"Query: Master, are supplies in this quantity really required?"
Katrina smirked in spite of herself, hefting another storage bin onto the cargo loading platform of the Ebon Hawk.
"If I didn't know better, HK, I'd say you were just trying to get out of loading this stuff for me."
The droid moved next to where T3 was plugged into the Hawk, the little droid beeping quietly to himself as he checked the status of the ship's systems.
"Assurance: Of course not, Master." HK's tone dripped with sarcasm. "I was merely trying to guarantee a speedier departure."
T3 beeped loudly.
"I do not believe the Master asked for the opinion of a glorified toolbox."
She hefted another storage bin towards the platform. Her wrists ached, the tendons stretched taut, her biceps shaking with each heavy box she forced herself to lift.
The rhythm made her forget where she was going, what she might have to do. The steady movements of lifting, moving, and slamming down again. Lift, move, slam-
"You keep flinging that equipment around like that both you and it won't be much good to us." Katrina only slammed the next one down harder, looking up at Canderous with a withering stare. She breathed heavily, bent over the storage bin.
The Mandalorian moved to begin helping her, grunting with each successful lift.
"Hyperdrive's checked out," he breathed between lifts. "Turrets are all online and functioning if we run into any trouble."
"So this thing's still holding together?" Canderous wiped a stray bead of sweat off his forehead, the fluidity of his movements never slowing despite the extraneous action. He spit venomously in the direction of the hull.
"With spit and bailing wire, perhaps, but yeah."
Lift, move, slam-
"Why are you still hanging around on this bucket of bolts then?" The Mandalorian paused, hefting the storage bin on his shoulder to stare at her.
"Anyone ever tell you that you ask an inordinate amount of questions?"
Damn it if you aren't the most irritating woman to talk to! Isn't there someone else you can harass for a while?
"Yes, actually."
"I don't recall you being so interested in what my story was when I helped you get off of Taris or find the Star Forge."
"That was then."
"And this is now, eh?"
Lift, move, slam-
"You're still not answering my question," she replied. "You're getting as bad as the old man."
Canderous snorted.
"I answered you the day you reclaimed your identity, Revan." he said, continuing to move crates. "You bested Mandalore and for that feat I would follow you into darkness or light."
"Follow me, sure. Follow a motley crew of aliens and droids, no."
Canderous paused again, watching the endless sea of air traffic around their dock, the constant movement of Coruscant speeding by.
"You couldn't possibly have believed that everything would be all right for you once you returned to Telos with the Republic's saintly hero, did you?"
It had been damnably naïve of her, but she had.
"This is about you, not me-" He gave her a cold, calculating look that said she could not push and cajole him like she did the others.
Occasionally, just occasionally, she forgot that this was Canderous Ordo; a Mandalorian who had led armies into battles, killed thousands of people without battling an eyelid, and would gladly shoot Carth at point blank range if he came up against him in combat.
Katrina exhaled uncomfortably and began to lift cargo again.
Lift, move, slam-
"I made an oath that I would be your man until you moved onto greater things; until the end, Revan. And killing Malak was not the end. But I think you know that already."
Canderous abruptly returned to lifting the last of the cargo.
"That's the last of it," he grunted, motioning to the droids to take the platform up.
'End' was a word she had come to realize would never come if you kept thinking about it, concentrating on it, convincing yourself that your next action would make it happen. It was a word that had become a part of her mythology, something nice to believe in but obviously not real.
"Dustil on board?" she finally said. Canderous nodded.
"Brooding in the cockpit."
There is no uncertainty, there is no procrastinating against having to tell him you are his new Master, there is no ignorance on how to do it and not have him try to kill you.
"We can get underway then."
"As soon asthe Jedi princessgets here."
Katrina wiped her dusty hands off on her robes, narrowing her eyes.
"Bastila's not here?" The Mandalorian returned her skeptical look.
"No. I assumed she was still at some Jedi function."
She hadn't seen Bastila since the Council meeting. The Council meeting that had been yesterday. Katrina turned around and strode back towards the entrance to the Jedi Council headquarters.
Worse than not having seen the Jedi since yesterday was the fact that she could not feel the Jedi either. Their bond reached out infinitely it all directions without ever finding its other end.
It was disorienting and she found that, as inconvenient and uncomfortable as their bond could be, the lack of it was far more frightening.
"Greetings, Master Jedi," one of the Jedi protocol droids said as she reentered the large building.
"Do you know if the Jedi Bastila is here?" The droid nodded mechanically.
