9: Walking in Shadow
Space was a vast void. Composed of endless parsecs of black nothing, bubbling with a distant radio hiss, it gathered stars and worlds in tiny luminous clusters connected by the taut strings of gravity. Before the discovery of hyperspace more than twenty-five thousand years ago, there was no Republic; there were no space lanes or trade routes. There was only the daunting emptiness. In those days, physical and thermodynamic law intruded on the desire to conquer the galaxy. Journeys to nearby stars took hundreds of centuries; devoured the reaction mass of primitive fuels too greedily to be practical.
Hyperspace changed that. Centuries became years and years became months. Twenty-five thousand years later, hyperspace was still scarcely understood. Theories held that it was some sort of parallel dimension in which the laws of nature did not fully apply. Time and distance were not the same there. Mass and inertia became flights of fancy. It was believed that hyperspace constantly shifted in ways that could not be reliably predicted. And so, as ships traveled within it, distances were always approximations. The first hyperspace scouts and explorers mapped out the most efficient routes through it, connecting known stars and populous systems. This maximized the benefit of hyperspace, but still didn't completely eliminate its uncertainty. And for every system and star linked through this cosmic roadway, there were a thousand more, untouched; ignored on the very edge of explored space. Without efficient routes mapped and pinpointed, journeys between such distant systems were fraught with many delays and hazards.
So it was that the journey from Taris to Dantooine took nearly a week to complete. During that time, the Ebon Hawk seemed to grow smaller and smaller to her new crew. Carth quickly assumed command, and was uncontested in this, due to his experience as a pilot. And no one seemed to care much, anyway. He and Canderous adapted to the boredom the easiest; both men were long accustomed to extended trips in space. Carth and Canderous tended to scrape against one another; they had been enemies in the Mandalorian wars. But they had, perhaps, the most in common of anyone on the ship. Canderous and Carth initially agreed to inventory the stores on the ship, checking for supplies and gear. After they found the cache of weapons stowed in the cargo bay, Canderous spent most of the flight breaking down and cleaning those weapons and reassembling them. Carth turned his attention to system maintenance and managed to completely overhaul the Ebon Hawk's Deflector systems.
Bastila accepted the journey with a placid serenity, resolving to spend her days in meditation and reflection. But Lal's response to her revelations had not sat well with the young woman, and her thoughts were plagued with anxieties and fears about the Council's possible responses to her indiscretions.
Mission managed to get in Carth's way while he worked on the deflectors, begging to assist him. When he'd refused her with strained politeness, she turned to Zaalbar. Zaalbar hated the confined spaces of the Hawk and moaned constantly about the unchained green of his homeworld. When Mission first began following him around and pestering him to show her how to fight, Zaalbar had responded by smashing Canderous' bunk into sculpture. After a few days, he'd simmered down, and realized that, strange as it seemed, Mission's incessant chattering had a calming effect on him. She reminded him of another time, on his home, when he had taken joy in training the children of his village in the combat and hunting skills all Wookiees had to master to survive. Though Mission was not terribly suited for Wookiee combat techniques, he determined to develop her sense of tactics through playing Pazaak. Of course, being something of a cardie, Zaalbar had ulterior motives. And while they played cards, Mission was uncharacteristically quiet.
Lal did her level best to avoid the company of the others as her wounds healed. This proved difficult, given the closeness of the quarters. But Lal managed it by throwing forth a cold glare whenever she was thrust into the presence of someone else. She didn't want to talk to Bastila again, and she didn't want to entertain speculation about the quickness of her recovery. Halfway through the week, Lal noticed that the wound in her middle had all but closed beneath the bandages, and she managed to breathe without coughing up blood. Before long, Lal found she was able to engage in the calisthenics routines she often practiced to remain limber and build her stamina. During these routines, she allowed AyVee to hover close-by; his whistles and beeps and digitized nonsense squeezed the troubled thoughts of her background from her mind.
As the ship neared its destination, Lal found herself on the bridge, staring out at the bright blue whirl of hyperspace. Carth walked in, gave her a silent nod and took his seat at the pilot station. Lal moved to leave, but decided against it. She sat down in the co-pilot's chair across from Carth and gazed silently out of the armored canopy.
