CHAPTER 11 - MALACHOR V PT. I

Now (3953)

As she picked her way across Malachor's cracked and barren landscape, Meetra felt her head begin to pound as her stomach roiled dangerously. She was taking care to step around the fissures that occasionally spewed forth a noxious green gas but it was nearly impossible to avoid the fumes in the air. While she technically had a gas mask, it pinched her forehead and limited her field of vision while doing very little to actually filter out all of the toxins. She'd removed it soon after landing, which unfortunately made it difficult to tell if she felt ill because of the poison or from the mental strain of being back on this damned planet. Drawing a shaky breath to calm herself, she was surprised when she involuntarily doubled over and started heaving. Though she only brought up a mouthful of bile, the experience left her unsettled.

Standing an arm's length away, Atton nodded sympathetically. "I know exactly how you feel."

Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, Meetra frowned. He didn't know a thing. There was only one other person who could look at the crushed wrecks of fighters and warships that littered their surroundings and feel anything remotely close to the satisfaction entwined with disgust that she was currently experiencing. But Bao-Dur was unavailable to commiserate, having noticeably distanced himself from the others the moment that the Ebon Hawk exited hyperspace a few hundred meters away from the debris field that surrounded the ruined planet. Even within the Force, he felt closed-off, his mental walls surprisingly strong for someone who was still a novice with the technique. Wanting to give her student space to process his complex emotions towards the Mass Shadow Generator, Meetra had left him to his thoughts. But now she wished that she had pried just a little, if only so that she felt less alone as she led her crew across the nightmarish graveyard that she'd created.

"Meetra, come in? I repeat, Meetra, come in! Where are you, and more importantly where the hells is the Hawk?"

The former Consular answered her comlink with uncharacteristic fumbling, Vann's worried tone filling her with a fresh jolt of anxiety. "I read you, Sojourn. We're already on the surface and Mira is currently taking the Hawk back into orbit to provide aerial support. What's the issue?"

"Scanners… jamming…"

The static-y response caused Meetra to frown. While her team had experienced noticeable static upon entering Malachor's atmosphere, it hadn't been enough to affect their landing. For a moment she wondered if Atton's Jedi training enabled him to compensate for any mechanical issues, but she realized there were more than enough Force-sensitives on the Republic ship to balance any shortcomings that Carth probably didn't have. This had to be a more serious issue than whatever they'd encountered. Gesturing for her mechanic to come closer, Meetra called, "Bao-Dur, I think the other team is having some sort of sensor malfunction!"

That snapped the Zabrak out his private brooding and he hurried over. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Vann, can you describe exactly what's happening?"

"The readouts… scrambled and…" Another burst of static swallowed the rest of the former mercenary's words as Meetra and Bao-Dur exchanged worried glances.

"Sorry, but you're cutting out. Can you repeat that?"

There were a few tense minutes of silence, interrupted only by the mechanic speculating, "The Ebon Hawk was originally a smuggling vessel, so it's been outfitted for travel to less-than hospitable planets. But that Republic courier might not be as well equipped. That could be why they're having more tro…" A loud pop swallowed the rest of the Zabrak's words as the comlink suddenly cut back in with two voices yelling simultaneously.

"The canyon, aim for the canyon!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?! Maybe you can use the Force to give me a little help steering?"

"Sorry, but Force and I are currently busy acting as your kriffing navigation system. Go left! Wait, what is happening…?"

"It looks like this entire canyon is caving in!"

"Kriff, this isn't a canyon. It's some type of energy vent and the surge that's collapsing the surrounding rock is dragging us down with it. Pull up! Pull…"

Apparently, the comm unit had remained on amid the sensor malfunction and it continued broadcasting as the Republic vessel was sucked into one of the many deep trenches hammered into Malachor V's crust. Carth and Vann's panicked tones were quickly drowned out by the blare of alarms and the transmission became a mixture of sirens punctuated by roughly shouted curses. Suddenly terrified for her friends, Meetra gestured for the rest of her crew to remain in place as she apprehensively waited to hear what happened next.

"Brace for impact! In three, two…"

The harsh, metallic screech of a ship colliding with solid rock filled the speakers and the former Consular covered her mouth in horror. She'd had her share of bad landings, but she'd never listened to one as it occurred. "Vann, what's happened? Are you alright? Vann?!"

There were a few moments of eerie silence before the former mercenary shouted, "Carth? Carth! Shit, no-no-no!"

The sense of dread that had been building in Meetra's chest dropped into her gut, her fingers turning white from her stranglehold on the comlink. "What's going on? Talk to me!"

"It's Carth! He's, he's not…"

Desperation clutched the former Consular's throat. "Not what?"

"Shit, this is bad!"

"For Force sake, just breathe! The last thing we need is for you to pass out as well." Alek's modulated voice was a surprise, though not unwelcomed. For the first time, Meetra was glad that Vann had insisted that the 'prisoner' ride in the Republic cruiser.

"I am breathing, you karking asshole! I just… I don't think there should be this much blood."

"It's a head wound, probably caused by the same thing that broke the panel right above him. This type of injury tends to bleed a lot, especially when it's not cauterized by a 'saber blade like you're used to seeing." There was a pause and a rustle, followed by a metallic sigh. "The good news is that his pulse is strong, even if his breathing seems a bit labored. Right now your job is to stop the bleeding, check for other injuries, and while you're at it calm the hells down."

Distantly, Meetra recalled that Alek actually had more training in field medicine than she did. His ability to heal using the Force had never been particularly strong, so he'd supplemented it with practical knowledge in assessing and treating injuries mundanely. Initially, it seemed humorous that a Guardian would take an interest in such things, but as the war dragged on it was a practice that many Revanchists emulated. Except, ironically, their leader. Revan had never possessed any interest in healing and it was honestly surprising that Vann had gone on to learn the power.

"What's going on? I sensed an alarming amount of distress just as we…" Gasping in surprise, Bastila didn't help the situation by shouting, "Carth! Oh stars, that's a lot of blood."

"Kriffing hells… You have two options right now. One is to walk out of this cockpit and find someone who can assist us while remaining calm. The other is to compose yourself and then help Vann heal our pilot. The choice is yours."

"Excuse me, but I don't take orders from you anymore!"

