Chapter Ten: What You Tell Yourself
Revan was fiddling with his lightsaber in a spare moment. He'd had a lot of spare moments lately, so he'd been making progress. He'd managed to make the blade a bit more stable; it was no longer spilling out plasma when he ignited it. Not as much, at any rate.
"Let's see, move the mechanism…" Revan murmured as he fiddled.
Finishing his effort, he raised the blade, and it shot forward, bright and red. It was stable, not flickering at all. Though there was a bit of waver on the blade. Revan smiled in satisfaction; soon he'd be finished.
"Circumventing the rules of the order, are we?" asked Kreia.
Revan sheathed the lightsaber and hid it behind his back as he turned to see the old woman. How did she creep around like that? He smiled. "No."
Kreia kept her gaze on him.
"Yes." Said Revan. "Vrook didn't manage to steal all of my crystals. He just thinks he did."
"I am not certain it is wise to antagonize Master Vrook continually." Noted Kreia.
"Master Vrook is heading to the other side of the planet with Meetra." Said Revan with a shrug. "And anyway, I haven't actually been given anything to do here."
"So, I have noticed." Said Kreia."
"Who's going to lead the agriculture groups?" asked Revan.
"Master Kavar, I believe." Said Kreia. "He tends to do this sort of thing when returning from battle. I believe it helps him focus. Though the Agricultural Corps has its own hierarchy, so it will be someone else in name."
"I notice nobody remembers who that is." Noted Revan. "And that their hierarchy is subordinate to yours."
"More or less, yes." Said Kreia. "In time, I expect you'll find that most early successes merely set one up for disappointment.
"I am, I confess, surprised that no one has asked for your help."
"What do you expect? I'm from the farming colonies." Said Revan.
"I take it there is some divide between them." Noted Kreia.
"You might just say that." Said Revan. "The farming colonies are the first place that gets burned down when a new war breaks out. It's also where soldiers settle. And since they take a lot of slaves in the wars and sell them there, the farm colonies have a lot of intermingling blood.
"Not pure Daan."
"So it is a matter of bloodline, then." Said Kreia.
Revan shifted as he remembered things he hadn't thought about in years and years. In particular, the face of his father. He'd only met him once, and now he remembered his body stained with blood. "Well, no, Zegil is pure Daan. His family was a very old one, and his father was the governor. They were very big on keeping their bloodlines pure. But his sister had an affair with a minor aristocrat of mixed blood. I was the result."
Kreia eyed him. "Then, you are his nephew."
"I am a Jedi." Said Revan with a shrug. "Like my father before me."
Kreia eyed him. "What was his name?"
"Sensarus, I think." Said Revan. "He used to be part of the order, but he abandoned it to go fight in the wars. He made love to dozens of women and sired a great many bastards. And all the while, he was carving a swath of destruction through Mileena.
"Then he has declared a Dark Jedi and killed by Master Zhar." Revan paused. "I actually watched the fight."
"I remember this now." Said Kreia. "Zhar trained him if I may recall. It grieved him greatly that he could not bring him back to the light."
Revan shrugged. "Sensarus didn't fall. He wasn't on the light or the dark side; he just didn't care either way. He wanted to win the war, and he used all the powers at his disposal to do it."
"Do you approve?" asked Kreia.
"No," said Revan. "Malak told me about how Sensarus killed hundreds. He burned food supplies and blew up hospitals in his campaigns. And in the end, he didn't even end the war. All he did was cause Meleeda to become more brutal.
"He was a failure.
"But he wasn't a Sith or a Dark Jedi. Religion had nothing to do with his actions; it was about Daan and Mileena. He didn't hate the Jedi; I saw him when he fought Zhar. There was no hatred there; the only thing he hated was Mileena."
"I suppose the Jedi would say that the Dark Side was working through him nonetheless." Noted Kreia.
"Do you actually believe that?" asked Revan.
"Sometimes, I wonder if the force truly has a will of its own." Said Kreia. "And if it does indeed have a will, what assurances have we that it is benevolent."
Revan shifted. "How is Malak?"
