Chapter Three – Behind Closed Doors
Coruscant: Three Years Ago
In the harsh florescent glare of the med bay, Bastila studied the unconscious, nearly-naked woman floating in the kolto tank before her. A breather mask covered the bottom half of Revan's face, and two new kolto patches on her stomach and one above her right breast were mending the damage that she had taken due to yesterday's unfortunate incident.
But even with those wounds, Revan looked better than she had eight months ago; Bastila couldn't believe the drastic change in Revan's appearance. The damage, caused by Malak's betrayal and an overloading power conduit, had been gruesome and extensive; Revan had been covered with electrical burns and most of her skin had been regenerated. The scars that Revan had earned over the course of a lifetime were now gone, and so were the Sith tattoos that had been scrawled over most of her body. Her dark skin was now completely flawless, a blank canvas for her new life.
Also absent were the ravages that had taken their toll on Revan's body because of her use of the dark side of the Force. Varicose veins, yellow eyes, and a gaunt form had faded away, and Revan's hair, which had been cropped short, now hung to beneath her chin. What remained was a beautiful woman who looked like she belonged on the arm of a wealthy man, rather than the former Dark Lord of the Sith.
The currents in the kolto tank shifted when an injection of medicine shot through the liquid, creating the illusion of Revan stirring. Although rationally Bastila knew that Revan was unconscious and in stasis for everyone's protection, she shivered involuntarily and took a step back from the tank, her hand instinctively resting on the double-bladed lightsaber hooked to her belt. She choked back the bitter bile in her throat, fighting to control the chill dread she felt whenever she faced this woman. Bastila forced herself to stand her ground despite every instinct that told her to turn and run. She nearly yelped in surprise when Master Zhar spoke.
"How are you feeling?" Master Zhar asked, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His eyes never left the tank.
Bastila took a deep breath, drawing strength from the serenity that flowed from the Jedi Master. "Much better, thank you."
Master Zhar nodded and handed her a cup of caf, and Bastila was grateful for the warmth that spread from the mug to her cold hands.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Zhar asked. Although his voice was calm, he coiled his lekku around his neck in a distinctly self-protective gesture.
Four of the Jedi Council's most esteemed members, Masters Vrook, Vandar, Dorak and Zhar, all waited with silent patience for her explanation. The effect was unnerving. Bastila took a deep breath and struggled to find the words that would explain the turbulent emotions that she had sensed over the last week and a half through the unexpected and unwanted Force bond she shared with Revan.
Discovering that she shared a Force bond with such a dangerous and volatile woman had been a nasty shock, and there was a part of Bastila who rebelled against the utter unfairness of it. She had tried to put her trust in the Force, telling herself that the Masters were correct when they told her that there must be a greater reason for the unwelcome tie to this woman, but the constant exposure to Revan's uncontrolled emotions and the dark side miasma that still surrounded her was both exhausting and terrifying. Bastila wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this woman as possible, but unfortunately, her strong sense of duty simply would not allow her to run and hide.
Bastila gathered her thoughts as best she could, and answered the question. "The implanted false identity began to disintegrate the same way it did the last two times she was revived."
The outward expressions of the four Council members didn't change at all, but something seemed to shift in the air, and Bastila could sense the deep frustration that flowed as an undercurrent between them. With a start, she realized that there was also a healthy dose of fear emanating from them as well, and while it was comforting in a way to know that she wasn't the only one afraid of Revan, it was very unsettling that these four powerful men were terrified of the woman floating in the kolto tank.
Bastila swallowed, knowing the Masters were not going to be happy with what she was going to say, and she forced herself to speak as calmly and as clinically as possible. "The remnants of Revan's mind simply refused to accept the personality that you crafted for her. The two personalities clashed, until finally her real personality asserted itself over the implanted one."
Bastila's stomach clenched as she remembered how hellish being bonded to Revan for the last week and a half had been. For several days, Revan had thought that she was losing her mind as the two personalities clashed and fought for control. Bastila had tried to help the woman covertly though their bond, but Revan's overwhelming fear and confusion had been impossible to penetrate. And while she hadn't been able to help Revan, she didn't dare shield herself from the woman's emotions since it was essential to monitor Revan's progress, so she'd felt every bit of Revan's fear, anger and confusion.
"Once Revan realized that she was not insane, she immediately grew suspicious. She began to question her false memories and her motives for joining the Republic Fleet. She simply couldn't believe that she would join the military, and she quickly realized that she was being manipulated and followed by the people around her. When her handlers tried to stop her from leaving, she attacked them."
The result had been disastrous; wild fear, suspicion and confusion had prompted Revan to take action. Her two bunkmates, who were Jedi posing as Republic soldiers, had tried to reassure her, but Revan hadn't believed them, and when she had tried to leave, they wouldn't allow it. In her panic, she had attacked, almost killing both of them. Renia was currently getting her arm reattached, while Trask had suffered a punctured lung and a ruptured spleen.
Although she was unaware of her Force powers, Revan was still very deadly with the standard vibroblades that had been issued as part of her gear. Her effectiveness with the weapons was hardly surprising, however, since she had been trained by the best. But it was frightening that Revan remembered how to wield vibroblades in such a deadly manner, and Bastila wondered what other skills Revan retained despite her shattered memory.
Vrook's perpetual frown deepened. "It appears that she is still unable to control her rage and anger."
Bastila shook her head. "She did not attack them because she was angry, Master Vrook. She attacked them because she was frightened. She felt that she had no choice." Revan's panic and fear had been nearly overwhelming, as she tried to escape from something she didn't understand.
"Why do the personalities that we build keep disintegrating?" Master Vandar asked.
"Revan simply refused to accept that she was a loyal Republic soldier, the same way she refused to accept that she was a meek scout from the Outer Rim, or a guilt-ridden smuggler. While her memories are gone, somewhere in her subconscious, she knows that she isn't any of those things, and never would be. She also refuses to believe that the names we assign her are truly hers. On some level, she still remembers who she is. And every time someone called her by her false name, it would remind her that something was just not right."
Master Zhar's eyes widened and he spoke slowly and carefully. "Are you saying that Revan's personality is too strong to be overridden?"
Bastila hesitated. She didn't want to answer, because the implications scared her, but the Masters needed to know the truth. "Yes. You tried to make her meek, patient, compliant and obedient. She simply is not that way."
Master Vrook sighed, his eyes narrowing as he studied Revan with a frown. "You are right, Bastila. Revan has never been meek, patient, or obedient. I was hoping that we could instill some of those qualities in her new personality, to make it less likely that she would fall to the dark side again."
Master Zhar shook his head as he spoke to Vrook. "You always did try to make her something that she wasn't."
Bastila realized with a start that the two Jedi Masters were deeply divided over their former student. It was a shock. She had always assumed that members of the Jedi Council were of one mind. But while Vrook didn't say anything out loud, she could feel the disapproval and frustration underneath the outward Jedi serenity that Vrook projected. Even more shocking was the deep sense of failure that both men shared.
Vrook and Zhar looked at each other for a long minute, until finally Vandar spoke, cutting through the taut silence.
"We need to come up with a course of action, and quickly. Malak's forces are advancing, and we still have no idea where the rest of the Star Maps are, or what exactly the Star Forge is."
"Is the risk of releasing Revan as she is worth it?" Vrook asked as he regarded the other Council members. His tone conveyed clearly that he didn't think it was. Bastila didn't blame him, since she couldn't help but think that herself. "Are we certain that finding the Star Forge is the key to defeating Malak?"
"Yes," Dorak said with no trace of hesitation in his voice. "We all had the same vision. We all know that she is the key to stopping Malak."
The Masters were silent for a minute. All of them studied Revan as she floated in the kolto tank, until finally Zhar spoke. "If we come up with a background that is closer to the truth and leave her personality as it is, we may have a better chance of success."