"Bastila, can you just… ignore him and help me? Please?" The vulnerability in Vann's tone must have cut through his Padawan's indignation because a few seconds later she could be heard murmuring encouragement over the continued beep of the ship's consoles.

"Can someone kindly tell me your current situation? Is anyone dying? Do you need an extraction?" Irritation crackled beneath Meetra's skin, mostly owing to how helpless she felt.

Alek must have recognized the frustration in her voice because he hurriedly responded, "I assume you're aware that we had a… less than ideal landing. Onasi hit his head and knocked himself out in the process, though he should be fine given who else is traveling on this courier. I can't see any reason why we won't be able to continue forward, assuming that our new location is reasonably close to our original destination."

Exhaling in sheer relief, Meetra replied, "I'm sure you need time to assess your new position. Comm me once you know more."

"I copy." There was a faint commotion in the background, mostly consisting of Vann shouting in audible joy. When he spoke again, Alek sounded less strained. "Right now, your best option is to continue on to the rendezvous point. That way you can press ahead even if we can't join you. As you know, this mission is more important than any one person."

"It is. Hopefully, things go smoother from here on out and we'll see you soon. Over and out." There was no response from the Hawk, not that Meetra expected one. When she was sure that there were no further transmissions incoming, she waved over her crew. "I'm not sure if you heard, but the other team ran into some complications. We're still following the original plan but things might change at any moment. Be alert and prepared for anything."

Chuckling humorlessly as he drew his main lightsaber from beneath the back of his jacket, Atton twirled the hilt without igniting the blade. "Well, it's not like we didn't expect some problems, especially since Malachor is one of those planets that gets more fun the longer you're here. There are just so many wonderful features to enjoy on this kriffing heap of bantha shit."

As the former assassin stalked forward, he kicked a strip of metal out of his way. Though it was weathered from time and exposure, the bright red paint that decorated one edge marked it as part of a Republic vessel. It skidded across the rocky ground before coming to a stop a few centimeters from Bao-Dur. Gently picking up the shredded bit of outer hull, the Zabrak exhaled loudly as he turned it over in his palms.

"This is the final resting place of thousands of brave soldiers who gave their lives to stop the Mandalorians and end the war." The item crunched when Bao-Dur's prosthetic hand inadvertently clenched around it. "Maybe you should try and show a bit more respect."

But Atton brushed off the comment indifferently. "They're dead, they don't care."

"Well, I care!" Bao-Dur's guilt and regret surged through the Force, bitterly cold as the emotions swirled with the storm of pure rage that he directed towards himself. "There was no way for any of these individuals to know the horrifying ends they would meet when they entered this battle. The least you can do is honor their sacrifice."

"And what will that accomplish? If you want to feel guilty over the choices you made to win a war, go ahead. I can't stop you. But none of that will bring back those soldiers or anyone else who died on this planet!"

Charging towards the brunette Meetra felt her own annoyance rising. Whether it was towards him or the whole complicated situation was difficult to discern, especially with her emotions still on edge from the Republic cruiser's rough landing. "Atton, you don't have to be such an ass about it!"

"Do you really think that I don't know how thousands of soldiers died here, along with dozens of Jedi? I'm well aware. I even know that some of those Jedi didn't die on the battlefield. No, they met their 'horrifying ends' screaming in cells." When the rest of the crew stared at him in confusion, Atton barked out a harsh laugh as he turned to glare at them. "You didn't figure it out, did you? This isn't my first time on this planet. I've been here plenty of times before, all of them after the war. This is where Malak turned any Jedi who he deemed too dangerous to leave to their own devices. Some of them were a threat to his position while others had abilities that he wanted to utilize. Either way, the results were the same."

"And he turned you here?" Meetra tried to keep her tone gentle even as shock made her body feel numb.

"Nobody had to turn me. By the time the war ended, I was a willing murderer who operated from this planet when I was tasked with hunting down other Jedi. Once I had a target it was my job to find the best method to capture and break them. I was good at it, too, I had fun. Most of those Jedi fell without much of a fight, but the ones who didn't… What does it matter if a few more bodies are rotting in the canyons when this entire planet is a cemetery?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Staring blankly at Meetra, Atton stated, "I did. I already told you that I know exactly how you feel being back here." Shaking his head, he gestured towards a path around a destroyed cruiser. "Come on, the rendezvous point is through the canyon up ahead. We wouldn't want to keep your friend Alek waiting."

"Atton…"

Glancing at the woman as she rushed after him, the former assassin snorted. "I'm not saying that he can't change, because Force knows I'm trying to do the same kriffing thing. I just think that you're too willing to forget everything that he did."

"I wasn't in Republic space when he was Supreme Commander." It was a hollow excuse, even to Meetra's ears. She still hadn't forgiven Alek for Dantooine.

"His eyes stopped being blue long before that. Maybe you just didn't notice because they never shifted back and forth like Revan's. Or maybe you didn't care. Your eyes never turned, but you still managed to do all of this and call it a necessity." Atton gestured to the destruction surrounding them.

Grabbing her companion by the arm, Meetra jerked him around until they were face-to-face. "It was a necessity!"

"Was it, General?" Bao-Dur was standing just in front of the crushed Hammerhead-class. "Sometimes I lie awake at night just thinking about how there had to be another way."

Anger surged through Meetra as she stared at the two men. The sharp bite of their doubt cut her to the core, but she tried to push it down and view the situation objectively. These individuals were her friends and she would never tell them that they had no right to question her decisions. But they didn't understand war the way Revan did and they couldn't recognize the absolute necessity of the Mass Shadow Generator, both probably unaware of just how close the Republic had come to utter defeat. Clenching her jaw, the former Consular spat, "War isn't pretty. But the important part is that we won."

"Did we?" Staring at the wreckage, Bao-Dur murmured, "Because from where I'm standing, I'm pretty sure we lost just as much as the Mandalorians."

"But we could have lost everything. They survived and so did we." Revan's voice echoed through Meetra's head as she explained, "Sometimes winning isn't an outright victory, it's simply holding your ground long enough to prevent defeat."

"It's true." Brianna and Visas had been so quiet up until now that it was almost possible to forget they were present. The taller woman looked bashful as she spoke for the first time since landing on Malachor. "One of the first lessons that Echani children learn is to read the flow of battle, to fall back when outmatched and to press one's advantage when the opportunity presents itself. But… I have also learned through my time with this crew that what is strategic is not always what is right."