"I suppose," she said suddenly, "that once we land, you'll be going your own way."
He glanced over at her briefly and shrugged. "I suppose. I'll probably head back to Republic HQ to return to normal duty. And I suppose you'll be heading to Tatooine to handle your…business affairs."
"Carth," she asked, "did you know?"
"I…I didn't know anything until Bastila told me." He remained silent for a bit as he checked his status boards and read-outs. Glancing back over at Lal, he continued, "I didn't exactly know if I believed it. Still don't know. I was…I was in the War to the very end. I never met…er…you…Of course, there were around a hundred Knights or so who broke off and followed Revan into battle."
A frown wrinkled Lal's brow. "I don't…understand…I thought…"
"That Revan and Malak were born evil? Nah. They were Jedi, once. Heroes. Heh. Heroes…"
"I…no. What I was trying…what I mean to say was…you said they 'broke off'…what did you mean by that?"
Carth sighed and ground his jaw. She could almost see the anger building up in the tautness of his muscles; the tensing of the flesh along his temple. "The Republic was…all about the war with the Mandalorians. They…they didn't want an open conflict, mind you, but when open war broke out, they didn't hesitate. The Mandalorians would have burned a path all the way to Coruscant. The Republic had no choice but to take them on. But the Jedi…they thought differently. Nobody really knows why. Except for the Jedi, I reckon. Revan felt differently. Revan went head to head against the Council on it; they wouldn't get involved, so Revan decided to go it alone. Revan was always a maverick, from what I've been told. But Revan had friends who felt the same way about the war and the Mandalorians. All of them defied the Council to help us…to lead us…in the war. Without Revan, without Malak and the others, the Mandalorians would have torn us apart. Revan didn't just fight the Mandies. They broke them apart. Mentally, physically…morally. I remember…the final assault…we were flying over-watch for a ground assault…tearing nap-of-terrain through the dense jungles…my squadron was tasked with taking out missile stations and artillery batteries…ground armor, that sort of thing…The Mandalorians had fielded a platoon of Basilisk Hyper-Mobies. Nasty things…"
"Hyper-whats?"
Carth had drifted into mil-speak jargon without noticing it. He visibly fumbled for the words she'd understand. "Uh…Hyper Mobile Enhancement Stations. Mobies. Heavy assault droids with a pilot station mounted on top. A Mandie pilot could either control the thing or let it run semi-independent. Heavily armed and armored. They were used in sub-orbital insertions…in space, they could maneuver almost as well as a starfighter. In atmosphere, their air mobility was limited, but try to imagine a…a tank that could both hover and walk, and there's a Basilisk…rough bastards, too. A five meter tall, fifteen ton monster.
"Well," he continued, shrugging his shoulders, "Revan lead a squad of Jedi against this platoon of Basilisks. Damnedest thing I've ever seen…well…aside from you killing that Rancor…Those Jedi tore through those Basilisks like they were made of wet tissue. They cleared a path for the ground troops to take the Mandalorian headquarters. Meanwhile, Revan had put Eradicators in planetary orbit to keep the Mandie leaders from escaping. Any of them who resisted…we slaughtered them. They gave as good as they got, sure. But by that time, it was a lost cause for them. Revan…and Malak…they turned the tide. We carved a ten kilometer wide trench right through the jungle, Lal. To this day, nothing grows in it. We laid our mark on their world. Revan singlehandedly fought and killed their generals, in front of all of our troops. Showed them all who had the big stick. That was what broke their spirit for fighting. Revan knew that, unless the Mandalorian spirit was broken, they'd always be a threat."
"Sounds like you said…a slaughter…"
"It was and it wasn't. The Mandalorians made a special alloy called Mandalorian Steel. Very rare. But it was able to resist the power of a lightsaber. Made the fights almost even odds. But I've never met anyone who could face down a Jedi in a fair fight. Like I said, Revan fought all the generals alone. Everyone just stood by and watched. Hundreds of thousands of troops, both Mandalorian and Republic. If Revan hadn't done that…the Mandalorians would have fought to the death. It would have been genocide. We would have still won, but a lot more Republic soldiers would be dead. It was a civilized choice, but some say it was the most ruthless choice of all. Because, like I said, we did more than just beat the Mandalorians; we broke their souls. Crushed their spirit and scattered their race to the solar winds. We…we destroyed an entire race without killing them. Revan did that."