Vrook scowled at that suggestion, but remained silent when Vandar asked, "What about her name? Her mind refuses to accept the names we have given her, but we cannot allow her to go by 'Revan'."
"No," Zhar agreed. "But we can use her first name."
"You can't be serious," Vrook said. "Someone will recognize it."
"That is doubtful. You know that she hasn't gone by it since she joined the Jedi Order, and that she dropped it to spite her parents. Even most members of the Order don't know what it is." At Vandar's skeptical look, Zhar turned to Bastila and asked her, "Do you know what Revan's full name is?"
Bastila shook her head; she hadn't realized the former Jedi Knight had more than one. As far as she knew, the woman had always gone only by Revan.
"I have to confess," Dorak put in, "I have no idea what her first name is, either."
Vandar's lips thinned. "Nor I."
Vrook conceded with a curt nod. "Point made."
"All right then, we stop trying to override her personality," Dorak said, smoothing out his long Jedi robes with a wrinkled brown hand. "Another memory wipe will have to be done, to erase today's events, and new false memories will have to be created, memories that her personality will be able to accept."
"How long will that take?" Zhar asked.
"Another month, at least," Vandar replied. "Even if this works, she will need to be monitored for some time, to make certain that she is not dangerous, before we can move forward with our plan."
No one spoke the obvious truth: that time, quite simply, was running out. Bastila knew that each day brought Darth Malak closer and closer to Coruscant. A month seemed unbelievably optimistic to her. Then again, so did this whole plan.
What if the Masters are wrong, and we're unleashing a monster?
Vrook turned to Bastila. "You will return to the Republic fleet tomorrow, as they are in desperate need of your battle meditation, and you can be of no further use here. Admiral Dodonna has granted you command of the Seventh Division Fleet."
Bastila was so surprised that she just gaped at Vrook for a second, unable to voice any of her fears and objections. Finally she managed to protest, stammering, "But…but I'm not qualified. I know nothing about leading a fleet."
Vrook waved away her concerns with one gnarled hand, as though she were just a nervous child. "You will not be in charge of the day-to-day operations. They are assigning you an advisor to handle that. Just continue using your battle meditation as you have been doing. Once we are certain that Revan is ready, we will notify you and you will arrange for her transportation to Dantooine."
"Your position in the fleet is imperative, Bastila. Not only will it provide the Fleet with the assistance they require, but it will provide us with the necessary cover when Revan becomes functional," Vandar added.
Decision made, Vrook, Vandar and Dorak left the room in order to make preparations for the next day, leaving Bastila torn between terror and relief.
They are the Council. They know what is best. Who am I to question their judgment?
Bastila lingered behind, even though she wanted to get as far away as quickly as possible from Revan, because she wanted to speak to Master Zhar. He was the most easily approachable member of the Council, and he always seemed to be able to put things in perspective. Just his presence seemed to have a calming effect, and she hoped that he would be able to quell her traitorous doubts.
Zhar stood in silence, the steady clicks and beeps of the medical equipment the only sounds in the room, unable to tear his gaze away from his one-time pupil. Bastila knew that Revan had been a legendarily difficult student, and had been the charge of several Masters, including Vrook, Dorak, and Zhar. Many in the Order had grumbled that her fall to the dark side wasn't unexpected, but she could see now that Zhar took her fall as a personal failure on his part.
Although Bastila was terrified of Revan, a part of her was morbidly curious, and she blurted out the question before she could stop herself.
"What is her name, Master Zhar?"
Zhar touched the curved glass of the kolto tank, grief crossing his normally stoic face. He was silent for a long time, and just when Bastila had given up on getting an answer, he spoke.
"Her name is Minuet Avery Revan."
The Jedi Order was dying, and the damned fools refused to acknowledge it.
In the last forty years, the Jedi Order's numbers had dwindled from nearly five thousand to the current membership, which was barely over one hundred in all. Most blamed the decrease in membership on the two Sith wars in recent history, each nearly wiping out a generation of Jedi Knights. He'd come to learn that when Revan and Malak left to fight the Mandalorians, almost half of the Knights and padawans in the Order had joined them, and all of those were either dead or turned. The Knights and padawans who had obeyed the Council had fared little better, many perishing in the fight against Revan and Malak's crushing war machine.
But as with most things in life, Jolee knew that it wasn't nearly that simple. The recent swing in Jedi conventional wisdom since the war with Exar Kun, discouraging personal relationships, had led to the predictable decrease of children who were Force Sensitive. While Force Sensitivity was not always passed down from generation to generation, it often happened that way. With Knights being discouraged to form attachments and marry, the known bloodlines of powerful Force users were dying out.
The Order now counted on getting most of its recruits from children that they believed were led to them by the Will of the Force, which Jolee figured was just a pretentious way of saying that they were found by random chance. Even then, many children were not allowed to join the Order, their parents refusing because of the requirement that all familial bonds be severed. And due to the distressing number of Jedi Knights in recent history who had fallen to the dark side, parents were understandably concerned about the well-being of their children. At one time, children found to be Force Sensitive were deemed fortunate to be asked to join the esteemed Jedi Order, but now parents were more likely to see it as a curse and forbid their children from joining.
Which was why, Jolee reflected, they must have been desperate to ask him to take a seat on the Jedi Council, because he was damned certain that unless the Order was in completely dire straits, they would never have considered it.
Jolee drummed his fingers against the low polished dark wood table and looked at the other six members of the Jedi Council in attendance, sitting cross-legged on cushions. While there were actually twelve on the Council, five Masters were currently off planet at the moment. Jolee figured that they were the lucky ones, since at the moment the Council was occupied with the heated debate between Master Zhar and Master Quatra over the methods that Zhar was using in training his padawans, Dustil Onasi in particular. It was a debate that had been raging for nearly two years, and Jolee, quite frankly, was tired of hearing it.
But apparently the rest of the Council didn't share his view, so the debate trudged on. Quatra disagreed with nearly every decision that Zhar made, especially Zhar's lenient views, which actually encouraged his padawans to continue their relationships with their families. It was one of the many subjects that the Order was deeply divided upon, despite their seeming unity to the outside world.
Since Jolee's return, he'd been trying to challenge the Jedi Council's current philosophy on love, marriage, and familial relationships, not only because he thought he was right, but also because the Order needed to change its thinking or it was going to stagnate and die. While he would have been far more content with just griping about how things were screwed up, he knew that the only way to actually change things was to get off his tired old backside and try to change the way things were done. So, in a moment of complete lunacy, he had rejoined the Jedi Order and accepted the status of Jedi Master that the Council had bestowed on him. Jolee had figured that after being a complete pain in the ass for two years, the Order would be tired of him. Instead, they had offered him a seat on the Jedi Council.
In the beginning, it had seemed like a one-man crusade; the members of the Order seemed irrevocably set in their ways, believing that the discouragement of relationships was the best way to prevent what had happened when Jedi turned on Jedi during Exar Kun's mad quest for power. Jolee had gradually won allies, though, and Zhar had been the first, although that was not quite unexpected. While it made him feel beyond ancient, it had been a wonderful surprise to discover that in his forty-plus-year absence from the Jedi Order, the cheerful, intelligent Twi'lek kid had grown into a remarkably effective Jedi Master with a heartening dose of common sense.
Jolee's smile was bittersweet. Nayama would be proud.
However, some things, or rather, some people hadn't changed at all. He looked across the low table at his former friend, Vrook Lamar, who was unusually silent as he watched Zhar and Quatra argue. Jolee frowned. Vrook was looking very haggard lately, and Jolee didn't think that Vrook's sudden downturn just happened to coincide with Min's return to the Order.
There was a time when he would have tried to find out what was bothering Vrook; his fellow Council member had once been his best friend. But forty years and the death of the woman they had both loved had shattered their friendship irrevocably, and now all that was left were two lonely old men who were barely civil to one another.
