AITHNE
Months of research, what felt like years of searching, and now, here we were, standing in front of the heavy black door that led to the culmination of all of it. As a Jedi, I would have suppressed my excitement, or else rationalized it all away. Now, I took time to revel in the sensation, to savor the moment—because I could, and because I knew it would all be so anticlimactic once I passed through the door.
One thing Alek always was good for was the hype. "The Dark Side is strong in this place," he mused, with that charming talent he'd always possessed for stating the blatantly obvious. "I can feel its power!"
There was a little—a very little—merit among both Sith and Jedi to experiencing each new sensation as it came, identifying it as it came, but it was a youngling's exercise. More experienced practitioners moved on to classifying sensations: what was the nature of the Dark Side that filled this place, and what effect would it have on those that came here? Masters moved on to application: how could one purify the energy here, or use it to fuel achievement?
With prodding, Alek could reach the second level. I doubted he would ever attain the third. That was why we—I—had decided that he should be the apprentice and I the master as we journeyed together along new paths unknown to either of us. The Force was with him, he was a better swordsperson than I was and a decent enough military commander, but he lacked vision, and sometimes courage.
He proved it once again as I finally decided there'd been enough savoring and moved to open the door. "Is this wise? If we pass through this door, we can never go back. The Jedi will surely banish us. Are the secrets of the Star Forge so valuable? It its power truly worth the risk?"
I looked back at him, wondering why in the galaxy he wanted to have this conversation again now, as if we hadn't had it eighteen times before and determined that there was no way of knowing, that with all great discoveries—or rediscoveries, in this case—the resultant power and profit were always unknowable before the jump. But without the jump, no gain was ever made.
Alek's questions weren't even worth an answer at this point, but it didn't matter. I would make the jump for both of us.
I opened the door.
CARTH
There was something about mornings that made it hard to stay angry. When Carth woke up the day after receiving his new assignment, he wasn't any happier about it than he had been when he had first got it, but at least he was able to talk a walk outside the ship and appreciate that Dantooine was probably the nicest planet he'd been to in a while. If he had to be stuck somewhere, it was nice that it was a planet with clean air, open landscape, and the rule of law.
Not that Dantooine didn't have its problems. Population-wise, it was hardly more than a colony, mostly agrarian. The enclave basically served as the center of government, and there were a lot of places in between homesteads where there could be some trouble from time to time. Just in the enclave docking area and the Aratech general store, Carth heard about a few packs of kath hounds that could go after livestock or anyone traveling on foot without protection. Some Mandalorian deserters from the war had camps here too, and a few of them preferred raiding the farms of the settlers to earning their own way. None of that would be problematic within the confines of the Jedi enclave itself, but signing up for rotations on peace-keeping duty could be a way to stave off the boredom for however long Bastila stayed here, or to earn a few extra credits.
Big Z had been the first up on Ebon Hawk. Carth ran into him outside the ship, talking with a Jedi runner from the enclave about a complimentary barrel of foodstuffs and basic supplies the Jedi quartermaster had sent over—not the stuff Ordo was negotiating with Aratech for, supplies for a longer journey, but enough to keep them fed for the next week or so. It was just as well; they were about out of synthetic protein and the dried meat and fruit the Exchange had supplied Hawk with to begin with.
Carth helped Zaalbar carry the supplies inside, and the two of them began a datapad catalog. Carth couldn't understand the Wookiee language like Mission or Aithne, but he'd found out Big Z was fluent in spacer sign, a language aliens who frequently traveled used to communicate with others who didn't—or couldn't—speak or understand their verbal speech. It let him and Zaalbar talk to one another, at least over simple topics like the ship food supply.
Once they'd stored the food, Zaalbar went to the ship garage with some jerky to work on his bowcaster some more, and Carth put on a pot of caffa for the crew and got together bowl of fresh Dantooine grains and fruit. Fresh, real food wasn't a luxury he enjoyed often as a pilot for the Republic, and he was just sitting down to eat when Bastila came out of the portside dormitories like a whirlwind. Her robes were wrinkled, her hair was disarranged, and she was about as white as the chalk in an unofficial landing zone. Carth stood.
"Bastila! Is something wrong?"
She shook her head at him. "Carth, forgive me, I cannot speak with you now. I must see the Council. Immediately." She spoke in a rush, attaching her lightsaber to her belt upside-down. She started toward the exit ramp, then stopped and looked back at him. "Carth, when Aithne comes out, see that she follows me to the Council chambers. It's very important. Do you understand?"
Carth blinked. "Yeah," he answered, and before he could ask another question, she was gone. Carth sat back down. He picked up his fruit and took a bite, but the sweet juice that ran out of it only had about a third of his attention now. Something was up. If he had to guess, some Jedi mind thing that had to do with why Bastila and the Jedi here were so fixated on Aithne. Well. It could mean something happened with Padawan Shan sooner rather than later.
Mission walked out then, frowning. "Carth. What's up?" she asked.
"Food," he said. "Have a cup of caffa. There's fruit too, courtesy of the Jedi."
Mission's eyes widened. "Real fruit?" She gave a little laugh. "Like fresh, undried? I've uh . . . I've heard of the stuff. Saw a black-market dealer selling some in a back alley once for a fortune. I can just . . . have some?"
She stopped at the bowl where Carth and Zaalbar had stocked the fruit, just staring at it. "Yeah, I guess they didn't have a lot of fruit trees back on Taris," Carth realized.
"A lot! Try 'any!'" Mission corrected him. "Just a whole lot of seafood. Any agri products had to be flown in from off-world. Usually ended up in the Upper City."
"Land-based agri products aren't as rare on worlds with the space to grow them," Carth said, "and Dantooine is still a farm-based society. They've got a lot of grain, vegetables, and orchards. Someone has to eat what they produce. Go on. You'll like it."
Mission eyed the fruit bowl doubtfully, half hope and fascination, half skepticism and incredulity. Then she picked up a fruit and started to smile. "And caffa too, huh? I know about that, but probably only the synthetic variety. 'Bout the whole galaxy is addicted to the stuff, right?"
She made up the rest of her breakfast and sat down next to Carth. Then Aithne came out, looking about as pale as Bastila had three minutes ago. She was better dressed than Bastila had been, but on her, the pallor looked worse. She hadn't looked too different back on Taris, unconscious with a head injury.
Mission swore loudly, and Carth looked sideways to see her making horrible faces and glaring at her caffa cup. "People drink this stuff?!" she demanded of him. "It's awful! Even if it didn't half burn your tongue off to drink it!"
"So, drink it slower," Carth told her, passing over a can of creamer. "And put some of this in for the taste until you're used to it."
"Nuh-uh," Mission declared. "I'm sticking to water, thanks." She shoved her caffa cup away, and Aithne took it.
"Careful!" Aithne scolded. "This stuff goes for fifty credits to the half-kilo hub worlds where it hasn't been adapted! Force, and it smells like this stuff's real! The Jedi?" she asked Carth, taking a sip and closing her eyes appreciatively.