"Nearly recovered, at last." Said Kreia. "It took longer than expected, but soon I will no longer be grounded here in this place."
"I'll come by later." Said Revan.
Soon Revan would be left alone once again.
Bastila was focusing as she sat crosslegged before the fields.
She observed as Dak and Belaya worked alongside dozens of far more experienced Jedi. She felt their minds, going about the process of raising crops with practiced ease. As Bastila worked, she found she had very little to inspire them with. Dak and Belaya didn't need her help either. Even Master Atris' handmaidens had no need of her, and they were her age.
They worked tirelessly and rejected any effort on her part to motivate them.
It wasn't just that, though. It was like they were subconsciously resisting her. When she'd been introduced to them by Vrook they'd smiled and been polite. But Bastila hadn't felt like she'd been taken seriously. Atris had made no attempt to get them to do so either. That made her angry.
Bastila had earned being taken seriously, hadn't she?
If these people would just let her help them…
"How are things progressing Bastila?" asked Vrook.
Bastila looked up to the master and sighed. There he was with Meetra, standing ready to move on to their other business. It lay on the other side of the world. "To be honest, Master Vrook, I'm having trouble here."
Meetra was glaring at her. Her eyes were narrowed, and Bastila was taken aback by the rage she felt. "Oh, wow, you're having trouble. What, didn't all those late-night training sessions do any good?"
She'd known? But how? Bastila found herself at a loss for words, but Vrook beat her to it. He turned to Meetra and frowned at her. "Meetra, if you cannot control your emotions, I suggest you go elsewhere."
For a moment, Meetra turned her glare to Vrook, and they held each other in silent challenge. Then she looked away. "Sure, sure, I'm just an afterthought."
Then Meetra turned and stalked off. Vrook watched her go, and Bastila didn't know what to do. Had she done something wrong? Finally, Vrook turned to her. "Now, what seems to be the problem."
"Master Vrook I…" Bastila halted. "Organizing these people is much harder than I expected. When I was working with the Agricultural Corps on Dantooine, it was easy. People listened to Revan, and he told them to listen to me. With the crew, I managed to get them to listen to me because they weren't sure of themselves.
"But these, um…" How to put it?
"What is it?" asked Vrook.
"These people all know what they are doing." Said Bastila. "Far better than I do. They don't really respect me as an authority so I'm having a lot of trouble organizing them.
"I know I don't really command them; I'm just supposed to coordinate them, but…"
"Are you attempting to rule over them?" asked Vrook. "Or merely ensure all is done as well as it can be done? A desire for power can sometimes be disguised behind good intentions. Even from the one with that desire."
"But that's just it, Master Vrook." Said Bastila. "They all know their work better than me. I'm not making any difference here at all.
"I think I think my talent is more useful when dealing with inexperienced people."
Vrook nodded. "…I see.
"Perhaps we have expected too much of you, too fast. For now, take some rest. When you return in an hour, I want you to focus purely on motivating them. Make them more confident and to desire to work all the harder, that should be simpler." Then he glanced over to where Meetra was sitting, practicing her lightsaber stances.
She'd gotten a lot better.
"It may be wise to resolve the anger, which seems to have grown up between you and Meetra, my apprentice." Vrook had added 'my apprentice' at the last minute. No, it was merely a slip of words; it probably doesn't mean anything.
Bastila nodded. "Yes, Master Vrook."
Then she made her way over to Meetra. As she did, she remembered playing games against her and also practice. Meetra had always tried to help other people with her efforts. Bastila had admired her for that.
Halting before her, Bastila shifted. Meetra didn't acknowledge her presence, merely striking and slashing. She moved so quickly with her double-bladed yellow lightsaber; it was like a dance more than attacks. The way her long blonde haired flowed around her was beautiful.
Finally, she halted and sheathed her blade as she turned to Bastila. "What do you want?"
"Meetra, I would like to know what it was I did to offend you-" began Bastila.
"It's not what you did." Snapped Meetra. "It's what you didn't do."
"I don't understand." Said Bastila.
"You didn't tell me." Said Meetra. "All this time Master Vrook has been going behind my back. He's been training you in advanced techniques while I get stuck with the basics. You knew all along, and you didn't say anything."