The windows were open, allowing the cool night breeze flow in from the gardens below, the lush, earthy scent filling the room, and Jolee wished that he were down there instead of stuck up here. Sighing, Jolee tore his gaze away from the large arched windows, deciding that his woolgathering was growing suspiciously close to self-pity, and shifted his attention to the debate at hand.
"Allowing Dustil Onasi to continue relations with his father is foolish," Master Quatra declared. "The anger and resentment that the boy feels towards his father is dangerous. I do not understand why we are allowing the situation to go unchecked." She looked to Master Vrook for support, but the Jedi Master didn't appear to be paying attention. Jolee's concern doubled; no matter what, Vrook was always attentive to what was happening.
"You think it would be better if we forbade his father's visits? That somehow that would end the resentment Dustil feels?" Zhar asked, his folded hands resting on the table in front of him; his voice was firm and implacable, and Jolee marveled at the kid's patience.
Quatra continued, unsurprisingly showing no signs of backing down. "It certainly would help. Between the relationship with his father, and the freedom you allow him, he is in great danger!"
Jolee's snort echoed throughout the solemn room, bouncing off the high arched ceiling. "Oh, yes, because we all know how fun leads to the dark side."
"This is not a joke, Jolee," Quatra snapped, frowning deeply at him. "The boy is powerful and filled with great resentment and anger-"
"Which he needs to confront. Hiding behind the Jedi Code won't do anything except bury the problem," Jolee pointed out.
"Nonsense. The boy needs to learn to control his emotions. A more regimented schedule and a concentration on meditation will help accomplish this. And if we stop allowing Admiral Onasi to visit his son, it would help even more."
"After all Carth has done for the Order, do you think it would be right to deny him the opportunity to see his son?" Jolee asked, not really as a question to Quatra, since he knew what her answer would be, but more as a reminder to any other Council members who might decide to support her.
Quatra dismissed the debt the Council owed Carth with one arched eyebrow. "We all know why Admiral Onasi helped prevent the execution of Revan, and it had nothing to do with him wanting to help the Order or his son. He has been completely hostile and uncooperative most of the time. Which leads me to another issue." She turned her attention to Vandar and Vrook, and Jolee got the feeling that she had completely dismissed him. "I am worried about the effect of his visits on Jedi Revan. Now that she is back with the Order, it is another very good reason for us to disallow his visits. Not only does he endanger his son, but Revan, and by extension, all of us as well."
But Jolee was not so easily dismissed.
"Min is a grown woman. She has chosen her path, without the help of this Council. In fact, she chose the path most members on this Council think is the right one." It was the wrong choice, in Jolee's opinion, and he'd made that very clear to her during several very heated arguments. But she had made her choice, and now she was living with the consequences. Consequences, he hoped, that were going to bite her on the ass shortly. "You are not giving her or Dustil enough credit here."
Jolee was unsurprised when Master Vash threw in her support for Quatra, her calm and reasonable tone grating on Jolee's nerves. "While I appreciate what Admiral Onasi has done for the Order, he is not our concern. Our concern is for the training and well-being of our members. We need to guide them, show them the correct path. Allowing Admiral Onasi access to his son is courting disaster."
"I disagree," Zhar said, his voice calm but implacable. "I believe that separating Dustil Onasi from his father will accomplish nothing except having him dodge his very turbulent emotions. If he is to ever control them, he needs to face his anger and conquer it." He held up a hand to silence Quatra's protest. "And since he is my padawan, I will do with him as I see fit." Zhar's pointed gaze swept across the other Council members, meeting their eyes with his, one by one. "Unless the Council deems otherwise."
Jolee knew that the Council wouldn't actually take a vote to forbid Zhar's methods – there was too much respect for the individual autonomy of a Jedi Master to do that. But that wouldn't stop them from voicing their disapproval, and expecting Zhar to fall in line accordingly. Jolee almost wished that they would take a vote; at least that way they would be taking a stand, one way or another. The passive-aggressive tactics of the Council irritated him to no end.
What was really bothering the Council about this whole business was that Master Zhar was very well respected, and many Jedi Knights and Masters were beginning to follow Zhar's lead when it came to their own padawans.
"As far as Revan is concerned, Jolee is correct," Vandar said. "She has chosen not to… pursue relations with Admiral Onasi, and she has been cooperative in every task that we and the Republic government have asked her to undertake. There is no indication that she and Admiral Onasi are going to renew their relationship."
Jolee wasn't so sure about that, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I think we owe it to her to give her the benefit of the doubt that she has learned the error of her ways." Vandar's magnanimous generosity was met with a round of solemn nodding from everyone except Jolee and Zhar.
Jolee shook his head in disgust. "Only this Council would think that loving someone is an error."
"It was an error. You of all people should know the danger of that," Vrook stated with a calmness that was completely undercut by his clenched fists.
"I have a lot of regrets, Vrook," Jolee stated, his tone growing cold, "but loving my wife isn't one of them. This Council has a serious case of denial. Anyone who isn't half dead knows that loving someone, even if it's not always happy, or even healthy, is a part of life. Real people can't live like the emotionless drones that you want them to be. What we should be teaching people is how to control their passions while being in love-"
"How can you think that after what happened in the wake of Exar Kun? After Revan and Malak's fall?" Vrook asked, his face hard and unyielding.
After what happened to Nayama, you mean.
Zhar spoke slowly, in a tone which required that others listen respectfully to what he had to say. "I suspect that Revan and Malak's fall had less to do with their love for one another, and more to do with the fact that we stood by and did nothing while Revan and Malak, who were barely more than children, went off to fight the war without the benefit of our experience, guidance, and wisdom. This Council let them down, and we have our share of the blame here."
Vandar voiced the protest that most of the Council members had to be thinking. "Revan and Malak made their own choices."
"Yes, they did," Jolee remarked. "But let's face it; a screwup of this magnitude can only be done by committee. The Republic dragged its feet while the Mandalorians ravaged world after world. This Order dragged its feet when the Republic needed it the most, leaving Revan and Malak alone without guidance. The Fleet thrust them into leadership positions and used them mercilessly. They were forced into making morally ambiguous, hard choices that would warp most normal people, all in the name of the greater good. In the end it was their choice, but let's face it, the Republic and the Jedi Order paved the way."
Five very angry members of the Jedi High Council glared at him from behind placid masks of false serenity. The sound of insects chirping in the garden below floated on the taut silence that settled across the room.
Jolee waited for the stock response. That the Council had good reason to keep the Jedi from joining the war, that their vision of a great evil that was laying in wait for them had come true. Jolee didn't buy it one bit. The problem with visions of the future was that they had a tendency to become self-fulfilling, and Jolee suspected that was exactly what happened in this case.
For the first time during the Council's session, Master Kavar spoke, echoing the sentiment of Quatra, Vash, Vandar, and Vrook. His tone was predictably harsh. "You were not there Jolee. You do not fully understand the choices that we had to make."
Before Jolee could retort, Vandar changed the subject. "We can sit here and speculate on what might have happened all day, but we cannot change the past, and we have far more pressing matters that need our attention. Unless anyone other than Quatra thinks that banning Admiral Onasi from the Temple is a good idea, he will be allowed to continue his visits."
Vandar paused and waited for an objection that never came. Although it was unspoken, everyone knew that banning Carth from the Jedi Temple would start a political firestorm that the Order did not need at the moment. "No? Good." He glanced over at Quatra, whose face was twisted in frustration. "Rest easy, Quatra. Revan will continue to be monitored."
"In the meantime, we have a serious… problem," Vrook stated, as though he wasn't quite certain how to continue. A chill crept through Jolee's tired bones. Vrook was a lot of things: arrogant, self-righteous, rigid, prickly, but the one thing he wasn't, was uncertain. He nodded towards Vandar.
The small green sentient's pointy ears unfurled ominously as he touched his knuckles to his lips thoughtfully. After a tense pause, Vandar spoke. "The Jedi Order is under attack."
