A/N: With the conclusion of Revan's Story we're back to working on this one, with maybe some work on Darth Revan as well. Welcome to all those who made the jump, and welcome back to those who started here.

Chapter 13: We Happy Three

Marina wandered away from the cockpit, but couldn't bring herself to face Kreia again, not so soon. Instead, she explored the ship. It didn't take long to discover this Ebon Hawk was . . . unusual. Fascinating. It had clearly started life as an old Dynamic freighter, but it had been heavily modified. In addition to turrets, someone had had the insane idea to rip out the Class 3 hyperdrive and weld a Class 1 in its place, giving it a blazing turn of speed at the cost of reliability. And that didn't even touch on what they'd done to the sublight drive. While technically they hadn't done a complete replacement like they had with the hyperdrive, the changes were actually even more substantial. There, was that a full-on catalytic dampener? Well, it would certainly help to stabilize flight controls with all the extra engine power, but it added all sorts of other problems, but if they put in two and ran them in sequence instead of in parallel, then maybe . . .

She spent the next hour poking around the engines and generally calming herself down. That was when T3 discovered her with her head poking into one of the deactivated sublight drives and panicked. She pulled herself free and held up her hands at the astromech's alarmed whistle. "Hey, take it easy, I know what I'm doing."

The droid made a decidedly unflattering sound of skepticism and she rolled her eyes. "Astromechs, honestly." She closed the sat on the deck, leaning back against the engine mount with a sigh. "You're pretty attached to this boat, aren't you? Why is that?"

The droid took a moment to respond, which piqued Marina's curiosity. That was pretty unusual in a droid. "You've spent a long time on this ship? How long?"

T3 warbled a pretty resounding negative, and her eyes narrowed, then she shrugged. She had enough to worry about at the moment. And maybe she was reassuring herself that she wasn't as paranoid as Atton by letting it go. Maybe. To keep from thinking too hard about that, she asked something else instead. "You look like you've suffered a lot of damage over the years."

The droid tweeted an affirmative that managed somehow managed to sound world-weary.

"Yeah? How much damage?"

T3 considered her for a moment, then let out a long series of beeps and whistles that Marina strained to keep up with. "So . . .you lost a lot of programs in your behavior core, in addition to the damage to your frame?"

T3 affirmed, and she nodded. The frame damage was pretty obvious—there were several spots of carbon scoring that could have come from an electrical fire, and two honest-to-goodness blast wholes that poked all the way through to his inner circuitry. It wasn't surprising he'd had some behavior core issues; it was surprising he was functional at all.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get it back. Were you damaged during the fight for this ship, or before?"

T3 whistled back something dismissive, and Marina frowned. Okay, there was not being paranoid, and then there was not being an idiot. Something was definitely weird with this droid. "T3, how did you get here? Were you on the Hawk with Kreia?"

T3 responded quickly, and she rolled her eyes again. "I get that, but where did the Ebon Hawk come from?"

. . .

"You're deliberately avoiding answering—why?"

The droid blatted another negative.

"Let me check your core. I'll be careful, I promise, but something weird is definitely going on in there. It might be related to your damage."

T3 whistled in alarm and scooted off quickly, charging into the mess of the cargo bay to hide. Marina grunted. Even scared off the droid, Marina. Great going. This is going to be an amazing trip, I can tell already.

Well, if she sat here any longer, she'd think herself into a dark mood, so instead she stood up and kept exploring. As big of a ship as it was, it wasn't that big. The cargo bay had a bunch of junk in it, detritus from a hurried repair, some storage bins and the like, but it did have an solid workbench with an array of carefully racked tools, which brightened her mood considerably. There were two dormitories, one port and one starboard, which was definitely a luxury on a craft this size. And, best of all, there were real-water showers, not the sonic showers that most warships made do with, which was beyond luxurious and well into exorbitant. Whoever had run this ship had obviously had a lot of money. And combined with the expensive and excessive upgrades to the engines, the ship's chassis, and its shield generators, it was a glaring tip-off to the true purpose of thing.