"The Jedi Masters have knowledge and wisdom far greater than our own." Said Bastila. "I was instructed not to-"
"And that makes it somehow okay?!" shouted Meetra in sudden anger. "Why the hell are you getting special training sessions with Vrook when you're a washout?!"
Bastila flinched at the words. "I…"
Meetra moved forward, so they were close. "I passed the Jedi trials. I did it with flying colors. You botched it. Now maybe Revan goaded you into it, but you still botched it. So why do you get special treatment, Princess? Revan, and Dak, and Belaya nearly died from radiation poisoning while you get tutored."
"I have a unique ability, Meetra." Said Bastila said weakly. "My Battle Meditation is… well, it is an ability only I possess. The Jedi Masters felt I had to-"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was under the impression we lived in a Republic." Snapped Meetra. "A place where everyone is equal."
"But the Masters-" began Bastila.
"Are always talking about how power can only be passed down to those with the wisdom to understand it." Snapped Meetra. "But I earned my spot as Master Vrooks apprentice. According to the Jedi, I have the wisdom to accept this training, and you're too much of a hothead! "But no! Because you just happened to be born with some innate talent that's rare you get special treatment! And Malak nearly died because you weren't there to DO YOUR DAMN JOB! "Frag off Bastila! I don't want anything to do with you!"
They were making a scene, and Vrook appeared, separating them with his hands. "Enough.
"Meetra, compose yourself, and meditate on your actions. This kind of outburst is not constructive and will do nothing to aid you or the galaxy as a whole."
"I've been meditating on YOUR actions long enough, Vrook." Snapped Meetra. "I-" Then she relented and turned to walk away, muttering. "To hell with it."
Bastila had the feeling she'd just lost a friend.
Meetra was still fuming from what Revan had shown her.
She knew that Revan must have taken that footage a long time before he showed it to her. He'd probably calculated exactly when to give it to her. That didn't make her any less angry. Vrook was teaching Bastila special techniques. And why? Because of powers she had been born with.
Meanwhile, Meetra was working nonstop on the basics.
So she walked to the edge of the fields and sat down to meditate. She found Atris waiting for her. The white-haired woman was not meditating. She was typing on a data pad at a rapid rate, a frown on her face. Putting it down, she looked up. "Are you alright?"
"Master Atris." Said Meetra.
Atris stood up and smiled. "Please, just call me Atris. You knew me before I was even a knight."
"I don't want to hear a lecture right now; I'll get one of those from Vrook." Said Meetra.
"I'm not here to give you one." Said Atris. "To be honest with you, I think you are right."
Meetra blinked. "You do?"
"Yes." Said Atris. "The Jedi Order has become… detached from events in the galaxy as a whole. We have taken to ignoring problems on the basis that they are political. They stick to their teachings too firmly in some matters. In others, they betray them when they should stand firm.
"Bastila, for instance, should never have been taught to use her Battle Meditation. The Jedi trials exist for the benefit of those who take them as much as the order. Some people simply are not emotionally suited for the rigors of being a Jedi Knight. Bastila proved she was not ready for it and so should not have been trained.
"Rules exist for a reason. Just because Bastila has the potential to be great means nothing. Abandoning the doctrines of the Jedi for a special case is compromising our morals for power?"
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Meetra.
"There will be changes to the Jedi soon." Said Atris. "I've already begun some of them. My handmaidens who you see here are a prime example. They are force sensitive, but they have each sworn a vow never to use the force.
"Do you know why?"
"No," said Meetra. "I don't."
"To provide perspective." Said Atris. "You cannot understand something without a frame of reference. If we have members of the Jedi Order who do not use the force, it will ground us more firmly in the universe as a whole.
"Philosophy is useless if it does not have a practical effect on the galaxy." She sighed. "For the moment, we must demonstrate respect. I'd like you to go back and apologize to Bastila and Vrook. Tolerate their inconsistencies until you yourself become a master.
"Once that happens, I hope I can count on you for support."
Meetra nodded and smiled. "Yeah, yeah, I think you can."