"Dropped it off with a crate of other stuff," Carth confirmed. "There's fruit too, and grains for porridge, or a pan bread, I guess, if you want to make it. Even got a dozen eggs."
Aithne selected her own piece of fruit and leaned up against the bulkhead, eyes still closed.
"What's eating you?" Mission asked her. "Mmm, this stuff's actually good," she remarked happily, licking her lips after tasting her fruit. "Better 'n' candied kelp. All cold and juicy!"
Carth was more concerned about Aithne than the kid's first experiences with non-Tarisian fresh foodstuffs by now. "You look like you should sit down," he told Aithne. "This morning's getting stranger by the minute. First Bastila comes out looking like she saw a ghost, and now you."
"Bad dreams?" Mission asked sympathetically.
"I'm fine," Aithne said shortly, though she did come sit down near them. She sipped Mission's caffa in silence and nibbled on her fruit. Some color came back to her face as she did. She pointed at Mission. "We've got stuff to do today, Vao," she said. "You, me, and Zaalbar. I want to check with the Jedi clinic and the Aratech pharmaceuticals division. We should get you both physicals and the vaccinations for any major diseases transmissible to either of you on Dantooine or any of the major hub worlds, and there's some other stuff you and I should take care of."
"No way," Mission complained. "First landing on an alien planet, and the first thing you want to do is go get shots? Won't that mean I spend the whole rest of the day feeling sick? I wanna explore!"
"We can explore after I know you won't come home with some Twi'lek-adapted Rodian plague," Aithne said. "Then we'd have to get medicine, which means we'd need to find medicine, which isn't always as easy as you'd think. And I might have to deal with Big Z fussing over you for a couple weeks instead of just today and tomorrow. Trust me—the shots are the better option."
"You might want to hold off on that doctor trip until this afternoon," Carth said. "When Bastila left the ship this morning, she said you should follow her to the Council Chambers, Aithne. Apparently, it's urgent."
Aithne looked sour. "Of course it is," she muttered. She closed her eyes again. "I didn't ask for dreams or visions or a freaky Force connection with Bastila Shan!" she murmured under her breath.
"Dreams?" Mission repeated. "You and Bastila both had nightmares last night. I was just happy it wasn't me this time. You're saying they were somehow . . . what?"
Aithne shook her head. "I don't know, but enough for Bastila to get up and run straight to the Jedi Council again, apparently. She's going to use this as proof for her 'Aithne-should-join-the-Jedi' argument, I know it."
"I thought you'd decided to at least think about it," Carth said.
"I know!" Aithne snapped. "I should, I know. Bastila made some points, and I meditated with her yesterday, and it didn't feel that bad, but . . . I don't know. It's early, and I'm grumpy, and this whole thing freaks me out, is all. Okay. Okay." She seemed to think a minute. "Where's Zaalbar?" she asked then.
"He's in the garage," Carth answered.
"Could you grab him, Mission?" Aithne asked. "I want all three of you to come with me to the Council this morning. Carth needs to submit the Republic's request for him to remain close to Bastila, so the Council should know that whatever they do with her will concern both him and the Republic, and I want you and Zaalbar present in that room with me so they can't ignore that whatever they want with me, you guys are part of it."
"Right," Mission said, and ran into the other room.
Carth looked at Aithne. "You alright?" he asked.
Aithne drained the rest of her caffa and grimaced. "I'm not sure it matters whether I am or not. Got a destiny and all that, which apparently means the Jedi can do whatever they want to do with me. Cheers to the free galaxy. Don't happen to know about the Jedi medical plan, do you?"
"Hah, well, Jedi aren't meant to have families, if you were thinking about a discount on the shots for Mission and Zaalbar."
"So, selling out won't even get my friends discount medical care. Guess it's better to know up front," Aithne mused. Mission and Zaalbar came in, armed up and ready to go, and Aithne tilted her head and led the way out of the ship.
Mission was impressed at the fountains and cool stone walls of the enclave. "Wow," she remarked. "For people who don't care about material gain or worldly pleasures and so on, the Jedi do pretty well for themselves."
Aithne looked amused. "When you tell one of them that, let me watch," she said.
Mission grinned. "Deal."
"Gonna make annoying Jedi a hobby now, beautiful?" Carth asked her.
"Look, if I join up and don't even get medical discounts, I'm gonna make it worth my while," Aithne answered. "When it's the Republic press-ganging me, I get to lecture their majors about superior Mandalorian infrastructure. When it's the Jedi, I think I can at least sit back while my friend tells them their ideals of poverty and spiritual enlightenment are a bit flawed in their execution. When all that's left to you is passive aggression, you really have to make the most of it."
Her face was tight. Her voice was light and joking, but her expression looked . . . cornered. Frightened and angry. Aithne'd spent her life spacing, freelancing, going wherever she wanted. From what he could tell, she didn't go in for long-term contracts or commitments. Now, for whatever reason, the Jedi were trying to nail her to the wall. She didn't like it. She didn't approve of the Jedi, he remembered. She'd said something about finding their rules backward and restrictive too. But now, part of her was convinced—either that she needed to join the Jedi after all or that there was no escape. But that just made her antsier—grumpy, and a little bit nasty.
She led them all down the corridors and to the door where Carth had been ordered off yesterday. "Here we are," she said. "Everybody in."
"You sure?" Mission asked, hesitating. "This kinda looks like an important-Jedi-business-only kind of place, you know?"
"If they're making me important Jedi business, they're making you important Jedi business," Aithne answered. "And the Republic very much wants to be involved in Bastila's important Jedi business, so Onasi's coming too."
Carth looked at her and shrugged. It was probably a horrible idea, but he wasn't saying he wasn't glad of the excuse. "If you say so, beautiful."
He, Zaalbar, and Mission followed after her into the Council chamber, a domed rotunda with three human men, Bastila, and a small green alien standing in a semicircle at the center.
One of the humans, a man in orange, scowled as they approached. "Why have you brought these outsiders to our council, Aithne Moran?" he demanded.
Aithne cocked an eyebrow back at Carth, silently letting him know that this was one of the ones who hadn't liked her. "Our talk concerns them," she replied simply. "These are Mission Vao and the Wookiee Zaalbar. They're with me, and any arrangements you want to make with me have to include provisions for them as well. This is Major Carth Onasi of the Republic Fleet, whom I'm sure figured largely in Bastila's report to you regarding the happenings on Taris. The Republic would like him to continue on as a liaison to the Padawan, so if anything you have to say involves her current assignments or posting, Carth has an interest."
