Breaking Chains
- Bastila Shan -
The corridor was empty.
It was comprised of a strange metallic compound that bore a silvery colour lighter than any form of durasteel I was familiar with. The walls curved in a cylindrical cast, with no obvious delineation of panels. The result was both perfect and alien in its appearance.
Behind me lay the quarters I had been ensconced in. The door, strangely, had been unlocked. And now that I was mobile, I had utterly no idea which direction I should take.
Can you sense any lifeform nearby? There must be guards, soldiers - you can't afford to run into any, not without a weapon, not with the Force so weak.
Revan's presence sat strongly in my mind, and that was a comfort in itself. But the Force was dull and shaky, my heartbeat irregular and loud, my senses woozy. The Sith medic who had overlooked my vitals for so long, a silent Rodian named Boc, had been exceedingly regular in his application of the sense-scrambling jerrikerr-kolto. That schutta's cursed formula, scrambling my mind and Force alike.
I had tried to disable my shackles, to blast the circuitry in a basic pulse of ionization. That had never been beyond my talents before, but the drugs made it so now. I fumbled and tried, and tried and fumbled, and every failure tasted like desolate ash in my mouth.
But now Revan was here, and free, and able to do what I could not. Such a minimal, and yet precise, twist of the Force through the bond, and the electronic fetters hissed open.
Can you sense anything?
Sometimes, the jerrikerr-kolto eroded all my senses, like I was blind and deaf as well as Force-numb. But it would come in different coloured waves; one a nauseating detachment, another a dizzying delirium.
I had the impression of my own thought-streams fragmenting; the yearning to drift away and disconnect from reality. Even as I understood it a side-effect of the medication, awareness still did not dispel the desire to simply close my eyes and just stop.
Bastila? Stay with me!
I am here. I cannot sense anything… I cannot sense…
Her psychic touch brushed against mine, intertwining with my precarious hold on the Force, and commanding it to obey our mingled will. Such power, flowing through me from her, but it was clumsy and skittered out of my-her-our grasp. Whether it was the jerrikerr-kolto or her unfamiliarity with the bond, I did not know.
Neither do I, she muttered, discerning my thoughts. You feel like you're on a spice crash.
For Revan to make a connection like that was not wholly surprising, even as I doubted she had any conscious memory of such an event. But her instincts and innate experience from a past history she could not recall had manifested time and again.
Although, somehow, I did not think Darth Revan had ever resorted to ingesting spice like a spiritless spacer.
There was a mental flinch from her, and I realized she had intercepted that thought, also.
Probably Street Kid back on Talshion, Revan muttered. Look, just put one foot in front of the other. Go!
I found myself stumbling forward, instinctively reacting to her command. The corridor curved gently, the inside of a shiny silver snake, and I was breathing shallowly by the time I rounded the bend.
It was a surprise for me to find it empty.
I have such a surprise for you, Bastila, Malak's mechanical tones echoed in my memory.
The surprise had been the Star Forge, of course. And within these walls I could feel the licking of dark Force encircling me, a creeping sensation that whispered evil, power, freedom.
There was nothing I wished for more fervently than my freedom.
But now I beheld a flutter of hope that my wish may yet be granted. Revan was free, and I was unshackled. I could breathe again.
For I had been suffocating under a nadir of despair, a graveyard of hate and desolation that Malak had delighted in…
…
I could not feel Revan. I had vowed to stay back, to block her as much as I was able beneath the weight of the drugs, yet now I found myself scrabbling for any sense of my tormented bond-sister. She was entirely absent from me. Our bond had been cleaved through with sharp precision, as though no connection between us had ever existed.
It did not mean her death. I would feel that, oh how I would feel that, and likely not survive. No, I understood the implications well enough.
Bandon Stone and Yudan Rosh had captured Revan Freeflight, and we had lost. We had lost everything.
Her capture, like mine, was worse than a quick death.
"You will enjoy this," Malak intoned, his sharp yellow eyes gleaming with victorious glee. "A message from Bandon, confirming everything you witnessed earlier."
From a small, portable reception stick held tight in his gloved grasp, a holo-picture sprang to life. That sneering reprobate Bandon, the one who executed the offensive against the Endar Spire, stood in swirling shadows brandishing a blood-red lightsaber.
Lying prone in the gloom at his feet, was Revan. Scarlet illumination winked against the neural disruptor on her neck, against the restraints on her lifeless limbs, against the utterly broken expression in her blank eyes.
I had never hated Bandon as passionately as I did in that moment.
…
Bastila! For frell's sake, stay with me!
The sweat crawled down my neck like slimy mud beetles. My face flushed with heat, even as my arms prickled with goose-pimples beneath the light garment I had worn for days.
Sithspit, when was the last time you had that drug?
I am not sure. Boc comes once or twice a standard day, perhaps. He was probably due now, I realized. I had lost any awareness of the passing of time, but Boc always arrived shortly after the dizziness reared, the clamminess set in, and my senses fragmented-
It's the side-effects of it wearing off. Revan sounded grim. If they need to inject you that frequently, then there's a good chance that recovery will be quick. But if you think he'll be turning up in your cell with another dose, then we have sod all time. Move!