Atris ruffled her hair. "Good. Now, remember your training and control your emotions. We've much work to do, you and I. In our own areas of expertise."
Meetra nodded and turned to walk back.
She'd put up with Vrook as long as he would teach her. What he wanted was a droid who never questioned him. She could give him what he wanted in exchange for training. She didn't actually have to buy into anything he said.
Revan was disappointed to find Malak undergoing force therapy when he arrived. As it turned out, he'd be waiting for hours. Revan didn't like waiting around doing nothing. In the end, the visit was disappointing and largely for naught. That was why he'd chosen to take a walk around the palace.
As he did, he noticed something.
The guards were different. He'd noticed their faces before, and all of them were different now. One or two of them spoke with each other as soon as they saw him. Revan wondered why and wondered if it would be something he should be worried about.
Then Zegil walked around the corner, apparently by chance. He was holding a set of papers and sifting through them, and at his belt was a sidearm. He looked up and smiled. "Revan, I'm sorry to leave you idle for so long. Is your friend well?"
Revan sighed. "Malak has been spending a lot of time sleeping. The drugs they give him make him tired. He hardly noticed me when I was visiting him."
Zegil sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that. We've managed to improve the medical facilities here a great deal since we made the truce. Well, truces I should say. But it isn't up to what you can find on the fringe worlds.
"At any rate, I have a job for you."
Finally, something to do. "How can I help?"
"Some of the battle droids I've been using for my personal security are malfunctioning." Said Zegil. "I thought I'd have you take a look at them, just in case.
"I'm afraid the head technician was shot yesterday."
Revan blinked. He said it so casually. "Shot? By Mileena?"
"No, it was by a group of outlaws." Said Zegil. "He was working on some broken down machinery, and they got him in the back. With all the wars going on, some have abandoned both causes and taken to raiding for their own profit. The man is in medical bay.
"Ordinarily I'd have other men in this region ready to step in. But they've all been appropriate for the Agricultural Corps. They are repairing farm equipment and that sort of thing. I could call for another one, but then they'd have to abandon their own tasks. And it would take them hours to get here."
"Sure, I'll help." Said Revan.
"Good." Said Zegil.
Zegil led Revan through the halls and into the room. There Revan saw the battle droids, state of the art humanoids, and set to work. Zegil stayed and watched.
"Are there any inconsistencies in the code?" asked Zegil.
"Not that I can see." Said Revan. "They'd programmed to protect you and a select number of individuals in the palace. You're the top priority, and they'll shoot anyone who attacks you."
"Any kind of special rules or triggers?" asked Zegil.
"None that I can see." Said Revan. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm paranoid." Said Zegil. "The more people you have in your company, the more likely they are to betray you. Having these droids provides me with a convenient means of protecting against coups. The catch is that if one of my mechanics fiddled with the damn things, I could end up dead."
"So they aren't loyal to you?" asked Revan.
"The people are loyal." Said Zegil. "They understand my goals. They want security, food, and, last of all, freedom. Unfortunately, many of my lieutenants are traitors in the making. They do not want Daan to prosper if they cannot rule over said prosperity. I've had to have three of them shot today."
Revan looked up in shock. "You did?"
"Yes." Said Zegil. "We uncovered a plot against the government. I caught them while they were sleeping and had them escorted out of the palace in secret.
"They were executed three minutes ago."
"But I… was there any fighting?" asked Revan. "I mean, I didn't even notice anything."
Zegil sighed. "Essential to any ruthless action is making it unobtrusive, Revan. Sometimes unpleasant things must be done. But if you must do them, make sure they don't interfere with the status quo. People will forgive a lot if it doesn't interfere with their everyday lives.
"If a black speeder pulls up by a house and men with masks and blasters storm in, everyone will remember and be afraid. They'll talk and get angry, and revolution will spread.
"Far better if someone goes on a walk one day and just… takes a wrong turn. There are plenty of dangerous neighborhoods, even here. Or perhaps there is a crash, and the shock absorbers fail to activate. All kinds of accidents can happen.
"And it is far better to use an accident than a hit squad.