The only reaction from the stunned members of the Council was a slight murmur that crept throughout the room. All eyes were fixed on Vrook as the Council members waited patiently. Jolee had to admit that part of the benefit of being in a room devoid of youth was the calmness with which a statement like that was taken.
On the other hand, that might be the problem…
But as Vrook spoke, the tension in the room climbed higher, and Jolee saw what no one ever wanted to see from six of the most powerful sentients in the Republic.
Fear.
Canderous ducked.
The blade whistled through the space where his head had been as he lunged. Canderous' practice sword caught his opponent square in the chest, knocking the kid backwards a couple of meters and onto his backside. Had Canderous not been using blunted practice blades and pulled his blow at the last minute, he would have impaled the boy. It was a blow that should never have landed, even for someone who was nearly as hopeless with a blade as Kel Algwinn.
Canderous loomed over the boy, who was gingerly rubbing his stomach. "What the hell is wrong with you? Get your head out of your ass and focus!"
Kel looked up at him as though he were a kicked kinrath pup. The expression on his face was absolutely pitiful, which had no effect on Canderous other than annoying him further.
"Get up," Canderous barked. "Get up and do it again."
Kel gritted his teeth and picked himself up off the ground. He raised his blade again, but Canderous could tell that the kid still wasn't focused. They circled each other once more in the practice ring in the training room of the Jedi Temple. Several dozen or so padawans, who were paired off as sparring partners, stopped what they were doing and watched in rapt attention; Canderous decided that it was time to teach this young whelp and the rest of this sorry lot a lesson. He tossed his practice blades aside and advanced on the kid barehanded.
A collective gasp came from the watching padawans, and Kel's jaw dropped. Revan, who was watching the training with Jolee and Yuthura, tried to hide her amusement behind one of her hands. Yuthura crossed her arms, coiled her lekku about her neck, and frowned. Canderous wondered if her displeasure was with his training methods, or with the ineptitude of her former student.
Kel continued staring at Canderous in shock, as if he were wondering what he was supposed to do now. Canderous noted with a satisfied grunt that he had Kel's full attention now.
"Attack me," Canderous demanded.
"But… but… you're unarmed!"
"Attack me!"
"But I might hurt you!"
"Kid, if you actually manage to hurt me, I'll retire from fighting for good. Now attack, dammit! And don't hold back on your Force powers, either."
But Kel just stood there like some kind of slack-jawed backwater yokel, and Canderous wondered how the hell someone like Kel had managed to survive the Academy on Korriban.
Fed up with the boy's incompetence, Canderous lunged. Kel stumbled backwards a few steps out of reach, clutching his practice sword in a death grip. Canderous felt the slight tug of a Force wave, but the kid was so jittery that it barely broke Canderous' stride. Canderous' powerful hand shot out to snatch the blade out of Kel's hand, and Kel predictably took the bait, trying to bat Canderous' hand away.
While the kid was in mid-swing, Canderous stepped to the side and tripped the boy, who was unable to recover and change direction. Kel went sprawling facefirst into the practice mat and his practice blade went skittering from his hand.
Canderous looked down at Kel and shook his head. "Useless. Get lost, and don't come back until you're ready to learn something."
Kel picked himself off the ground a second time and turned on Canderous. Naked rage crossed the boy's features, twisting his kind face into something unrecognizable. Canderous watched curiously to see if the boy was going to try to attack him.
Kel stared at him for almost a minute, then finally turned and left, stalking off though the crowd of hushed padawans. Yuthura and Revan exchanged worried glances, and the Twi'lek murmured something in a low tone that Canderous couldn't hear. Revan nodded, and Yuthura rushed off in the direction that the boy had disappeared to.
With an annoyed grunt, Canderous picked up the three practice blades and surveyed the crowd for his next victim. Most of the padawans shrunk back, trying their best to look inconspicuous, except for Dustil Onasi.
"You didn't have to do that," Dustil said, stepping forward out of the mass of padawans, his jaw set in a hard line. The expression was one that Canderous was very familiar with; Dustil's resemblance to his father was uncanny. It was like looking at an eighteen-year-old version of Carth. Unexpectedly, he felt an odd twinge, wondering what it would have been like to have a son of his own.
He wouldn't have been such an ungrateful whelp.
Personally, he thought that father and son should settle their differences the old-fashioned way: by kicking the hell out of each other. But he doubted the pilot would take his advice on that.
Canderous shrugged. "It needed to be done. If he can't focus during combat, then he's a liability."
"He's just having a hard time, alright? He just lost his friend-"
"I don't care what his problem is, and neither will any enemy he faces. He needs to toughen up or he's going to get killed."
The expression on Dustil's face went from anger at Canderous to worry for his friend. Canderous' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But you know that already, didn't you?"
Dustil glared at him, confirming his suspicion. "He's a good guy. He doesn't need to be like us."
At that, Canderous realized how hopelessly soft Kel Algwinn had made it through the cutthroat Korriban Academy. It appeared that overprotectiveness was a trait that the Onasi males shared.
"You aren't helping him by fighting his battles for him. You're just making him weaker."
"What do you know about it?" Dustil snapped.
"Plenty." He tossed Dustil one of the practice blades, which the kid snatched deftly out of the air. "Now do you want to train, or not?"
Dustil didn't say anything, but he gave Canderous a curt nod. Unlike his friend, once Dustil began to circle his opponent, he was completely focused, another trait that he seemed to share with his hot-headed father. But then Onasi wouldn't have been able to survive two wars and their Star Forge mission if he hadn't been able to focus during battle.
The kid was a good swordsman, far superior to his father who heavily favored blasters and fists over blades. Dustil was nowhere near Canderous' abilities, but then Canderous had a lifetime of combat under his belt, so that was to be expected. Still, Dustil had potential, and if he continued training, he would eventually be Canderous' equal.
But not today.
Canderous struck with the subtlety of an avalanche, and Dustil was immediately thrown on the defensive with no opportunity to attack. Practice blades connected with sharp cracks as Dustil held his ground while Canderous systematically and relentlessly took his defenses apart. Unlike Kel, Dustil was tough, resilient and, most importantly, focused. He watched and analyzed every move Canderous made and was quick to take direction and make adjustments.
He was in the middle of showing Dustil a complex series of parries that the boy was picking up fairly quickly when Master Zhar appeared at the side of the ring. Everyone's attention snapped to the Jedi Master, who looked almost upset. While his face was calm, his lekku seemed to twitch involuntarily in agitation. Canderous frowned; it was highly unlike the normally serene Jedi Master to show this kind of agitation, and he wondered what could have upset the Twi'lek so much that he would lose his composure.
"I have an announcement to make," Mastar Zhar said as he regarded the attentive group of padawans. "Until further notice, you are all restricted to the Jedi Temple, no exceptions." A shocked murmur washed through the crowd. "This includes everyone: Masters, Knights, padawans and apprentices. All visitors will have to be cleared through the Jedi Council. That is all."
Master Zhar left the practice room, leaving a worried group of twittering padawans and apprentices in his wake. Canderous shot a questioning look over at Revan, who looked grim as she shook her head.
Realizing that there was no way his young charges were going to be able to focus now, and since it was near the end of the training session anyway, Canderous dismissed the padawans with a gruff command and walked over to where Revan was watching the stunned crowd disperse, hoping to get some answers.
As Carth stepped through the weapons detector at the main entrance of the Jedi Temple, a disturbing sense of unease settled over him. The new military guards at the front gate worried the hell out of him, since as far as he knew the Jedi Council had never felt the need for them before. Usually, the Jedi had their own padawans on guard duty and Carth wondered where the normal Jedi guards were.
The security guard nodded, and allowed Carth to keep his blaster belt. Carth moved to the other side of the gate as he waited for Senator Nat'al and his staff to pass the newfound security. While he was waiting, his son appeared in the entranceway. Dustil's face was unreadable as he approached him, and Carth sighed.
