Conviction

- Revan Freeflight -


I ran.

I had a purpose in mind, and it wasn't just flight – escape from Mission, escape from the cryptic old man who acted like he knew me, escape from the horrors of my mind –

But flight was part of it.

I couldn't bear Mission's acceptance. She was shocked, yes; uncertain and a little afraid of me – and that was it. Somehow, she still saw me as the woman she knew as Jen Sahara – who, in truth, was really a damaged Revan Freeflight lacking the recollection of her own experiences. The same flaws that caused me to fall in the first place must still there.

Whatever those had been. Overconfidence? Arrogance? A mild distaste for authority?

Dammit, merely days ago I would have sworn that Street Kid was one of the good guys. But Street Kid was. Revan was… until, you know, she wasn't.

Mission had only ever heard tales of the Jedi and the Sith, wild stories on the holonets that didn't touch the Lower City of Taris, not really. Not until the Endar Spire spat escape pods all over the ecumenopolis, and Taris was left dealing with the fallout of a fugitive Bastila Shan. Mission was too young, too removed, too nice, to grasp the magnitude of my crimes.

Mission's acceptance, in a way, was worse than Carth's inevitable hatred.

The Shadowlands whispered to me, as my feet danced over fallen leaves and dirt and forest debris. I whipped past giant wroshyrs, the sentinels of this wild world, and felt the hum of power embrace me as miles vanished in my dust.

Somewhere, on Kashyyyk, was Yudan Rosh. And somewhere here in the Shadowlands, was the Star Map. The former would come back to hunt me or haunt me, and I wouldn't allow that encounter to occur around anyone I cared about. And as for the Map…

I had an inkling, a faint impression of something further afield that didn't want to be found. But I wasn't sure of my own senses – now, when I cast out psychically, all I was aware of was various predators stalking through the ancient forest. It was entirely possible that I was running to absolutely nowhere.

Jolee Bindo knew where the Map was. The smarter course of action would have been to accept his aid. That had been Zhar's plan in the first place.

Zhar… I held some responsibility for his death, surely. If I hadn't… if I'd understood everything before… if I'd just kept it sodding together-

"Sithspit," I cursed bitterly, my useless words dying on the air as I ran. And don't forget Karon. The Force sang to me, a lullaby of life and possibility, urging me ever onward. If I hadn't bolted from Bastila in the first place-

There was a faint chirping on my wrist, and I ignored it.

Zhar and Karon, two solid links to my cursed past. And now all I had left were sodding Yudan Rosh and my old lover, Darth Malak.

My vision blurred. My limbs kept moving.

And Bastila. She had some questions to answer, too, didn't she? She… she saved my life. But she knew, all along, and sat back while I formed connections with others who deserved to know who they were really dealing with. Mission might be able to get past it, and stars knew which way Canderous would flip – but Zaalbar, who valued honour above all else? Juhani, struggling so valiantly against any glimmer of the Dark Side since Tatooine? Carth?

I could feel a growl of discontent rumbling in my chest as I launched over a massive log. My senses quickened, warning me of a nearby pack of katarn, enabling me to diverge my path from any threat as I shot through the shadows.

I felt the communicator vibrate again.

Bastila had been party to this from the start. Our bond would have allowed no ignorance. She would have experienced my mind being scrubbed clean and programmed into someone else.

Did she agree?

Was she personally involved?

The very thought made me want to drop my shields and lash out at her, in wild fury and grief.

How can I allow myself to feel these bitter recriminations, after what I have wrought? And yet, all I had to do was recall my movements on the Endar Spire - when my desires were reduced to hiding in my bunk and devouring any archives that fat Cerean had foisted on me – and a rage as black and thick as pure hate began to burn.

The Order would have kept me a puppet, trapped in a false identity with no release. If it hadn't been for that head injury, I would still be Jen Sahara right now.

Jen had been a simple woman, with simple wants. Escape into history, and hide from reality. I stopped, toes digging into the damp forest floor. The reality is… she's dead, and it's my fault.

So many dead.

The desolation and guilt lashed me like a whip, again and again. I didn't think it would ever stop, given my past. From denial to rage to an ocean of shame and grief. If that's not the path to the Dark Side, then I don't know what is.

The comm buzzed again. I stared down at my wrist blankly. A message in text appeared on the screen.