"Padawan Bastila is currently in the training rooms, just down the corridor to the north."
She sighed in relief, hurrying off towards the direction the droid had indicated. The closer she came to the training rooms, the more she felt like there was some kind of magnet both drawing and repelling her at the same time.
Whatever Bastila was doing, she obviously wasn't going to welcome an intrusion. Katrina opened the door anyway.
Bastila paused momentarily, glancing up to see who it was. Her eyes met Katrina's.
Hate.
The Jedi turned back to the training droid, hacking through one of its extended arms in a fury Katrina did not remember ever seeing in Bastila.
No, this is not possible! You are a weak and pathetic servant of the light-
At least, not since the Star Forge.
"This thing's practically set on HK's level of aggression," Katrina murmured up from the nearby training computer.
Bastila did not answer, deflecting a volley of blaster fire. Sweat dripped from the Jedi's brown hair, bruises dotting her body where the shocks she had failed to deflect had landed.
Anger.
She could feel these emotions as an afterthought; something she could have sensed bond or no. All the bond was telling her was that Bastila was deathly determined to keep her from finding out what the reasons for the emotions were.
"The Hawk's loaded and we're ready to get underway," she called out with more confidence than she felt.
Bastila slashed through the droid, and it fell harmlessly to the ground, joining a pile of maybe three others littering the mat.
The Jedi paced back and forth, inhale and exhaling deeply, her lightsaber idling loudly at her side.
"Bastila, we need to leave,"Katrina added.
The Jedi crossed to the computer, brusquely shoving her way past Katrina to call up another droid.
Fear.
Katrina watched as the next droid floated obediently over to where Bastila stood, lightsaber poised, only to have one of its blasters chopped off within seconds.
"Leave then." Her voice was curt, emotionless.
"Why would we leave without you? Did the Council ask you to stay behind?"
Suffering.
With a loud growl, Bastila flipped over the droid, hacking it in two.
"No. But I believe you would be better off if I were not present. My presence will only become a distraction and hinder the mission."
"Have you been on some Tarisian ale drinking binge?"
The Jedi glared at her.
"Do not demean the opinion of a Padawan, Master Jedi. Especially not in light of your recent promotion."
How can you still stand against me? Why can't I defeat you?
She couldn't imagine that the Council would have promoted her to Knight and not Bastila. Bastila was the responsible Jedi, the legendary Battle Meditation savior of the Republic, the one who had stood proudly before them at the ceremony months ago and accepted her Cross of Glory while Katrina had hid in the shadows behind Carth.
The Council had even said so within her first moments of meeting them: Bastila will be a great Jedi someday.
"You're that incredulous?" The Jedi's voice was softer, despite her heavy breathing. "I suppose I should be grateful for your faith in me."
Bastila began to pace again, back and forth as far as she could go in the small room, looking like a caged animal.
"Unfortunately, the Council does not share that faith. They believe I have not…that I haven't conquered the dark side." 'Dark side' slid out in a hoarse whisper.
The Jedi had never mentioned her fall, had never referred in any way to the events between Malak's capture and her battle against Katrina on the Star Forge.
Their bond was strengthening by the minute. She could hear the quiet recitation of the Code in the back of Bastila's mind: There is no emotion, there is peace…
Peace was not a word for what she felt flowing through the Jedi.
"They think," Bastila continued, her momentum such that it appeared she could not stop now, that her feelings were coming out all at once. "That I still battle against it, that a promotion to Knight will only lead to pride, to arrogance, and to my eventual fall. For good." She paused.
"They believe that I have not conquered the dark side. But you have, apparently." Bastila's voice was dead.
Katrina stared at the Jedi.
In one smooth, calculated, movement, Bastila cast out her hand and flung one of the defeated droids against the wall. It broke into a hundred tiny pieces, littering the training room floor like metallic diamonds.
"Do they think I don't remember what I did?" she said much more loudly.
Through passion I gain strength-
"Do they truly believe that I haven't spent every day since the Star Forge trying to atone for the deaths I caused? That I haven't been using every inch of my power to carry out their missions to the letter?"
Through strength I gain power-
Bastila cast another against the wall, wringing her hands against her lightsaber.
"I thought perhaps that if I continued to listen to the Council's wisdom, if I only followed the teachings of the Jedi to the letter, they would finally tell me that I had been redeemed, that I could progress beyond 'needing more training'."
Through power, I gain victory-
Bastila brushed hair out of her eyes, kicking one of the droids out of the way of her frantic pacing.