She was hoping to stall for time, Carth thought, to throw a wrench into the Council proceedings or make it too difficult for them to work with her. If so, it didn't work. Though the guy in the orange tunic looked offended, the younger human—still in his fifties, by the look of him—just looked faintly amused. He exchanged glances with the Twi'lek and the little green alien, and then the Twi'lek spoke. "Very well. If it is your choice to bring these companions into our councils, we shall abide by your wish. Major Onasi, welcome, and to you, Miss Vao and Zaalbar, welcome as well. I am Master Zhar Lestin. This is Master Vrook Lamar, Master Dorak, and the head of our council, Master Vandar Tokare." Here he indicated the man in the orange tunic, the younger human, and the small green alien in turn. "Padawan Bastila Shan you know already.
"Miss Moran, Bastila has told us of a most unusual development," he said then. "She claims you and she have shared a dream, a vision of Malak and Revan in the ancient ruins here on Dantooine."
Carth turned to look at Aithne. She'd gone pale again, and her jaw was tighter than ever. More visions of Revan? he thought. The one she'd told him about before made sense, sort of, but as far as Carth knew, Bastila didn't have any memories of Revan from before the assault on Revan's flagship last year. The only times Malak and Revan would have been here together would have been years before that, maybe even before their attack on the Republic.
But Aithne just gave a short, stiff little nod.
"These ruins have long been known to us," offered the man Master Zhar had called Master Dorak. "But we believed them to be merely burial mounds. Perhaps they are more than we first suspected if Revan and Malak found something there."
"Bastila has described this shared dream to the Council in great detail," the small Master Vandar said then. "We feel it is more than a dream: it is a vision. The Force is acting through you, as it acts through Bastila."
"Cut to the chase," Aithne said. "What significance does the Council see in what just happened?"
"You and Bastila share a powerful connection to the Force . . . and each other," Master Zhar explained. "This is not unheard of. Connections often form between master and student, but rarely does a bond develop so quickly."
"Whatever dangers may lie ahead," Master Vandar added, "we cannot ignore the destiny that brought you and Bastila here to us. Together."
"And, to cut to the chase . . ." Aithne prompted again.
"You and she are linked," Vandar said, "as is your fate to hers. Together, you may be able to stop Darth Malak and the Sith."
Everyone stood up a little straighter at that. To be honest, Carth hadn't fully bought into Aithne's take on how the Jedi Council saw her yesterday. Now, he started to believe her. The Jedi Council thought Aithne was powerful, alright. If he was hearing this right, about as important as Bastila was. If they were right about what the two of them were capable of, any help he could give to Bastila and Aithne would be worth it.
"But do not let your head be filled with visions of glory and power!" Master Vrook warned, glaring at Aithne, and confirming her read that the Council was also more than a little bit nervous about her. "Such thoughts are the path to the Dark Side! The way of the light is long and difficult, as you must learn. Are you ready for such hardship?"
Aithne hesitated. "Honestly, I still don't see why either of us have to bother with Dark or Light," she answered. "If I'm connected to Bastila and having these visions regardless of training status, it could be more efficient and cost effective just to pack me off with her to go save the galaxy as is. You sure you don't just want to draw up a freelance contract and hire me on as adjunct talent?" She scanned the faces of the Jedi Council and sighed. "It's a no-go, huh?"
"Know there is little choice in this matter, for you or us," Vandar told her. "Across the galaxy the numbers of our order dwindle. We have sent many Jedi in quest of a way to thwart Malak's advance." He lowered his head. "Many have not returned. The Sith hunt the Jedi down like animals, ambushing and assassinating our brothers wherever they are found. We fear it is only a matter of time before they discover even this hidden refuge."
Aithne wrinkled her nose. "Still not hearing an argument on how training me in the ways of the Jedi is supposed to help me and Bastila stop Malak. Sounds to me like your Jedi are running into more trouble than they can handle. It might be time for some unconventional thinking."
The Council was silent for a moment. "Perhaps our hope lies in the dream you and Bastila shared," Master Vrook said at last, and almost because he seemed to be the Council member wariest of Aithne, Carth respected him the most for it. Somehow, he seemed the most honest. Master Zhar was too eager to please, and both Vandar and Dorak felt secretive. "The Council has come to the conclusion that you and Bastila must investigate the ancient ruins you dreamed of."
"Perhaps there you will find some clue, some explanation of how Revan and Malak were corrupted," said Dorak. "And perhaps there you will find a way to stop them."
"The dream seemed pretty clear that Revan and Malak were already on the path to the Dark Side before they ever set foot behind that door in the ruins," Aithne remarked, "or I'd ask why you aren't worried that going there might corrupt me and Bastila. But sure, I'll be happy to scout out some ruins with Padawan Shan. What's the catch?"
Again, silence from the nut gallery. "The Force flows through you like no student we have ever seen," Vrook answered finally, "but you are willful and headstrong, a dangerous combination."
"Before we send you to investigate the ruins, you must be trained in the ways of the Jedi so that you can resist the darkness within yourself . . . within us all," Vandar pronounced.
Aithne folded her arms. "There it is," she said, without surprise. "Took you long enough to get there." She shifted her weight, and then, to his surprise, she turned to look back at him. Her face twisted in guilt and apology, and she made a small, weak gesture.
He shook his head. "Don't look at me," he told her. "I have my orders regardless. But if I . . . if I had the power to maybe be the one that could end this, I'd think whatever price I had to pay would be worth it." He knew saying it might mean he paid years while Bastila helped Aithne through her training. He also knew his personal vengeance didn't matter when it came to stopping Malak completely.
"Carth's right!" Mission exclaimed. "If the Council thinks you and Bastila could stop Darth Malak, you should do whatever you have to! Don't worry about us! We'll be alright!" Zaalbar roared in what Carth could only assume was agreement.
Aithne looked hard at the kid, pursed her lips, then turned to Bastila, who had yet to say anything at all. "What about you, Bas?" she asked. "I know what you told me yesterday, but are you okay with this? If I agree to this, it sounds like you and I could be stuck together for the long haul."
"I shall try to temper my disappointment," Bastila answered, with a small smile. "No. In truth, I feel as the others—whatever sacrifices we must make to stop Darth Malak must be worthwhile in the end. It has been some time since I have studied with another; if you agree to undergo Jedi training, I will do my best to assist you on the way. Not as your master, of course. Though that is the closest analogue the Jedi have for the bond between us, it is not entirely applicable in our case. I remain a Padawan. I would function more as a tutor and companion."
Aithne looked surprised by this, but it also seemed to relax her. Carth guessed it would have been hard for her to agree to be an apprentice to a woman several years younger than she was. Then she turned back to the Jedi Council. "Then we need to discuss terms," she said. "When a child comes to you for training, they understandably don't have many responsibilities to consider. But, as you yourself have noted, I'm a special case. I have incurred certain obligations recently that cannot—and shall not—be forsworn."
"Oh, Aithne, you don't have to—" Mission started, but Zaalbar cut her off. This time, his remark sounded negative, like he was disagreeing with Mission.