"During the war what was right included what was necessary to protect the Republic and its people. We made sacrifices and some of them were… extreme. But for every life lost, thousands if not millions more were saved." Staring hard at her crewmates, Meetra demanded, "What's worse, one Malachor or a dozen more Serrocos?"

But Atton remained unswayed. "Sometimes you really do sound like Revan and I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. He also used to claim that, provided the Republic triumphed, the ends ultimately justified all of the kriffed-up means we used to win."

"But you don't believe it?" Even though Meetra's words remained steady, she felt the same creep of nagging doubt that she experienced during her first years wandering aimlessly along the edges of known space. It was a sensation that seeped out from the wound that Malachor had ripped into her very being.

Scoffing, Atton waved away the question. "What I personally think about the morals of war doesn't matter. You know what I became after it was all over."

"Nothing about war supposed to be personal!" Once again it was Revan who Meetra was echoing.

"General, forgive me for saying this, but everything about this planet has become personal for us."

Bao-Dur's words sat heavy with Meetra even as she tried to ignore them, the undeniable truth stinging like an itch just beneath her skin. But that didn't weaken her resolve to keep pushing forward, her eyes trained straight ahead so that she didn't have to look at the surrounding carnage. She tried to draw calming breaths to keep her frustrations distant and focus her mind just as she'd been taught, but it was quickly proving impossible. Over the past seven years, she had convinced herself that everything she'd done during the war was entirely justified because the Republic continued standing even after she fell apart. But that was before she'd seen the remains of Malachor V. It was one thing to know the destruction she'd wrought and another to walk across the aftermath, the lingering pain reverberating through her wounded presence.

The crackle of her comlink startled the former Consular and she hurriedly answered it so that she'd have something else to focus on. "Please tell me that you have good news."

"Thankfully, we do." Bastila's tone was far more relaxed than earlier. "Both Carth and the cruiser will be alright and the former can still fly the latter into orbit to provide aerial support."

Sighing, Meetra flashed an 'all good' sign to her crew. "And how is Vann?"

"Better since he realized that, aside from some bruised ribs, the damage was fairly superficial. I think he still blames himself for not shielding the rest of us, though I believe we can all agree that's a ridiculous notion."

"He's always been hard on himself. Either way, are we sticking to the original rendezvous point?"

"Our landing actually placed us closer to that location, so Vann still feels it's the best course of action."

"He always knows best." Even though the compliment was entirely genuine, it came out oddly flat. "If there are no changes, we'll keep heading in our current direction."

"Excellent. I suppose we'll be seeing each other quite soon." While Bastila's comment was supposed to be friendly, it somehow sounded ominous.

"Right. Over and out." Clipping her comlink back to her belt, Meetra drew a steadying breath as she continued her march through the canyon. Atton was a few paces ahead while the rest of her crew trailed behind, giving her a little too much space to think as she moved through the wasteland of her own making.

But was she the one to blame for this devastation? All of the old outrage and resentment that the former Consular assumed had burned away during her self-imposed exile was swiftly surging back to the forefront of her mind as the crew trudged past the evidence of her slaughter. 'This was all necessary,' she told herself even as the words grew increasingly meaningless beneath the weight of her regret. 'Revan thought it was necessary and he's the tactical mastermind. He made it sound so simple.' She hadn't been lying when she told Vann that the decision to use the Mass Shadow Generator was entirely hers, but recognizing her own culpability didn't quell the bitterness that simmered in her heart.

All of those thoughts were swirling through Meetra's mind when her group reached the rendezvous point. Vann was waiting for them, his tension palpable, though whether it was caused by his partner's recent injury or the planet itself was difficult to discern. His concern only deepened when he spotted his former co-commander. "Are… Are you okay?"

"No. I'm back on this planet and the Sith are trying to conquer the Republic yet again." Meetra tried to force a smile, but her face wouldn't cooperate. "It's a little difficult to be cheerful."

"You don't have to be on the surface. If Mira is willing to exfiltrate you, I sure as hells wouldn't mind having your eyes in the air." The complicated thing about Revan, and later Vann, was that his violent temper was counterbalanced by a great deal of compassion. These traits gave him the courage to be an unquestionable hero who frequently utilized the tactics of a villain. It could be infuriating.

The old animosity that stemmed from all of Meetra's unresolved feelings towards the war exploded unexpectedly. She honestly thought that she was better at controlling her outbursts, but she had believed several things upon arriving on Malachor V and so far none of them had been true. "I didn't tell you this before, but I spent years being angry at you over the Mass Shadow Generator. You were the one who had the idea for a superweapon, the one who made it sound like it was the only option we had. And I believed you because your tactics always felt like the best course of action. It helped that you had all of the facts and figures ready. Hells, you even warned me that there were risks, that being close to so many deaths might reverberate into the surrounding Force with unexpected consequences."

Vann didn't seem surprised at this confession, as though he'd been expecting it for quite a while. "I'd like to believe that I would never order someone to use a kriffing superweapon if they didn't know all of the potential dangers."

"The problem wasn't what you said, it was how you said it. You made using the weapon sound so simple. And maybe for you, it was. After all, there's nobody in the galaxy who understands war the way you do. I don't know what your thoughts were when you gave me the orders to use the Mass Shadow Generator, but maybe you assumed that I could manage any potential repercussions just as efficiently as you would have. But I didn't."

"Don't blame him." Alek was imposing as he straightened to his full height. "You made a choice and all of this is the result. You're the one who ripped a hole in the Force after I warned you that using a weapon of mass destruction was a bad idea!"

"I did it because he made it sound like our only option!" Gaze growing distant, Meetra couldn't stop the memories from rushing back. "He said it was necessary, just like accepting seventy percent casualties provided we won the day. Or embracing just a little bit more darkness because it would allow us to see things more objectively."

"Yeah." Wincing, Vann muttered, "That all sounds like something I would say."

The blunt acknowledgment only fueled Meetra's long-contained outrage, mostly because the only thing she currently wanted was the reassurance that she'd always depended on Revan to provide. She needed to confess all of her doubts so that he could explain them away, soothing her worries by assuring her that their actions were entirely necessary. During the war, his conviction that they were on the right side of history had given others the strength they needed to keep fighting. But right now, he just seemed lost. It shattered the last of the former Consular's self-control and she couldn't stop herself from lashing out in frustration. "What, you're not even going to defend yourself? Maybe throw all of my former positivity back in my face? Say something, dammit! Defend the orders that you gave!"