So she'd escaped on a smugglers ship—she'd flown them before, and she'd probably do it again.

Of course, being a smuggler ship she should have expected to stumble across a little contraband; what she hadn't expected was to nearly trip over herself in alarm when she opened the closet of the central living quarters and found an assassin droid. After a moment's terror, she realized the thing was deactivated. No, not deactivated—deconstructed. The droid's body had been opened up and there were pieces missing . . . looked like the control cluster, central processor, the vocabulator, and . . . woah, they'd removed the chassis itself? The thing was just held together by the body? That was . . . well, it was bizarre. And come to think of it, this droid wasn't quite the same as the other one. For starters, it was a rusty red instead of bright durasteel silver. The actuators were an older model as well, and the head was of a completely different design.

Well. She shut the door, locked it tight, and moved on. Only, there wasn't really anywhere else to go. The infirmary was well stocked, but tiny. The security room was equally small, just off the cockpit. Aaand, that was it, aside from the dormitory where Kreia had hopefully fallen to sleep by now.

She poked her head in and winced to see her sitting cross-legged on the floor, meditating. The woman didn't even look up when she entered, instead just talking to thin air.

"Have you come for more answers? There is little more left to give."

Damn. Well, she couldn't exactly run away now, could she? She came the rest of the way into the dormitory, shut the door behind her, and sat on one of the bunks. She couldn't bring herself to sit down in front of Kreia's blind eyes. She was creepy enough as it was.

"You're hand . . . ah, is there anything I can do?" Please say no, please say no, please say—

"This wound is a physical thing, and it will fade with time. It was . . . necessary. Some things may only be learned from sacrifice."

Right. "Well, I am sorry for your loss."

The corner of Kreia's mouth twitched in irritation. "Save your pity. I am here to save you, not the other way around."

Marina bristled. "It's not pity! And I can take care of myself! If anyone around here needs help, it's you."

"Help, perhaps. But I do not need your condescension, nor your lectures. The one in need of training and guidance is you."

And then they sat in heavy silence, and Marina realized she'd backed herself into a corner. Because she did have a question, an important one. After what felt like forever, she relented and asked. "I, ah . . . that is, when you lost your hand I . . . I felt it, too."

Somehow, Kreia didn't seem surprised. "Did you, now? That is interesting. It appears that we are linked. Connected through the Force."

Marina shivered at that, and focused instead on the practical. "The pain I felt through you—what if it had been more intense?"

"I do not know. I fear that the . . . consequences would have been more extreme."

"Like what consequences? Death?"

Kreia nodded slowly, the superiority gone from her voice. "Possibly, yes, and I fear it works both ways. I would not wish to test it . . . nor should you."

Obviously. "What can we do? It's not like we can just go our separate ways, not if we're still . . . connected like this."

"You are correct. It seems we must walk the same path for a time. When battle is upon us, I suspect our minds are prepared enough to shield each other form the pain. I think that we shall not have a repeat incident of what happened at Peragus."

Marina sighed. "Okay, but that doesn't really fix anything. Is there any way to undo this? How did it happen in the first place?"

Kreia spoke slowly, speculatively. "I confess its nature eludes me as well. But the bond is strong, and its roots run deep. It seems the Force flows easily between us—when one of us manipulates the Force to heal or strengthen ourselves, the other is aided as well. A powerful technique indeed—though, as we have noticed, it has its drawbacks."

That's one of way putting it . . . "So . . . what do we do now?"

For once Kreia sounded concerned, even worried. "I do not know. The Sith struck more swiftly than I thought, and they will not stop until they have you in their grasp. If you fall, the galaxy will echo it."

Marina chose to ignore most of that. "But there must be someplace we can go."

Kreia did what must have been a shrug for her, a tiny movement of her shoulders. "It does not matter where we go—it is not the destination that matters, it is the journey. All paths will take us to the end, wherever it may be, and no matter how strongly we fight against it. For now, we are bound for Telos, and that is enough."

