Chapter 53

It had been finally decided that the three- Bastila, Mission and Zaalbar- would not remain on Manaan, nor go to Kashyyyk, but remain with the Ebon Hawk. It hadn't been the three members who were to be left behind that had convinced Revan to change her mind, but rather- of all people- it had been Jolee.

Despite getting on off the wrong foot with one another, the old coot (as he often referred to himself as) and his advice was worth listening to. You didn't reach the age of seventy without a bit of sage wisdom sinking in, and of course he was as at the age where you are more than willing to pass it on, though not without a bit of grumbling whilst doing so.

"Skye, I know you want to protect those three, and I know enough about battlefield tactics that a good pincer move is a way to win the ground, be it dirt or stars, but dividing our ranks now isn't the time. Don't split the team. Mission and Zaalbar will see a hell of a lot worse when we finally face Malak, and unless you intend to leave them all behind back on Kashyyyk you cannot protect them."

Revan absorbed the words. She knew them to be true. Bastila could not step foot off the Ebon Hawk once they landed on Korriban. As for Mission and Zaalbar, perhaps Bastila's little display of Force lighting could serve a purpose. It had terrified the girl as much as it had harmed her.

"You like to sow the seeds of discord in the fields of peace don't you, old man? What has been decided is what is best for them. Mission's lippy demeanor will get her killed on Korriban, you know this. It was ignored as par for the course in the Lower city and no one paid any mind to her sass in the Undercity. But it nearly got her killed in the Upper City.

"What do you think that mouth of hers will earn her on Korriban? As for the light-show Bastila sent- out we both know she was right on the account that the Sith acolytes will do far, far worse. And Big Z, he will not let that happen, not unless I enforce an order for him not to. He'll protest it, argue against it, maybe even beg for me to allow him to protect the girl, but in the end he will comply with whatever order I give him because of the life-debt. Then he will die at the hands of the Sith because I will never give the order that he shouldn't protect Mission."

"You'd never let either of those scenarios happen."

"I allowed fifty slaves to die because of priorities of a scouting mission I was on for the Republic during the war with the Mandalorians. If allowing Mission and Big Z to die to finish this mission to end Malak… don't you think I would?"

Of course, that really hadn't been her had it? Scout Skye Revansong was a fabrication. That particular mission, and all of its sorted details, were the memories of a woman that did not exist. Yet Revan could feel the layered guilt for leaving behind fifty slaves- women, children, men- all to die at the hands of the Mandies. What truly happened to those fifty souls Revan had no way of knowing. She didn't doubt they existed at least in some capacity and Revan (the strategist that she was back then) would surely have allowed fifty to die if it meant fifty thousand live. Calculus; was a cruel bitch.

Jolee stared at the former Dark Lord, and was silent for the passing of seven heartbeats then… "No, I don't think that you would." It was an answer. "In the Mandalorian War you were a different person. You're not that person now that you were then."

Revan gave the old man a hard stare. Was he hinting that he knew the truth of just who Revan truly was, just as Revan hinted to Bastila of just exactly who she was? Or was the old coot referring to the woman who was once a scout for the Republic and was now a Jedi?

Revan sighed. "You're right on that front, I am not the same woman I was during the war with the Mandalorians. Also… you're right about not splitting up the team. I will admit there were reservations about giving the order, not about protecting Bastila; I'll not change my stance on that. Not ever. Malak can not get his hands on Bastila."

"Because… the Dark Side is tickling within her?"

Revan scowled. "She is of the Shadows! You were once of the Jedi Order, you know very well the Shadows are respected members of the Sentinels. They seek out and vanquish any traces of the Dark Side, requiring them to be both spies and saboteurs. They prize the mission above all else, and often must make moral compromises that would be unpleasant for other members of the Order.

"Why do you think she was sent after Darth Revan in the first place? Just because of her 'Battle Meditation'? That is only half the story. The Council sent her after the Dark Lord because she was a Sentinel Shadow. All Shadows must touch the darkness to vanquish it. Do not mistake Bastila's intentions, failed Padawan. Do not."