"You know that he won't and you also know exactly why!" Glaring sternly, Alek challenged the blonde to contradict him.

But she said nothing because they were both well-aware that Vann had more guilt about the past than the rest of them combined, an emotion exacerbated each time he was presented with proof of his penchant towards unmitigated violence. Beneath the exterior of the shiftless mercenary and calculating commander lay a person who was deeply insecure about every choice he'd ever made. It wasn't that he lacked the darkness he'd possessed in the war, the rage that sometimes turned his eyes sickly yellow was proof of that, it was merely that he kept witnessing the results of his decisions without any recollection of why he'd originally made them. He didn't remember enough of the past to recognize what they'd gained, all he saw was everything they'd lost.

"If the person who gave the original orders can't defend them, how am I supposed to continue justifying my actions? I've spent seven years convinced that this was the only way to win the war. But… was it?" Gesturing to the broken landscape, Meetra's tone cracked as she pleaded, "How is this any better than seizing control of the Republic to defend it against an even greater threat?"

Alek pointedly refused to answer those questions, even as his expression softened. Instead, he repeated the same words that he'd offered a hundred times at the beginning of the war when the former Consular was still mourning each casualty that paved the way for their victory. "What do you want to hear? What do you need me to tell you so that you can keep moving forward?"

Just like during the war, Meetra found herself pouring out her hopes and fears. "For years I've been assuring everyone, myself included, that I turned this planet into a graveyard for some higher purpose. Tell me that I wasn't wrong. I'm already a murderer, don't make me a liar too."

"If you didn't stop the Mandalorians, we wouldn't be fighting the Sith today because they would have already won. I don't know if the Mass Shadow Generator was the right answer, but it was the solution we found. And to be perfectly honest, I didn't hear anyone else coming up with anything better." Atton stared at the three former Revanchist leaders as he slunk beside Meetra. "I learned a long time ago that living with your past isn't about believing that you were right. Sometimes it's about accepting that you were wrong and trying to learn something from it."

It was an answer, even if it wasn't exactly what the former Consular wanted to hear. But she'd asked him to tell her the truth. "And what am I supposed to learn from this?"

"That right and wrong are too complicated to divide into neat categories? Maybe that even the best leaders are still fallible? Or you can just be glad that we won the kriffing war. It's like you said, one Malachor is still better than a dozen Serrocos."

"That doesn't feel like enough."

"And maybe it's not." Atton shrugged. "We all made choices, now the hard part is living with them."

Meeting the former assassin's gaze, Meetra pleaded, "How do you do it?"

"One slow, painful, gut-wrenching step at a time." The wry smile that Atton gave her was one of the most heartfelt gestures he'd ever displayed.

"We should keep moving." The flatness in Vann's voice was alarming, as was the defeated hunch of his shoulders and stiffness in his gait. Though his Force presence was carefully shielded it wasn't hard to read his current mood. A myriad of emotions was hidden behind his emotionless mask, the same as during the war. Bastila was already rushing up to offer gentle encouragement, even as he brushed her away.

Guilt welled up in Meetra. She'd released her frustrations on the easiest target even though the person she was really angry at was herself. "Vann, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"Don't." As he waved off Bastila's lingering attempts to coddle him, the former mercenary drew both of his lightsabers as he stoically stated, "I sense the academy up ahead, which means that they probably know we're coming. There's a lot of Sith inside. Be ready for a fight, because this is going to be a hard one."

The chilled breeze that was blowing from their north could have been mistaken for a natural phenomenon if not for the ominous sense of dread that crept across the butchered terrain, making the air feel thick as tendrils of darkness curled around the crews. It was a sensation only produced by dozens of dark Force users working together in a single space. Meetra shivered as she drew her own weapon, nodding to her students to do the same. Up ahead, Vann and Alek moved to lead the way just as they'd always done. From behind they looked almost identical to the men they'd once been and it was easy to forget everything that had passed between them. Bastila flanked them, joined by Juhani and a dark-haired teenager who strongly resembled his father.

"Bastila, is there any way that you can use your battle meditation to help us move through that academy?" Vann's tone was guilty, showing his reluctance to make this request. "I know that you need a safe place to sit while you use it and I can't guarantee that here."

"I can guard her."

"Dustil… are you sure?"

"Juhani's more experienced than me with active combat and Jolee is better at crowd control. You can't afford to leave either of them out here just so that you can keep an eye on me." The teen rolled his eyes, standing up a little straighter. "I know you think that I'm just a kid, but I can do this."

Vann didn't look convinced. "And what if the local fauna attacks? Or the Sith?"

"Then I'll wake Bastila up and we can fight together." Pointedly clearing his throat, Dustil quipped, "I'm wise enough to recognize when I'm outmatched."

"We're lucky that the Onasi common sense is as genetic as their damn stubbornness." An older Force user who Meetra recognized as Jolee chuckled. "Let the boy guard Bastila. I wouldn't mind having her battle meditation supporting us in that rancor pit."

"Alright, fine." Pointing directly to Dustil, Vann added, "But if you get hurt your dad is going to blame me!"

The teen merely snorted at the warning. "He cracked his head open less than three hours ago, so he really doesn't have room to complain about anyone else ending up in the medbay."

"I'll go find a place to meditate, preferably away from both the academy and the gas vents." Bastila placed a comforting hand on her teacher's bicep as she turned to look at everyone else. "Good luck to you all and may the Force be with you."

As the two younger Force users moved away from the group, Jolee grumbled, "Pfft, we're going to need more than luck, kid."

"I know that's only part of your plan. Care to share the rest?" Alek arched a brow as he looked at Vann expectantly.

"They know that most of us are here, so stealth isn't an option. But there is one of us they might not have sensed and who's already familiar with the building. Atton, would you be willing to sneak in using the cover we provide to scout ahead and pick off any easy targets?"

Atton scoffed. "You mean assassinate them."

"Call it what you want. Is that a yes or a no?"

"Hey, I know what I'm good at. It'll be pure pazaak."

"As for the rest of us…" With an almost self-deprecating grin, Vann turned to Alek." I figure that we can utilize the same tactic I used against the Revanchists on the Star Forge."