"An accident lets people tell themselves it was just that. It allows them to feel safe at night, thinking that as long as they don't do anything wrong, nothing will happen. It's better for everyone involved if we keep necessary atrocities below the surface."
"A fine justification for tyranny." Said Kreia, emerging from the shadows. "I wonder if those who preceded you used it."
Zegil looked up. "Master Kreia, I see you turn up at the most inconvenient of times. How may I help you?"
"I am interested to know why you requested Revan remain here in this place." Said Kreia. "Your personal interest in him seems somewhat worrying."
"He's a talented mechanic." Said Zegil. "And an old friend. The latter a rare commodity."
"I think I understand your motives all too well." Said Kreia, eyeing Revan.
Revan kept working on the machines. He'd never fiddled with this level of a battle droid, and the ins and outs were fascinating. He wanted to build one of these one day.
"Have you seen war, Kreia?" asked Zegil.
"Of course." Said Kreia. "I fought in the wars of Exar Kun. I did not sacrifice my soul in the process."
"There is no such thing as a soul." Scoffed Zegil. "There are only systems that can be understood with the right perspective. And I do not think you truly understand war, Master Jedi."
"You presume much." Said Kreia, voice hard. "I've fought battles on a hundred worlds and seen all the horrors there."
"Have you ever been forced to clear mind fields with nothing more than a rod of metal?" asked Zegil. "Have you ever seen men, women, and children used as human shields to cover an advance? Have you ever watched your people starving to death as a never-ending stream of bombs fall upon your bunker? Helplessly waiting for the end to come?
"Of course not. You are a Jedi. When you get hungry, you slow down your metabolism with the force. When you are facing a line of men with guns, you deflect their bolts with your lightsaber. When you are in agony, you dull that pain with the force.
"How can you hope to understand us when you've never walked in the dark places of the universe? You who are sheltered by the force and your order. What good are teachings of universal serenity when they are never tested? They cannot stand against the brutality of the true world?"
"Fine words." Noted Kreia, though her voice was less resolved. "I wonder if you tell them to yourself as you lie awake at night. Do you think that enduring suffering entitles you to inflict it on others? Or that murder can be made something other than a crime; however, concealed the knife is."
"Do not attempt to judge me, witch." Said Zegil, tone icy. "I still live in the world the Jedi abandoned long ago."
"You seem keen enough to accept our aid." Noted Kreia. "And we have given it despite your people's best efforts."
"And now you may understand why I found it necessary to remove those who leaked the information." Said Zegil. "Your route was a secret. Someone revealed it to the world.
"I investigated the matter and had them removed.
"For your benefit as well as mine."
"I have found that motives are a nebulous thing." Said Kreia. "One may believe one is acting for one thing and be seeking another."
"I yield before the Jedi Order's expertise on the subject." Said Zegil.
"It is expertise born of experience with many lesser researchers." Replied Kreia.
There was a long, icy silence.
Then both of them laughed. Revan could only assume there was some entertainment in this conversation for them. He found the machines much more interesting.
"I think I rather like you, Master Kreia." Said Zegil. "But, I think I'd have to have you shot if you were one of my subjects."
"An unwise policy." Said Kreia. "Regimes fall when people are no longer allowed to ask inconvenient questions. I would caution you to allow dissenting opinions, lest you become blind to the problems they speak of. Whatever the case, Malak will be ready to travel today. As such, we will be leaving to perform our duties."
"And what would those be?" asked Zegil. "The force is not one to explain its plans." Said Kreia. "Tentatively speaking, I mean to wander aimlessly until I find someone with a problem to solve. At that point, I'll solve that problem, and it will lead in some way to solving the core issue."
"You've been at this for some time, haven't you." Said Zegil.
"Yes." Said Kreia.
"Have you ever seen any results?" asked Zegil.
"None to speak of." Admitted Kreia. "Though it is conceivable that the galaxy might have collapsed into oblivion."
"Well then, I might just have something worth doing for you." Said Zegil.
"How kind of you to give me an excuse to fix your problems." Said Kreia with all due courtesy.
