A/N: I know I said there would be one more chapter last time, but I ended up writing rather more than I expected. So there will be one more after this.

Sorry about the lack of detail in the battle scenes, but I don't tend to read that kind of stuff so I had to improvise...

Part 3

"Soldiers and Jedi of the Republic..."

Revan's voice rang out, clear and powerful, above the low hum of whispered conversation. A sudden hush descended over the enormous hangar, packed to the rafters with pilots, soldiers and Jedi of all ranks, where the leader of the Republic's forces had come to rally his troops for the final battle. The speech was to be broadcast to every ship in the fleet – and on an open frequency, so that it could easily be picked up by the besieged Mandalorians. In Revan's opinion, a little psychological warfare would not go amiss.

He had always had a tremendous gift for public speaking. The ability to hold an audience spellbound, captivating and inspiring the hearts and minds of even the most cynical observers, came to him almost as naturally as breathing. The assembled troops listened in awed, respectful silence as he described the immense task ahead and the tremendous dangers they faced, his voice resounding with passion and conviction as he spoke of courage and honour, liberty and justice. Words which had probably meant something to him, once...

"...And may the Force be with you all." The room exploded with applause as the last few words echoed round the walls and died away. Revan bowed slightly before turning to leave the hall, the roar of cheering still ringing in his ears as he walked down the corridor. Nothing was left to do; it was time to finish this, once and for all.

One word that Revan had not mentioned in his speech was 'revenge'. He had not spoken of how Mandalore was to be dealt with, were he to be captured alive by the Republic. Such considerations would be pointless, because he knew that he was going to kill him.

........

It was nearly eight hours later. The battle still raged fiercely above Malachor V, tearing the skies apart with explosions and laser fire. The Mandalorian fleet, surrounded and heavily outnumbered, were fighting with a ferocity and tenacity that belied their desperate situation – launching furious counter-attacks in the face of overwhelming odds, searching frantically for a way of escape or simply struggling to hold their position.

But they struggled in vain. Slowly, relentlessly, the Republic's forces were pushing inwards, driving the beleaguered Mandalorians back towards the large moon which housed the last of their bases. Revan sat motionless in front of the holographic tactical map, his eyes riveted on the constantly shifting pattern of ships, searching continuously for any chink in his enemies' armour which might allow his forces to gain an advantage. Every order he gave was immediately obeyed; his ships moved in perfect coordination with Malak's, moving instantly to counter any flaw in the Republic's defences and exploit any weakness in those of the Mandalorians.

And, suddenly, something snapped. One of the Mandalorian squadron leaders, sensing the hopelessness of the situation as the Republic's fighters drew ever closer to the capital ships, finally lost his nerve. Ordering his troops to retreat, he broadcast a desperate message of surrender to the nearby Republic ships, begging them to take him prisoner before he was killed by his own men. His fighters were left in disarray, some attempting to follow him, others determined to fight on to the end. But it was too late for them; already a Republic squadron was bearing down on them, cutting a swathe through the last few ships foolish enough to resist. They had broken the Mandalorian lines at last.

........

The ground assault had been almost too easy. After the capital ships had surrounded the planet, pounding the Mandalorian communications towers and demolishing their air defences, the Republic troops – Revan at their head – had made short work of the remaining battalions on the surface. The ground was littered with the broken remains of Mandalorian battle droids, scorched and shattered by the Force; any troops left alive had been taken prisoner or fled into the hills, pursued by vengeful Republic soldiers.

But one of them had slipped away, towards the one of the battered buildings that had housed the Mandalorian high command. A cloaked figure gazed after him, smiling slightly, before wandering off in pursuit. Eventually, he too vanished into the darkness.

Revan crept through the deserted corridors of the bombed-out control centre, stealthy and silent as a cat stalking its prey. Despite the murky gloom inside the building, he moved with confidence; any Jedi child knew how to use the Force to penetrate the darkness. Neither was he afraid of ambush; he could sense only one living being nearby, and he had a very good idea of who it was.