Just once, I wish he'd be happy to see me.
"Father."
Carth tried to suppress a wince at the formal address.
"Hey, Dee," he said as he stuffed his hands into his battered orange jacket. "They sent you to be our guide?"
"Yeah." Dustil looked at him curiously. "Do you know what this meeting is about?"
"No. No clue."
Carth had received a call from Senator Nat'al just that morning, requesting that Carth meet him here at the Jedi Temple. Although Carth had been wary, he hadn't been able to turn down the Senator's request, since the Senator had been instrumental in getting Min's pardon pushed through. Simply put, Carth owed him more than one enormous favor, and for that matter, so did the entire Jedi Council. He wondered if it had anything to do with the sensational murder of the Senator's family a few days ago.
"Why is there all this new security?"
"I dunno, but it's weird. Yesterday we were told that no one was allowed to leave the Temple, and today, I heard that the Order is recalling all of its members, even the Knights and Masters assigned to other planets. And now we have these new guards."
Carth just stared at Dustil in total shock.
Dustil nodded towards the Senator, who was retrieving his cane from one of the guards. "And today there's this big meeting, which I guess is why you're here."
The Senator and his entourage joined them, effectively ending all further speculation between father and son.
Dustil led the Senator's entourage and his father somberly through the massive Jedi Temple, and an uncomfortable silence fell. Carth glanced sideways at the Senator as he walked; the man, quite simply, looked broken. Dark circles hung under his eyes and his mouth was fixed in a hard, grim line. But then the man had just lost his only child and oldest grandson in a horrific murder, and his other two grandchildren were still missing. Carth understood what the man was going through all too well. The Senator had lost everything, and that made him one very dangerous man.
He looked over at his son, who was still so angry and resentful, and was grateful that he didn't have to face what the Senator was facing. Even with all their problems, Carth wasn't sure if he would be able to get over the loss of his son a second time.
Senator Nat'al fell into step next to him, and by some unspoken signal, his staff seemed to move a few steps away while they crossed the large open courtyard and garden. The only sounds were the soft whisper of fabric of the Senator's long ice-blue robes and the creak of leather from his four very large bodyguards.
"You're probably wondering why I asked you here today," he said.
Carth didn't say anything, just giving Senator Nat'al a wary nod. While he liked the Senator, Carth had a healthy suspicion of all politicians. Senator Nat'al was one of the more palatable ones he'd met, probably because before his elevation to Senator, he'd been a career Fleet man. The Senator had made it all the way up to the rank of Commodore, from all reports by merit and not nepotism, before his leg was badly damaged in a skirmish with Androvan pirates. Carth had served briefly under him for several months before the Mandalorian Wars had begun, and had found the man to be an exceptional leader. He walked with the assistance of a grav cane now, although Carth suspected that the cane was mostly for show.
"You're a good man, Onasi. I've followed your career and I know that you'll be honest and straight with me." The Senator shot a look over at Dustil, but his son's presence didn't stop him from speaking frankly. "You've also lost your family, so you understand where I'm coming from. You have a lot of experience dealing with the Jedi Council, and I'm going to need your help getting the truth out of them."
Good luck with that…
"The truth about what, Senator?"
The Senator's face hardened. "The truth about why my daughter and grandson were murdered, and where the hell my other two grandchildren are."
"You think the Jedi Council had something to do with that?" While Carth wasn't the biggest fan of the Jedi Order, he simply couldn't imagine them being behind such senseless slaughter of complete innocents.
"Do I think they murdered them? No. But they know who did it, and why, and I want to know what they are going to do about it. They're going to help me find the bastards who did this to my family."
Carth and Dustil exchanged a worried look after the Senator lapsed into tense silence. Carth pushed, because he really didn't want to be blindsided, but all of his further questions to the Senator about why they were there were met with a polite rebuff and explanation that everything would become clear at the meeting.
With great unease, Carth walked into the Jedi Council's conference chamber and took a seat next to the Senator, his gut telling him that in a short period of time, all hell was going to break loose.
Dustil made his way back to the room he shared with Kel, irritated and disappointed that he hadn't been allowed to stay for the meeting. Rumors had been flying throughout the Jedi Temple since it had been closed to outsiders two days ago, and all the padawans and apprentices were dying of curiosity.
As the door opened, the sound of girlish giggles assaulted his ears.
"What the…" The words died on his lips as he took in the scene in front of him.
Mission was sitting cross-legged next to the boring little astromech droid, who was plugged into a wall-mounted data jack. Kel was sitting next to her, almost smiling, while they adjusted a new holoscreen that hadn't been there when he'd left that morning. Mekel was sprawled over Dustil's bed, watching the two of them, and not-so-subtly checking out Mission as she worked.
Seeing Mission invade not only his room, but chattering and laughing with the two guys who were supposed to be his best friends, summoned the predictable bitterness and anger. Apparently, she wasn't just interested in taking his place with his father, but she also wanted to steal his friends from him too. He was about to throw her bratty Twi'lek ass out of his room when something stopped him.
Kel laughed.
It was forced and brittle, but it was a hell of a lot better than anything he'd seen from his friend in the last week.
Dammit.
Dustil sighed in defeat, not having the heart to wreck his friend's almost decent mood. He swallowed his resentment and resolved to try to get along with her, just this once.
Mission, being Mission, tested his resolve immediately by pulling a face and remarking, "Dustil, you nerf-herder, don't you ever clean up around here?" She gestured across at the chaos of their shared bedroom. "This place is a dump."
During the best of times their room was hardly neat, and both Kel and Dustil were pretty careless about their belongings, which were strewn haphazardly throughout the room. A pile of dirty laundry sat at the foot of each bed, while a pile of clean laundry was piled before the dressers. Dustil's art supplies too up one corner of the room, while Kel's corner was cluttered with datapads, plants, and vials that he used in his medical studies.
Dustil had been relieved that Kel had finally found a place in the Jedi Order when he discovered that he had a talent and interest in healing. Although it annoyed him, Dustil knew that Canderous was right about his friend. Kel was too… nice for combat.
He scowled down at Mission, kicking a pile of music chips underneath his rumpled bed and shoving Mekel's legs aside so that he could sit down. "You're one to talk. I've seen how messy you normally are."
"Yeah, but at least my rooms don't stink like bantha fodder."
Although he'd never admit it out loud, he had to admit that she had a point; it was smelling rather musty in there.
"No, usually it smells like unwashed Wookiee."
Mission snickered. "Heh, true, but don't let Big Z hear you say that. He insists that we're the ones who smell bad."
"Where is Zaalbar anyway?" Mekel asked. Dustil rolled his eyes in disgust at the near worshipfulness that his friend had towards the girl. Mekel's obsession with Mission had only intensified over the last two years, which made him nearly impossible to be around when Mission was near. Mekel even had a mini-shrine to her set up in his room, made up of posters and holoprints of her, and Dustil wondered how she'd react if she found out about it.
She'd probably freak out.
He almost told her, but stopped reminding himself that he was trying to get along with her today.
"He's with Min at the meeting with the Council. I can't believe the crusty geezers let him go and not me." She scowled at the injustice of the situation, as though she really expected the Jedi Council would allow her to sit in on this meeting that was only open to a select few. Even most of the Knights and Masters in the Temple weren't allowed to go, so the odds of letting in a Twi'lek kid was pretty much nil.
She smirked in satisfaction. "Lucky for me I have a plan." Before Dustil could demand an explanation for that cryptic remark, T3 warbled ominously, and the holoscreen flickered to life, revealing the conference chamber where it looked as though the meeting was about to start.
"Awesome, Tee!" At Mission's praise, the droid let out a string of cocky beeps before finally settling down.