"'A place at my table,'" Aithne quoted, without looking at Mission. "When I give my word, I keep it, Mish, and if the Jedi want me to follow the Light Side, they don't want to start by making me break a promise. I want a contract of employment drawn up for Zaalbar," she told the Council. "He should receive comparable benefits and wages to any of your skilled workers attached to but not part of the Jedi Order—a mechanic, droid technician, or pilot, not custodial staff. If labor laws on Dantooine allow Mission Vao to be employed, I would like the same for her. If not, she should be considered a ward of the Jedi Order until such a time as she is employable, and I want a stipend for her upkeep. I also demand quarter and board for them wherever I am quartered or assigned."
Mission was shocked. Carth wondered if she'd ever had anyone fight for her like Aithne was. A kid who'd never known her parents, whose brother had abandoned her at nine to eleven years old. Considering Aithne'd been her guardian for less than two weeks, she was doing a hell of a job.
"We will draw up the necessary paperwork and bring it to you by this evening," Master Dorak promised her.
"What about quarters?" Aithne asked. "Padawan Shan claimed you have a room shortage at the moment, but Ebon Hawk is not our vessel, and Canderous Ordo could elect to leave at any time."
"Ordo is the name of a Mandalorian clan, is it not?" Master Dorak asked.
Aithne nodded.
"Return to Ebon Hawk and speak with this Canderous Ordo, then," Dorak suggested. "Tell him what we have decided. You may be surprised by his decision. It may be that this temporary companion of yours is more eager than you believe for a chance to fight in a war again."
Aithne tilted her head and made a face. "Now there's an angle I hadn't considered: Ordo might want to help us save the galaxy, just for the challenge of it. But you're right. I'll see what he has to say and report back to you this afternoon."
"Return to us as soon as may be," Master Zhar instructed. "We must begin your training at once. You have a destiny on you that you must be prepared to face. The entire fate of the galaxy is on you."
"But no pressure," Aithne muttered under her breath, and Carth smiled more because he needed to than anything else. It did sound like they wanted Aithne out and fighting as soon as possible. Maybe he'd only be stuck here a little over a year. He'd stuck out yearlong assignments before, though hearing that the Jedi Council wanted to bring Canderous as well as the rest of them in might make it harder.
Aithne Moran dropped a bow to the Council. It was basically dripping in irony, but it was a bow. Then she turned around and headed back toward Ebon Hawk. Carth turned to follow her. He had a feeling he was going to have to get used to that and reflected that if he was going to be following the woman around until she became a Jedi and saved the galaxy, the view was pretty nice at least.
MISSION
That Jedi guy was right about Canderous. Once he heard that Bastila and Aithne might have a destiny to stop Malak, he decided he didn't mind staying on Dantooine a while, and that they were all welcome to stay on Ebon Hawk too. Carth didn't like it, but Mission thought the old bounty hunter actually liked having the rest of them around. He liked getting under Carth and Bastila's skin, riling them up a little, and Mission thought he actually respected Zaalbar and Aithne. He didn't care one way or the other about her, but Mission was used to that.
Mission had expected she and Zaalbar might catch a little bit of a break when it came to the shots and the physicals, since Aithne needed to start training right away and all. But no, as soon as Aithne had those papers from the Council saying Zaalbar was an employee of the Jedi Order and Mission was some kind of ward, whatever that meant, Aithne insisted the three of them march right over to the enclave infirmary together. Zaalbar's physical and shots turned out to be a piece of cake in comparison to Mission's, though; the number of diseases adapted to infect Wookiees turned out to be a lot smaller than the number of diseases that infected Twi'leks. The droid doctor at the infirmary had an explanation for that—apparently Twi'leks were genetically close enough to humans that a lot of human diseases had been able to jump the species barrier, and humans were walking petri dishes. The battery of shots that droid wanted to stick Mission with was impressive.
"You aren't scared, are you, Mission?" Aithne teased her.
Mission scoffed, even though she really was. "Of a few little needles? Please. I don't understand why you're doing all this for me, though. I got along fine on Taris without any fancy shots from a doctor."
"Yeah? And how often were you sick in a flophouse for a couple weeks you could've been doing something else? Or running around with your nose streaming, hacking your head off?" Aithne challenged her.
Mission made a face at her. "They make 'em tough in the Lower City! I was never really sick. Not bad, anyway."
"And with these shots, when we're off saving the galaxy and we run into some weird space disease that never made it to the Tarisian Lower City, you won't be," Aithne told her. She nodded at the droid doctor, and he started prepping the first round of shots for Mission. But before Mission could tell him to wait, or get too nervous, Aithne was talking again. "There's other stuff you'll need. Are you cycling yet?" She gestured down there, and Mission turned hot.
"Geez, Aithne, there's some stuff it's just not polite to talk about, you know!?"
"Not when we need to plan the quantity of supplies we ask the quartermaster for," Aithne answered. She tilted her head at the droid doctor, who had just come up next to Mission. Mission only then noticed he was right there with the first shot. She hissed as he injected her with it. "Well?" Aithne asked her.
"Yeah, alright? I started having to deal with that mess last year. Not that you can really call it a cycle, I think. Never know when I'm going to have to make a deal for some pain meds and bandages. It's the worst!"
Aithne looked at the droid doctor. "Is the irregularity a function of her age, her body type, or nutrition?" she asked.
"Likely a mixture of the three, Apprentice," the droid doctor replied. "I can offer a more likely hypothesis once I have processed her blood work and urine sample, but it is statistically probable that given the passage of a standard year or longer and the implementation of a vitamin-enriched and nutritionally appropriate diet, Miss Vao's courses shall auto-regulate. If the problem is a serious concern, I can provide medication to assist." The droid doctor had thrown away the first empty syringe and suctioned the second full one into its syringe attachment. It hovered over to Mission again, and she braced herself for the stick.
"Geez!" Mission said again. "I'm just going to die of embarrassment over here, if that's okay."
"Don't tense up like that," Aithne told her, "It makes it worse. Just stay relaxed. Do you want meds to regularize your cycle?" she asked.
"No! What I want is to stop talking about it! Stop laughing, Big Z!" she snapped at the Wookiee, who was sitting on the next cot over, laughing his head off. "This wouldn't be so funny if you were a girl!"
"Alright. I'll stop humiliating you in a second," Aithne said. "There's a subdermal implant you can get here, or at Aratech if the Jedi are too high and mighty to carry it. Needs to be replaced every three years or so, but if you make . . . um . . . certain choices with guys, it keeps those . . . choices . . . from having inconvenient consequences you may otherwise have to deal with."
"We're talking about sex and kids now?" Mission moaned. "Aithne, I don't do that stuff! Guys are creeps! Anyone who tries to touch me, I kick him where it hurts and run, or get Big Z to scare him good!"