::Blast it, Jen, answer the comm!::

Carth. My knees collapsed under me. My off-hand was bound tight to my chest, and my head bowed over it in despair. I couldn't talk to Carth. Not yet. How does one broach such a revelation? Hey, flyboy, you know how we're all relieved that at least Revan is dead? Well guess what…

Carth had made me feel normal, for a few days. Normal, and hopeful, and happy. Now I understood why those emotions had felt so foreign.

"You're still awake," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble under my ear. He'd fallen asleep with my head pillowed on his chest. I hadn't been sure if he'd expected me to turn up again, but after last night I wasn't staying away.

"Mhmm," I acknowledged. "I don't need much sleep. Not sure if it's a Force thing…"

"That probably explains all your midnight jaunts on Taris," Carth said, his voice a touch wry.

"That was reconnaissance," I replied, feeling my lips curve in a small smile. "It's important on an enemy planet, you know."

"Reconnaissance? Is that a synonym for acquisition these days?"

I lifted my head to see his crooked grin, the teasing glint in his eyes. He hadn't entirely approved of my methods, then, even while acknowledging our situation had been desperate. Still, it didn't sound like he held it against me.

My smile widened as my fingers trailed over his chest. It was dark, in the pilot's quarters, with the only light being the dim illumination of telemetry from the one console. "We made it off Taris, didn't we?"

His expression turned intense, and his dark eyes held mine. "We've made it further than anyone could have expected."

We had, but the cost had been high. Karon. Belaya. Bastila, kidnapped and taken stars-knew-where. Carth must have seen something in my face, for a hand lifted to cradle my face. Despite everything, I felt somewhat comforted.

"We'll get her back, Jen," Carth whispered. "I have faith in you. We'll finish this mission, and get Bastila back."

He leaned forward, and captured my lips in a tender kiss.

Somehow, I felt strangely calmer, sitting amongst the moist undergrowth of the largest and darkest forest in the galaxy.

Those three nights on the Ebon Hawk – and our friendship preceding it – were more real to me than a past love I couldn't remember. The brief flashes of my history told me that it shouldn't be that way; that Malak, once, had been a core foundation of my life. But I had little true recollection, and any emotional attachment I felt was primarily of guilt.

These memories of Carth, fleeting and transient, were a gift I didn't deserve - but perhaps they gave me the strength to do what I had to, next.

I would find the Star Map, and if Yudan Rosh didn't track me down first, then I would go after Bastila and Malak.

But Rulan Prolik's warning sat heavy in my mind.

"The Republic presence on Kashyyyk has orders to capture you, Jen Sahara. If you wish to put an end to Darth Malak, you'd better find a way of avoiding them as you leave this planet."

The thought of handing myself over to the Republic was appealing, in a guilt-assuaging way. How could I have any faith that I wouldn't revert to the monster I once was? I knew the depth and strength of my loyalty to the Republic. I still felt it – an unyielding, abiding conviction to do everything in my power to safeguard the freedom of billions of people. To uphold the founding principles of the Republic. To find the best strategy for the greatest peace – even as I understood it would never be perfect, that the fight would never, truly, be over against the greed and corruption that came with all sentient life. That sacrifices would have to be made, no matter how bitter or great.

But the end goal - peace, understanding, acceptance - was worth whatever we had to endure.

I felt all this, and I knew it was what Street Kid – Revan Freeflight – had felt before.

And yet, what had I turned into?

There was a strong part of me that argued my surrender – and likely execution for war crimes - would be the best thing I could now do for the Republic.

But – Bastila.

Once I had the final Star Map coordinates, we would all have an end point to converge upon. And I couldn't help but feel that the Republic would be a lot more likely to sacrifice Bastila – if an obvious rescue plan didn't jump out and dance a jerryjig at them – than I would be.

She had saved my life, when most Jedi would have counselled against it. Sure, mercy was a tenet of the Order, but she could have walked away. It would have been safer for the galaxy. In the end, I owed her – even if I wanted to shake her for it.

And – Malak.

"Tell me, you who call yourself Jen Sahara, are you ready to put an end to Darth Malak?"

Malak had an ever-increasing armada. Even with the final Star Map, would the Republic be able to defeat him? I didn't know. But one thing I did know-

I was stronger than him, once. Maybe I still am. And he- he had followed me. Followed me into the darkness of which he now claimed ownership.

Malak, the love of my past, was my mess to clean up.