"And…Revan…and me…we did this…and the Jedi never took us back…?"
"Well…the Jedi are all about redemption, Lal. Those who truly sought redemption were embraced. But, the Republic was out of it by then. Revan and Malak…they refused the Redemption the Jedi Council offered. They didn't feel they'd done anything wrong."
"Did you?"
"Did I what, Lal?"
"Did you feel they were wrong?"
Carth lowered his chin and scowled in thought. "No. Maybe…aw, hell…I don't know. Lal, I hate to say this, but if you're looking for philosophical depth from me, you ain't gonna find it…I'm just a flyboy stick-jockey who knows a little bit about soldiering. That sort of debate…I'm not qualified for it. And damn, it seems like every time I open my mouth about right and wrong, somebody's there to smack me back down."
She glanced away, knowing that she'd been the one to smack him down at least once or twice.
Carth sighed and flipped a switch. He leaned forward to check a series of scrolling numbers on a tiny display and unlocked the safety armature for the hyperspace throttle. "Coming up on Dantooine. We're gonna be jumping out of the pipe soon." He turned to stare at Lal's face, then. "Why did you…uh…why did you…"
"Come to chat?"
"Hmm…yeah. Trying to jog your memories?"
She shook her head. "I can't remember a thing, Carth. Only a few strange dreams…Actually, I just wanted to talk to you…about what I, um…did at Davik's place…"
"Yeah. I was a little sore about that, Lal."
"I wanted to say I'm sorry…"
"Forget it, Lal. I know what you did and why you did it."
"Oh. You…you're pretty upset…?"
He glanced away from her and chuckled sourly. "Not really. I did some thinking about it; I reckon you did what you did to keep us from getting killed. And even if you didn't, Lal, that's what I'm gonna believe. Understand?"
She closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes. I understand, Carth…"
"That way, Lal, we can make a break of it…cleanly…and go our separate ways."
She shifted towards him in her chair and offered a hopeful smile. But he didn't look at her. "Do we have to…to go our separate ways, Carth? I mean…You and I…we've been through a lot, and I was…well…"
"Lal…"
"No, wait, let me finish. I…the two of us…we…dammit, this isn't usually so bloody difficult for me…"
"Lal, listen…I don't know what in the hell is the deal with this…this Jedi thing. Bastila sorta pulled the carpet out from under me with that one. But in any event, my mission is over. Command's gonna reassign me. And the Jedi have plans for you."
"What if my plans don't involve the Jedi, Carth?"
"Not my business, Lal. It really isn't."
She sighed and lowered her head. "Carth…I'm just saying that…maybe, before you…leave, we could…"
"Lal, here's the thing: you're a tourist."
"Excuse me?"
"You're a tourist, Lal. You don't care about what's going on. It doesn't matter that you're some sort of…Jedi warrior, or whatever you are. You don't care. There's nothing to make you care. Davik hurt you so badly that you just don't care about anything."
"That's not true."
"Okay. Whatever. You care. Great. Let me guess what you care about, Lal: you probably care about clearing up this amnesia thing, but not as much as you care about setting up your own smuggling and contraband business…yeah, I chatted with Canderous…You care about Mission's well-being, but not enough to watch out for her anymore. Yeah, I chatted with her, too."
"She…she'll be safer away from me, Carth! Being around me is…it's too dangerous for her."
"Again; whatever. Tell yourself whatever you like. You don't have to convince me, only yourself."
Lal shook her head and turned a confused frown at Carth. "Why are you talking to me like this, Carth? I've done more for you and Mission and Bastila than I've ever done for anyone! You wouldn't have gotten off of Taris had it not been for me!"
"You're absolutely right, Lal. If it hadn't been for you…we'd still be on Taris, burning with the rest of its inhabitants."
"I…what, are you blaming me for what the Sith did? That's simply insane, Carth…"
"I'm not blaming you, Lal. There was nothing you could have done. No way any of us could have known Malak would do that…just to kill one person. But here's the thing, Lal…you've got the skill, and the experience…aside from all this Jedi nonsense…you're a fighter. You know how to win. And that's something the Republic needs. You're needed, Lal, do you understand that? You're needed. But do you care? No. You only care about Lal."