The former Sith's expression was completely deadpan. "You literally just charged into the room."

"I believe Canderous calls that 'shock and awe'. Besides, they might not be expecting us to have support from Bastila and a direct charge might overwhelm them early."

"Fair point, as usual." Alek nodded towards Meetra's crew. "You'll know when she's in place, by the way. We should be ready beforehand since there's no telling how long she'll be able to hold her position."

The mood was somber as the group closed the last hundred or so meters between the canyon and the long pathway that loomed just beyond. It was brightly lit, surprising for a planet that was uninhabited by sentients, and led up to a huge building composed of soaring archways and sharp angles. The cold chill it exuded was palpable and it made the poisonous air thick with dread. Even without extending her awareness Meetra could practically taste the anticipation filling the atmosphere, the Sith craving the bloodshed they knew was coming. During the war, she might have met that reaction with equal fervor, but now all she could manage was grim determination. Adjusting her lightsaber, she ignited the blade just as her boot touched the paved walkway leading to the singular door that marked the entrance to the academy.

All at once the Force seemed to snap taught around them, warmth burning in Meetra's chest as she was filled with a sense of hope that she hadn't experienced in years. Glancing around she noted the same glow of optimism surrounding the rest of her crew, their bodies relaxing as they all fell into step. It wasn't like what the former Consular did when she threaded her allies together to temporarily bind them into a cohesive unit. This sensation was more complete, opening everyone's minds to each other and allowing them to think as one. Even without searching their bond Meetra knew that Atton was already flanking around to trail the group so that he could slip in behind them. It was strange but felt completely natural, a dozen little pinpricks of consciousness alighting amongst her own thoughts and making her aware of everyone's actions so that she could subconsciously complement their choices.

"Bastila's in place, so I guess it's party time." Vann flashed a near-feral grin as he shifted into a ready stance just in front of the entryway.

But Alek hung back, allowing the others to pass him as he lingered just beyond the building. Even without the battle meditation, Meetra knew why he was hesitant and she moved to stand beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm. Malachor V had too much history for both of them. While her painful reminders were littered across the landscape, all of the former Supreme Commander's lurked within this academy.

With a wave of his arm, Vann flung the door open as he charged through, both of his lightsabers humming as he prepared to clash with whatever Sith were looking for a fight. Juhani remained by his side while Jolee trailed the pair to provide support. The moment the trio entered the building the Force erupted with brilliant bursts of energy as powers were unleashed while the air filled with the wicked hiss of plasma blades. Behind her, Meetra could sense her own crew's anticipation as they awaited her orders. A single thought sent them surging forward, their weapons whirring as they burst into the huge entrance chamber of the Trayus Academy. The room's eerie red lightning was momentarily distracting and helped to disguise the black-robed figures who melted out of the shadows with their crimson 'sabers flashing.

Two Sith immediately descended upon Meetra, their movements fierce as the dark side roared around them in a frigid gale. They were clearly expecting her to be an easy target and she knew why. Despite being the infamous Jedi Exile she didn't cut an imposing figure, but that didn't change the fact that she once commanded an entire fleet and sliced her way through Mandalorian warriors as though they were flimsiplast. She was the same person who nearly destroyed this very planet with a single command and despite the tough years that had passed since then she was still far more than she appeared.

The blast of power that left Meetra's hands knocked both Sith to the ground and before they could regain their footing the former Consular tackled them with two solid swings of her lightsaber. The silver blade hissed as it sliced past layers of black fabric, carving into the abdomen of one individual before slicing through the other's throat. Frustration coursed through the blonde, enhancing her strength and allowing her to parry a blow from a third opponent with enough momentum to push them back half a meter. They stumbled and she seized the opening by lunging forward and stabbing her weapon between their ribs before delivering a strong kick to their gut. Dodging to the side, she summoned the Force and froze another enemy moments before they attacked Bao-Dur from behind. He sensed the rush of energy and turned to give his teacher a thankful nod before whirling on his incapacitated opponent with a strong chop that carved a deep gash in their chest.

All around Meetra the Force surged, pulsing in time with the hum and sizzle of over a dozen lightsabers. Though the setting was strange the situation was still familiar. She had been part of similar battles many times prior and she drew from the chaos, pivoting lightly on the ball of one foot as she pushed forward and slashed another adversary along the hip and thigh. From this angle, she could see the others fighting with similar fervor. Visas and Brianna were utilizing the synchronicity they'd discovered on Rakata, while behind her Bao-Dur continued to duel with the same steadfast ferocity that he'd always possessed. Up ahead, two figures fought in tandem as they worked to clear the way. Despite his initial reservations, Alek's motions were as confident as they'd ever been and Vann was still a whirlwind of aggression.

Guided by the battle meditation even as she followed her own instincts, Meetra made her way towards her former co-commanders, her path made easier when Juhani somersaulted through the air and landed on the closest Sith's shoulders. The Cathar's lightsaber easily carved through their skull before she spryly lept away. Off to the side, Jolee held out his hands as waves of energy flowed forth, pinning two Sith against a wall just beside Brianna and Visas who took advantage of the opportunity. The Echani eliminated their enemies with a whirling slash of her dual blades as the Miraluka unerringly covered her back. Sprinting past, Meetra gave the pair a nod of approval that made the surrounding Force glow with pride. But there was no time for the former Consular to dwell on her students. She fell into step behind Vann and Alek just as the men shoved open the heavy door that blocked the academy's grand entrance hall from a smaller corridor leading deeper into the building.

"I have a feeling that the Sith that greeted us were only bantha fodder designed to slow us down a little." Vann was breathing hard but appeared otherwise unharmed by the fight.

Laughing sardonically, Alek grinned with his eyes. "I wouldn't doubt it. It's the same tactic I used with you on the Star Forge."

"It didn't work then and it's not going to work now." Shaking his head Vann charged forward, both of his lightsabers raised in anticipation of any incoming opposition.

But the hallway was almost eerily silent, the long passageway devoid of any signs of life. Reaching out her awareness Meetra could sense that there were more Sith somewhere up ahead, but the sheer number of individuals in the building combined with the oppressive weight of the dark side made it difficult to discern their positions. Vann seemed to be having the same difficulty, his pace slowing as he stalked further into the academy.

Moving to flank the other man, Alek whispered, "There are doors all along this corridor, making it perfect for an ambush."