I was stripped, laid bare, emotionally naked, as if a hundred layers of self and feeling and thought had been shed like so much dross. And all that was left was a fragile psyche encasing a steel core that still – despite everything - glowed with the fire of conviction.

And as I pulled myself up into a crouch, I felt it burn brighter. My guilt and self-doubt and anguish were still there - but I could no longer let those sentiments hamstring me.

I wouldn't let them stop me from my next goal.

Zhar had died because I'd been unable to accept my past, because my fractured mind had rebelled at the horrific truth, and disconnected me from the present.

It was hard to know how much blame for his death I should apportion to myself, but Jolee Bindo had one thing correct – it was destructive. Better that I move on, and not repeat my mistakes.

Any of them.

I stood, and reached out with the Force afresh.

There. There. That same negative sensation ebbed further afield, a mild repelling that translated into a desire to be elsewhere, to avoid this particular area. Do all Star Maps resonate so on the Force, I wondered, or is this unique to the one on Kashyyyk?

I took a deep breath, re-focussed myself, and once more began to move.

It wasn't far now, I realized, as I flew over the ground. Time passed quickly as a Force-induced celerity hastened my movements. And I could feel the aversion grow as I neared, an itchy discomfort compelling me to turn back, to change course.

It wasn't difficult to ignore, but I suspected that was because I was aware of it. If I hadn't been, it would have felt natural to avoid this area of the Shadowlands. And I noted, too, that little life existed in this area, other than insects and smallish rodents scurrying through the underbrush. It seemed this repelling sensation also had an effect on non-sentient life.

My pace slowed to a walk as I came ever closer. I rounded across a large thicket of spiny thorns and elongated flowers, and then a large clearing unfolded in front of me.

Oh, the wroshyrs still blacked out the sky well and truly, but this flat area was massive – and no tree, bush or any sort of plant life grew upon it. It was a circular field of dirt that had to be close to a hundred metres in diameter.

And in the very centre of it sat a large metallic device. It looked jarringly out of place.

Fine hairs rose on the back of my neck as a creeping sensation of déjà vu hit me. I had to have been here before, but there was no rising memory to aid me, no glimpse from my broken and cursed past to confirm that this was, indeed, my objective.

The device was a large rectangular shape, stretching a few metres high and wide, with venting and exposed piping along the sides. It could be anything from a power generator to some sort of horticultural equipment, but there was no obvious input panel I could see from this side. It looked like it was driven into the ground. In fact, as I walked closer, I became convinced that part of it was built beneath the surface. It made me wonder, again, at the round patch of dead earth that surrounded it, and if this was somehow related.

What is this? This can't be the Star Map?

In front of the device sat an elliptical platform made from the same metallic alloy. I walked forward cautiously, my good hand clutching Karon's 'saber, the other still strapped tight against my chest. When I neared to within five metres, there was a loud thunk.

A whirring noise echoed from the device.

I stilled, and a hazy hologram flickered to life on the platform.

It was an alien figure I didn't recognize. Humanoid in shape, with an aquatic look to his smooth skin and elongated forehead. Two eyes protruded on short stalks either side of his head. He was a similar height to me, but also lean and thin and with flipper-like digits at the end of his limbs. I'd stick credits on an amphibian ancestry. But what is he?

"(Life form detected,)" a crackly voice emitted from the hologram. His pale blue lips moved in sync with the recording. "(Determining parameters. Initiating neural recognition.)"

The hologram swivelled both eyeballs around to stare at me. I remained motionless, my grasp clenched tight on the Force.

"(Primary neural recognition complete,)" the hologram stated. "(Begin socialized interface. Neural scan indicates positive identification of subject Revan Freeflight. Subject meets accepted neural patterns.)"

A chill danced down my spine. My cursed name spoken so boldly, so confidently, still had the power to shock. But it was out of place, I realized – my name jarred heavily with the thick consonant tones of everything else he said. Understanding unfolded swiftly – the sodding thing wasn't speaking Basic; in fact, I had no clue what language it was, but I could understand it fluently.

And he recognized me. His holographic eyes were pinned on me.

"(Awaiting instruction)," he slurred, words that were not only comprehensible, but also strongly familiar-

...

"(Observation:,)" HK had intoned, in the same garbled vernacular. The sounds were guttural and harsh, and I didn't recognize the language – but I understood him. "(This meatbag looks like the bastard offspring of a diseased Hutt. Which doesn't say much for his mother.)"