Her urgency finally began to penetrate the fog that sat in my consciousness, and then I was running blindly down the smooth alien tunnel. Revan was right there with me; seeing through my eyes, listening through my ears-
Footsteps. Try that door!
Sets of footsteps sounded from further ahead that I had not registered. A service door to my right I had not seen. I am in bad shape, I realized somewhat forlornly. This will never work.
The door! Revan ordered, and my hand lifted of its own volition.
The door swished open to reveal a modest utility closet. Deactivated cleaning bots were plugged into sockets on the floor, and shelves heralded piles of garments and cloths all neatly folded. The closet door closed, plunging the small space into darkness with only the orange luminescence of the door control shedding any light.
The footsteps grew louder.
About four sets, walking in unison, Revan muttered. I had a vague sense of humid air against my face, the tang of tree-sap in my sinuses, and realized that Revan was running at speed through a forest. We've got to get you a weapon, Bastila. And a sodding disguise. The Force feels… sick, through you.
…
"You're sick," I hissed. "You would say anything to justify your monstrosity-"
"What's so monstrous, little one? Wishing to save the Republic? The High Council would have had the Republic fall before they involved themselves, do you not understand that? Diverse cultures replaced by Mandalorian braying and beating of chests-"
"War is dangerous for Jedi!" I spluttered. "The Council had their reasons-"
"They feared the power of the Dark Side," Malak agreed, his yellow eyes glowing sickly as they bored into me. "But have you asked yourself, dear Bastila, why they were so quick to become involved after Malachor? Is there not some hypocrisy in that they would ignore genocide committed by non-Force sensitives, but jump into the fray when the conquerors are Dark Jedi?"
"I will not listen to your poison, Malak!" I seethed, clenching tight my eyes. There is no emotion, there is peace. He shall not make me doubt the Order! There is no-
"I see I have exhausted you for today," he murmured. "Very well, I shall leave you alone to contact Revan. My next question - ask her which Master swore fealty to her after the loss at Duro."
I didn't ask. I didn't reach out.
…
Bastila, what the frell? Her voice stormed through the mind-link. It sounded horrified. What did he mean, his next question?
The footsteps were very loud, resonating through the thin metal door. I heard the idle chatter of soldiers, but could not register individual words. My harsh breathing was deafening in the darkened closet. There wasn't much space, here, only enough to rest against the side-wall. The metal was oddly warm beneath my shaking hands.
Each breath was fast and furious and shallow. But no one had discovered me yet. No alarm wailed in the distance. No running footsteps. For now.
Beneath my hands was a small display panel, a holo-still, a section of a map. Utility cupboard A04. Wing 3F. Lines branching out like a spider, pointing to other storerooms dotted around this segment of the Forge.
Revan, do you see-
Yes. But it isn't complete, and all I can see is cleaning cupboards-
Surely it can aid us? Does it… seem at all familiar?
I don't know the sodding place, Bastila! There was anger, there, in her words. Masking a black river of despair. But it was the Star Forge. Could she really claim not to recall anything about it?
For frell's sake, I didn't even know my own name a day ago!
That wasn't true. Not really. She just refused to accept it.
Bastila! This isn't helping!
…
"You're not helping," Malak murmured, as a gloved finger trailed down my cheek. I flinched, drawing as far away as I could. My muscles still twitched and burned with agony. "I really would prefer not to hurt you like this, dear Bastila."
…
The Force flickered in my grasp, sluggish and sweet, slipping through my fingertips like I was attempting to grasp jella-pudding. It was a sickly dessert, one of the very few my mother would make. She was always affronted when I turned it away.
I felt Revan's complete realization at what I had been enduring at the hands of Malak, and the anger emanating from her climaxed into hot fury.
He's been trying to break you, she hissed. To make you fall.
Perhaps… but primarily he wanted me to contact you. To find out what you knew, what you recalled, what sort of threat you are. To… to toy with you and toy with me.
Is that why you kept trying to block me?
I-I don't want you to recall your past, Revan. It is too dangerous… but he kept asking. How did he lose his jaw, what were Talvon Esam's last words, what happened to Kreia-
I don't know any of that, Bastila!
But the questions still spilled out, varying demands precluding the pain that came later, when I refused to answer. And each time, I felt my self-resolve slowly splinter. I told him you recalled so little, but he kept asking. Who found you on Talshion, how did Arran Da'klor die, who did you send as the first Dark Jedi recruiter on Korriban-
I- She paused. Her presence wavered, fragmenting a little. Karon. Arran Da'klor Force-pulled a dagger into his heart. Nisotsa.
It took a second, a horrified frozen second, before I fully comprehended her answer.
Revan, I said, shaken. How can you- how can you answer that, and know nothing of the Star Forge?