More Jedi nonsense. She decided to push a little. "Enough for what?"

Kreia turned her head, considering her with blind eyes. "Before the war, Jedi who failed their training were sent to the fields of Telos to serve the galaxy not as Jedi Knights, but as farmers and laborers. The destruction of Telos was complete—I doubt any Jedi remain. Yet . . . there may be echoes of their passing. We shall see."

A cold wind swept through Marina at the thought. An entire planet of Force sensitives completely destroyed . . . could it have been coincidence the place was targeted? "And if we find no trace of Jedi teachings on Telos?"

"Then I am left with nothing more than we had already; my faith in you, and your ability to meet what comes."

"Wait, what are you talking about? Faith in me? I'm nobody! I'm nothing! A backwards mechanic from nowhere, what does any of this have to do with me?"

Kreia smiled. "Hide from yourself if you wish, but you cannot hide from me. There are some who remember you still . . . and there are some who still walk the haunted paths you left behind so long ago. They have never forgotten, never forgiven."

Marina swallowed hard. "What . . . what do you mean? Who . . . who are these people hunting me?"

"These Sith, they seek the death of all Jedi, as have all the Sith since the Jedi Order was first split."

Marina frowned. "Wait, first split? You mean the thing with Exar Kun?"

"No. The Jedi Civil War, and the Great Sith War before it, and the many, many conflict between Jedi and Sith, were not the first of their kind. Thousands of years ago the Jedi had another civil war that split the Order. It was a terrible thing. A faction among the Jedi abandoned the teachings of the Order, following their own path. They waged war on their fellow Jedi, a war that raged across the galaxy. But these fallen Jedi were cast out, defeated, and they retreated to worlds in the outer rim. Over time, they took on the mantle of the Lords of the Sith, but in their hearts they never forgot the Jedi. Their hatred for the Jedi Order burns in their veins like fire, and echoes in their teachings. Revan tasted it, as Malak did."

"But what does that have to do with these Sith? Are they trying to continue their crusade or something?"

"In a manner of speaking. They are different from Malak in that they are concerned only with the destruction of the Jedi. For them, it is all that matters. All that ever mattered. It is a different war these Sith wage, a thing of silence and shadow. They strike from the darkness, hiding from the face of the galaxy until all Jedi are exterminated. After all the Jedi are gone, then the galaxy is theirs, no matter whether the Sith or the Republic rules. It is the Dark Side that shall reign, unchecked."

Marina shivered at the cold certainty in Kreia's voice. "But if they're the same . . . I've never seen or heard about anything like them before."

"I believe them to be the result of . . . special teachings. Their apparent weakness against you is evidence of this. Those Sith assassins can sense their prey through the Force. It is like a hunger—they feed and grow stronger when they are near Force sensitives. The stronger their prey is in the Force, the deadlier they become. As long as you were cut off from it, you were able to evade their sight. But after Peragus, I fear that you will no longer be shielded from their eyes, or the eyes of their masters. The stronger you grow, the more will come."

Marina stared at Kreia with a quiet horror. They fed off the Force . . . that was terrible enough, but if Kreia was right, they were drawn to it, sought it out. They were like human hunter-killer droids, targeted at the Jedi and set loose among the stars. And they were coming . . . coming for her. Because she could feel the Force.

"I . . . but . . . but I can stop! I won't use it, won't feel it, never again, and they won't be able to find me, right?"

"Can you, now? Answer me truly, young one. Can you let it go? Never reach for it again, sense it a whisper away every moment, every second, and yet refrain? Even after relying on it so heavily on Peragus?"

Marina's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, struggling for words. "I . . . I tried not to . . . but it felt different. Faint. That should help, right?"

Kreia stared at her quietly, considering, and Marina looked away. "If my suspicions are correct, the damage the Jedi Council did was not as permanent as they thought. It is not an easy thing to cut one off from the Force. I suspect your connection to it will strength, given time."