...

I blinked, startled at the recollection. That had been in the arse-end of Rii'shn, just before the GenoHaradan ambush. HK had been looking for a way to communicate with me that the Nikto guarding that rundown cantina would not understand.

How interesting. I frowned. HK-47's depth of languages had always impressed – he knew Sand People dialects, for frell's sake – but hadn't I questioned him about this particular one, on the way to Korriban? And hadn't he retorted with something about errors in programming?

That's not important right now! I dragged my attention back to the computerized figure, making a mental note to query HK about it in the future. The hologram was still staring at me attentively.

I took a cautious step forward. The thing's gaze tracked my movements, but otherwise he remained motionless.

"Hello?" I ventured, in Basic.

"(Greetings, Revan Freeflight,)" the hologram replied.

I cocked my head. "You can understand Basic," I murmured, wondering just how old this relic was.

"(Dictionary of language 'Galactic Basic' was uploaded four years ago by yourself, Revan Freeflight.)"

I drew in a shallow breath, feeling suddenly clammy. Only now, did it really hit me that I was retracing my own steps – the same steps that had led to such disastrous ruin before. I felt an immediate rush of longing for Bastila's counsel. But I can't reach out to her… I heard Malak, before. Mal. I closed my eyes in painful recollection. I'd be better off putting a blaster to my head than allowing him a foothold into my mind.

I had to do this by myself, and do it better than last time. Which was a monumental ask considering I couldn't remember a damn thing.

"Why did I do that?" I asked, snapping my eyes open. "(I can speak your language. Why bother with Basic?)"

"(You desired to link this unit to galactic informational networks beyond this planet, Revan Freeflight. The controlling computer required translational capabilities of a current sentient communication method to parse available data, should it ever become connected.)"

Okay. I wanted to link some old computer to the holonets. That was even more confusing. "And did it ever get connected?"

The thing blinked at me. It responded intelligently to my queries, and must be based on either an advanced AI or some sort of holocron. Considering its lack of individuality, I thought the former was more likely.

"(No. You attempted to repair the transmission relays four years ago, but were unable to source the correct technology for replacement parts. As per your directive, this unit has remained in stasis until your return. Or, as programmed, until another builder communication.)"

I walked around the hologram, frowning in thought. The figure lapsed into silence, awaiting my questions, shifting to face me as I circled it. "What sort of builder communication? Does 'builder' refer to those who installed this device?"

"(Error. Information regarding the builders of this unit has been corrupted.)"

"Corrupted?" I muttered. "Fantastic. So you don't know who built, well, you?"

"(The builders installed this unit, Revan Freeflight.)"

The builders… I realized, then, that it was a name rather than a profession. The Builders… And a quiet, seldom-heard voice whispered in the back of my head. The Rakata were known as the Builders, due to the massive structures and sculptures their slaves built in forced homage on various colonies. The Rakatan empire was vast… they colonized much of the galaxy tens of millennia ago. It has been speculated they were an incredibly strong Force-sensitive species as well, but there is no concrete evidence to support this.

Jen… her memories were still with me, faint but there. And while this era was much further back than her specialty, she still knew something of them.

"The Rakata," I murmured slowly. "This computer was part of their civilization?"

"(Error. Malfunction in core programming. Last communication with primary Builder node 29,642 years before current Republic standard.)"

I blinked. That was a long time ago, but it fit with Jen's knowledge. The Rakatan Empire was well established some 35,000 years ago, reaching its zenith 7,000 years later, before collapsing a few millennia after that. The little Jen knew of their empire was that is was built on slavery and subjugation, and spanned more of the known galaxy than the Republic did now.

And then, for some unknown reason, they died out. Rapidly, over the course of a few mere centuries. The largest player in the galaxy – by far – decimated for some unknown reason that history had not recorded.

I glanced back to the hologram. The hologram of a Rakata, I surmised. "What is the purpose of this installation?" I asked.

"(This utility was built to monitor planet-wide agricultural reformation,)" the hologram stated.

Planet-wide agricultural reform- "What, you mean terraforming?" I spluttered. "On Kashyyyk? Why?"

"(This colony was selected as a breeding ground for servants of the Infinite Empire.)"