"There are many bands of outlaws in the highlands to the north of here." Said Zegil. "The result of centuries of war. With the recent truce, many mercenaries have been flocking to join them. They've gradually been unifying under the leadership of a man named Kelda.
"I was hoping you could locate their base of operations. Then see if they would be willing to negotiate a ceasefire."
"An interesting proposition." Said Kreia. "What prompted it?"
"A desire to not have my men shot by out of work mercenaries." Said Zegil.
Kreia sighed. "A practical motivation."
Zegil smiled further. "Moreover, I would like you to take Revan with you. He knows that territory better than anyone else except me. Our village was once there."
Revan looked up. What was Zegil doing here? "The droid is done."
"Thank you, Revan." Said Zegil.
"I suppose it would be better to give him a task with some meaning." Said Kreia. "Do you feel capable of this, Revan?"
"Of course." Said Revan, feeling for his lightsaber.
"Very well, then." Said Kreia. "You may come.
"We'll go meet Malak. He has woken up recently."
Zegil paused and then smiled. "Before you go, I thought I'd like to ask you three to be my guests at an event. A grand opera is to take place, chronicling the end of the universe."
"I imagine that it will be difficult, given that it has yet to happen." Said Kreia.
"The end of things can be glimpsed in their beginning." Said Zegil. "For history is but a great cycle. Dark rises and light to meet it, one consumes the other, and it begins anew. It is on this subject that the play muses." He paused. "I would be honored to have you as my guests there."
"Can we?" asked Revan.
"We may do so." Said Kreia. "There is no harm in gaining an understanding of local culture. Though I am interested in what this opera is?"
"It is known as the Rise of the Skywalkers." Said Zegil.
"You mean that play you wanted to put on back before the war came to us?" asked Revan. "I thought you scrapped the thing."
"I did." Said Zegil. "My initial draft was complete trash. I have since gained enough life experience to improve on it."
"What is a Skywalker?" asked Kreia.
"A mythical creature." Said Zegil. "Said to manifest as humans and intervene in great events. Our family was named after said mythical creature.
"So it works well for propaganda purposes." He paused. "Oh, Revan, if you want to invite anyone else from your company to come with me, I'll provide tickets for them as well. Malak will be invited as well, of course."
"Right," said Revan.
He'd choose Meetra, but she'd already left. That left only one other.
Bastila made her way back to her room, feeling despondent. Meetra had come back and been all smiles and apologies. But she hadn't meant a word of it. It would have been better if she had stayed angry. At least then, Bastila could ask for forgiveness. But the icy smiles and insincere calm façade was worse.
It said that Meetra hadn't forgiven her, but felt obligated to do it.
Opening her door, she found the light already on. Had she left it on? Then she sensed something and turned to one side to see Revan leaning against the wall. "Revan, what are you doing in my room?"
"Waiting for you." Said Revan. "I wanted to see how good Zegil's security systems are. The answer is, not good enough."
"How long have you been here?" asked Bastila.
"Two hours." Said Revan.
Bastila blinked. "You mean you've been waiting over there by that wall for two hours so that you could make an entrance? You are deranged, aren't you?"
Revan shrugged. "Sometimes you have to put in some extra effort for this kind of thing."
"What do you want, Revan?" asked Bastila.
Revan smiled. "I was wondering if you might want to go to the opera."
Against her better judgment, Bastila accepted.
Author's Note:
Okay, a bit of context.
I hated Force Awakens before it was cool. I literally went to see it in theatres, and the second I walked out, I absolutely loathed it. Everyone told me I was racist and sexist and that Rey, Finn, and Poe were super great characters. Nobody listened when I said it was a shot for shot remake of A New Hope. And when I pointed out Rey's obscene power growth, everyone just made excuses.
So yeah, Disney's stock tanked, and Star Wars has been massacred worse than Sonny in the Godfather. I finally get to say I called it.
And yet I'm not satisfied.
I don't just want Rise of Skywalker to be a flop. I want all memory of the Sequel Franchise destroyed. I want it forgotten and thrown to the dustbin of history. To do that, I need to destroy what little cultural footprint these abominations left.
This fic is part of that plan.
More on that later. Let's see if this works.