This assessment came less than a second before Meetra felt a cold chill race down her spine. Freezing in place, she raised her lightsaber defensively even as Alek moved to partially shield her smaller form. She was about to scold him for treating her like a helpless child when a deafening boom rocked the area, brilliant flashes of light filling the narrow space as multiple grenades exploded simultaneously. Diving down, the former Consular pressed herself close to the ground to make her body a smaller target and moved both arms to protect her head. A second round of detonations went off all around, the air heating uncomfortably as the vibrations rattled her teeth. Yet, the eruptions of flame and shrapnel never physically struck.

Stillness descended just long enough for Vann to peer over his shoulder and check on the others. At that moment Meetra finally noticed the protective field extending from his presence, surrounding the trio and deflecting the energy from the grenades. The skill was just as surprising as it had been on Rakata, an ability he'd never displayed during the war. Her astonishment must have shown because her former commander offered a weak, almost apologetic shrug before twisting to his feet and dropping the shielding. His power shifted as he wrapped the Force around a pair of grenadiers and dragged them through the partially open door of a nearby room. They yelped as they were pulled across the floor but the sounds quickly ceased when Alek flipped forward and effortlessly dispatched them with a single chop.

Unfortunately, this put the larger man directly in the path of more grenades when another squad released their payloads. Vann sensed the danger and sprinted closer as he summoned the protective field an instant before the explosives detonated, shielding both men from a majority of the damage. But this change in positioning meant that Meetra was inadvertently exposed to the full concussive waves of the blast. Her ears immediately started ringing as every bone in her body ached from the reverberations. She could taste blood on her tongue, but she shook off the sensation as she used the Force to increase her speed so that she could race ahead of her friends and pounce on the second group of grenadiers.

The silver lightsaber hummed as Meetra swung it hard, the blade slicing past her first opponent's armor and into their abdomen. They gurgled weakly, finally collapsing in a splayed heap when she delivered a hard kick to the wound. Whirling around she slashed upward, catching a second grenadier in the shoulder. Driving the blade deeper she twisted harshly to bisect the joint before raking the weapon downward and shoving it through her opponent's back to end the fight.

Behind her, Meetra could hear the others catching up even as the former Revanchist leaders continued to push past grenadiers and move down the hallway. The crews had merged back into a single unit by the time they reached the next area of the academy, a large room that was guarded by multiple troopers armed with heavy repeating rifles. They started firing the instant they saw movement. Falling back, the former Consular began to deflect the bolts so that Vann and Alek could move ahead of her, their blades singing as they dove directly at the gunners with sweeping slashes. One dropped immediately when a pair of lightsabers pierced their chest, another of their companions joining them when an orange blade sliced through their helmet and into their skull. If this was all that awaited them, they'd have an easy time getting past this distraction.

Visas's quiet voice cut through Meetra's sense of confidence. "Be wary, their ammunition appears strange to me."

Shifting to study the Miraluka, the blonde was about to ask the other woman to clarify this comment when a searing pain pierced her side. She gasped, immediately recognizing the familiar burn of a blaster bolt wound, and tried to cover the spot with her palm. But her arms were frozen in place. Startled, she attempted to dash off to the side to assess her injury only to discover that her legs also refused to move. Panic gnawed at her mind as she gradually realized with dawning horror that her entire body was now completely paralyzed. Visas's words suddenly made more sense as it became obvious that the Sith had stun rounds in their rifles.

Struggling to fight past the effect, Meetra could only watch as the other Force users sprinted past, doing what they could to avoid the bolts as they also began to sense the danger. Still trapped in place, the former Consular felt a fresh jolt of dread when she heard the hiss of lightsabers igniting in the shadows as a new wave of dark Force users swept in for a surprise attack. Her limbs were beginning to tingle with the first signs that the stun was wearing off when one of the Sith turned and spotted her helpless form. They smirked sadistically and turned towards their defenseless target, charging with unnatural speed as they swung their lightsaber directly at their victim's throat. But before the crimson weapon could hit, someone tackled Meetra from behind and rolled her against the nearest wall.

"Getting knocked out by that gas on Telos suddenly doesn't seem so stupid now, does it?" Atton grinned, though the expression was tight with concern.

Flexing her fingers as they slowly regained their motion, Meetra sighed with relief. It was still a struggle to speak, but she managed to mumble, "Fine, you're not an idiot for getting knocked unconscious."

Igniting his main lightsaber, the former Sentinel deflected a bolt. "While you're stuck here listening to me, I might as well explain that this academy is laid out in rims around a central Core that's suspended over a massive well of Force energy. I did my best to clear the way deeper in, but I stopped before the final ring because… Because of what I sensed." He turned to the blonde. "She's waiting for you at the center."

Meetra didn't need to ask who her companion was talking about. Even amidst the chaos of Malachor, she could feel the presence of her former mentor. Their bond thrummed, resonating through the same place where the overwhelming pain had sprung from weeks before. "Then I know where I need to go."

As the former Consular shook off the last of the stun effect, Atton reached out and grasped her wrist. "Wait. Before you charge ahead to save the day I just need to… I need to thank you. For everything."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, you did." For a moment they knelt face-to-face, staring at each other as a battle raged on around them. It was absurd, and yet somehow fitting.

The tension broke a second later, Meetra shrugging weakly as she reignited her weapon. "If something I did helped you, then you're more than welcome." Smiling sheepishly, she gave her companion a quick peck on the cheek before gingerly climbing to her feet and rushing towards Vann, calling, "We need aim for the Core of the academy!"

It was Alek who nodded in acknowledgment. With a jerk of his head, he gestured towards a set of doors at the opposite end of the room and then sprinted towards them, trusting his co-leaders to follow. They were close behind as he dove through the entryway, flanking him as all three plunged deeper into the building. The rest of their allies remained behind to provide additional cover, an arrangement that they instantly understood thanks to the mental link forged by Bastila. They'd only gone a few dozen meters when it became obvious that Atton had kept his word and cleared the way. Multiple bodies were scattered across the corridors, though there were just as many Sith who were only unconscious, their chests rising and falling evenly as they sprawled against the floor. Meetra wasn't sure how to interpret the decision to spare their adversaries, but it made a tiny smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

As the trio slipped down the short hallway leading to the final rim of the academy, the invisible thread of Force power binding their minds and infusing them with hope suddenly evaporated, causing them to stop abruptly in surprise. Worry creased Vann's forehead and he closed his eyes, his presence flaring brightly as he reached out to his Padawan. A few tense moments passed before he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing minutely.