The breath hissed from my lungs, and a cold sensation pricked at the base of my neck. Slaves. They bred the Wookiees as slaves. Suddenly, I felt nauseous. This technology – the same tech as the Star Maps, surely – came from a civilization built on slavery. On terraforming entire planets to breed sentients. And there was a strong power around this supercomputer, repelling everyone away – and only those trained in the Force had some chance of overcoming it.

The Rakata were theorized to be a Force-sensitive species, and they enslaved much of the galaxy - through methods certainly not of the Light Side. This was the technology I'd chased after, four years ago, before turning into a monster.

What an idiot. What a reckless, arrogant idiot- why would I mess around with tech from a source such as this? I must have, already, been far down the dark path-

No, no, I remembered the krayt dragon's cave. I remembered running through the shyrack tunnels, with Mal- with Malak. Those recollections were from Street Kid, not Evil Bitch. I must have had reason, I must have thought I could use this tech for something worth the risk-

Or maybe I simply thought I could master it.

Overconfidence. You were always too damnably overconfident. The voice, an older man's, sneered inside my head. I'd heard it before, but I couldn't pick from where-

Everyone is fallible. Even you. Especially you.

I breathed in, deep to the bottom of my lungs, the bottom of my soul, and willed the disapproving voice away.

I looked back to the impassive hologram. "You enslaved the Wookiees. You terraformed Kashyyyk," I clarified.

"(The native species of this planet were chosen as suitable servants for the Infinite Empire,)" the hologram answered. Its tone was damnably neutral.

"What happened?" I whispered. "What happened to the Rakata? And what happened to Kashyyyk?"

"(Last communication with primary Builder node 29,642 years before current Republic standard. This unit malfunctioned 26,334 years before current Republic standard, causing hyper-acceleration of the natural fauna.)"

Hyper-acceleration? "The wroshyrs… kath crap, this computer is the reason they're so huge?" I blinked, my gaze once more landing on the supercomputer. It must extend deep into the ground, but to control terraforming on that scale- "Is it still functional?"

"(Terraforming capabilities have ceased production 8,233 years before current Republic standard.)"

Somehow, I didn't think the Wookiees would believe this particular piece of their history. Okay, I'm getting off-topic now. Focus, Jen- I closed my eyes for a brief second. Revan. Focus, Revan. The name echoed inside my head.

It should have felt wrong, but it didn't. It felt right.

"Do you have access to a Star Map?" I asked quietly.

"(The Star Map is yours, Revan Freeflight,)" the hologram replied. Behind it, next to the supercomputer, a small portal in the ground opened. There was a whirring noise, and four large metallic prongs protruded through the opening, slowly raising until the tips were about a metre high.

I'd seen this mechanism before. My hand moved of its own accord, and I released a small wave of Force power on nothing more than pure instinct. It swirled around the device, which emitted an audible click.

Then, slowly, the prongs unfolded to reveal a small sphere spinning in the middle.

A luminescent light spun around the sphere, before it expanded into a large, cerulean holo-map.

I stared at it, transfixed, my thoughts stilling. It was a map of the galaxy, the definition so intense that I knew I could zoom in many times to particular quadrants and still have intricate detail available.

And I knew it, I knew it well - even if the memory was lost to me.

I stepped closer and my fingers were immediately drawn to the black spots of the map, the missing segments I was innately aware of before my eyes landed on them. This data combined with the other Maps will unlock our destination. Our endpoint.

In a sudden rush, I fumbled against the wrist communicator on my good arm.

"Can you download this map to my comm?" I asked the hologram.

"(Communication parameters initiating,)" the hologram said. There was a bleep from my wrist, an access prompt I accepted. "(Download commencing.)"

I wondered, then, about this AI program, about the supercomputer and its control over the Star Map. Juhani had never mentioned anything like this from her trip to Hrakert Station. Canderous and Mission surely would have talked about a hologram who spoke a forgotten language they could not have understood-

"(Download of Star Map is now complete, Revan Freeflight.)"

I frowned, still staring at the alien hologram. "Do all the Star Maps have a controlling supercomputer?"

"(Negative. The primary purpose of this installation is to monitor agricultural reformation,)" the hologram repeated. "(The controlling computer determines access to the terraforming functions of this unit. You re-programmed the controlling computer four years ago to restrict access to both this unit and the adjoining Star Map, Revan Freeflight.)"

"I… did?" That probably made sense. I probably didn't want anyone tracing my steps. "Has anyone accessed this since then?"

"(152 attempts by human Jolee Bindo, all denied,)" came the implacable response.

