Jolee, Juhani and I had made it back from the Rakata temple, after disabling the force field that prevented the Ebon Hawk from leaving the planet. We hadn't shared a single word on the way. I had led the group, and I had walked with such determination that the two Jedi had been forced to quicken their stride to keep up with me. Once we had reached the ship, I had merely explained to the others the broad outlines of what we had experienced in the temple, and after entrusting T3-M4 with some of the components that would allow Carth to restart the engines, I had decided to isolate myself in the men's dormitory.
I was lying on one of the beds in the tiny room, trying as best I could to calm myself. I didn't quite know what to make of this confrontation in the temple. There was a part of me that was consumed with guilt and grief over the fact that Bastila was in a much more desperate situation than I had expected. There was another part of me that was boiling with resentment. Resentment towards Bastila, who hadn't hesitated to attack me, who had refused to listen to me when I tried to win her back. Resentment towards Jolee and Juhani, because, even though I didn't really like the idea, I couldn't help thinking that, without their unnecessarily brutal intervention, and without Juhani's stupidity, I might have been able to keep reasoning with Bastila. But most of all, I felt resentful towards myself. It seemed so easy to blame my friends, Malak, the Jedi. But deep down, I knew that I was the one to blame for all of this. That I was just living with the consequences of my past actions. That it was up to me to change things, and perhaps repair a small part of the damage I had caused before, and which was still having significant repercussions today.
I took a long, deep breath and gently closed my eyes. I retained the air I had just captured for a few seconds, and finally released it from my lungs in a soft but endless exhale. I repeated the action a couple of times, banishing from my mind the images of my confrontation with Bastila, and the negative feelings I was feeling, which I believed to be fairly unfounded. Gradually my mind became quiet, and I was drawn into a deep sleep, quite unexpected in such circumstances.
Images flashed by. They were blurred, aggressive. They represented nothing in particular. It was like being in front of a powerful spotlight, which was arbitrarily lit and unlit. It was painful. This sensation lasted for a short time, then a distinct image appeared. Or rather a scene.
I had never experienced such a form of vision before. At least, at that moment I was sure that it was a vision. My mind was about to reveal a new piece of the puzzle of my past. But this time it felt different. This curious ease with which I had been able to reach such a deep state of sleep, such a painful introduction to the vision, but also this uncomfortable sensation of being an invisible yet curiously omniscient spectator here. It was as if an external force had forced me to live this moment.
The scene before me seemed to take place on the deck of a cruiser. It was not all very clear, however. The place was filled with thick black smoke, which slowly dissipated. Fortunately, though, the smoke eventually disappeared more quickly than expected when an anti-fire system automatically triggered, pushing the black particles to the ground and revealing the scene more clearly. The bridge was in a state of unimaginable chaos. Everything was in shambles. Inert bodies littered the floor of this place, darkened by soot, smoke, but also by the armoured shutter systems that had covered what remained of the huge windows of the cruiser's deck. Not far from this part of the place, a humanoid form could be seen kneeling near one of the countless bodies. The individual seemed to be working with urgency, when the sound of a communicator rang out. The figure picked up the small object and brought it to its mouth:
"Bastila Shan." She finally announced with a gasp.
"By all the gods, you're alive!" A middle-aged female voice replied through the communicator. "Are there any other survivors?"
Bastila Shan made no immediate response. She looked down at the body beside her. She had managed to remove the thick armour the man was wearing, just like his mask. She may have survived the explosion in one piece, this man was in a particularly critical condition. Bastila could have let him die and left the ship; her mission would have been declared a complete success. But she could not resign herself to acting that way. After wisely activating the emergency system instructing the crew to abandon ship, she decided to try to save this man. Even if it would result in reproach and judgment from some of the Masters. She had been taught to regard all life as precious. There was no way she was going to run away and consciously let someone die when there might be a chance to save them. So she set out to preserve a tiny but ultimate flame of life that still burned painfully within him. At that moment, he was still in a very delicate state, and needed serious medical attention. But at least he wasn't going to die on this ship. The man at the forefront of this event was Darth Revan, the ruling Dark Lord. At least until that explosion, which was the work of his apprentice Malak.
Bastila was uncertain how to respond to the person who had solicited her, and whose voice left little doubt about her identity: Admiral Forn Dodonna. Was it necessary to inform the military that a Padawan had decided on her own to save the Republic's greatest enemy?
"There is one survivor, Admiral." Bastila finally replied. "But he's in terrible condition, I'm not sure he'll survive much longer."
"And Revan?" The military woman added apprehensively.
"He's dead, Admiral. I made sure of that." The Jedi stated firmly.
"Excellent news. All right, Bastila, we'll try to contact a squad on site, and send them to help you get back to the Arbiter. Over and out."
Bastila let out an uncomfortable exhale. How much trouble had she gotten herself into? The situation was extremely delicate. A squad would be here soon, she needed to do something. The young Padawan glanced at one of the bodies of her fellow Jedi, who had not survived Malak's attack. Hastily, she rose to her feet and joined her dead brother in arms. Breathing heavily, she reached for her companion's robe, but changed her mind at the last moment.