Marina's thought process derailed. "Wait . . . the Jedi did this to me?"

"What did you believe, that you suddenly lost your connection with the Force without reason?"

"But . . . I thought . . . it's not possible to cut one off from the Force. It's like blinding someone, maiming them."

"Indeed it is. It is much like losing one's ability to listen, or being put into a deep sleep, unable to awaken to the galaxy around you. Such a thing has been done before, when Jedi have pronounced sentence on their own and exiled them, as they did you."

Marina shook her head, still stunned. "No, I don't believe the Jedi would influct such a punishment on someone. It seems . . . too cruel."

For once, Kreia's voice turned soft, almost gentle. "Young one, if not the Jedi, then what did you think was the cause of such a loss?"

"I . . . I thought . . . the war . . ."

"War leaves many scars, but rarely does it blind one to the Force. If anything, conflict and challenge may make the connection stronger, more intense. No matter what horrors you experienced int eh war, no matter who you served, it is unlikely the Force would be lost to you . . . unless another factor was involved."

They sat there in silence for a long time, Marina trying to grasp how terribly her situation had changed. Damn you masters, couldn't you have at least done that right? Spared me this mess! Instinctively she reached for the Force for comfort, yet as she tightened her grasp it slipped away once more, teasing her, so close but so far. To have the Force, yet not have it . . . it was even worse then being completely cut off, where it was not even possibility. A tiny sip of water to a woman dying of thirst. She hated it. She yearned for it.

And, at last, acceptance.

"I-if. . ." she started hesitantly, "if there is no choice, if the Force is coming back on its own . . . can my connection to the Force be healed?"

"It is possible that such a thing can be undone. Still, even so, the chances of the Jedi undoing such a thing for a traitor is a slim thing, at best, assuming they yet live."

Marina grasped onto that slim hope desperately. "But you said it is possible. How?"

"Our link may have had . . . other consequences. Perhaps you can hear the Force again, distantly, through me. If so, then there is hope. I may be able to teach you, train you to feel the Force again. And if you will not allow me to help you, then other Jedi must train you, or undo the damage they have done."

"But you said there are no more Jedi . . ."

"Then your only hope lies in me, as mine lies in you."

Marina bowed her head, defeated. "I will honor whatever training you wish to give me."

Kreia's voice turned colder, harder. "Do not honor me, fallen Jedi, honor it by listening and learning. Do that, and perhaps we shall survive this thing, you and I. I offer to train you to become strong again, to know the ways of the Force, and to hear the Force sing within you as it once did."

"So . . . where do we start?"

Kreia smiled, voice warming. "We start, as always, with understanding. Much has happened in the galaxy in your absence, and since the defeat of the Mandalorians at Malachor V. And yet, to understand it, you must understand the war. It is a tale you already know well. Almost a decade ago the Mandalorians began preying on the republic, bringing the fires of war to many planets along the outer rim. Their predations continued, winning victory after victory, until the Republic finally begged the Jedi Council for aid." She paused, waiting for Marina to answer the unspoken question.

Marina shivered, looked away again, hiding instinctively from those memories . . . but she answered. "But the Jedi Council didn't help . . . only a few of the Jedi Knights did."

"Indeed. The Jedi Council counseled caution and patience to assess the Mandalorian threat as the outer rim burned."

"And Revan and Malak refused to wait."

"Yes. Two Jedi Knights, Revan and Malak, defied the Jedi Counsel. They challenged the Mandalorian fierceness and brutality on the battlefield with a viciousness of their own. Revan's entrance into the conflict marked the true beginning, and end, of the war. It was Revan who drove the Mandalorians back into the unknown regions. Revan . . . and you."

Marina shivered again, pushing back against the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. "Even in the final battle, we almost lost . . ."

"Yet Revan triumphed. But you know this, for you were there at Malachor V, when the Mandalorians were crushed beneath Revan's might."

Marina hugged herself tightly, staring into space as the battle unfolded before her once again. "Many Jedi died at Malachor V . . . I guess I knew it, but didn't want to see it. The conflict split the Jedi Order."