A surprised laugh ripped from my lungs. Jolee. You must have been bored. Well, he'd been living here a long time. Stars, does that mean I've met him before?

Not necessarily- but I wondered. Jolee's manner to me had been pretty damn familiar, but that could also just be his personality.

My attention re-focused on the image of the Rakata.

"What about before I came? Did anyone else come across this device?"

"(Error. Malfunction. List of prior access attempts are corrupted. Repelling energy field still online.)"

I felt a shiver run through me as I considered that. So it was confirmed, then, that this averting field of Force originated here – that the supercomputer had some ability to manipulate the Force.

Which meant that the Rakata definitely did.

"Exactly what sort of Force capabilities does this computer have?" I demanded.

"(Definition of force: physical strength or power exhibited. The primary purpose of this installation is to monitor agricultural reformation,") the hologram echoed. Again.

I frowned. "What about the Rakata? How did they use the Force?"

"(Error. Malfunction in core programming. The Rakata controlled the Infinite Empire, and forced lesser beings to augment their civilization.)"

I sighed. This is getting nowhere. It sounded like the hologram didn't understand my query, didn't know what I meant by the Force. Perhaps it was a translation issue.

My attention was drawn back to the supercomputer, the large terraforming relic of a civilization the galaxy was better off without. "The Star Maps… were they all located on planets with agricultural reformation units such as this once?"

"(The Star Maps are navigational maps pointing to the Star Forge, Revan Freeflight. They are unrelated to the purpose of this unit. The only connection this unit has to the Star Map is the identical date of installation by the Builders, and your re-programming of the controlling computer four years ago to restrict access.)"

I barely processed most of what he said. The Star Forge… For as those words hit my ears, I was beset with both familiarity and a crawling trepidation that hissed deathly shadows into the cracks of my mind.

"What is the Star Forge?" I whispered.

"(The Star Forge is a weapons factory of the Infinite Empire,)" the hologram said calmly.

Weapons factory. Sithspit, that made sense. Malak's ever-expanding armada. "What- what sort of weapons?" I asked through numb lips.

"(Error. Corruption in internal data. The Star Forge is a weapons factory of the Infinite Empire.)"

"You already said that," I muttered, scrubbing a hand across my face in frustration. "What can you tell me about it? How is it powered? How big is it? What sort of defences does it have? Do you have any sort of schematic?"

"(Parameters too broad. Error. Incomplete Request. Error. Initiating holo-graphic,)" the thing intoned, and there was a rush of light as the navigational map was replaced by the image of a large space station.

I stumbled back in shock. Sithspit! I hadn't expected a positive answer to the last. My breath stuck in my throat as I was riveted to the glowing picture in front of me.

"Download it," I hissed, my eyes roving over the space station. It had a spherical centre, with three elongated fins that extended around it on a vertical plane. The graphic gave me no idea how big it was but-

It's big, a voice whispered. It's powerful. It might just be enough.

Enough? I was breathing, suddenly, hard and fast, as sweat popped on my forehead. Enough for what? Another damned empire like the Rakatan?

There was no answer.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, as the Star Forge holo-graphic shimmered in front of me. I can't truly go there and expect to end up different from last time, can I?

"(Download of Star Forge schematic is now complete, Revan Freeflight,)" the hologram stated.

I ripped my gaze away, and back to the Rakata. "The weapons… it must be the ships, the Sith Armada. How does the Star Forge create these weapons?"

"(Error. Information regarding the output of the Star Forge has been corrupted.)"

I closed my eyes. "How does the Star Forge operate? Where does it get its energy from?"

"(Error. Information regarding the input of the Star Forge has been corrupted.)"

"You're not being very helpful, you know," I snapped.

"(The primary purpose of this installation is to monitor agricultural reform-)"

"Okay, okay!" I interrupted. "But you said the terraforming capabilities had ceased. So what can you do?"

"(The secondary purpose of this installation is to guide any who match the accepted neural patterns of the Builders,)" the hologram stated. I began walking around him again, my brows knitting in thought. It had said something about accepting my neural patterns at the outset of our conversation.

"Guide to what? Or where?"

"(Error. Information regarding the Infinite Empire has been corrupted.)"