Walking away, Revan wanted to kick a kath hound pup, because everything the old human said was true. Revan was worried a little about her beloved Princess's dancing with the Dark Side. But then the Zeison Sha order was a warriors' order and known to take harsher measures to complete a mission. They did what was necessary. Maybe that was why those memories of leaving all those slaves to suffer for the sake of the mission were implanted, or maybe they were real… but that was doubtful. Revan had no way of knowing. She knew only that those memories- real or not- existed.

"I…" Jolee paused thinking better of something he might have said and instead offered: "You are our Commander; we will follow your lead as always."

"I didn't know you to be political." She said ironically.

"Is it political, or pragmatic?"

Revan passed by the old man, making a disgusted sound from the back of her throat. "It is what it is."

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One full day.

That is all.

One day.

Revan didn't tell the others why she had decided to allow the three she had adamantly ordered to remain behind to accompany them to Korriban. It was the privilege of command as evidenced by the fact that none of the companions, not even the ever-inquisitive Mission, dared to ask why.

This is not what she wanted, not what she willed, but just as her parting words to Jolee had been: It was what it was. The crew would remain intact. Bastila was going to be placed in danger. The kids on the team… well, if they could truly be considered kids now… were going to be placed in the path of that same danger. Korriban was a death trap for Bastila, a very sassy Twi'lek and an over-protective Wookiee. But perhaps facing these terrors of the Sith will make the innate dangers of facing Malak all the more real, especially in the minds of the latter two younglings, and make them far more cautious concerning those that wielded the Dark Side of the Force.

To facilitate this 'sudden' change of heart, Revan approached the younglings and without preamble or hyperbole she began, "Bastila showed you just a touch of the Dark Side, if you are willing to face such torments you will join us on Korriban. Know this: Malak will do far, far worse and so will his minions- those that become Dark Jedi.

"Some of those Dark Jedi once followed Darth Revan, converted by the Dark Lord. I can honestly tell you her ways of conversion are far different than those of Malak." Here Revan paused and looked to where Bastila was coming down the corridor from the garage. Their eyes met and lingered: in that instant a full conversation traded between them, yet not a word aloud nor passed within the bond.

They must know of the Sith.

Then tell them my love what you learned in those first days at the Enclave.

"How are they different?" Mission asked, unaware of the silent conversation between the Jedi.

Revan once more paused, she didn't recall exactly how she converted her Dark Jedi, but a deep gutted feeling told her that she used a more psychological approach: fear and rage. Malak used a more 'hands-on' approach.

"The how isn't exactly important as the results; those converted by Malak tend to become Sith Marauders, some become Assassins, he is brutal but pragmatic. Marauders and Assassins make the perfect ground forces, like Jedi Guardians, Sentinels. The Sith Academy will be grooming Marauders and Assassins." Bastila explained. "Anyone powerful enough to become Lords of the Sith who are akin to Jedi Consolers are usually sent to an enclave known only to the Sith.

"I've also come across a few Assassins that came from there and their fighting style is truly unique. I'd say they once belonged to Darth Revan and not Malak." Bastila looked long and hard at her beloved. "Pray you do not cross paths with them; they are not of the same ilk as those that come from Korriban."

"So which were those we faced on Tatooine? Revan or Malak's Dark Jedi?" Zaalbar asked.

"Considering how sloppy they were, I'd say they were Malak's." Revan said. "Regardless, you both want to keep this in mind. A Sith Assassin has much in common with Jedi Shadows, indeed they hunt one another, and Assassins are Shadow Hunters. Be wary of them when we go to Korriban. You will not see them coming until you see the point of their crimson lightsabers thrusting out of your chest as they stab you from behind.

"The Marauders are the rampaging force of the Sith. They are close combatant specialists with a thirst for blood and destruction. They are reflected in fury, a devastating power that affects the user with unmatched potential.

"Korriban will have its Masters; some of them will be Lords held over when Darth Revan reestablished the school there and they will be highly skilled in the use of the Force. Mind tricks, illusions, Force lightening, and much much more. But it is not the Masters of Korriban that are the threat; it's the apprentices that are. As you've been warned against, they will be the most dangerous. They will be competing against one another. They will kill one another and they will kill whomever they believe that will gain favour with the Master they wish to apprentice under."