Kreia nodded, approving. "You speak the truth. The war's end was merely another beginning, and what seemed a victory for the Republic was far from it. Many believed the Mandalorians defeated at Malachor V, but the Mandalorians taught the Jedi much through battle, and so it was that Malak, Revan, and the Jedi that followed them discovered their true natures in the Mandalorian crusade. But you know this . . ."

"I . . . I felt them fall—the war had consumed them."

"Consumed them? No. Taught them, defined them, yes. As Revan and Malak fought the Mandalorians in battle after battle, they grew to despise weakness, just as the Mandalorians did. In the end, the Mandalorians had taught them through conflict, shaped the Jedi, and turned them into a weapon against the Republic."

Marina turned to face Kreia as if seeing her for the first time, surprised by the strength, the passion in her voice as she spoke of conflict. "I . . . they turned? Revan and Malak turned on the Republic?"

"And that was the Jedi Civil War. Revan and Malak, and all the Jedi that served them, turned against the Republic and the Jedi Order. Jedi fought Jedi. Revan was ambushed by the Jedi and captured. Malak continued to wage war in his masters place, inflicting terrible wounds on the Republic, wounds that bleed still."

"But . . . how could the Republic hope to beat them?"

Kreia's voice was cool once more. "As all Sith do without a strong enemy, the Sith turned on each other. Revan escaped the Jedi and returned to finish Malak, and that was the end of the Jedi Civil War."

"But what happened to Revan?"

"No one knows; certainly not I. After defeating Malak, Revan left the Republic and there are none that know where she is gone. It is said that the Sith remnants turned on themselves after Revan defeated Malak, reducing Korriban to ruin, as the Republic still bleeds and struggles for life. Where Revan wanders now . . . I do not know."

Marina struggled to grasp the immensity of what had transpired. "So . . . Revan saved the Republic?"

"It would seem that way, from a certain point of view perhaps. The Jedi Civil War left wounds that have yet to heal. We shall see if the Republic has the strength to survive."

"But . . . shouldn't we help?"

Kreia spoke almost whimsically. "A culture's teachings, and most importantly the nature of its people, achieve definition in conflict. They find themselves . . . or find themselves lacking. Too long did the Republic remain unchallenged. It is a stagnant beast that labors for breath, and has for centuries. The Jedi Order was the heart that sustained its sickness. Now the Jedi are lost. We shall see how long the Republic can survive."

"But you're training me to be a Jedi, and the Jedi are sworn to uphold the Republic."

"But can it be saved? We shall see. The Jedi Civil War cost the Republic much. The resources of the Sith seemed limitless—the Republic's was not. Fleets of war ships, soldiers, and people were lost. Entire planets were decimated, their inhabitants dead or refugees. It is a great burden for any civilization to bear . . . and this new threat. It is a quiet thing. Unlike the Jedi Civil War, it drives at something deeper than the strength of the Republic. It is aimed at you."

"But what do I have to do with it? I'm just one woman, wandering deep space, that can barely touch the Force! How important can I be compared with the entire Republic?"

Kreia waived a hand dismissively. "The Republic was never what was important, ever. It was but a shell that surrounds the Jedi, just as the teachings of the Jedi are a shell surrounding the heart of man. You see, the war, the true war, has never been one waged by droids or warships or soldiers. They are but crude matter, obstacles against which we test ourselves. The true war is waged in the hearts of all living things, against our own natures, light or dark. That is what shapes and binds this galaxy, not these creations of man. You are the battleground, and if you fall, the death of the Republic shall be such a quiet thing, a whisper that shall herald the darkness to come."

"I . . . I . . ." She was drowning, overwhelmed, the moments of peace toying with the engines dashed to pieces. "This is a lot to take in at once. I need time to . . . to reflect on this."

Kreia nodded understandingly. "I would see to that fool in the cockpit, and remind him of our destination."