He said the Infinite Empire… maybe, once upon a time, this terraforming supercomputer allowed any space-faring Rakata to communicate with the heart of their civilization. It was pure speculation, and the device utterly fascinated me. That such ancient technology was capable of terraforming a planet so long ago, and also housed information regarding an extinct, powerful civilization – well. My curiosity was piqued. Much like it once had been before. No wonder I'd thought about hooking it up to the holonets.

Dangerous, though, considering its origins. And even worse, going after a weapons factory built by the same species…

I sighed, running my good hand through my hair. It was hard to know what to do with the supercomputer – but, for now, I could just leave its access restricted.

For I had more pressing matters to attend to - and, I was tiring. Even with the strength of the Force, I could feel a dull ache in my bound shoulder, echoed by a phantom pain where two little fingers used to be.

A small price to pay. Insignificant, really, compared to everything else.

I've got what I need. I should move from here. I stared down at the wrist-comm. It was time to transmit the Map – and the illuminating schematic of the Star Forge – back to the 'Hawk.

But I wasn't ready. I hadn't been ready to face Mission – let alone anyone else. Facing the crew felt harder than going after Malak and Bastila.

If I could, I'd go on my own. Can I go on my own? I didn't have the other Maps in my possession. And it smacked of cowardice, really. But it's my fight – not theirs.

But wasn't that a big stinking pile of kath crap? This was everyone's mission, it had been since Taris. I sighed, realizing something else – I was assuming Bastila and Malak were on this powerful weapons factory. In reality, they might be somewhere else.

No… the Star Forge must be the heart of the Sith Empire – and until I'm dead, Malak won't be far away from it. Bastila will be with him.

I gritted my teeth. And began the transmission.

"Okay, keep the same access restriction, and power down for now," I ordered the hologram.

Bulbous eyeballs blinked at me. "(Parameters reset,)" the shimmering figure intoned. "(Stasis initiated.)"

There was a faint electronic hum, and both the Rakata and the holo-graphic of the Star Forge winked out of existence. I sighed, took a few steps closer to the massive supercomputer, and slid down next to it. The metallic wall around it was mildly warm, and I rested my head back against it as my thoughts whirred.

The Ebon Hawk would be receiving the data now – with the other Maps, it would be able to calculate a set of hyperspace coordinates to find this Star Forge. I couldn't do that on my own, not unless my damn mind decided to suddenly spew out the galactic data I needed.

I had to stay with the crew – we had to finish things together. And that meant- I had to tell them the truth. They all deserved that.

And yet… I couldn't even face it myself. It was one thing to suspect you'd gone bad, to experience the desire for power and subjugation at the expense of others. To feel the dark rush of immortality that surrounded an unfeeling core. But to learn you'd plumbed the very depths of destruction and darkness…

I'd turned on what I cared for the most. Conquered planets and shipyards, annexed trade-routes and sectors, bombed-

Telos.

I cannot bear this anymore.

Telos. Oh no. Oh no…

Telos had been bombed into devastation, one of the first battles when Revan- when me and Malak began our offensive. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't remember, I couldn't feel a damn thing but this over-whelming self-hatred – I'd known Carth would detest me before I'd even thought about Telos, about his dead, dead wife, about Dustil who'd spent four damn years in a soul destroying Sith Academy because of frelling Telos-

I will not listen to his poison. He will not twist my beliefs!

But I didn't remember why. It made no sense. Why destroy a logistical gem like Telos when capturing its resources would be far more beneficial? It was Outer Rim, in the thick of the now-Sith Empire, and bridging over two major hyper-routes. What could be gained from such destruction, such slaughter? Was it just to terrify the galaxy into submission?

My cheeks were wet. And there was a buzzing on that cursed communicator that I just couldn't bear to answer.

How would I ever be able to face him?

I must- Revan?

Bastila? With a sharp jolt of surprise, I realized my shields had completely dropped. I should have been alarmed at her proximity and the danger it presented - but I was too empty to feel anything further.

Revan, she whispered, her mental voice broken and hollow. Our mind-link was tangible to me now, filled to the brim with our collective despair, and an undercurrent of rage that wasn't mine. Bandon has you, but I can sense you. How?

I didn't know how to respond, but she must have sensed something.

He thinks Bandon has you. There was a small spark of confusion, of hope. I thought Bandon had you.

Bandon's dead, I replied dully. I shoved a lightsaber through his chest. I could see it in my minds-eye again; Bandon's spread-eagled body pinned to a wroshyr by Yudan's 'saber, as large chunks of bark sloughed away from the massive tree.