Dustil looked at the screen and swallowed. If the Masters found out that Mission had used T3 to hack into the vid system, 'deep shit' wasn't going to cover the amount of trouble they were going to be in. On the other hand, he really, really wanted to know what was going on in that meeting. He looked over at his friends and saw that they were just as curious as he was. So Dustil settled in and waited for the show to begin.
The meeting began with a bang. It was unsurprising, really, since the tension in the room was so thick that Min could practically taste it. Even though empathy was by far her weakest Force ability, Min's senses were buzzing with the fear and antagonism pouring from the Jedi Council and Senator Nat'al.
From the little bit that she knew about the situation, she expected they were gathered there to talk about the attack that happened over a week ago. But she had no clue as to why Carth and the Senator were here.
She tried not to look at Carth as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair before he took a seat. Just looking at the battered and worn leather brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad, and she ached to reach out and touch it.
Let it go, Min. Let him go.
Carth sat rigidly, suspicious and alert, next to the Senator, scrutinizing the Jedi Council, suspicion plain on his face. Not wanting him to catch her looking, she turned her attention back to the center of the room, where Master Vandar was seated at the large crescent-shaped Council table, with the rest of the Council that was currently on planet.
Both Carth and Min looked simultaneously at Jolee, who looked very… grim. His usual casual indifference was gone, replaced by deep worry and concern. He just frowned at both of them and inclined his head to Master Vandar at the center of the room.
Vrook cleared his throat and regarded his non-Council audience. Everyone's attention was immediately riveted to him when he cleared his throat and spoke, but before he could speak, Senator Nat'al, who looked like hell, stood and faced off against Vandar.
"Thank you for coming, Senator," Vrook began. "We appreciate your presence and support. The Council wishes to extend their condolences-"
"Let's cut through the bantha shit, shall we? We both know the only reason I'm here is because this Council owes me, and now I'm calling in a favor. I know the people who killed my family and kidnapped my grandchildren have ties to this Council, and I want to know what you are going to do about it."
Everyone who wasn't a Council member looked at the Senator in shock, but even more shocking was the way the Council members seemed completely unsurprised, as though they had been expecting this outburst.
Vrook stared intently at the Senator. "What evidence do you have of this?"
The Senator held up a small disk in his hand. "This marker, which was left at my daughter's apartment, has a message on it claiming that her murder was committed in the defense of the Republic. The murderers also claim they are the sworn enemy of the Jedi."
"And the Sith," Jolee interjected. "In fact, their sworn goal is to cleanse the galaxy of all Force Sensitives, regardless of their affiliations. We know this because they sent us a message shortly after their attack on four of our members."
Jolee looked over at Bastila, Juhani and Yuthura. "This, unfortunately, wasn't the first attack against our members. They are also claiming responsibility for the shuttle explosion last month that killed seven of our Order, and the recent deaths of three of our Masters, who have been missing for the last two days, and whose bodies were recovered this morning. They are also claiming responsibility for the deaths of eleven Dark Jedi, twenty-one civilians, and the kidnapping of nine children."
"Why are they telling you this?" Carth asked. "Wouldn't it be easier to pick you off in anonymity?"
"Because they want us to be afraid," Min murmured, and everyone turned to look at her.
Jolee continued to elaborate. "They claim that these murders are for the safety and good of the Republic. They also claim that the Jedi Council has used its tainted abilities to control the Republic government, and that the time for the toleration for such blatantly dangerous abominations is at an end, and that they will not rest until we are all wiped out or… reeducated. We believe that that is their intent with your grandchildren."
"Did they make any demands?" Min asked.
"No. And they made it quite clear that there will be no negations with them."
"How can they think that the slaughter of innocents could solve anything?" Bastila asked.
The other Jedi murmured in agreement, but Min knew what terrible rationalization probably lay behind this. "Because if I had never been born, how many innocents would still be alive? If Exar Kun hadn't gone on his rampage for power, how many people would now be growing old?"
"But what of all the good that we have done?" Juhani protested. "Surely they can see that?"
"I don't know. Maybe they think that overall, without Force users, the galaxy is safer… that the good that we do is outweighed by the danger that we are."
"That is ludicrous!" Bastila stated with a disdainful shake of her head.
"Is it? How many of us in the Order were once dark Jedi?" Min looked around the room at Bastila, Yuthura and Juhani. She tried to keep her voice even as she spoke. "I'm responsible for the deaths of millions, and that's just me. That doesn't include Malak or the Sith empire or Exar Kun's war."
"And how many lives have you saved? We wouldn't be sitting here if it weren't for you," Carth pointed out fiercely. Min lapsed into silence.
"Regardless of their motives, we need to put a stop to it, and find out where they have taken the Senator's grandchildren. Their Force-suppressing technology seems to be a problem." Vandar gave a brief overview of the nature of the circlets and the small metal cylinder found on their attackers. "Fortunately, the technology also gives us a small lead." Vandar nodded to Min, indicating that he wished her to elaborate.
"The Force-suppressing technology is somehow linked to the Rakatan Empire. When I was Darth Revan, I discovered a circlet identical to the ones here on the Rakatan homeworld. The best place to start looking for answers is probably there."
The Senator focused on Vrook. "Then you need to send a group there, immediately."
"That is going to be difficult. The best person to send, the one with the archaeological knowledge and the most influence with the Rakata themselves, is Jedi Revan."
Min blinked. This was the first inkling she'd had that they wanted to send her to the Rakatan planet.
"I can see why that would be difficult," the Senator said slowly. There were a lot of influential people who had pushed for her execution. Min knew that her traveling outside of the Jedi Temple was going to be problematic.
But the Senator immediately dismissed it. "I will take care of the necessary political wrangling. She will, of course, have to be watched at all times. And it would help greatly if she were to travel within the custody of the Fleet…" He looked at Carth expectantly. "Admiral Onasi?"
Carth cleared his throat and nodded slowly. "I think I can take care of that. There are ships that leave rather frequently for Rakatan space, especially since the Republic is trying to set up trade relations there."
"I would also request that Admiral Onasi join this group."
Dead silence blazed through the room as everyone, including Min and Carth, goggled at the Senator. Dread filled Min's belly, because she could see that Carth liked the idea.
No, no, no…
The members of the Council murmured almost in unison their displeasure of this development. "This is Jedi business, Senator," Vrook stated, calmly but firmly.
"No, it's not," Carth pointed out. "More than just the Jedi are in danger, and that makes it Republic business."
Vrook spoke directly to the Senator as though Carth wasn't even there. "The Admiral's presence would be completely unnecessary."
The fact that the Council clearly didn't want Carth to be a part of this only seemed to fuel the Senator's resolve. "I believe that it is necessary. I want him to be my eyes and ears. I don't know you, but I know him. Your goals and mine are different. I want to make certain that my interests don't get buried for the greater good."
"Our interests are the same," Vandar interjected smoothly, trying to do some damage control.
"No, they are not. You want to stop the attacks. I want my grandchildren recovered and justice for my family, which is something that Admiral Onasi understands."
"Admiral Onasi must have something better to do than babysit a bunch of Jedi," Min pointed out in desperation.
"Nope. I'm retired." She could see the beginnings of a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. "Besides, babysitting Jedi is something I'm really familiar with…"
"You don't have any reason to come," Min shot back, temper rising.
"My son. If people are killing Force Sensitives, then my son is in danger. I have more of a reason to go than anyone else you could get."
Min's lips thinned in exasperation. There was nothing she could say to that.
Dammit!
"Besides, with this Force-suppressing technology, you're going to need someone to watch your back."
"I have Canderous and Zaalbar," she pointed out. The I don't need you was unspoken but clear.
He did smirk now. "And now you're going to have me."
The Council remained silent, but their disapproval throbbed throughout the room. Min knew that if the Senator insisted on Carth's inclusion, then they were stuck. The Senator was a necessary ally, and he could stir up too much trouble politically if they refused him. For that matter, so could Carth. Given their present precarious relations with the Republic Senate and Fleet, it was trouble that they desperately needed to avoid.