The faint ripples in the Force grew more and more powerful as he approached his target, until he could sense his exact position. The man was strong in the Force, as he had suspected. Finally he paused, a few steps away from the door to the central control room.

"You can't hide from me, Mandalore." He spoke in a low growl, just loud enough to be heard by anyone inside the room.

A harsh, strident laugh cut through the silent darkness. "Hide? Who said I was hiding?" The voice was a deep rasp which resounded off the empty walls, momentarily startling Revan with its sheer force. "I knew you would want to settle this one to one, Revan. A bit fairer than your thousands of troops versus the tattered remnants of my forces, perhaps?"

Revan's saber ignited with a sharp hiss, its brilliant glow casting weirdly- shaped shadows across the walls of the room ahead. "Don't give me that, Mandalore. You attacked the Republic, not the other way round. You never held back from attacking worlds that had no way of defending themselves." His voice crackled with barely-suppressed anger.

The deep laugh rang out again, quieter, but no less arrogant. "Say what you like about my tactics, Revan. You seemed quite happy to adopt most of them yourself." Now Revan could see his enemy dimly through the shadows; he was a tall, heavily-built man, wearing standard Mandalorian armour, but without a helmet. His face, lined and scarred from a hundred previous battles, was twisted into an insolent grin. "How many of those worlds did you yourself abandon in order to gain a strategic victory?"

Revan felt a sudden burst of rage. "You bastard," he hissed through clenched teeth. "If I used those tactics it was because I had to, not because I wanted to. I did it for the Republic, not for power or glory or some sick notion of honour –"

"Oh yes, of course. For the sake of the poor, oppressed citizens of the Republic." Mandalore snorted. "Come off it, Revan. You're not here for the Republic, you're here because you want to win. You're a warrior at heart yourself, just like I am –"

"Oh, no. Don't even think about starting on that 'we're not so different really' crap, Mandalore." Revan took a step forward. "Let's just get this over with; I didn't come here to chat."

"Fine. Let's see if you're as good at hand-to-hand combat as you are at tactics." Without warning, Mandalore raised the blaster pistols he held in each hand, sending a barrage of energy blasts towards his opponent. But the Jedi was too quick for him; his saber moved in a dazzling arc of light, easily deflecting each bolt back towards his enemy, where they bounced harmlessly off his energy shield.

"Too easy," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Mandalore laughed. "Just testing your reflexes." He ceased firing and tossed the pistols aside. Revan leapt at him, a blur of speed, but he threw himself aside with astonishing rapidity considering the heavy armour he was wearing. Regaining his balance, Revan whipped round just in time to see Mandalore bearing down on him, a vibrosword slashing at his face –

The two weapons screeched as they clashed together. Revan lunged at his opponent, momentarily driving him back, but his advantage did not last long. Mandalore quickly recovered, striking back with a vigour that forced his opponent to use every ounce of energy and concentration to defend himself.

They fought on and on, first one gaining the upper hand for a moment, then the other, but neither managing to gain a decisive advantage. Mandalore's superior strength was perfectly balanced against Revan's greater agility; even with the aid of the Force, which allowed him to foresee and counter every move his opponent made, it was all the Jedi could do to hold his own against him. Despite himself, he couldn't help feeling a tinge of admiration – no wonder that this man had risen to the head of the most feared warrior race in the galaxy...

Revan let the Force take control of his body, his movements becoming almost automatic as he attempted to clear his mind for thought. It was obvious that he could not win in this manner; with the help of the Force his strength could probably outlast Mandalore's, but who knew how long that would take? One mistake would doom him. If only he had time to use a Force attack... Suddenly a vague memory struck him, a recollection of another duel he had fought long ago...