Marina bristled a little. "Hey, I know he's an idiot, but he did save us."

Kreia shook her head disdainfully. "He is a fool, and an imbecile. His potential lies downward, not up. Watch that one. His thoughts are slipper; I don't trust him, and nor should you. Such a man serves himself first, and his allies next."

Marina took that as a dismissal and just barely managed to walk calmly out the doorway instead of making a break for it like a startled deer.

Kreia smiled to herself as the former Jedi fled from her presence. And, as the door slid closed once more, she pulled back on the edge of her robe to see the stunted, seared wound at the end of her wrist. The pain sizzled through her, but it was background, static. There was no need for the Jedi to test their bond—she'd already performed the test. And, as she had hardly dared to hope, she had succeeded.

"How's our passenger? She still aging?"

Marina plopped into the co-pilot's seat without ceremony, hoping Atton's inane blather would keep her from thinking too much. She really didn't want to be around anyone, but she wanted to be alone even less.

"Cryptic as always."

Atton snorted. "Yeah, to you, maybe. I don't usually hear much beyond 'fool' and 'imbecile.' She's lucky she's a Jedi, or someone would have killed her years ago. I mean, how old do you think she is? She may have been good-looking once, but it takes some hard living to make creases like that."

Marina frowned. That was . . . unusual. Most people were perturbed by the elderly, some primitive part of their minds frightened by the reminder of their own mortality, and in their discomfort didn't look too closely. The same was true of people you didn't like. And yet, Atton had looked past all of that, and wasn't making a big deal out of it, either. Who was he?

"Good looking?"

"Hey, I just got out of prison, and it's not like you're offering. If we had a decent navicomputer, trust me, we'd be dropping out of hyperspace in the Nar Shadaa red sector right now." He turned and gave her a lecherous grin, and a not-so-subtle ogling. "After spacing the old witch, of course."

Once again, his unabashed lust got under her skin. "Look, ease off on the insults. She was wounded helping us escape, remember?"

Atton held up his hands in mock surrender. "Woah, alright, alright, don't get mad at me! Hey, I didn't ask her to stay behind and get her hand cut off, okay? I mean, I appreciate what she did and all, but she can stand to lay off the insults herself, you know?"

She glared at him. "Getting empathy from you is like squeezing water from a stone."

Atton laughed, completely unperturbed. "Oh yeah? Well how much water you get from a stone depends on what planet you're on, sister."

She looked away from his grin. "Look, are we still on the way to Telos or not?"

The humor slid from Atton's voice, replaced by a quiet bitterness. "Like we have a choice. It's the only place Peragus had logged in their astrogation charts. If you thought Peragus was dead, then Telos is a dying world they're trying to breath back to life." He sighed and forced his tone to be brighten. "Should be there before too long. You can check our progress on the galaxy map if you want, it's on the while behind you."

"Alright, I'll do that," she replied, glad for the excuse to be doing something.

After a few moments of silence, Atton spoke up again, curious. "So, what happened?"

Marina closed her eyes, took a breath, and answered repressively, "To what?"

"Don't give me that, there were plenty of times back on Peragus when a lightsaber would have been helpful. So where's yours?"

"I told you, I am not a Jedi."

"Right, right, but you were one, right?"

"For the love of . . . alright, fine. They took it from me when they banished me from the Order and told me never to come back. Are you happy now?"

"Oh yeah? I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber." He shrugged, and turned back to the piloting controls. "Guess I heard wrong."

Marina rolled her eyes, but refocused on astrogation charts. They were still definitely on their way to Telos, but they had a while to go yet.

"Now see, if I had to guess, I'd say you were a double-bladed one. You've got that irritated fire in you all the time. More aggressive blade, more slaughter per swing." He turned to look back over his seat once more. "Hey, you didn't go red, did you?"

Marina pulled back an arm to hit him, but he just laughed at how easily he'd angered her, and she let her arm drop, angry at herself and him in equal measure. Instead, she turned and stormed out of the cockpit.