"How dare you, Carth! You don't know what I've had to endure! For the past three years! A life of utter slavery! Killing…the…the other things I've had to do…And I didn't have a choice! Is that something you can possibly understand? And if what Bastila told me has any shred of truth to it, I've already done my bit, haven't I? Why, I'm a bloody war hero, I suppose! I've fought just as much as you have, in your precious Mandalorian war! I've done my part for the bloody galaxy, Carth, and I've paid for it. My…my very bloody identity is gone! Replaced with this, this person that I wake up to every morning, that I don't even know! How dare you! How dare you judge me? What have you suffered, Carth? What have you lost to justify this pedestal upon which you so confidently stand, preaching from your bloody pulpit?"
"What have I suffered?" he snarled viciously, surprising her. "Oh, let's see. Not much, really. Just my family. Just my entire family, Lal! When Revan and Malak returned from wherever in hell they went, they came back with a real mad-on. And a fleet unlike anything ever before seen. They began blazing through entire systems, Lal. Oh, you didn't know?"
"No, Carth…I didn't…"
"Well, that's what they did. They were Sith, now. Seduced to the Dark Side. If you don't happen to have a clue what that means, let me spell it out: try 'evil'. Try 'psychotic'. Nobody really knows what their goal is…aside from wanton destruction. Death on a galactic scale…Taris wasn't the first planet they raped. Not by a long shot. But there was a first. Telos. My home! There was no warning…there was no reason. Telos had no tactical significance. They came in with the Leviathan leading the way, and they bombarded my home for three days straight. That's all it took, really. After the first five hours, our cities and settlements were destroyed. Our infrastructure was crippled. But they kept at it for three days. They turned the surface into ash, Lal. Millions died. Not soldiers, mind you; women and children. My wife. My son. He…Dustil would have been almost the same age as Mission…My wife…hell; she was a lot like you, actually. Stubborn, beautiful…strong…"
Carth trailed off into silence while Lal sat there. Her entire body tingled; her muscles were trembling. Rage had filled her, burned within her, but now, it flooded right out of her, leaving a cold chill. She felt tears welling in her eyes. Tears. It took her a moment to realize she was crying.
"Tears," Carth said in a gravelly whisper. "I was able to cry once, too."
"Carth…I didn't…I didn't know. I'm sorry. I feel terrible…"
Carth glanced at her, suppressing a snarl that curled at the corner of his lips. He released a sigh and closed his eyes. "I know," he said quietly. He turned to face her in his chair and stared deeply into her eyes. "But that's the problem, Lal. You feel. You didn't know. It's always about you. That's all you know how to care about. I suppose that's not your fault, and I shouldn't be angry with you. You're just not…built to care, are you? Maybe once, but not anymore."
"Carth…"
"Maybe you should stay away from me from now on, Lal. Every time I look at you…it…I…just please, stay away from me."
The tears rained down Lal's cheeks, now. She had never felt such a flood inside of her. Or perhaps she had and simply couldn't recall. She tried to speak, but her words disintegrated into a blubbery mess. And words would no longer serve anyway. She pushed up from the chair weakly, unsteadily. She placed a hand against the bulkhead for support and staggered off the bridge.
She navigated the corridors of the ship stiffly, feeling the pain from her wounds. She wanted to go to someone and just cry. To be held. To be understood. But she'd never had that before.
She'd never needed it before.
The Ebon Hawk slashed into normal space, trailing streaks of silver light that strained to catch up. The ship's sublight Ion engines cut in with a blue flare, hurling the Hawk towards Dantooine's distant sun. She sliced in-system, speeding past the massive golden and lavender gas giants lacing the outer orbit of the star system. She slipped through a thin asteroid belt with her navigational deflectors screen shoving a cloud of frozen stones from her path. The Hawk rushed past a series of sensor buoys designed to monitor in-system traffic. Soon Dantooine arose before the Ebon Hawk, and lounged in the sun's white glare. The verdant surface of the planet sparkled like an emerald and the Ebon Hawk swarmed across the midnight terminator, where the emerald became onyx. The ship coursed over the nightside surface of the planet and picked up two tiny guests.