Suddenly Mandalore realised, rather to his surprise, that his opponent was faltering. His breathing was growing shallow and laboured, his movements were ever so slightly slower. A grin of triumph began to spread over his face as he redoubled his efforts, forcing the Jedi to retreat until his back was almost touching the wall. Just for a moment, he thought he saw a flash of panic in the other man's eyes.

Seizing his momentary advantage, he thrust his sword at Revan's chest. The Jedi struck out wildly with his saber, just barely managing to block the attack, but the edge of Mandalore's blade grazed his arm as the two weapons scraped apart. He gasped, flinching in pain as his adversary raised his sword for the killing blow. Mandalore paused for a moment, savouring the look of fear in Revan's face, then sliced viciously downwards –

And met only empty air. It took him only a second to realise what had happened, but it was a second too long. As he wheeled round he had just enough time to see Revan raise his arm in a calm, fluid motion, before a blast of Force energy lifted him off his feet and hurled him against the opposite wall.

There was a sickening crack as Mandalore's body struck the wall. The sword flew from his hand and he slid to the ground, limp. Revan walked up to the motionless body and knelt down beside it, holding his saber only millimetres from the man's throat. "Had enough, Mandalore?" he asked grimly.

With some difficulty, Mandalore raised his head to look up at his victorious opponent. He was clearly in pain, but to Revan's surprise, there was no malice in his face. "Not bad, Jedi," he wheezed, grinning weakly. "Not bad at all. You should have been a Mandalorian yourself..."

"If that's supposed to be a compliment, don't bother." Revan's voice was filled with contempt. "You Mandalorians think you're the only people in the galaxy who know how to fight? Look around you." He flung out a hand. "Your fleet is destroyed, your men are dead, your last base is gone. You're finished, Mandalore."

Mandalore shrugged. "So be it..." Despite the pain in his face, he was still smiling faintly. "There is no shame in losing to you, Revan. You are a worthy opponent..."

"A worthy opponent?" Revan stared at him in disbelief. Did he think this was some type of game? All those people dead, all those lives destroyed... Cold fury swept over him. He straightened up and raised his saber above him, plunging it down into Mandalore's ribs, watching it cut through the heavy armour like a knife through butter.

"What is it, Mandalore?" he snarled, relishing the expression of shock in his enemy's face. "Did you expect mercy because I'm a Jedi?" He bent over and grabbed the man by the hair, pulling his face close to his own. "Have you any idea what it's like to feel the destruction of an entire planet through the Force? Millions of people screaming in terror and agony... That's what you put me through, Mandalore, over and over again..." His voice shook with rage. "That's why I swore to destroy you... you scum. Every single one of you..."

"Then... then kill me, Jedi." Even though Mandalore could hardly speak, the tone of his voice was clear – it was scornful, almost mocking. "If... you have the courage to..."

Revan hardly knew what happened next. As if in a dream he saw his hands rise up in front of him, his fists clutching at the empty air. He felt the Force energy surge through him, the blast of lightning coursing from his fingertips into the piece of meat in front of him. He felt the terrifying, intoxicating sense of power as the last dregs of Force energy drained from Mandalore's body, watching him writhe in pain, howling like an animal –

"Revan?" The spell was broken. Revan spun round, only to find himself staring into the pale, shocked face of his best friend.

"Malak..." He gasped, stumbling backwards, staring at his hands as if they were some kind of alien life form, then at the lifeless body in front of him. He looked as if he had just woken from some kind of terrible nightmare, only to discover that it was real. "Malak, what have I done?"

Malak rushed over to him. "Revan, it's OK..." The man was shaking; he saw the blood that had soaked through his sleeve. "Don't worry about him. He deserved it..." Revan was still staring blankly ahead, almost paralysed with horror.

"Come on." Malak put an arm round his friend's shoulders, gently steering him towards the exit. He made no attempt to resist. "Come on," he repeated, as soothingly as possible. "Let's get out of here..."

The two of them slowly retreated down the corridor, leaving Mandalore's corpse behind them.