Aithne was quiet a moment. "Somehow I'm both happy and sad to hear that," she said then, as Mission glared at the droid doctor, who had got her really good on his last pass. "I had to ask, Mish. And it is your choice. I'm getting my implant replaced while we're here. Not all guys are going to be like the ones you might be thinking of back on Taris, or not forever. If you meet a nice apprentice while we're staying on Dantooine or something—" she shrugged. "So long as he's not more than three years older than you and you don't try to run off and get married or something stupid like that, I don't care. But if anyone on Ebon Hawk ever does try to touch you, run it the same way you did back on Taris, and tell me besides."
Mission was feeling a little woozy from all the shots by now. She looked and saw the droid doctor just had two more left. "You really care, don't you?" she asked Aithne. "You're really going to look after me and Big Z as long as we need you—whether we like it or not." She knew she was probably more likely to mind than Zaalbar, but she also knew Big Z didn't care if she included him just to make herself feel better. "Back there in the Council Chambers, you said all that stuff to the Jedi Council just so we could stay with you, making sure Zaalbar gets paid, even! Back on Taris, my br—people let us hang out, sometimes, like at the Bek base, you know? Sometimes gave us a discount if there was an open room in the flophouse. But they never went out of their way to make sure we'd be alright. And it's fine! I didn't need 'em! Me and Big Z, we can look out for ourselves, or look out for each other, when we can't. But . . . it's kind of nice having someone take the trouble, you know?"
/This is the way families are supposed to treat one another, Mission,/ Zaalbar said, kicking his legs beneath the med table he sat on. /Aithne Moran understands that, if others have not./ He looked over at Aithne. /Rather than allowing me to pay it, you continue only to increase the debt I owe you, for Mission as well as for myself./
"Since they're saying I have to save the entire galaxy now, I'm guessing you'll get your chances to pay me back," Aithne said. She looked over. "Last one," she told Mission. Mission's arm had actually gone almost numb from how many times it had been stuck, she looked down in surprise to see the droid doctor injecting the last syringe into her and a row of neat, brightly colored bandages down her bicep. He ejected the empty syringe and added one more—a green one.
"Are we done now?" Mission demanded.
"Almost," Aithne promised. "I'm not quite done." She looked at the droid doctor. "Do you guys have the fertility blocker in stock here?"
"That implant requires a special dispensation from the quartermaster for me to place inside a Jedi and is generally reserved for those species which require regular sexual release for health reasons," the droid doctor answered primly. "Humans are not classified among them, as the Council believes they may control their urges through nonsentient aids and masturbatory exercise, or become stronger through the act of self-denial. The Jedi Code does not forbid sexual congress among members of the Order, but the Council feels encouraging access to regular sexual activity without consequence for species which do not require it for health reasons promotes moral dissipation and attachment, which both lead to the Dark Side."
"I suppose I am living in what is basically a monastery," Aithne muttered.
"The fertility blocker implant is sometimes available from the Aratech general store's pharmaceutical offerings," the droid doctor offered. "Members of the Jedi Order without dispensation for the implant from the quartermaster are simply required to purchase it and pay for implantation or implant replacement services from Aratech, rather than undergoing the procedure at the enclave infirmary free of charge."
Aithne blinked. "That's . . . oddly helpful. Thank you, C9-D5,"
"I am programmed to assist." The droid doctor turned to Mission and Zaalbar. "Both of you should return to Ebon Hawk and remain there for a period of forty-eight standard hours. You may experience fatigue, nausea, or mild fever. These symptoms are normal and will abate. However, if you begin vomiting, if you experience diarrhea, swelling, hives, or a fever above—" he roared something in Shyriiwook to Zaalbar— "or 39.4 degrees for you, Miss Vao, you should return to the infirmary immediately, as these may be symptomatic of a dangerous reaction to one or more of the vaccines you have received today. Be sure to drink plenty of fluids and get plenty of rest. Mr. Zaalbar should eat eight small meals each day, and Miss Vao three main meals with at least two snacks. I have transferred the details onto this datapad." He waved it in their faces, and Mission took it from his claw attachment.
"Yeah, yeah, thanks a lot."
"You are both cleared for normal activity once forty-eight hours have passed, but there are certain changes that should be made to each of your diets for optimal health and nutrition. Mr. Zaalbar has not been consuming nearly enough protein, while Miss Vao's scans show traces of several vitamin deficiencies. Details are on the datapad. The two of you are in otherwise excellent health. The Jedi Order bids you both good day. Enjoy a healthier tomorrow."
The droid doctor turned around and hovered over to the corner of the infirmary. Then he powered off. Mission considered him a moment. "You know, I like Teethree better," she said then. "Come on, let's go." She jumped down off the med table, but she was still woozy from the shots, and she tripped.
Aithne caught her good arm and steadied her. "Take it easy, Mission. I just put your system through a lot. You handled it like a pro, but you're gonna be a little weak for a while. Just . . . take it slow, okay?"
Mission shrugged her off. But she didn't do it too hard. The three of them started out of the infirmary, in a dark, quiet corner of the Jedi enclave, right above the Archives. "This implant—the fertility blocker," Mission said. "Why do you want something like that, anyway? You planning on getting some as a Jedi?"
Aithne made a face. "As far as I'm concerned, I agreed to train as a Jedi this morning, not become one. And anyway, you heard Ceenine, the Jedi aren't quite so tyrannical as to ban sex. I don't know what's going to happen. I just figure I'd rather be prepared than not, and my implant's due for an update."
"You just go around sleeping with people?" Mission asked, skeptical. Aithne didn't seem to be the type.
"Hah, no, I'm not that adventurous," Aithne said. She made another face, this time of dissatisfaction. "I've been living within Council-approved lines a lot longer than I want to admit, really. But I'm also smart enough to know that when you do connect with somebody, you don't always have the time to set up an appointment with a technician at the Aratech pharmaceutical office. There's not always an Aratech pharmaceutical office available."
"Uh-huh," Mission said, unimpressed. "Any reason you want to 'be prepared' just now?"
But Aithne wasn't biting. "My body, my business, Mission. Soon as you know how to take care of yours when you've got the credits or the benefits, it'll be the same way for you. Next time you go in to see the doctor, you don't even have to let me in the room if you don't want, let alone tell me what they say."
"You don't have a great concept of gossip, do you?" Mission noted. "Well, if you ever want to tell me about your secret passion for Carth and all those gross Jedi-unapproved things you want to do with him, I'm there."
Aithne didn't say anything, but Mission was satisfied with her response. Her cheeks had gone pink, and her freckles stood out, and once again, Zaalbar was just about laughing his head off, in that quiet way Wookiees had. The boot was on the other foot now, Mission thought. She could embarrass Aithne too! Payback for the whole cycle thing in the infirmary.
They left the enclave and were crossing by the Aratech general store when a girl stopped to stare at them. "Mission?" she called. "Mission? Is that you?!"