So when Vandar said, "We will take your request under consideration," she knew they had lost. The Council would deliberate, but it would be a mere formality.
The remainder of the meeting was spent hammering out the details of who else would be going with her, and how it would be handled. Min was so angry that she barely heard a word. Finally the Council convened to their chamber to make their decision. Carth and the Senator talked in low voices for a few minutes as the other Jedi in the room began to disperse. Bastila, Juhani and Yuthura all looked at her expectantly, but she waved them away. Eventually everyone exited the chamber, and she and Carth were alone.
Min stood slowly, took a steadying breath and met his eyes with her own. "Please don't do this," she asked, somehow managing to keep her voice mostly calm and steady, even though she was exasperated beyond all belief.
Carth crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Do what?"
"What do you think?" she snapped, hardly in the mood to play games.
Carth had been hounding her ever since Mission had arrived, using the Twi'lek girl as an excuse to show up at unexpected moments, and Min's patience was at an end. It had gotten to the point where she'd had to resort to avoiding her own rooms, because Mission kept helping him by giving him reasons to be there. Lucky for her, the Jedi Temple was a large place, making it difficult for him to find her most of the time.
He simply looked at her and calmly pointed out the facts that she couldn't refute. "This mission needs my help. You need my help. And you know that it will be a lot easier with the Fleet if I go along and smooth things over."
"Arrange for someone else to go in your place," she demanded, her composure beginning to crack under the weight of her frustration.
"Now why would I do that?" he asked with a feigned indifference that didn't fool her for a second. Her Jedi senses were ringing from the coiled anger and frustration radiating from him.
She tried not to yell. "Because I'm asking you to."
His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her thoroughly, and Min suppressed the urge to squirm. "Why does it matter to you whether or not I come?"
Oh, no. I'm not going there…
She tried to dodge the question. "We both know that it will be better for everyone involved if you stay behind.
Carth's eyebrows rose as he challenged her. "And why is that? Why would it be better if I stay behind?"
"Why are you playing these games? You know why!"
He kept pushing and pushing, maddeningly insisting on opening old wounds. "No, I don't, Min. I don't know why you don't want me to come, the same way I don't know why you shoved me away two years ago!"
Worn out, she sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Carth, my reasons were pretty obvious."
"Maybe they were." He stood abruptly. "But I want to hear them from you. That's the least I deserve."
Min didn't even know how to start or where to begin, so she just stared at him, trying to figure out what to say.
Carth began to move towards her, slowly, and Min fought down the urge to turn and run. He stopped, resting his hand on the chair that was between them, and she was grateful that he didn't try to touch her; she didn't think she could bear it if he did. But his words hurt even worse.
His voice was hoarse and soft, and the hurt look on his face made her want to weep. "You loved me. I know you did. And I loved you, too. I wanted to protect you, to share my life with you, and I thought you wanted that too."
Min squeezed her eyes shut, because she couldn't bear to look at him, wishing that the intervening two years had lessened the pain, but the emptiness and loss she felt was just as sharp as it was the day she'd given him up.
"I did," she said, so softly that it was barely above a whisper. "I wanted that more than anything."
I still do.
She forced herself to open her eyes and meet his gaze. "But sometimes what you want, and what is right, are two completely different things. I chose to do the right thing."
The look he gave her was raw and ragged, and he pushed her for an explanation that she did not want to give. "You keep saying that, but what you did ripped me to pieces! You threw everything we had away! How could it be right?"
"It was the right thing," she insisted. Even though her decision had been unbearably painful, she never doubted that she had made the right choice, and she found her strength and her resolve in that certainty. "You know what would have happened to you if it had gotten out that we were…"
Min's voice trailed off because she couldn't say it out loud, but he could. "In love, dammit! We were in love!" She tried not to flinch at his use of the past tense.
"You would have been in the center of scandal. Your career would have been in tatters and your good name would have been dragged through the mud. The media, the Senate, your superiors would have torn you to apart."
"Are you telling me that you did it to protect me?" His anger finally boiled to the surface as he began to shake in outrage and frustration that had been pent up for nearly two years. "How dare you! That was my decision to make not yours!"
She stood firm in the torrent of his anger, crossing her arms under her breasts as she faced his fury. "You would have chosen me, and I couldn't let you do that. You deserve better."
"You decided that I was incapable of making the right decision myself, so you did it for me." The way he ground out his words told her exactly how furious he was with her.
"It would have been horrible, Carth. Why do you think Dodonna started the rumors about you and Bastila?"
Completely shocked, he fired the question off like a blaster shot. "What?"
"It was to protect both of you."
Carth clenched the back of the chair so tightly that the wood creaked and his knuckles turned white. His voice was measured fury, as though he was desperately trying not to hit something. He bit the words out. "It was your idea, wasn't it?"
She lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes, completely unrepentant. "Yes."
He shoved the chair aside and the legs of the chair made a protesting squeak. Suddenly, Min felt a lot more exposed as Carth's self-control broke, and his anger and frustration rang through his voice as he raged at her. "Dammit, woman, it was my name, my career on the line! What gave you the right to do that?"
Determined to make him see reason, she pushed ahead and ignored his outrage. "It wasn't just about your career and reputation. There was also Dustil."
Carth measured his words out, as he tried to convince her of the impossible. "Dustil would have been my problem. He would eventually have come around."
"Really? Have you seen the way he looks at me? He hates me, Carth… and he should." Min didn't blame Dustil for his completely justified hatred of her, and she was actually rather surprised that he hadn't tried to kill her. She knew that if she were in Dustil's shoes, she wouldn't be so restrained, and that was part of the problem. "The two of you are barely on speaking terms now," she pointed out ruthlessly. "That wouldn't even be possible if we were still lovers."
"We would have worked it out. I would have made it work," he stated with a stubborn blindness that cut Min's heart to shreds, confirming her belief that she had made the right decision.
She tried to make him see the truth. "No. You would have been torn between him and me, and I couldn't let that happen."
He clenched his fists. "You don't know that!"
"I couldn't take that risk. Just like I couldn't take the risk that…"
"That what?"
She squared her shoulders and prepared herself for his tirade, because she knew that he wouldn't be able to accept what she was about to say, even though he needed to hear it. "Carth, has it ever occurred to you that the Jedi Council might have been right about how dangerous it is for a Jedi to be in love?"
"What? You can't seriously believe that!"
She hit him with hard facts. "There have been seventy-three attempts on my life in the last two years. If we were still lovers, people would be trying to kill you, too -"
"Another choice that was mine to make!" he fumed, and she felt his anger go white hot. "I can take care of myself."
"If you were killed, what do you think that would do to me? I wouldn't just be devastated, Carth, I would be furious, and I would want to make whoever did that to you pay."
He was so shocked that it took him a few seconds to find his voice. His anger faded into worry and concern. "You're afraid of turning back into Darth Revan, because of me?" he said slowly, as though he couldn't quite believe it.
"During the whole time we were looking for the Star Maps, there were two times that I almost fell, and both of them had to do with you."
"Ajunta Pall's blade wasn't your fault. And you fought the dark side and won."
"But that wasn't the only time. When Saul was torturing you… if I had been able to touch the Force, I would have used the dark side to kill him, and then gone after the Jedi Council for keeping my identity a secret." She shook her head, and her voice cracked as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Carth, but I won't risk turning into Darth Revan again, not even for you."
He dismissed her fear with a curt shake of his head. "No. I don't believe you would have fallen then, anymore that I believe that you'll fall now." His complete trust and belief in her was so much worse than any suspicion or anger would have been.
"I fell once before," she protested, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she tried desperately to make him understand.
"But you're different now. That's not you anymore."