Rising on threads of quicksilver, two delta shaped Sweep-Wings burned their sublight drives to leap up to meet the Hawk. The twin fighters unleashed their stubby attack foils and placed sensor locks on the Hawk.
"Those are Jedi ships," Bastila announced, now sitting beside Carth on the bridge.
"I noticed," Carth replied. "They've got a weapons lock on us. Paranoid, aren't they? Set up a commlink, will you?"
Bastila leaned forward and activated the commsystem. "This is Commander Bastila Shan on board the Ebon Hawk, requesting permission to enter Dantooine air space. I repeat, Commander Shan aboard Ebon Hawk."
A voice crackled in reply from the comm. "Commander Shan, it's good to hear your voice. Fine ship you've got, there. Be advised, Ebon Hawk, descend to suborbital, relative two-five-oh angel and maintain on a course zero-seven-five by three-five. We'll walk you in."
The two fighters eased along either side of the Ebon Hawk as she descended into the silver clouds. The ships swept out from the terminator and back into daylight just as morning ignited the clouds with sparks of gold. They continued to descend, and stabbed through the underbelly of the clouds. Far below, the rolling green hills of Dantooine glistened with morning dew and seemed to gleam to the crew of the Hawk. Distant mountains, painted blue and purple by the morning sun, stirred from their slumber, and a flock of manta wings rushed up in a glittering cloud to try and pace the three ships.
On a distant plateau, the Jedi Enclave stood squat and low, languishing in the morning chill. Composed of soft round angles, the compound rolled across the surface of the plateau and appeared to have been grown directly from the grassy rock.
Carth maneuvered the Ebon Hawk over the surface of the Enclave, cutting in the repulsorlifts drives to hover. The ship spun around in a lazy circle as a pair of bay doors cracked open. The landing thrusters fired, dropping their downward momentum, and the Hawk slowly sank between the bay doors into a golden plaza ignited by the morning light. The landing struts gently touched the hard packed soil of the tarmac and clenched to take the weight of the Hawk onto their shoulders.
Great gouts of steam fired from the belly of the ship as her heat sinks dumped energy gathered from friction against the atmosphere. When the heat dissipated, the Hawk lowered its landing ramp. Several figures in brown and gray robes waited in the vast docking plaza.
Carth came down the ramp first, followed by Bastila and Lal. Lal found the sunlight harsh and sharp against her eyes. She squinted in the vorpal glare of the morning and held a hand up to shield her eyes. Behind her came Zaalbar with a relieved howl. He was more than happy to step out of the Hawk's cramped belly. Mission tagged along close behind Zaalbar, her lekku tucked in quivering coils around her blue shoulders. Canderous brought up the rear with a customary scowl. AyVee zipped out above their heads to hover protectively over Lal's shoulder.
One of the robed figures stepped forward and peeled his hood back to reveal a pair of pale green lekku. He was an aged Twi'lek; the spurs above his brow bulged with his advanced years. He cast his pale amber gaze over the crew of the Hawk, lingering on Lal. Then he turned a smile upon Bastila.
"Master Zhar," Bastila smiled warmly, inclining her head slightly.
"It is good to see you, Padawan," The old Jedi replied. "When we heard of Taris' fate, we feared the worst."
"These are my companions, Master," Bastila said. "Captain Onasi you already know, of course. This is Mission Vao, Zaalbar, Canderous Ordo and…Lal Sideen."
Zhar nodded politely to them all, but rested his gaze on Lal. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he told Lal. "A pleasure to meet you all. Bastila, the Council must speak with you immediately. Your friends will be provided accommodations here at the Enclave should they wish to rest."
"Excuse me," Lal said, stepping forward. "If you are Jedi, I would like to speak with you…"
"As I'm certain we will," he said in a voice as smooth as a summer breeze. "However, other matters take precedence for the moment." He laid a hand on Bastila's shoulder and together, with the two other robed Jedi, he drifted away across the packed ground to a corridor that lead down into the ground.