"Bastila's alright. She and Dustil were overrun by a group of those storm beasts, probably looking for an easy meal. They're handling things, though."

"Good." The vocabulator kept Alek's voice neutral, though relief flickered in his eyes. "It looks like we're going forward alone."

"We did pretty well during the war without Bastila's assistance." Meetra tried to sound casual as she looked between the men, though she couldn't hide the fondness that crept into her tone. "Besides, we're not alone. We have each other."

Snorting at the sentimentality, Vann pressed close to the wall as he crept forward. Despite his outward incredulity, a flicker of appreciation shone through the Force, setting their old bond alight with a warmth that hadn't passed between them all in a very long time. Alek also sensed it, though he just rolled his eyes as he fell into place behind his former friend. Grinning to herself, Meetra stayed a few paces back to provide cover, just like always. As they moved to surround the final door it was difficult to remember that seven tumultuous years had passed since they last fought together as Revanchists.

A single hand signal from Vann stopped the others, warning that he sensed something dangerous up ahead. Extending her awareness, Meetra also felt the cold brush of multiple dark Force users and she nodded in recognition. Spotting the confirmation, the former mercenary gestured a count, telling the others to be ready to move in three, two…

Gathering her power, Meetra burst through the door less than a second behind the men, ready to trap any potential opponents in a stasis field so that the former Guardians could cut them down with ease. However, her entrance wasn't greeted by the hum of lightsabers clashing or the screech of bolts whizzing past. Instead, all she heard was a confused intake of breath, followed by a mechanical wheeze.

Six Sith were standing along the walls of the room, their hands folded before them as their eyes stared out from beneath the shadows of their hoods. They didn't move when Meetra approached, though they simultaneously turned to look at her. She gaped at the sight, subconsciously taking in the various burns and other signs of wear on these individuals' robes, proof that they had seen some combat, unlike the inexperienced individuals who had greeted the crew when they entered the academy. These Sith's signatures also felt stronger, pulsing through the Force in frigid waves.

Vann and Alek were obviously as taken aback as the former Consular, their weapons held at the ready even as they remained in place to reassess the situation.

"What the hells…?"

Meetra was about to agree with Vann's sentiment when one of the Sith finally spoke. "Darth Traya waits for you, Exile. You may pass into the chamber beyond."

"Only you may pass." Yellow eyes stared coldly at the trio, the color contrasting starkly against black-veined skin.

"Uh-uh. She's not going alone."

Holding out a hand, the closest Sith shook her head at Vann. "Darth Traya has no more lessons for you or Malak. Allow the Exile to go on alone to seek the guidance that she has earned."

"Or are you jealous that your student has the potential to become stronger than you? That she is now a threat to your power? After all, you tried to kill her once because of that very same fear."

"I what?" Vann's arms dropped a fraction as he blinked back his shock. "No, I didn't! I tried to kill Alek once or twice but that was completely different."

The Sith kept speaking as though his point hadn't been refuted. "Revan, you knew the destruction that the Mass Shadow Generator would wreak and you recognized that any in its path would be destroyed."

"The Jedi you sent to the Battle of Malachor were individuals whom you considered expendable… or whom you wanted dead. They were Jedi who questioned your methods or disagreed with your teachings. Those who saw that you were falling and lost faith in you."

"I… don't remember if that's true." Glancing desperately at Alek, Vann silently begged the other man to confirm or deny the accusation.

But the former Supreme Commander could only sigh. "I honestly don't know what choices you made regarding that weapon since you left me out of the decision process after I refused to use it myself. But, if I had to make an educated guess based on knowing you for over half of my life…"

"It sounds like something I would do. Shit."

One of the Sith smiled. It was an oddly vacant gesture. "Revan admits that he later tried to kill the same man whom he originally tasked with using the Mass Shadow Generator. So, Exile, can you now stand here and deny that your commander sought to eliminate you? That he originally sent you here to die?"

Clenching her jaw, Meetra jerked her chin up defiantly. "I was sent here because my commander trusted me."

"You were sent here because he wanted to get rid of you. Sith know to eliminate any threats to their rule, to kill any who may become stronger than them and challenge their power." A pair of yellow eyes turned to study Vann. "You may have never taken on the title, but you think like a Sith. You battle like one, too."

"Don't deny it, Revan. How else were able to out-maneuver Darth Malak, a Dark Lord with the entire Republic military at his command? How else are you able to provide a challenge to even the Emperor? You are Sith, just like us."

"And what do you know of the Sith?" Alek cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. "I'm sure it's petty teachings at best, scraps of information passed second-hand from those who only wield the dark side because it's easy."

One of the black-robed figures laughed, the sound completely without mirth. "We know only what you taught us, Darth Malak. After all, you were the one who gave the orders for our creation in this very academy. We would still be Jedi if not for you."

It was Alek's turn to look stricken as he took in the six wraiths standing around the room. His knuckles were white around the hilt of his lightsaber. "Kriff."

"Perhaps you'll take comfort in the fact that it wasn't you who turned us to the dark side. It was your assassin, Jaq." The Sith glanced at Meetra with a smirk. "Exile, would you like us to tell you what he did to break us? To make us fall so far that we have no hope or care for the redemption that he now so desperately seeks?"

The former Consular barely heard the words, her head buzzing with too much information. Had Revan really tried to kill her? It made sense given the context, and now that she really thought about it she realized that many of the Revanchists who were assigned to Malachor had begun to disagree with their commander's increasingly utilitarian tactics. But she wasn't like that. In fact, she had been willing to die for her leader. So, did it really matter if he had wanted her dead when she was already prepared to give up her life for his victory?

'Of course, the context matters. To sacrifice your life for someone who values the gift is far different than being sacrificed to further another's selfish goals.' Kreia's voice was stern. 'Just as knowing that someone is a torturer is far different than witnessing the results of his work.'

