing and quickened pulse, Bastila knelt before her surrogate father and gently touched his cheek. "Latch?" Bastila sniffled, jaw trembling as she attempted to suppress her emotions. "Latch? Are you alright?"

Nikolaj's father appeared dazed; he parted his lips several times before finally forcing out words. "They're taking my boy. My Nikky," he hoarsely responded. "They're going to butcher my little boy like an animal." Latch began to bitterly sob at the realization that his only child was being ripped from his arms; Bastila pressed her forehead against his knee as she, too, began to weep.

Amidst her grief, the seed of hatred for the Council she had kept buried since Revan's altering finally began to sprout. The Council had wronged the two men she loved most in heinous, unforgivable ways, threatening to take each from her forever; the betrayal overwhelmed her. None of this would have happened should the Council have taken just action instead of acting as a hindrance.

Although the fear of falling to the dark side always loomed in her mind, Bastila permitted herself to indulge in her hatred and darkest desires just this once. Despite her better judgement, she entertained the fantasy of tearing members of the Council limb-from-limb with her bare hands, mercilessly slaughtering them as retribution for all they had done to Revan and Nikolaj. She instinctively dug her fingernails into her own thigh, drawing blood through her leggings as her whole body began to shudder with unfettered rage.

Before she could be fully consumed by her hatred, the sound of Nikolaj's desperate voice crying out broke through the haze of her clouded mind. "Take my father and Shefali to Corellia!" he pleaded as he was torn from his wife's embrace and dragged toward the darkened cells where Penn had been imprisoned. "The house is paid and they'll be safe! Look after them, Bastila!"

The door slammed shut behind Nikolaj, its finality jarring and heart wrenching. The question of whether that was her final interaction with her oldest friend nauseated Bastila. However, she collected herself as Shefali began furiously stomping through the hordes of curious onlookers, with Jolee following close behind. "Shefali," Bastila sympathetically addressed the soon-to-be widow and single mother, reaching out to gently touch her arm, "I -"

"Do not touch me," Shefali snapped, wrenching herself free of Bastila's loose grip. The arbiter glared at Bastila with utter contempt; she swore she was withering away under Shefali's vicious gaze, but maintained eye contact. "I will not give birth alone," she snarled. "Take us to Onderon." Before Bastila could protest, Shefali began pushing Latch's hoverchair through the crowds and away from the prying eyes locked upon herself and her distraught father-in-law.

The Onderonian's wholly justified wrath cut Bastila to the bone. Wishing to make amends, she took after the Fels. "Shefa-"

The tug of a deceptively mighty hand hindering her progress quieted Bastila. "Let her go," Jolee advised. "We need to pack up what we can of the compound and get your mother out of the hospice before our time here runs out." When Bastila began wagging her head in protest, Jolee drew her near to whisper in her ear. "Nikolaj knows the truth, doesn't he?"

The inquiry brought fresh tears to Bastila's eyes. "I had no idea he would…" She left her sentence unfinished, unable to bring herself to verbalize that her confession had led to this nightmare. "He… I never meant for…"

"There will be a time for mourning Nikolaj, but that time isn't now," Jolee insisted, providing the tough love he sensed Bastila needed in order to push forward. "If we don't escape this damnable water world as soon as possible, your friend's sacrifice will have been in vain. Do you want him to have done all that for nothing?"

It was only then that Bastila realized the crew — sans Mission, who had run after Penn as he was forced to the hangar bay — had formed a ring around herself and Jolee, awaiting instructions from their stand-in leader. In spite of the whirlwind of emotions stirring in her mind and the throbbing pain thrumming in her chest, Bastila wiped her hands across her reddened face and smoothed her hair before nodding. "Collect your personal effects and as many of the Fels' belongings as you can and place them aboard the Ebon Hawk. Carth, be sure to obtain our weapons from the port authorities. I will retrieve our droids, the Fels, and my mother," she relayed in the most steady, even tone she could muster given her heartache. The thought of breaking the news of Nikolaj's demise to Helena nearly cracked Bastila's façade; she reached for Jolee's hand, drawing from his strength before completing her directive. "Quickly, now. Our time on Manaan is at an end…"

---

A/N: It's been years in the making, but I'm pleased to say we're finally done with Manaan. It's been a long journey that ended up being a larger undertaking than I anticipated (believe it or not, a decent bit of content was cut), but thank you to those who've stuck with it. The upcoming locations will be more manageable lengths — promise! Since Manaan was my least favorite of the worlds in-game, I wanted to put a spin on it, even if it didn't have a happy ending. I certainly hope you enjoyed it!

And now… on to Onderon. This section will be completely AU and will feature characters from KOTOR II and the comics, tie up loose ends from Manaan, and delve into the backgrounds of two characters whose pasts have been hinted at, but not revealed. If all goes to plan, it will also loosely tie into / tee up some of the events of the Exile's adventures. Even though I have this section somewhat mapped out, it will be my first full attempt at AU content, so constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcomed (and very much appreciated!).

Moving forward (save for Onderon, which I hope will be a bit of a palate cleanser), the fic will get considerably darker. As such, I'll reevaluate the fic rating in the coming months since I feel like this story has teetered the T-to-M line for a while.

On a semi-related note: a guest reviewer expressed disappointment in Carth and Isabet's rendezvous ending with implying what happened behind closed doors rather than explicitly saying it. They also requested that future romantic encounters between Revan and Bastila (should they occur, of course) not get the "fade to black" treatment given the build-up. Since I can't respond to "YAY" directly, I'll respond here. The reason Carth and Isabet's scene ended where it did is because I didn't feel spelling out exactly what they did (other than getting together) would add to the plot or flow with the rest of the chapter. Surprisingly (at least to me), the most common PM I receive is requesting a more "adult chapter," if you catch my drift. And, who knows? Maybe I will at some point since it's a line we've flirted with in the fic before and it may present an interesting challenge. I just want to ensure that style of content doesn't feel forced or out of place.

So, TL;DR: if a scene of that nature adds to the story and I think I can pull it off without the cringe factor, I'll go for it (within reason; not smut). If it feels unnecessary or out of place, I'll leave it to the imagination (for example, the Carth and Isabet scene, or lack thereof). Hopefully this doesn't disappoint anyone one way or the other.

Lots of A/Ns today! As always, thank you for reading! Any reviews / suggestions, follows, and/or favs are sincerely appreciated and extremely motivating. Until next time!