Lal watched them go and suddenly realized she had no power and influence on this world. Her status with Davik meant nothing to these Jedi. They neither feared nor respected her. But since Davik was dead, she supposed it made no actual difference.
"You'll get used to it," Carth told her. "When the Jedi want you for something, oh, they'll find you."
It had been quite a long time since Lal had showered with water instead of sonic waves. The sensation of water striking her body in a thousand tiny explosions was exhilarating. She found it utterly exquisite the way water ran down the channels and curves of her body in whispering rivulets. As soon as she could, she'd have to try an actual bath. The wet shower didn't make her feel quite as scrubbed as a sonic shower, but this felt more natural, like bathing in a rainstorm.
Lal turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She spent several moments toweling her flesh and hair dry and stepped into the bed chamber. She swept her damp hair back over her shoulders as she pulled the downy covers back from the bed. She was about to climb in when she stopped and turned.
Canderous sat in a chair by the door, wearing only his blue and gray fatigues. He watched her with narrow, appraising eyes, and irritation tightened her lips. She considered covering her nakedness, but there was really nothing within reach. Of course, Canderous would have expected her to chose modesty in his presence. So, instead, she stood there before him, folding her arms across her breasts.
"They don't knock on Mandalore, I take it?" she asked.
"We do, but I decided not to. Why are we here, Lal?"
Lal sighed and walked past him to get a glass of water from the Dispenser in her room. She took a drink and propped her hand on her hip. "Well, I'm here to get some sleep. You're here—and I'm merely speculating—you're here to get yourself a free peep show…"
"It is hardly my fault that you're always in some state of undress when I come to speak with you."
Lal almost found herself laughing. She had to look twice to make sure Canderous wasn't giggling, in fact. "Was that…was that a Mandalorian joke? A bit of sociopathic humor?"
"Heh. Contrary to what you may have been told, Lal, Mandalorians do have a sense of humor. Behold: a Mandalorian, a Corellian and a Weequay walk into a bar…"
"Stop."
"Oh, you've heard that one? Indeed. So, a naked Twi'lek walks into a bar carrying a Kushiban under her arm…"
"Canderous, you're bloody killing me. Could you please stop this?"
"As you wish, Lal. But again, I must ask, why are we here? These Jedi…I do not trust them. Unless you maintain your guard, Lal, they will be your undoing. I have seen it happen."
Lal was reminded of Carth's words, of the battle between Revan's Jedi and the Mandalorian high command. Of course, Canderous was probably there at that battle. "Canderous…I don't know what to tell you…I simply don't. These people…they…they seem to have the key to…whatever I might have been before Davik…had me…I must learn what they know, Canderous. I have little choice in the matter." Lal finished her glass of water and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing away from Canderous. "That does not mean you must stay here, of course. The burdens of my past need not be shouldered by you. You have been a man of your word, of course, Canderous….and I must say, I have been…quite fortunate to have worked with you…"
"Bah. We make a good team, do we not, Lal?"
"Well…yes, but…"
"Well then. And I reckon you will need someone skilled at killing Jedi to watch your back should these dogs become treacherous."
Lal sighed. She couldn't help but be a little irritated. As much as she tried to divorce the destinies of other people from her own unknown fate, it seemed she would never be free to make choices that didn't in some way, affect other people.
"Canderous, I was curious about something: do you like women?"
"As with all things, it depends on the woman in question, Lal. But if you mean to get rid of me by insulting my manhood, it won't work…"
"I'm not insulting your precious manhood, Canderous. This is the second time you've had me vulnerable and at your mercy; I would have expected a big strapping man such as yourself to have sated his lusts and so forth…"
"Heh. My composure insults your womanhood, then. I see. Of course, I am a highly desirable warrior, Lal…But I'm afraid, where you are concerned…it simply wouldn't work out. Though it is true you are indeed quite lovely…I've got better things to do than have you slit my throat in the midst of a passionate moment…heh."
Lal could keep a smile from slipping over her lips. The Mandalorian did have a sense of humor, it seemed. "You're a credit to your gender, Canderous Ordo."
"If I had a credit for every time a naked woman has told me that…"
Lal chuckled and crawled under the covers. She laid her head against the pillow and nestled into the warmth of her bed. "Canderous, do be a dear and shut the light before you leave. And please knock next time."