Now it was Bastila's turn to take up the explanation: While Revan's delivery sounded as if she were teaching a class of younglings, Bastila's was almost cold- as if she expected the teenagers to remember her lessons and commit them to memory. Not unlike Master Varook—Bastila's own Master.

"The Masters of Korriban will train several candidates at once. Their rivalries will force their essential natures to the surface making it unlikely they will join forces against their Master. Or at least that is the logic. The Masters will tell their candidates only one will survive to become their apprentice. The appearances will defeat one another in combat, betray one another in their sleep, or play with one's suspicions and tensions. All are admirable skills for a future Sith Lord. The Masters will watch it as they destroy one another, for they will want only the talented and the ambitious, the award for the apprentices'… tenacity… is their complete servitude to their Master while the others will taste ashes."

"Not exactly great peer review." Mission jibed then quickly snapped her lips closed. She knew the seriousness of the Jedi's words. More than that she knew that she, Big Z and Bastila were given an opportunity. The girl wasn't going to lose this chance to stay with Skye.

"No, it isn't. But it is an effective method for filtering out the unworthy candidates. The Sith wish for only the most ruthless, the most ambitious, the most cunning, the most tenaciously duplicitous- the most deadly." Bastila said in an externally candid manner.

"The most sociopathic," Revan added. "These Sith will not be the Silverbacks that patrolled Taris, and they will not be the Greys that are here on Manaan. They had order, discipline and a militant code they obeyed. These acolytes won't any of that, any discord they sow and torment they visit upon a civilian will be because they believe it will gain them favour and they will be awarded for it. They won't be rewarded, of course, if torture and death serve no purpose then there is no point in pursuing such things.

"That is something that only the most skilled and talented Sith understand. They also understand the necessity of diligence and patience as well as deception and cunning. They know that anger is a spark, something to use, a tool. This is why those who master the Dark Side are not as dangerous as the acolytes who have none of these skills and talents. They are impatient, impulsive and ruthlessly brutal. They believe rage is power, when all it is, is wild fire—uncontrollable and thus useless."

Revan stopped. Those words-they were familiar. She had said something so very similar before. To Malak, when she reopened the ancient Academy on Korriban and again… on… Mustafar? No. Not Mustafar…it was… was….

"Skye?" Mission spoke the name almost reverently and when she received no answer she uttered the Jedi's name once more. "Skye…"

"Malachor Five! The former Dark Lord blurted out though not loudly.

Mission, Zaalbar and Bastila all stared at the young Nagai,

"Malachor Five… what?" Mission scrunched up her face. "What does that place have to do with Korriban?"

"Rage and wild fire—uncontrollable and thus useless like Malachor Five has become." Bastila covered. The younger woman took her lover by the elbow as concern washed over through the bond, outwardly she wore another mask: one that was almost indifferent. It was Mission of whom she was looking towards when she spoke, "I believe they understand, come let us make our final preparations for the trip and enjoy what is left of our shore leave before we must secure ourselves away."

Bastila escorted her beloved through the Ebon Hawk. Once they were in the hanger deck Bastila turned to Revan, "…you remembered something."

The Nagai frowned. "I… think… I do? Malachor Five… reds—black-a circle of standing stones standing like the jagged teeth of a krayt dragon. I… I made… there is something there. An Academy. You said it yourself- those powerful in the Force destined to become Lords are sent to an enclave known only to the Sith. I think it's there. That dead world dreams like a dead god, filled with Dark Side. No, it is the Dark Side. I… turned hundreds of Jedi there."

"No," Bastila grabbed Revan by the arms. "That woman wasn't you. That was the Dark Lord. That was from a woman who called herself Darth. That isn't you. Not now. You are a Jedi Knight." She pulled the older woman into an embrace and kissed her hard on the lips, "and the woman I love."

"But it's the memories of that woman you need. Those memories are why the Masters turned me into Skye Ravensong. Why they set us upon this path, why they made sure I was on the Endar Spire and on your detail so you could resurrect those memoirs without resurrecting the Dark Lord. When the memories surface we can't just ignore them."

"We're not." Bastila said with certainty. "We'll harvest the memories when they come without you holding onto the guilt. Like rage that becomes wildfire, guilt and regret serve no purpose. If they have no purpose do not hold on to them, scatter them to the wind like dust."

