Hi again and thanks to the few and proud who bother to leave a note letting me know you're out there and still reading! This chapter is a change of pace: a flashback, the first of many, told from Revan's point of view as her memories slowly return. Hope you like it! Oh, and yeah, I own nothing, blah blah blah...
As my memories, my self, began to fill my mind, one specific thought came to the fore and literally demanded attention. Malak and I were close friends, I knew this even before I could remember it, so it should not have been such a shock to realize we had been more. Maybe it was the bitterness and contempt he displayed towards me on the Star Forge that kept me from thinking on it at the time, but I should have realized those emotions came from something deeper than friendship, something beyond the darkness and corruption of the Force. Now I knew, again. We held off for as long as we could—Jedi rules and all. No, that wasn't exactly true, I smiled slightly at the thought. We simply hadn't had an opportunity; the first chance we got, we took. How ironic, I mused, that only after we had turned to the shadow, were we able to follow that mighty Jedi rule, to deny our love.
Two days before my 18th birthday, Master Zhar was reassigned to the Dantooine training enclave. As a birthday gift, my master allowed me to travel with him—and I insisted Malak go with us. We had never been off Coruscant, and barely away from the academy and temple, so as boring as Dantooine is, going there was still the most exciting thing to happen to us, ever. That would prove to be all too true in many ways. As we were being introduced to the Council, a settler on the planet entered asking for help. A wild animal had been ravaging his small village for months and they were powerless against it. Their leader had gone missing; they feared the worst for him. He was a great hunter and he must have gone out to protect his people, but he never returned. After a brief consultation between them, the masters reassembled and made a most startling announcement.
"Revan and Malak will accompany you," Master Vandar said. "They will see to this matter and act on behalf of the Council." The settler bowed and thanked him profusely. We were stunned and looked to Master Zhar for answers. He took us to a nearby training room.
"It is time, my students, for your final trial," he told us. "This is your last test. Complete this task and you shall earn your robes. You shall become padawans and join the ranks of the Jedi." The news caught us off guard, and I admit I did something rather un-Jedi-like. I squealed and hugged Master Zhar with all my strength. Malak laughed—he told me that for the first time ever, it seemed Zhar was at a loss for what to do.
We chatted excitedly as we followed the settler to his village. We could not believe our luck: to finally become full Jedi, and with so easy a task as dispatching with a crazed kath hound. We had learned of other finals, how so many had stumbled in their attempt, and we were glad to have such a simple goal set out for us. But we should have known; the wisdom of the Council is always layered with meaning. What we would learn on that day, what we would come to know about ourselves, each other….
The walk to the village took the rest of the sunlight. I decided we should go to the leader's estate to rest and look for clues. He was, as mentioned, quite the hunter. His entire house was an enormous trophy room. Malak seemed impressed, but I found it distasteful. Killing for sport was useless, I said. Malak called it a challenge, pitting your skills against those of the wild.
"And your superior firepower," I snorted. "I am sure that tach was a wily and worthy adversary," I sniffed, pointing to the stuffed specimen on the fireplace mantle.
"Well, probably not," Malak allowed. "But look at this, a Krayt dragon!" The massive head acted as a pedestal, upon which smaller creatures were displayed. "And look at that!" he said pointing up: a mynock and shyrack were suspended from the high ceiling, positioned as if locked in combat.
"This is disgusting," I said with a slight shiver. So many cold, dead eyes staring at me.
"He has been everywhere to collect so many—I can't think of a single species that is missing," Malak said lost in admiration. "In fact, I see quite a few that I don't recognize."
"I suppose the sentients are in the special room…." I mocked. Malak stopped to stare at me.
"Let's hope not," he said flatly.
"It would have been better if he just caught these animals and put them in a zoo. Wouldn't that have produced the same sense of manliness?" I chided.
"Come on, Rev…. Stop being such a girl…" Malak teased. He knew exactly which buttons to push…and he seemed to be pushing them more and more these days.
"I am going to do something useful—I would like to earn my robes…." I said with a huff, "…as quickly as possible. I don't want to be here any longer than necessary." I began to search the room for something other than dead life forms.
"Well, what would you like to do, then? It is already dusk…I don't think it wise to track the animal in the dark. This guy took down rancors and wampas, and a damn Krayt dragon…what on Dantooine would have done him in?"
"Let's find out," I said waving a pile of datapads. "These were in his desk, I assume they are his journals. Shall we seek the wisdom of a mighty hunter to aid us in our task?" I tossed one at him; he caught it and feigned distress, as if the throw were too much for him to handle; he fell back into one of the overstuffed leather sofas with a fake groan. I glared at him: he never missed a chance to comment on my lack of physical strength, at least compared to his own. My Force power dwarfed his, but what practical use was that if you couldn't even open a jar of pickles without help? He gave me a mischievous grin as he settled in and activated the datapad. I stuck my tongue out at him, and then did the same: I flopped into a large chair and started reading.
Of course it was my luck to get a bookkeeping record. Boring numbers, one after another, mostly. Every so often, a large amount was entered, paid to various names—with no note as to why. But I quickly noticed a pattern: immediately after one of these entries, a payment to a taxidermist was recorded, with a species noted. I supposed these unmarked payments were to guides for his expeditions and hunts.
"I have changed my mind," Malak said gravely from across the room. I looked up at him, his face was ashen, a look of supreme disgust and horror masking his features.
"Don't tell me…sentients…?" I whispered, my eyes wide.
"Thank the Force no," he said quickly. "But it is almost as bad. He wasn't exactly hunting these creatures," Malak began; the words seemed to cause a sour taste in his mouth as he spoke them. "He was having them delivered, alive, so he could kill them here."
"What?" I could not comprehend the statement…it was so barbaric.
"Here, listen," he started to read from the datapad. "It says 'The katarn arrived today. Took them 3 months to find this one—a great specimen, large and full-bodied. An excellent addition to my collection, worth every extra credit. He was so large, he barely fit in the cage; it took four shots to bring him down. I have never been so pleased with a hunt as this day.' He killed a caged animal—one he didn't even catch! That was no hunt!" Malak spat.
I wanted to vomit. So that explained the large sums: pay-offs to the real hunters, his suppliers and smugglers. "What is the date on that?" I said as calmly as possible.
"Uh," he searched the unit. "Says here…just over a year ago. Wow, he has been busy," Malak said looking around the room. He spied the katarn head, then looked back at the datapad. He tossed it away with revulsion.
"Here, go through these, find the most recent. I think it is safe to assume whatever we are here to deal with isn't native," I said handing over a stack of journals. "I am going to look in this account text, see if there is a mention of his most recent catch." I buried myself in the bookkeeping records—I did not want to read of his killing exploits. I heard Malak sifting through the datapads quickly. I scrolled down to the end of the account's entries. This one stopped too long ago, some four months back. I moved to the desk and searched, finding a newer unit in a side drawer. Malak had become quiet; I looked up to see him reading intently. I looked into my own datapad, and quickly sought the last entry. It was dated nine weeks ago, no taxidermy entry afterwards. It was an enormous amount, a fortune, and not a small one. I let out a low whistle.
"I bet," Malak answered. "I know what it was, and it had to cost him dearly."
"Apparently so—it cost him his life," I said. "So, out with it…what creature is waiting for us? What poor beast do we need to kill for our robes?" I almost did not want them now that I knew.
"We are going to earn them, make no mistake," Malak's voice was heavy, even hinted at fear. "It's a Terentatek. The idiot brought a Terentatek here."