Mission glanced over to see another Twi'lek, then scowled. She knew that cantina rat! Yellow skin—like sunshine, Griff had called it; like piss, Mission thought! Way too much goo on her face, as curvy as Aithne, but shorter, and letting it all hang out for everyone to see in her dancer's costume. And grinning like she was Mission's best friend in the world! "It's me, Lena," she said. "Remember? I was dating your brother back on Taris."
Was! So, she'd dumped him! She was an even bigger loser than Mission thought! Mission folded her arms across her chest. "Lena? What are you doing here? Where's Griff?"
Aithne stepped closer behind her. "I'm just passing through," Lena told her. "Griff and I broke up a few months after we left Taris together. Probably for the best. Your brother can be charming, Mission, but he's bad news."
Mission saw red. "Don't you start trashing my brother, you cantina rat!" she yelled. "You take that back, or I'll smack you so hard your head-tails pop off!" She swayed, feeling sick, and wasn't sure if it was all the shots or seeing Lena's painted face again.
Lena stepped back. "Wha—Mission, what's wrong with you?" she asked. "Why are you acting this way?"
"I think Griff's become something of a sore spot over the years," Aithne said quietly from behind Mission.
Lena glanced back at Aithne. "Yeah, I know how she feels," she said. "Griff can be pretty frustrating. I guess that's why Mission didn't want to come with us when we left Taris."
Mission surged forward, but Big Z caught her, held her back from hauling off and punching Lena. "You . . . you liar!" she sputtered. "Griff told me you didn't want his little sister tagging along—that's why he had to leave me behind!"
Lena's green eyes flashed. "Is that what the Hutt-spawn told you?" she demanded. She stepped forward, almost like she wanted to hug Mission or something. Mission drew back, closer to Big Z and Aithne. "I wanted you to come, Mission," Lena told her. "I even offered to pay for your ticket! Why not?" Her face twisted. "I paid for everything else when I was with that freeloader! But Griff told me you didn't want to leave Taris. I said we shouldn't even go then. But he said we'd come back for you after we struck it rich on Tatooine—just another one of his lies!"
The courtyard was spinning now. Mission clutched at Big Z so she could keep standing. "No," she said. "You—you're the one who's lying! Griff wouldn't—he wouldn't try to leave me behind!"
Looking at Lena, though, suddenly Mission didn't feel so sure. She was remembering all Griff's debts, the way always sweet-talked people into paying his way or was off on his next get-rich-quick scheme. He'd complained about Mission a lot, those last couple years, now she thought about it. But he couldn't—he wouldn't try to leave her, right? Not his own sister!
Aithne's hand closed over his shoulder. "You know those worlds Carth mentioned, worse than Taris?" she said. "Tatooine is one of them. Griff might've thought you'd be better off on Taris, or happier or something. Idiot move, but . . ."
But Lena put her hands on her hips and shook her head-tails. "Think about it: If Griff wasn't trying to ditch you, Mission, then why didn't he tell you where we were going? After we left Taris, he told me looking after you was holding him back; Griff's always looking to blame other people for his own problems. That's why he abandoned you. He did the same thing to me too, as soon as I ran out of money. He started blaming me for all his problems. Like it's my fault his get-rich-quick schemes never work out!"
Mission stared. Griff had dumped Lena? But she thought . . . she thought . . .
"So where is Griff now?" Aithne asked.
Lena shrugged. "Still on Tatooine, as far as I know. Not that I really care anymore. And if Mission was smart, she'd forget about that no-good con artist!"
Mission looked up at Aithne. "But . . . Griff is my brother. I can't just pretend he doesn't exist!" She put a hand to her forehead. She was sweating, clammy and hot at the same time. There was that fever Ceenine had warned her about. She shook the sticky sweat off her palm. "If he was here to defend himself, Lena wouldn't be saying all this bad stuff about him."
Lena made a disgusted noise. "Hey, if you want to talk to Griff, go ahead. Last I heard he was going to make a fortune working the Czerka Corp mines on Tatooine. But as far as I'm concerned, he's out of my life forever!"
Mission glared at Lena. "Griff's better off without you anyway, you table-dancing, brother-stealing homewrecker!"
Lena sighed. "I guess that's my cue to leave then," she said. She extended a hand toward Mission, then dropped it. "I didn't mean to upset you, Mission. But one day you'll see I'm right about your brother. I only hope it's not too late." She walked away, out toward the settler's dock that Canderous said was a little ways outside the Jedi enclave.
"Mission," Aithne said, after she'd gone. "You alright?"
"I need to lie down," Mission said. She let Big Z and Aithne help her into Ebon Hawk and down the halls to her bunk in the portside dormitory. "But don't tell me you believe Lena's lies, okay?" she asked them both. "Griff might be working as a miner on Tatooine, but the . . . the rest of her story is bantha poodoo. You can't . . . can't trust someone like her!"
"She seemed like she was happy to see you before you went off on her," Aithne said.
"Just stupid mind games, probably," Mission insisted. She sat down on her bunk. "Hey, I'm really thirsty all of a sudden," she said. "Before you head back to the Jedi, could you . . . could you get me some water?"
"Sure, Mish," Aithne said.
Everything was going kinda fuzzy. Mission was glad about that. She didn't want to think about Lena anymore, or Taris, or anything but being on Ebon Hawk with friends who cared about her. "At least Griff's free of her clutches," she mumbled to Zaalbar. "Hey, you think Aithne might take us to Tatooine someday, when she's done with her training and out saving the galaxy? Maybe I can talk with a Czerka rep on Tatooine. Find out what happened to my brother."
/If you need to go, we will find some way to make it happen, Mission,/ Zaalbar said. /But I do not think this Lena is as much a liar as you think. You may want to consider that things with your brother were not as you believe. Not all family is as kind as Aithne Moran./
"Yeah, she's something else, isn't she?" Mission murmured, as Aithne came back with a canteen full of water, but she only had time to take a couple of sips before she fell asleep.
Stupid shots.
AITHNE
The next six weeks passed quickly. Aithne was busier than she could remember being in her life. There was a lot of ground to cover with her Jedi training, and the Council weren't inclined to give her years to pass through her apprenticeship with Malak out there burning the galaxy. And indeed, Aithne didn't seem to need it. She found there was a symmetry and a rhythm to most of what the masters wanted to teach her, and within the first few weeks, she started picking up new exercises almost by instinct. The lightsaber forms they showed her appeared to be mere variations of the vibrosword techniques she already used in combat, though it took her time to adjust to the sensation of wielding the lightsaber itself, the quickness of the blade and how anything but Mandalorian beskar had very little resistance against it. Jedi senses—stretching out with her feelings—was just another name for something Aithne had often done before, though she hadn't thought so. Actively making use of the Force as channeled and directed energy fields at rest or in combat was something she hadn't done before, but it still came naturally, once she named the impulses and auras she felt around her all the time as the Force.