"Spoken like a true Master, Princess." Revan's lips curled into a half smile. "You'll be amongst their ranks, mark my words. We end Malak it will be Master Shan," another half smirk. "In a few years… it will be Grand Master Shan."

"Grand Master Shan?" Bastila chuckled.

"Absolutely. The legacy of Shan will continue. History will mark the name."

"The only way a legacy moves on is if there are children to do so, my love, and considering we are both female… the chances of that happening are minimal."

"You never know. The Force could have a say in it."

"A Force created child? That's the Sith'ari? That's almost hearsay."

"Only if you are a believer."

"You're not?"

"I'm not fully concerned about some prophecy. Besides, that's the problem with prophecies. They will always be misinterpreted. Balance to the Force? Light? Dark? Either side will get it wrong. Perfect balance means Grey. That perfect balance is a fulcrum. Only Grey will ever bring balance to the Force. But I don't want to waste our down time talking about that.

"But the Shan legacy? A child… could happen. The Force united us in a bond." A kiss. "It could unite us in other ways. And if not the Force, then how about good-old fashioned gene-splicing?"

"Shan Legacy…" Bastila kissed her beloved. "What of yours?"

"I have no legacy to call my own, Princess. Ravensong doesn't exist. The Masters made her up-gave her a past. She was born on Deralia 3,969-raised on Dathomir as a Nightsister. She followed their tenants and worshiped the Winged Goddess and Fanged God. Training apparently to be a Beast Warden.

"As for the woman I was before the Revanchist, all I know is that she was a Jedi Knight, one of the most talented, an idealist, a leader, a glorious strategist and General in the Republic Military. She found the helm of a dead Mandalorian woman who stood against her own people to defend the Cathar that had been forced into the tides of the ocean. The Jedi Knight became the Revanchist and sometime after that she became Darth Revan... and I don't know why.

"Everything you told me about her… it's like looking at faded holopics of people you've never met. That Revan will remain lost to history. Let her be lost... the name Revan need only continue. Revan Shan…" she smiled, "has a pretty good ring to it, don't you think?"

Bastila paled but the smile on her face was a supernova. "If you are asking me to marry you, Revan…" she chuckled, "again… then you will have to wait until we end Malak. Then I will be more than happy to give you my name," she said, bestowing her love with a deepening kiss.

"All the more reason to end his reign of terror," the former Dark Lord said with all her confidence as she kissed her beloved.

"It is indeed." Another kiss. "Now my beautiful fool, let us book ourselves into a hotel room and get a little practice in."

A half smile was the human's answer. Her response to that answer had Revan's heart beating much faster. Bastila's coy smile became far more seductive and Revan's heartbeat increased as did her arousal. "The sooner the better."

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Revan's back hit the wall of the hotel room-hard. Bastila's lips fell upon those of her betrothed, fast, hungry and Revan welcomed the volley. She wanted it. Willed it. Her body craving Bastila's touches-her unleashed passions. Wild and freed.

Bastila nibbled up Revan's neck, her tongue flickered out serpent-like to her lover's ear lobe, then along the curve of the ear until she got to the very sensitive tapered tip, where she softly bit down causing Revan to suck in a gasp of pure pleasure.

Bastila smirked with pride. She loved that she could cause her beloved to reach heights of arousal by simply tasting her ear. Nagai ears were exceptionally sensitive; the pointed tips an erogenous zone—if correctly stimulated, and Bastila knew exactly how to stimulate her lover.

Her hand snaked up Revan's waist, slipping under her tunic; her fingers trailing under her breasts, the pads of her thumbs brushing against the hardening nipples. Her tongue, lips and teeth continued to trail along her lover's ear and neck. Warm hands abandoned their tender stroking of full breasts to shed Revan of her outer robes forcing them off her shoulders to create a pool of cloth at their feet. The Zeison Sha armor followed

Revan's hands were not idle; she unfastened her lover's robes and lifted the Jal Shey tunic up over her head and tossed wildly aside. Boots and utility belts; trousers lightsabers quickly followed. Undergarments followed those, making a trail to the bed.

Bastila took control as she had in the beginning, pushing her lover down onto the bed, kissing her with fury and passion; unrelenting-unrepentant desire.