"'Needing more training'." Her voice was less indignant now and more bitter. "As if there isn't a more obvious way to tell a Padawan that she has failed, that she is not as special or as powerful as she had thought."
The Jedi's face became deathly calm again.
"As they themselves had been telling me for years."
Through victory, my chains are broken-
"But I haven't met their expectations. I had even thought that perhaps they would test me with Dustil…"
"And what would I do there? I am a Jedi, and I belong near the Council while they make their decision."
"How does a decision about Dustil concern you?" Katrina said, far more nastily than she intended. The Jedi said nothing.
"To see if I was ready to become a full Knight, if I was able to train another successfully. But they gave him to Juhani."
'Juhani' seemed to cause a lull in the flow of anger Katrina had felt flowing from Bastila, and both woman stood simply staring at the ground for a moment.
"And now," Bastila finally continued. "They have decided that you have conquered your past, defeated the dark side…they have decided that you are ready to finish his training."
She cringed involuntarily. And she knew what would come next; what always came next.
"Do you remember how many you killed, Revan?" Her name was no longer equally intoned, as if she and Bastila were on the same level. It was slow and lingering, like Bastila was moaning it in pain.
"The thousands of deaths you are responsible for? The worlds destroyed, the tortures inflicted?"
For a moment she only saw Commander Knowl's hateful gaze, wanting to kill her for the desolation he was too tired to fix.
But if she waited long enough, she could hear Carth's quiet sigh right before he began to tell her of how his wife had died on Telos, how his son had disappeared.
Bastila had stopped her pacing and was now eye to eye with Katrina.
"Nearly four thousand, Revan." Bastila said flatly. "That is how many I am responsible for, when I used my Battle Meditation against the Republic fleet."
The Jedi's lightsaber finally retracted and both she and Katrina stood motionless in the now silent training room.
"But what good is a single flicker of light against the sea of darkness I am drowning in? I can never atone for my betrayal."
She was so elated that Bastila had finally dropped her lightsaber, that the ugly yellow and red was retreating from her eyes that she struggled to think of something to say.
"You helped Revan swim out of that darkness, Bastila, the true action of a Jedi." She reached out, carefully grasping the fallen Jedi's arm. "I want to return the favor."
"Lives were lost." Her voice came out like the hoarse croak of a Hutt, and she cleared it before going on. "Yes, Bastila, lives were lost. That's the way of the Sith; all things end in death. It was inevitable that you would cause death when you were a part of it."
"Is this your way of comforting me?" Bastila said mockingly.
"What I remember better than facing you on the Star Forge, than butting heads with you the entire way there, seeing your lightsaber inches from my face- what I remember better is what you did afterwards."
"I failed. I still haven't earned back the Council's trust-"
"No,"Katrina interrupted flatly, even as she knew how dangerous it was to test Bastila at a moment like this. "No, you turned around and sat calmly down on the floor of the Star Forge's command deck, and I watched all the small Republic ships begin to fly at the Star Forge, finally able to attack because you had turned away from the dark side."
Katrina finished all in one breath, leaning back against the computer as if the story had taken the wind out of her.
"You'll never forget, Bastila," she added softly. "And if you do, then you have truly fallen."
"But at what cost? In protecting you, I fell to the dark side myself. Is that the price of a Jedi's redemption? Must another of the Order fall to save me?"
Her words, she saw instantly, would have to be chosen with the utmost care. Like Dustil on Korriban, any misplaced verb, noun, or adjective would result in death.
"I'm not falling, Bastila. And I can help you, but you're going to save yourself. I know it."
Bastila leaned up against the computer next to Katrina, gently clasping her hands together and staring at the ground.
"I will not forget, but will the Council?"
"The Council will someday see what I've seen. Until then, you owe every step you take back towards the light side to yourself. And those four thousand."
"I apologize." And suddenly the angry wronged Padawan had vanished again, replaced by the willing Jedi representative Katrina remembered from long ago. "For wasting what little time we have with my foolishness and my arrogance-" Katrina grasped the Jedi's hand.
What Bastila really was was somewhere between willing Council lapdog and bitter, confined Padawan.
The Council, the Code; Katrina realized within the space of an instant that these things were as comforting and simultaneously as burdening to Bastila as those four thousand.
"Let's get back to the Hawk."
"Get ready to punch those coordinates in." Zaalbar growled softly, distracting her. Katrina obediently moved her hands over the controls.
She did not like how easy it was to put in Anelli's coordinates; she did not like how quickly and smoothly they had gotten through Coruscant customs and were now preparing to make the jump to hyperspace.