The other apprentices and Padawans talked about her behind her back. There were a lot of rumors about how she might have acquired her skills. That she secretly was a Mandalorian, instead of just traveling with one and speaking the language, and had gotten her knowledge of the Jedi from fighting and killing them in the Mandalorian Wars. That she'd been a Dark Jedi before she came to Dantooine and might be a spy for the Sith. Most of it was ridiculous, and Aithne wrote it off as such.
She didn't spend a whole lot of time with Jedi other than Bastila and the training masters anyway. Zhar was a constant presence, advising her, pushing her—when she needed it, praising her every now and then. Bastila was, as she had said, tutor and companion. She was Aithne's most frequent sparring partner, and after the masters had gone over a new concept or Force technique with Aithne, she'd spend hours discussing ideas or practicing with Bastila. They argued over the meaning of good and evil, the purpose of the Force, and the Jedi's place in the galaxy. Bastila had led a very sheltered life, and Aithne found their relationship ended up being far from a one-way space lane. Bastila was always interested to hear about life out on the Rim, how people survived outside of the Republic and the Jedi's normal stomping grounds. She liked hearing about alien cultures Aithne had seen, and practicing some of the languages Aithne knew, with the Force to help her understand them. In turn, she told Aithne that her gift with languages actually was due to her Force Sensitivity, and she showed Aithne that while the Jedi didn't live up to everything that Aithne thought they should be, they did try to help where they could. She introduced Mission and Aithne to other wards of the order, orphans the Jedi were educating at the enclave to place out in the Service Corps, with jobs that would support them and their families all their lives. She took Aithne to the chamber a few times when the Council intervened in feuds between the settlers, using the Force to make fair judgments between them.
When Aithne wasn't with Bastila or the training masters, she spent a lot of time in the Archives, devouring datapads on the Order's history, epic poems on famous Jedi of the past, and more. She downloaded several holovids onto Teethree and took them back to Ebon Hawk to watch with the others.
The rest of the time, she was on Ebon Hawk, building up her strange new family. She arranged for Mission to have access to some of the Archive records, writings, and novels. Spent a little over a week of evenings writing a learning plan for her, which she talked Carth into implementing mostly, though days the Council gave her a break, she'd take a hand. Remedial Huttese, to build the girl's skills back up in one of the most useful second languages in the galaxy. Star charts and astrogation, as well as crash courses in the culture and politics of the Republic and some of the major clans, corporations, and hub worlds. Basic arithmetic and algebra, as well as the sort of domestic economics that were useful if you lived your life on a starship. Also, marksmanship, use of a second blaster, and hand-to-hand fighting for when Mission happened to be in a bad situation unarmed or away from Big Z.
There were limits to what Mission was willing to be taught. She knew that back on Taris she hadn't learned a lot of what they wanted to teach her now, and she was smart enough to see how most of it could help her working, when she was legally allowed, take care of herself in a way that didn't involve scrounging in places crawling with things like rhakghouls or picking anybody's pockets. But if they tried to teach her too much at once, she started feeling like a kid. She got stubborn or said a girl like her was too dumb to learn all that anyway—patently false, as she was an incredibly bright and capable individual, not just for her age but for anyone. When she got that way, Aithne and the others quickly learned to let her teach herself for a while, from the Order datapads or holovids—or better yet, to ask Mission to teach them something; the kid really was a genius with mines, salvaging, and security tech.
Aithne debated different ideas of honor with Ordo and Zaalbar. She made up a chore rotation for cooking, cleaning, and maintenance on Ebon Hawk. Some of them fell into roles more naturally than others; Ordo was the best cook aboard, and Carth knew starship systems better than anybody, but Aithne didn't like letting Bastila and Mission slide just because they weren't used to doing chores in space. And sometimes, Aithne spent time in the hold just doing upgrades and maintenance on T3-M4. It was relaxing, in the middle of all the other things she had to do. Sometimes it felt more meditative than meditation, and Bastila told her that there were indeed Jedi who had certain affinities for droids and nonorganic systems.
At first, Aithne often talked and joked with Carth too. She liked him as much as she ever had, and working with him was often easier for her than working with any of the others. There were cultural barriers with Ordo and Zaalbar. Bastila could be prickly about Order principles, and Mission could be prickly about her age. But Onasi was generally friendly and easy-going, and when they had minor disagreements about the division of labor on Hawk; Mission's tutoring; or Aithne's somewhat informal, disrespectful approach to her training, Carth continued to actually enjoy them.
But as the weeks passed, Onasi got quieter. He wasn't happy, Aithne could tell. He'd told her from the outset he wasn't thrilled about being assigned to Bastila, away from the front, and she began to see the toll it was taking on him. He started pacing around the ship at nights, looking up at the stars and muttering to himself. He put his differences aside with Canderous and started going on hunts with him and Zaalbar in the mornings sometimes, which would've been a good thing—the Jedi started getting reports of settlers the three of them had helped with kath or raiders on the plains, and Aithne knew that was down to Carth—except she also knew his disapproval of Ordo was rooted in his ideas about life, and that he was apathetic enough to stop bickering with the Mandalorian, just to get out of the enclave, was a bad sign.
She wanted to talk at length with him about it, but she didn't really have the time to do so in private. Bastila watched her with the flyboy. So did Mission, but Mission was just nosy. Bastila disapproved. Padawan Shan seemed to think her half self-appointed position as Aithne's Jedi tutor also made her Aithne's moral guardian. Since their first meditation session, she'd occasionally taken it upon herself to lecture Aithne on the Jedi views on attachment and how it led to the Dark Side, especially when Aithne spent too much time talking with Onasi. Bastila's discouragement did not lead Aithne to agree with the Jedi philosophy on attachment. Indeed, perversely, it made her want to spend more time with Carth, even if the two of them were just friends—just to get Bastila's back up and make Master Vrook look like he'd smelled something rotten. But Bastila's discouragement did make things awkward and difficult, which was probably all she meant to do in the first place.
But with one thing and another, soon, they'd been on Dantooine several weeks, and one afternoon, Master Zhar told Aithne she was ready to take the trials to ascend to Padawan, the same rank Bastila possessed within the Order. Once she had, she knew, her time at the enclave would end, and she and Bastila would be dispatched off to the ruins they'd dreamed about and then out to save the galaxy. She wouldn't have the Jedi around anymore to teach and advise her, even when she disagreed with them and told them so.
It left Aithne thinking. People around the enclave were edgy about Revan, and what with that and the fact that the memory Bastila had bled into her brain back on Taris, the dreams she'd had for weeks before that, and the dream she'd shared with Bastila upon her arrival to Dantooine that had served as the catalyst for her training with the Jedi had all involved Darth Revan, Aithne was starting to sense in all the most Jedi ways that Darth Revan was going to be pretty important to whatever her and Bastila's destiny was supposed to be. When she and Bastila finally went to the ruins they had dreamed of, they'd be following Revan's journey. And even though Aithne got a vague feeling of dread anytime Bastila or anyone spoke Revan's name, she suddenly felt that if she didn't take this opportunity to learn more about the hero of the Mandalorian Wars and the terror of the Republic—as the Jedi saw them, she was bound to fail at whatever she was supposed to do. In the back of her mind, too, Aithne wanted to know why it was that she seemed to be so associated with Revan, in Bastila's mind in particular, but also vaguely with every Jedi who mentioned Revan to her.