She straddled Revan, and trailed kisses down the tender, luxurious, tanned skin along her beloved's collarbone to her beautiful, petite breasts. Her lips then abandoned the lush, soft mounds to trail down her lover's fit abs to her bellybutton, the little divot of flesh that always turned the human on. She loved to dip her tongue into the dimple as she plunged her fingers deep into the wet warmth of her Nagai.

Bastila's smile was proud and predatory, "Someone wants more."

Bastila hissed a soft moan of want in response to Revan's flushed mewling. Revan was only too happy to comply. Her hand slipped along Bastila's leg and tickled the Jedi's warm entrance before slipping within, allowing the passion to flow through her as the Force; they could feel one another's desires and they filled them.

"Clearly."

The human gasped, her body shuddering as a wave pleasure washed over her again and again. Her breath deepened; heavier. She matched her beloved stroke for stroke; touch for touch. The slick wetness gave for three fingers instead of two, and so she curled them upwards rubbing against the little nub that hardened into a pebble.

The passionate call of her beloved excited Revan beyond comprehension. Words became lost and needless. Revan took hold of Bastila- claiming her, holding her fast to her own body.

Next, Bastila pressed her lips against Revan's stomach, trailing lower to her inner thighs. Her lips and tongue tasted and traced their way across satiny smooth skin. Revan cried out when she felt her beloved's tongue slip into the depths of her core. With agonizing slowness Bastila explored every sensitive inch of Revan's center with delicate, tormenting worship. Each long, slow caress or flick teasing the little bud brought wondrous waves of pleasure. Delicate, long fingers moved into the ebony locks holding the human in place where the pleasure was greatest. When Bastila stroked her fingers along the delicate membrane of pink, Revan cried out her lover's name and her body bucked.

Revan's orgasm roared as loud as ocean tides against the reef, creating an equal burst of release from Bastila. Caught in the tides and eddies of their release, the lovers allowed themselves to float in the ether of their desires.

Eager to give Bastila as much joy as her own pleasure, Revan spun her human so she was now on her back. The Nagai sought out the luscious ruby lips, and tasting herself upon them brought a smile to her own. The love she felt for her heart's desire poured from her like a fountain, bathing the human in its glow. Revan always made Bastila's heart beat faster. A touch or a kiss, and they had each other aroused.

Soft pink lips nibbled, tasted, and kissed creamy flesh. Fine-boned fingers caressed each nerve-point causing Bastila to shudder and moan in sexual euphoria. Paying particular attention to Bastila's neck, Revan straddled her lover's hips. Knowing hands penetrated the warm passion and slick depths of the Jedi's core. Still soaring from their mutual climax, it would not take long before Bastila reached such heights again.

The human titled her head back, calling out Revan's name, her body shuddered—quaking as she came. Her hands held firmly against the Nagai waist with such strength she was sure to leave bruises as surely as the roughish Jedi had left scratch marks on Bastila's shoulders.

They settled in the afterglow of their bliss, comfortably melting into each other's arms.

After a fashion, when their bodies began to cool from their heated embrace and impassioned lovemaking, Bastila pillowed her head on the soft swell of the Nagai's pale breast. Her fingers trailing along the lines of ink and scar.

"I know some of these you had when you entered the war. You're not the first Jedi to mark their skin. Most do it out of racial tradition, others because they have a grown a fondness for ink. I know you don't recall why you did in the beginning," she touched the Nabooian tusked panther that draped over her lover's shoulder, then trailed down to the Nagai-clan marking: hawk-bat wrapping left bicep. But just under it, if one didn't look too closely the intricate tribal markings, one would only assume the pattern were part of the zoomorphic hawk-bat, but if you looked closer you'd see something else, especially if there was context.

"But this one… right here," Bastila traced the markings lightly with her knowing fingertips, "You know what this one is? What do you see?"

Revan looked down at her arm to the marks and smiled warmly. "It is a promise-bond to a beloved that owns the heart of one marked themselves."

"What name do you see?"

Revan looked down once more and truly examined at the markings. Not only was it upside down it was back to front. So that if you looked down at it the name was very clear. But only if you knew the mother-tongue of the Knives.

"It's your name… and mine intertwined with Hawk-Bat clan… and the Shan family crest…" Revan sounded almost astonished.