Most of all she did not like their destination, but she would not say that to anyone.
The ship pulled a little to the right as it eased towards open space.
"Take it easy," Canderous muttered irritably from his chair behind Mission. "I just got this thing put back together."
T3 beeped indignantly.
"The meatbag does discount our participation somewhat," HK answered.
Mission said nothing, only moved a headtail carefully over her shoulder and furrowed her brow over the controls.
She eased back into her chair, letting the pressure wash over her as they made the jump.
"Anelli's only a few parsecs away. We should be there soon," Zaalbar informed them.
Both the Mandalorian and the droids, after having watched the Twi'lek return to piloting and successfully get them to a destination without any damage, exited the cockpit. Katrina rose to join them.
"Revan?" She turned back to Mission.
"All I wanted to say was…well, don't worry about what might happen, you know?" Katrina raised an eyebrow.
The Twi'lek blew a puff of air up against her forehead, frustrated.
"You just seem upset is all."
She felt a scab somewhere near her elbow tingling.
"I am, Mission."
"Sometimes they have to learn their lessons the hard way." Her voice was older than she was.
"I know. I just wish it wasn't this way."
I want to help you, Phineas.
Mission looked up at her with a sardonic smile and shrugged.
"Brothers are like that." Mission had not heard from her own brother since Tatooine, since learning the conniving Griff had left her on Taris alone with another woman, left the woman, and then left her on Tatooine again without any kind of justification or explanation.
Katrina returned the sad smile. I have a brother, but he has left me too.
But there was something else she had to do now, something that couldn't be put off any longer, and had to be done before they reached Anelli.
She made her way towards the back of the ship, towards the crew quarters. Towards Dustil.
He sat on the floor with his legs out and his hands in his lap, perfectly still.
If she didn't see his brown eyes in a deadlock with the bunk across from him, never daring to blink or to move, she would have sworn he was asleep.
"You stare long enough it or your eyes might melt." It was weak, it sounded stupid, and she immediately regretted it.
Dustil looked over at her.
"I-"
"What did you need?" His voice was impassive, as if he were a shop clerk and she was just another customer passing through.
"I want to talk to you about the Council's decision." He raised an eyebrow.
"Decision?" She stepped a bit closer, unsure as to whether she should sit, offer her hand to pull him up, stand aloof with her back to him. She did not know what a Master would do, what he needed or what he expected.
She realized with deafening clarity that she did not know what he was thinking. And she didn't like it.
"What did the Council say to you when you met with them?"
"They mourn. I mourn. May the Force be with you," he said in a curt, clipped voice.
Katrina nodded, unable to think of any sort of reply. Was he angry? Did he expect more out of them? Was he at peace? Had the dark side disappeared? Had Juhani's death (would she always gulp and shiver when she thought of it) taken it out of him for good? Or had it only replaced it with his father's brand of vengeance?
"They said more to me."
"The Council discussed me with you?"Katrina nodded.
His face gave her no clue, no reaction. Completely at a loss, she stumbled blindly ahead.
"Your training is far too advanced to be abandoned now. They agreed that you have to finish, for your sake." She felt like a dumb parrot even though she agreed with everything the Council had said. On Dustil they had finally made a correct decision.
On me, maybe not so much.
Dustil Onasi only nodded.
Katrinaglanced over at the spot on the wall where there was a slight dent in the paneling, nothing noticeable to anyone other than the one who had put it there. She knew exactly where to look; it had been made when she had slammed Dustil into it months ago over his desire to even begin training.
Now here she was, about to finish it.
"They-"
"Well?"
I am not afraid of him. I am afraid of what he could so easily become.
"I am to be your new Master."
She did not mean for it to sound so domineering, for 'Master' to echo back as 'mother', 'replacement', 'Juhani'; but even she could hear the difference between how she had said it and how he had heard it.
Dustil pushed himself slowly up from the floor, standing at his full height to fix his gaze on her.
He was not taller than her, but in that moment she felt much smaller.
Katrina stared back, unapologetic. She had chosen this; she had stopped him in the cave. He is Carth's son. I love Carth.
Dustil finally nodded.
"Are you all right?" She could not keep the shock out of her voice, could not hide the obvious expectation she had had that he would explode, that she would have to use her lightsaber and every word she knew to control him.
Dustil gazed at her again, straightening his robes.
She felt nothing from him. There was no anger; but there was no peace either. Nothing was even more disturbing.
His voice slid out as blunt and red as the lightsaber crystal he still could not align correctly.
"Yes, Master."