"No, I can't do that." She muttered, standing up abruptly.
She took a few nervous paces, her gaze still fixed on her former comrade. Then she stopped and turned her attention to Darth Revan. She breathed out again, intensely, resolutely. She had no other choice. The man she had just saved from imminent death was a future great " state secret. And she had already lied to Admiral Dodonna. She couldn't afford to waste any more time. She turned her gaze back to the dead Jedi at her feet.
"I'm so sorry." She said with emotion.
Bastila then knelt down next to her companion once more, and proceeded to remove part of the robe he was wearing. Once she held the garment in her hand, she placed it on the ground, joined Darth Revan, and dragged him out of what little armour remained - which she had to partially remove in an attempt to heal the man. Quickly, she grabbed the Jedi robe, and slipped it over the Sith Lord as best she could. Finally, she reached for her brother-in-arms one last time, let out another sigh, and worked to place him on top of Darth Revan's armor, making sure to cover him with textiles, some rubble, so that the squad would not look too closely at the corpse of the supposed Dark Lord. As a final act of dissimulation, Bastila grabbed a very short blade she kept with her, and roughly cut off a large amount of the Sith's hair, which she got rid of. It may have been a futile act, but she had to try everything to shield the identity of the wounded man to be taken to the Arbiter.
The squad arrived a few minutes later. Thanks to the emergency system that Bastila had activated, the soldiers had no trouble getting through the maze of corridors and rooms of the cruiser. Everyone on board was more concerned with escaping than fighting the Republican forces.
The squad consisted of six soldiers. They were not high-ranking officers. Bastila herself was superior to them at the moment. A blessing for the Jedi, who had gotten herself tangled up in an impossible situation.
"Gentlemen!" The young woman exclaimed, with exaggerated urgency and somewhat unnatural tone. "Come quickly and help me; I cannot bear my brother alone."
Two soldiers complied without question. They grabbed Darth Revan's body, wrapped in a Jedi robe, and made their way to the exit, heading for the landing hangars. The other soldiers followed behind, but one was stopped by Bastila:
"We'll be landing on deck three, officer. My brother needs Jedi care as soon as possible. Please inform the Arbiter, and request that Master Vandar be the one to attend to my brother, is that clear?"
The officer stared at the young Padawan with a stunned look on his face. But he nodded. After all, the Jedi were known to be quite sectarian at times, minding their own business, rather than having the military or the Republic get involved in their affairs. The squad, escorted by Bastila, then left the bridge of the 'late' Darth Revan's cruiser for good.
I suddenly opened my eyes again. I stood up from my position, and blew out a sharp breath. I ran a hand through my hair and turned so that my feet were on the floor of the Ebon Hawk. A furious pain shot through my skull.
"This can't be coming from me." I thought as I gently massaged my temples.
I calmed down for a moment, and could recall the images I had witnessed in my sleep. I realised the weight of Bastila's actions that day. My case was totally hopeless, both physically and mentally, and even morally. I was for many a lost cause, who deserved to be left to die that very day. All the efforts Bastila had made to conceal my identity from the army were proof of this. I had been given the unexpected chance to cross paths with this young Padawan, the tiny hope that had been placed in my way and that would allow me to change everything. She had taken what could only be described as a reckless risk in deciding to save my life; I was a threat to the galaxy, I was a threat to the Republic, but I was also, in a way, a threat to the status and credibility of the female Jedi. Only the Force could tell what might have happened to her if the military had found out, and what the nature of the relationship between the Republic and the Order might have been. Bastila cherished her rank for many reasons, some of which infuriated me, but I realised at that moment that after taking such risks, it was not so surprising to see her so attached to her path in the Order. Not to mention the impact that such an experience had had on her own psychology: the decision to save a being like Darth Revan, wrapping him in the robes of one of her brothers, hiding the truth from the Republic... Bastila had no other choice but to rely on the most solid entity that had never stopped supporting her, and that guaranteed her real stability: the Order.
I felt ashamed. I was ashamed that I had shaken the young woman's fragile balance. I was ashamed that I had not been more successful in capturing her attention during our confrontation. And above all, I was ashamed that I had thought that she was lost forever, and that I might not be able to bring her back. I came to believe that this vision of the past had been sent to me on purpose. But how? It could only have come from the people who had actually lived that scene. What I had seen, what I had felt during my short sleep, was Bastila's experience. Perhaps she had wanted, even unconsciously, to show me this difficult episode in her life? Perhaps, in the temple, she had sensed my abdication in the face of her fall? Perhaps she wanted me to find the strength to carry on and get her out of there, as she had done with me. This event inspired me with a new air; my sense of hopelessness gradually faded and I left the dormitory in a more favourable light. Maybe I wouldn't be able to save Bastila, but I couldn't let myself be consumed by this apathy which was not like me. I was going to do everything I could to get her out of there, to complete this mission as planned, and my personal future would depend on my success or failure in bringing Bastila back.