Bastila kissed the tattoo. "Yes, it is. The hawk-bat—swift-fierce, precise and territorial over their life-mates and brood. That last part- some forget that the creatures take mates for life or that they are exceptionally protective parents. You don't remember when you got this do you?"

"The memories are a bit hazy Princess. I actually… well it was such a familiar marking, I didn't look too closely."

"Clearly," Bastila quoted her lover's earlier remark. She stretched up a little and planted a kiss on Revan's lips. "I gave it to you, back when we were still on Coruscant within the Temple. We snuck out past curfew for padawans. It was just before we were to be chosen by our Masters. We went to… well one of the lower levels, and we rented a room in a very seedy little hotel." Bastila smiled warmly.

"That actually was the first time you called me Princess. I protested this place couldn't possibly be clean and you said despite being a 'doss-house' it was run by a Nagai—one of your clanswomen. Though you've never met them in person but they would have what we needed. And they did. A tattooing kit.

"Which she did. She marked you with the hawk-bat- to name your clan- but then you asked me to complete the markings. It was a ritual and we had to keep it secret. No one could know. So, we inverted the markings and made it back to front. It was against everything in our teachings as Jedi. No attachments. But this… this… is one of the deepest attachments one person can make to another. Before you left for war, we were promised to one another."

Revan kissed her lover deeply. "In the tradition of the Nagai you know what this means."

"I know," Bastila uttered. "This scar here," she pointed to a small blemish on her right bicep… "I had it removed…" she looked away, "not when you went to war. I always hopped you would return to the Order, to me. But then that hope vanished when you turned to the Dark Side. I… I had it removed. You took the title Darth and the promise held no meaning anymore, our 'Clans' were no longer united nor were our 'Houses.' We were not of one breath or one heartbeat."

Bastila shifted so that once more she straddled her lover. "No more teases, no more jibs, no or when we's…" she bent down and kissed the older woman. "Before we leave Manaan, I want to the markings returned." Bastila traced the scar on her arm.

"Then you know according to Nagai tradition we are as good as married." Revan reached up, so she could touch her lover, the tip of her tongue flickered out and tasted Bastila's lips before she lightly bit down on her lower lip and then kissed her again.

"I know," as she repeated the two words, Bastila's hand stroked her beloved's face, her fingers trailing up the curve of pointed ears and taking another kiss.

"If we do this the Masters will not be pleased, they will not accept it."

"I know."

"We will either be asked to leave the Order or abandon our love."

"I know." Bastila kissed her lover. "Are you not serious about becoming Revan Shan?"

"I am."

"So am I."

"Then we're not waiting?"

"Let's go get that tattoo."

"Bastila…the Order means everything to you. Are you willing to give it all up? You?!"

"I still believe in the ideals, but not the Masters. Not anymore, Revan. You were right about them. They are not infallible. I am weary of the all the secrets I was forced to keep. I am weary of being manipulated. I was forced into a corner to pretend we never knew each other, of course the Masters never knew to what extent of our connection—that we were once lovers. But they saw something there and they sent me to hunt you. To hunt down Darth Revan and to bring her in, not to face justice but to take your secrets of how you acquired so much power so quickly."

This time it was Revan who said: "I know."

"They were going to strip the Force from you, Revan. They never told me this, but I knew it, down to the marrow of my bones I knew that was what they were going to do to you."

"I know, I figured that would have been the case. It was their only recourse. Hell, after this is all done and we finish with Malak they still might think it necessary."

"I won't let that happen," vowed Bastila. "I will never let it happen, my love. Never."

"I know."

Revan shifted from under Bastila, her hands going around the younger woman's waist. "Princess… the Order means everything to you."

"Not everything." Gray eyes peered deeply into blue. "Not everything. Not anymore. I believe we must finish our mission. We must stop Malak. He must be finished. Utterly. But I believe in you Revan-in us. I believe we must… embrace who we truly are."

"And who are we?"

"The Grey Jedi."

Revan smiled.

"We are indeed."

"Let's go get this tattoo."

"But first… how about round two?" Revan said flipping her lover over onto her back. The kiss she planted on the younger woman's lips stole her breath away.

"Absolutely."

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