Nausea rose in Meetra's stomach and she swallowed down the urge to vomit for the second time on this Force-forsaken planet. All of the Sith were looking at her once more, their yellow eyes empty and impassive. She shuddered. While she had heard all of Atton's confessions and seen the anguish that he'd caused Brianna, at the time they felt like understandable mistakes made by a man far too young for the horrors that he was exposed to. Every Revanchist had made their share of bad decisions but looking at these six blank faces wreathed in darkness somehow made the former assassin's choices seem unforgivably despicable. Worse, he'd committed his atrocities on Alek's orders. Glancing at her friend, she barely suppressed a scream as the full horror of Darth Malak finally sunk in.

Vann sensed all of the turmoil just as he always did, concern drifting off of him. That felt so ironic coming from Revan, the man who had possibly tried to kill her and the same individual who had taught them all so much about the dark side. In many ways, he was a Sith in everything but name. But what did that make her? She had made the conscious decision to destroy this planet and the two fleets surrounding it, all without remorse, before spending seven years justifying those deaths as a mere necessity. Weren't those also the actions of a Sith? But those choices had felt right in the moments that she made them and in truth, all of the dark paths the Revanchists embarked on had seemed honorable at one point or another. Suddenly Atton's voice echoed through her head. 'Right and wrong are too complicated to divide into neat categories... even the best leaders are still fallible.'

They'd all made mistakes and the hardest part was living with the aftermath all while moving forward. Dwelling on those errors, revisiting them time and time again, picking them apart until they each questioned every action they'd ever undertaken, would only cause them to be stuck in place. Just as Meetra had been for seven long years and just as she'd be again if she let her current thoughts consume her. Anger rose, washing away all of her doubt with chilled fury as she bared her teeth at the nearest Sith and charged at her with a shout.

"Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up!" Swinging her blade around, the blonde caught her opponent by surprise and sliced cleanly into a black-robed torso. "You don't know anything about the choices we made! Or how hard it is to live with them every day! Or how much of ourselves we gave up so that the Republic could survive!"

The Sith gasped wetly as she collapsed to the ground, but the five others had already drawn their lightsabers and were advancing with deadly purpose. Vann and Alek were back-to-back, though they were far more apprehensive than they'd been earlier. Meetra didn't share their concerns, still fueled by her own outrage. Diving past the former Guardians she continued to vent her frustrations.

"We are far from perfect, but we tried. We did our best and made the decisions that we thought were necessary." Slashing her blade upward, the former Consular blocked a swing before parrying it with a strike of her own that burned into a Sith's forearm. "We acted when the Jedi lacked the conviction to fight and the Republic lacked the skill to win. Maybe we're not the heroes that everybody wants us to be, but we're all they've got. And we're ready to keep fighting for its people until our last kriffing breaths. If that's not good enough, I don't know what is!"

A chuckle passed through Meetra's mind as the accompanying voice whispered, 'Ah, there it is. The spark of potential. Ignite it.'

It was pure fury that fueled the blonde's form as she moved forward, using her smaller size to her advantage when she ducked beneath two of the Sith's blows before turning to drive her own blade into their thigh, searing through their flesh. The shout of pain was satisfying, though it didn't distract her enough to prevent her from rushing to meet the next opponent with a growl. He was stronger, but she had long become used to winning against more physically capable opponents. Dodging to the side, she threw the taller figure off balance, swaying lightly on the balls of her feet as she used the Force to speed up her movements. It worked, at least until a lucky hit broke through her defenses and cut deeply into her left shoulder. She let out a yelp, slinking backward as the wound burned coldly through her.

Even as she clutched the gash Meetra gathered her power, striking out instantaneously with a push that lifted the Sith off the ground and threw him through the air so that he landed in an uncoordinated heap atop one of his allies. Before either could climb to their feet, the former Consular clenched her fist with a sneer, cutting off their airways and watching impassively as they clawed desperately at their throats in an attempt to draw a breath. Behind her, she could hear the familiar hum of her friends clashing with the other Sith, but that felt distant as she watched the life fade from her enemies' vacant eyes.

'Just as that wound burns through your shoulder and gives you strength, you are a wound that burns through the very Force. It is pure power and at last, you know what you truly are.'

"Kreia." Resentment surged through Meetra, an icy cascade of emotion that urged her forward. She trusted that Alek and Vann could handle the last of the Sith so that she could enter the building's Core alone. Perhaps it was the bond, but she somehow knew that just like everything else about Malachor, this final confrontation was personal. Dashing through the last third of the room, she used the Force to push open the final door leading to the ominous heart of the Trayus Academy. Not slowing for an instant she sprinted through the archway and onto a shockingly long bridge that extended for over a hundred meters, leading to a single round platform that was ringed by claw-like columns.

The jagged rock of Malachor V's crust completely surrounded the Core while a palpable geyser of Force energy flowed below it, so potent that it glowed faintly in the gloom. Many meters above the platform was a small opening that provided a perfect glimpse at the stormy, cloud-darkened sky. After the Mass Shadow Generator, it was impossible to tell day from night on the planet's surface, which seemed fitting. Darkness and light had become so muddled to the former Consular that sun and shadow seemed to merge. In many ways, she had created this place so it was only right that it reflected her so perfectly.

Drawing a slow breath, she prepared to meet her mentor and whatever final lesson awaited her. 'Betrayal,' a voice whispered, though whether it was hers or Kreia's was impossible to discern. 'It lays at the heart of every sentient.'

Author's Notes

Thank you for reading. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

You can find me on Twitter (ergo_maria) and Tumblr (ergomaria). Feel free to say "hi" or ask me any questions.

1. Carth's flagship in KOTOR 2 is the Sojourn. While a cruiser is less impressive, I kept the name. 2. Vann's crew on the Republic cruiser is supposed to mirror the fate of the Ebon Hawk upon landing on Malachor V in KOTOR 2. 3. Having known people who have split their scalps open, all I can say is that it really appears to be a dangerously large amount of blood (even if it's not). 4. Vann charging directly into a confrontation with Malak and three former Revanchists without any specific plan was a bit of a joke in No Light without Shadow. (As was Canderous's insistence that 'shock and awe' was the best tactic to use on the Star Forge.) 5. The six Sith at the end of this chapter are mostly reiterating information that can be unlocked via HK-47. (Namely, that the Jedi sent to Malachor V were individuals Revan disliked.) I once read a theory that, given this fact, Revan probably assigned the Mass Shadow Generator to the Exile out of hatred or spite. It's certainly an interesting theory.