Overcome by guilt and shame, she couldn't meet his eyes. "That's just it, Carth. I'm not different. You've seen the reports. I know you have, because I asked Dodonna to give them to you." She'd expected that he would be disgusted by what he read, but maddeningly they hadn't affected him at all. "I'm the same person I was before. They tried to give me a new personality, but they couldn't. They couldn't even give me a new name…"
Carth reached out to touch her shoulder, but Min backed away, knowing that if he touched her she'd fall apart. "You won't fall again, Min," he said, his voice firm and implacable.
"I know that you believe that. He did, too." She met his eyes then, and spoke softly. "He was a good man, Carth, one of the best I've ever known. Just like you… and I loved him so much." Carth winced; she took a deep breath and forced herself to state the truth: "I loved him and I twisted his goodness against him."
"I'm not Malak," he stated vehemently, and with the same forcefulness that she had said about Saul two years ago.
Paralyzed by guilt and grief, she just looked down at her trembling hands, and didn't say anything.
He took another step towards her, but to her relief he didn't try to touch her. His eyes searched her face for answers. "Do you even know for sure that you were responsible for his fall? Or is this just your guilt talking?"
"He told me when we fought. He always followed wherever I led…" The bits and pieces of her shattered memories had only confirmed this, and while she couldn't remember specifically what she'd done to him, she knew in her gut that it was true, that somehow she had used him horribly.
Carth, predictably, wasn't buying it. "Malak was a grown man, and he is responsible for the choices that he made, not you."
"And I am responsible for the choices that I made." Her voice shook as she struggled to keep her composure. "I am trying to do the right thing here, so please, leave me alone. Let me go on this mission without you."
His denial was immediate and firm. "No."
At her wits' end, she looked into his honest brown eyes and pleaded with him. "Carth, this is hard enough as it is. Why do you have to make this so damn difficult?"
The question caught her so completely off guard that she almost answered him out loud. "Do you still love me, Min?"
Yes.
She tried to think of something to say, a lie forming on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn't bring herself to lie to him. Her silence was answer enough. She watched as comprehension blossomed across his shocked face. Worse, she knew that he still loved her, because she could feel it pouring off of him, mixed in with the anger and frustration that he was feeling. There was a long pause as they just stared at each other in naked, breathless silence, until finally he spoke.
His features cemented into hard, unshakable resolve, and Min's stomach twisted in panic. It was the reason why she'd refused to talk to him face-to-face two years ago. Having had firsthand experience with Carth's stubborn tenacity, she knew that it meant he wouldn't be put off or denied any longer, and that he was not, under any circumstances, going to let this go. Especially now that he knew how she felt.
Oh, shit.
"I am going on this mission. You are going to have to deal with me, and you won't have anywhere to hide. We are going to figure this whole mess out between us, whether you like it or not." She was surprised by how remarkably calm he sounded. "There's more to your reasons than what you've told me, and I am going to get to the bottom of this. But right now, I need to make preparations for our trip."
He left her standing in the middle of the Council chambers, panicking and trying to figure out what to do.
Dustil stared at the holoscreen, and watched his father stride out of the Council chamber, wishing like hell he had stopped Mission from spying. The four of them sat stunned, in shocked silence, but none of them moved to turn the holovid off.
Revan began to pace the Council chambers, wringing her hands, clearly agitated by the conversation she'd just had with his father. And then suddenly, she turned and stopped. Dustil saw her face twist, and tears began to stream down her face as she approached the chair that his father had occupied. Slowly, she picked up the battered orange flight jacket that was draped over the back of the chair. In a gesture that gave him chills, she buried her face in the worn leather, calling up a memory that Dustil had almost forgotten.
Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Dustil swung his lanky legs out of bed and shuffled over to the bedroom door, which opened with a quiet swoosh. It was late, and the hallway was dimly lit by the ghostly flickering light of the holovid screen which was playing softly. Reaching the top of the stairs, Dustil squinted and waited for his eyes to adjust.
Something was wrong.
The powerful wave of sadness and fear coming from his mother almost made him stumble. Looking down, he could see that she was wearing his father's black bathrobe over her plain grey pajamas and watching the news vid intently, tears flowing down her pretty face as the announcer droned on.
"…the Fifth Division Fleet took heavy casualties today when they repelled the Mandalorians over Yag'Dul. The Republic reports over one hundred and fifty thousand casualties as the result of the four-day battle… "
His mother's face twisted and she buried her face in the sleeve of the robe; he could hear her soft sobs muffled by the thick material. Dustil felt another wave of fear and pain and loneliness from his mother as he quickly went down the stairs. She must have heard him, because she looked up, her blue eyes bright with tears.
"Dee, what are you doing up?" she asked in a shaky voice as she fumbled to turn the vid channel. She quickly wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and schooled her face into near calmness.
Dustil didn't want to tell her that he'd felt her sadness, because when he mentioned those kinds of things, his Mom got scared, even though he knew that sometimes she could feel his feelings, too. So he lied. "I was thirsty. Are you okay, Mom?"
She cleared her throat, and reached out her arms for him. "I'm fine, Dee."
He usually didn't like to snuggle with his mother anymore, since that was the kind of thing little kids did, but he could feel how miserable she was, so he sat down next to her. She hugged him close and wrapped his father's robe around both of them. He could smell his father's scent, the earthy and strong soap that he used enveloping him as he burrowed in next to his mother.
It reminded Dustil of when he would sit on the sink in the 'fresher and watch his father shave. Last time, his father had lathered up Dustil's cheeks. They had gotten shaving cream all over the 'fresher and each other, and while Mom had complained about the mess they had made, she had laughed along with them.
"You're worried about Dad, aren't you? His ship is in that battle, isn't it?"
His mother swallowed and looked down at him. "Yes. His ship is in that battle. But I know he'll be fine."
Dustil didn't quite believe it, because she still looked really sad and worried. "Then why were you crying?" Dustil knew that she cried a lot at night when she thought he was asleep.
"Because I miss him." She gave him a weary smile. Dustil missed his father, too, although he got pretty mad at him sometimes, like now, when his mother was crying.
Dustil had a flash of insight. "Is that why you're wearing his robe?"
"Mmm-hmm. If I close my eyes, it's almost like he's here."
Dustil tried it. He closed his eyes, and pretended that his father was here. It almost worked. His mother rested her cheek on the top of his head, and stroked his hair. Slowly, he felt the tension and sadness drain away from her as they watched a sappy old romance holovid. He stayed with her for a long time, somehow knowing that she needed him to be there.
"Turn it off!" He didn't want to think of Revan doing anything remotely like his mother, but there she was, doing exactly the same thing that his mother had done. Mekel, Kel and Mission stared at him as though he'd just lost his mind.
"Turn it off, dammit!" But they stood there, frozen, just staring at him. In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't do it, but he was so angry that he couldn't stop himself. Dustil focused his anger on the holovid, and a charge of electricity burst through the emitter, frying the wiring. The equipment sparked and smoldered, and the stink of burned circuitry filled the room, as Dustil stormed out.
I apologize for the long delay in getting this chapter up. Life, kinks that I had to work out of this chapter and kotor 2 all conspired against me. Hopefully the next chapter won't take nearly as long.
Also, thanks for the feedback everyone. As always, it is very helpful. I owe another huge thank you to my ever patient beta reader, xenzen.
Jedi Kirby: when I started writing this back last October, I had no idea really what the plot of kotor 2 was going to be. Actually canonically, Min should be off wandering around the outer rim at this point (d'oh!). So while Carth and Revan are supposed to be together according to kotor 2, at the time I didn't know that (I recently got the PC version, so I've only recently played the game actually). But given the kind of person that Min is, and the enormous baggage that she is carrying around, I don't know I would have kept them together even if I had known. I'm not certain that that would make sense for her as a character. As for whether they are going to get back together, and how much this story is going to follow kotor 2 (a wonderful, but seriously problematic and flawed game), you'll have to stay tuned to find out…