"Of course. Sleep well, Lal. And do not dream."
Malak sat cradled within his meditation chamber as Admiral Karath entered his private quarters. He kept his broad back to the Admiral and replaced the respirator against his shattered face. It clamped against his ruined jaw and cheeks with a hiss and a click. He glanced over a massive shoulder at the man.
"Report, Admiral."
"The commander of the Victorious reports that he has been unable to track the ship's ion trail, My Lord. However, from the sensor logs of the encounter, we've been able to tentatively identify the ship as the uh, Ebon Hawk, Lord Malak. It is known this vessel is owned by one…Davik Kang…a petty gangster and lowlife. Prior to our arrival, the Ebon Hawk has been involved in several incidents allegedly linked to the Exchange. Nothing has been proven by Republic courts, however."
"Indeed…"
"My Lord, from all accounts, it would appear that Kang, or one of his employees used the ship to evade our Eradicator Platforms, and then managed to escape the Victorious and her fighters."
"No, Admiral. Bastila was on that ship."
"Er…My Lord…it appears…highly unlikely that such was the case…"
"Bastila was on that ship. I have sensed it. There is no doubt, Admiral. And…and there was…another…"
Revan stood in shadow, clad in a suit of gleaming silver armor that seemed to drip with its own light. Revan, the renowned Master Jedi who'd strode across the galaxy, protecting the innocent, bringing the guilty to justice. She couldn't see Revan's face, guarded behind a smooth chrome mask, but she knew the Jedi well enough.
She glanced around in the darkness and wondered why Revan couldn't see her. The Jedi's attention was focused on something else, something that began to flicker within the darkness. She watched as well, seeing a glow of pale blue light splash across the murky darkness. She heard Revan gasp in surprise as the blue light shaped itself into an eldritch sphere. A deep hum rolled across the black chamber, and she felt it settle deep in her belly. A chill fell over her, and unzipped a pocket of fear in her chest.
Revan seemed to notice it as well. The Jedi reached out tentatively to caress the surface of the sphere, but pulled back.
And then,
…Lal woke up, her heart pounding in unreasoning terror. Sweat had plastered her dark hair to her brow, and soaked her sheets and pillow. She glanced around desperately, certain she was not alone in her room. She sat up, straining to hear anything beyond her own frantic breathing.
"Canderous?" she croaked fearfully. "Is th-that you?"
"It's me, Revan," Malak replied, reaching out to hold his friend's heaving shoulders. "What is it? What did you see?"
"Something…terrible," Revan gasped, pushing Malak's hands away. "Something…something dark…"
"Revan, I don't understand," Malak sighed. He glanced around the black chamber they stood in and then looked back at Revan. "What is it?"
"Don't you feel it, Malak? This place? Stretch out with your senses…"
Malak closed his eyes and lowered his recently shaven skull. Without his full shock of red hair to hide them, the tattoos carved into his skull spoke volumes of his childhood as a slave. Revan saw the young Jedi's face begin to tremble; he sensed it.
"The…the power of this place…Revan, why didn't we notice it before?"
"Other concerns, Malak. Other concerns. The Council's foolishness."
Malak nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. But that leaves us with a problem, Revan. We cannot remain here. Clearly. Not with this…this presence, can we?"
Revan sighed and nodded. "I'm forced to agree, Malak. This place is…strong in the Dark Side. We must leave and reseal this place so no one stumbles across it."
Malak glanced around uncertainly. Though he towered over Revan with a massivel frame forged from years of long labor, his youth showed; even though he was already a powerful Jedi, he was little more than a boy. But, his decision, his decision to follow Revan, that made him a man.
"Where will we hide, Revan? There is no place on Dantooine we could possibly hide from the Council if not here…"
"We will simply have to be fleet, and we will have to be smarter than they are. As long as we don't make any more mistakes, we should be fine until the Republic ship arrives for us…"
Malak nodded, but his handsome face betrayed his nervousness. "And this place?"
Revan glanced around and sighed, placing a gauntleted hand upon Malak's broad shoulder. "We must forget it even exists. Even though the Council has failed us, we still have a responsibility to protect them."