Is it true? she gasped. Is he dead? Show me again!

Her words crowed through my mind, insistent and righteous. I could understand her emotion, after what she must be enduring, but somehow it felt slightly off.

He boarded the Endar Spire. It was he who slaughtered my compatriots, Seris and Jorayl and Master Galdea and all of the soldiers onboard, she seethed. There is only one other whose death I desire. The one who betrayed us. The schutta who pretended to be my friend.

Kylah. Not Malak. Not the one who had been torturing her for days on end.

There was something worrying in that, but I hadn't the mental aptitude to think on it.

If it were not for Bandon and Kylah, then the Endar Spire would never have fallen. Our mission would never have collapsed.

And I would still be Jen Sahara, I said sadly.

There was silence between us, an awkward chasm of bottomless grief. She didn't answer – maybe she couldn't.

Why save me, simply to kill me another way? For I wasn't- I wasn't meant to wake up, was I?

I had the sense of her sighing; a deep, broken gust of air. In all honestly, I am not sure. You were still present in your dreams. But I- Jen- Revan- her words began tumbling over one another, like dustballs bounding down a hillside. Please, it wasn't what we planned at first- we didn't know about the Maps- it wasn't my decision or doing- I- she halted, trailing off into silence. You must protect yourself from me, Revan. For I am a danger to you, now.

Where are you, Bastila? Are you on the Star Forge?

You know of the Forge… you have the final Map, she breathed. I felt the hope burn from her then, the burgeoning belief that I could save her.

It left a sour taste in my mouth. I was no hero. Not anymore.

To answer your question, yes, I am on the Forge. This is a… dark place, Revan. Do you recall it?

No.

That is for the best. It frightens me. I could sense her drawing in a shuddering breath. Revan, part of the Sith fleet are in orbit around Kashyyyk. As soon as Malak realizes you've escaped – and he will pull it from my mind – he will order bombardment. You must leave Kashyyyk. You and the crew. At once.

Orbital bombardment. Again, but this time of Zaalbar's homeworld.

My next steps were clear. And there was no hiding from it any longer.

One moment, I fired back. There was a prickling along all my nerve endings, and I stared down at the innocent communicator latched on my wrist.

I pressed a button, and fired out a comm-wide message. Small lights on the display lit up as both the Ebon Hawk and another communicator – Canderous, probably – answered the call.

"The Sith are rallying to commence orbital bombardment on Kashyyyk," I said in a rush. "I've sent the Map coordinates through. Whatever you're doing, finish up and get back to the 'Hawk." I took a deep breath. "I'll collect Mission and meet everyone there. We must leave Kashyyyk as soon as we can."

I switched the comm off, stood, and began to move. Away from the clearing, away from the Star Map, and away from the terraforming supercomputer that had changed the face of Kashyyyk forever.

Bastila, I reached out again as I left the Rakatan legacy well behind. How long do you have, before Malak finds out about me?

How would I know? Her voice was shaky, but there was a tartness to it I recognized. Fear did not wholly command her, not yet. He cannot touch my mind, and therefore our bond, unless he is physically here. Jen- Revan- I do not know if you heard him earlier, I do not want to know, I do not want to betray anything-

It's okay. Have faith. I felt the side of my mouth twitch at the black irony of my words. Have faith in the Force.

Oh, Revan, she whispered shakily. There is so much I wish to know. Vrook, the crew… Revan, some of what Malak has been saying does not sit well with me. And this place… it calls to me. I feared the taint of the Dark Side on Korriban, but that was nothing on what I feel here. The power...

Power corrupts. If you ever doubt, just think on how far I fell.

Do you think I do not know that? Her words lashed back through the bond. I do not desire any of this, except that it means freedom from the pain of being a prisoner. All I wish is to be away from here!

I had a sudden image, then, of a small room with walls made from some metallic compound I couldn't identify. It had the same look as the terraforming supercomputer and its elliptical platform. The same material, the same technology.

The Star Forge.

I was seeing through Bastila again. The Force around her had a dark twist to it, but it fumbled in her unwieldy grasp – her drugged grasp, I remembered. Her hands were bound together by electronic shackles.

I focussed on them.

Well, I answered her at last. Maybe we should try getting you away from there, then.

xXx

Author's Note:

Thanks for the reviews, guys. I'm stoked whenever I get one :-)