So, the day Zhar told her that her trials would be the next day and dismissed her to return to Ebon Hawk, Aithne broke protocol and stayed, legs crossed on meditation mat where she had spent the last couple hours studying. "Master Zhar? Without intending to trespass, I did have a few questions. About Revan and Malak."
Zhar let out a long, slow breath. He sank to his knees to kneel on a mat opposite hers and stared at the ground between them. "Few mention those names around here anymore," he said, "but I suppose it is just as dangerous to deny they were ever a part of the Order. When I was still on Coruscant, Revan and Malak often came to me for additional training. Revan in particular seemed to have an insatiable hunger to learn. I should have recognized this as a warning sign. But I perceived the young Padawan's lust for knowledge as simple exuberance and eagerness. Revan was my most promising pupil. One I felt sure would someday become a champion of the Jedi Order."
He spoke as though Revan's training had happened in another life, Aithne thought. So much had happened in the past decade. The Revanchist movement had only begun eight years ago. "What happened to Revan?" she asked. "From your perspective."
"The Jedi Order moved too slowly for Revan and Malak," Zhar explained. "We were too cautious in their eyes. They always sought to learn far quicker than their masters felt was prudent. It is one thing to understand a lesson, but to truly comprehend it takes a wisdom that only comes with time. Several years ago, when the Mandalorian threat first arose, Revan and Malak were eager to journey to the Outer Rim to defeat the enemy of the Republic. But the Council felt it best if we moved with care and caution. The true threat, the Council feared, had not yet manifested itself. But Revan would not be dissuaded."
Zhar bowed his head. "Charismatic and powerful, it was inevitable that many of the Order would flock to Revan's seemingly noble cause. Malak was the first to join his closest friend. Others soon followed, many of our youngest and brightest, intent on saving the galaxy from the Mandalorian threat."
Aithne frowned, frustrated, trying to understand. "They disobeyed the Council and saved the galaxy. And that was . . . bad?" She thought of the worlds she'd seen where the Mandalorians had been—cities destroyed down to the last man, woman, and child. Genocides in every sense of the word. The Republic stretched to the limit trying to protect people screaming for their protection—and the Jedi knights, supposed help to the helpless, bastions of empathy and compassion, remaining on the sidelines. Some of the battlefields across the galaxy were still smoking. Entire ecosystems had yet to recover.
Zhar's eyes flashed. "Have a care of your feelings, apprentice. They were foolish to disregard the Council's wishes. I do not know what happened to Revan, Malak, and their followers on the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim, but something corrupted them. Their ideals became twisted, their spirits were tainted, and they fell to the dark side. There is a lesson in this, a lesson you would do well to take to heart: the Dark Side can corrupt even the most noble of Jedi."
There was a nuance to his words that did dissipate her growing irritation, even if his warning hadn't. Aithne looked hard at Master Zhar. "So, Revan was noble, even when they went to fight the Mandalorians. Master Zhar, you've said Revan was foolish. Do you think Revan was wrong?"
There was a difference, Aithne knew, between stupid and wrong. Sometimes the smartest, most pragmatic move in the galaxy could be completely immoral. Zhar was one of the kinder, more compassionate Jedi masters at the enclave. And he didn't answer her, just looked down at his hands atop his thighs. She felt a deep sadness in him—one that contained both sorrow and regret.
Aithne was suddenly terribly aware of the fact that Zhar had known Revan, known and loved them, taken enormous pride in them as only a truly dedicated teacher can in a brilliant pupil, and she took a chance and asked a more personal question. "Master, what was Revan like before? Back when Revan was just another Jedi Knight, or a Padawan? What was Revan like before they were Revan, before anyone ever called them the Revanchist or had any idea what could happen? 'Insatiable lust for knowledge,' you've said, but what else?"
An energy seemed to crackle between them, and Master Zhar's eyes flicked up, caught Aithne's, and held them. She had a sense of the Twi'lek taking an incredible chance. Then, after a moment that seemed to last forever, he said, "Do you not know? Have you not sensed the reason behind the Council's ambivalence toward you, apprentice?"
A shiver went through Aithne from the tips of her toes to the top of her skull. The thought seemed too big to comprehend. "Me," she whispered. "Before Revan went off to the Mandalorian Wars, before Revan fell, Revan was like me. So much so that the Jedi who shun fear as a matter of religion are sometimes scared out of their minds to look at me. Is the resemblance just . . . mental, or in my Force signature or whatever, or is it . . . physical as well?" She was supposed to shun fear as well now, but now she felt frozen stiff with it. Paralyzed.
In Republic histories and media, Revan wasn't really identified with a specific gender, or even a species, just that mask of the Mandalorian Dissenter, the cause Revan had taken up on Cathar, and then the relic of their absolute conquest of the Mandalorian people, to the point where the culture would likely never be the same again—a symbol of Revan's power. "At Cathar, Revan renounced her personhood," Zhar said, echoing the train of Aithne's own thoughts. "Her name, her gender, her very species, to become the embodiment of an idea. She had already begun to discover an ideal, a figurehead, can wield far more power than a simple person, even a Jedi Knight. People had already begun to discard the name she was born with, to both reduce and magnify the human woman to something both simpler and more terrifying: the Revanchist, the Revan. Malak's transformation was far clumsier in comparison, but a shadow of Revan's own, and he has followed this pattern every step along the way.
"Yes," Zhar said finally. "Before Cathar, before the Revanchist, Revan was a human woman very much like you, apprentice. The resemblance is more in your Force signatures than it is in anything else; Revan was raised within the Jedi Order, and she was more than ten years your junior at the start, little more than a girl and younger than Bastila is now, though already a Jedi Knight. She did not speak as you speak or think as you think. But the Force was with her in the same way it is with you, and in as great a measure. She exhibited the same voracious curiosity, the same unconventional perspective, the same confidence in her power." He sighed. "She could have been a Jedi Master greater by far than I, or than any of us, had she just chosen wisdom.
"I will not speak the name she used before," Zhar added. "Revan herself murdered the woman she used to be on Cathar, years before I believe she fell to the Dark Side, and that choice is as worthy of respect as it is of sorrow. But we have spoken enough of this. Learn from Revan's fate, apprentice, the mistakes of a woman with whom you do have so much in common, and do better than this, my former pupil. Now, leave me."
Aithne stood. She could feel the disturbance within Master Zhar's spirit. He was a Jedi Master. He would want to meditate now, to restore order to his thoughts. But she bowed before she left. "Master—thank you," she said. "And—I'm sorry."