Stars, Bastila, I don't even know what they mean- who Arran or Nisotsa were to me- I just have these cursed flashes dropping names and feelings into my frelled-up head- she trailed off brokenly. Ever since the Endar Spire.
It was then I sensed her utter exhaustion, through the bond. It rivalled mine.
But I will clean up my mess, Bastila. I swear it. I will not… I refuse to turn into what I once was.
She sounded spent; grief-stricken and hollow. And yet, the faint steel of conviction sang through her words. I found myself believing in her.
Look at the map again.
I glanced back to the unintelligible lines. In the centre, there was a different coloured dot. Command Center 3F.
There. We go there. We need to find a way out of this place. We need to find a ship.
A command center will be guarded, Revan.
Yes. You'll have to mind-trick someone into helping you. Go, Bastila, while the corridor is empty.
I gasped in a lungful of air, mashed my hand on the door control, and entered into the hallway once more. Second door on the right, along another length of alien tunnel, a bend to the left. And as I rounded that last corner, a sole soldier jerked in surprise as we nearly barrelled into one other.
Alarm fired through me, a rush of Force, shaking in my grasp. Revan was there, her strength aiding mine, as either panic or feral instinct had me hurling forth a shockwave of energy.
The soldier, an Aqualish dressed in the starched tan uniform of the Sith, was thrown back against the curved wall. He grunted, recovering quickly, a hand already scrabbling for the blaster on his belt.
No! Panic coursed like wildfire through me, rallying the Force in my grasp. He took a step forward, and I lashed out again, slamming him back once more with a thud.
It was a weak effort, and his large black eyes began to narrow in mounting outrage.
Again!
"The prisoner!" he barked in understanding, blaster rising as he stepped forward.
If I allow him to defeat me, then Kylah has won! The moment she decided to betray the Order, she won! An upsurge of power, passionate and furious, collected in my grasp – whether it was mine or Revan's I did not know – and then the Aqualish was sailing back against the alien walls a third time.
He shook his head dazedly, and it still was not enough! I felt despair at my own weakness, all because of that schutta, and the soldier's tusks and hairy face swam in my vision, morphed and transformed until all I could see was the striking face of my one-time friend, and the glint of jealousy burning in her eyes.
Someone was growling in rage. I felt my fist clenching. The figure in front of me was pressed hard against the wall, thick fingers scrabbling at his neck- no, no, fine fingers hidden beneath glossy tendrils of dark hair-
…
A warm Dantooine breeze lifted glossy tendrils from Kylah's face, as her slanted gaze fixed on mine. "What is going on?" she asked, as we ambled through the high grass. She was composed, but I could see the concern dancing in her eyes, evident in her pursed lips. "I was so relieved when you returned, and after all you've gone through I do understand that the Council wish to keep a close eye on you, but-" She paused, frowning. "This is the first time they have let you out of their sight. Are you alright, my friend? Is everything okay?"
No. No, it was not. But I could not tell her that.
Our secret prisoner was cloistered deep within the Enclave, the best Jedi medics rallying to keep her comatose as the Council discussed what to do. Master Nemo had been shocked. Master Vrook disapproving. And myself… I had not known how to explain my act of mercy, other than I had been unable to leave someone to certain death when I could save them.
No matter their crimes.
"I cannot speak of it, Kylah," I said softly. I knew she would not appreciate the answer. Kylah had always watched out for me, and I knew I had a tendency to follow her lead around others. She was proud, in her own way, of my Battle Meditation and victories thus far in the war against the Sith, but she cautioned me against overconfidence. Kylah did not believe I was ready for the Knight trials.
In that way, she sounded much like Master Vrook. And yet, a small part of me rebelled at them both. Look at what I have achieved! I sometimes thought. Look how far I have come! Surely, I am ready? But I could not deny the reservations of both my closest friend and my Master. They must have their reasons for holding me back… and I had heard how gruelling the Knight trials were. Strength in the Force had naught to do with it.
Even Kylah had failed, the first time.
"You cannot speak of it?" she asked in disbelief. "Bastila, you cannot doubt my loyalty to you, the trust that is between us. Whatever is going on has you torn, my friend. You can unburden yourself safely, in the knowledge that it will go no further."
I trusted Kylah implicitly, but this was not just my secret to bear. And it was so big… I had not expected a Force bond. I had not expected the memory to flood through me, of a secret artefact here on Dantooine. Master Nemo was setting out, tomorrow, to investigate. The thought of what he might find scared me not a little.
"You must trust in the Council, Kylah," I replied, hearing a prim tone in my voice that made me cringe inwardly. "I would tell you if I could."
"This makes no sense," she muttered, a flash of annoyance creasing her striking face. I had sometimes speculated on a Mirialan mix in her otherwise human ancestry, given the slight yellow tone to her skin that always struck me as exotic. I had never dared question her on it though. "You are but a Padawan, Bastila. Surely Master Vrook does not agree with all of this… whatever this is."
"Please, Kylah, do not press me anymore," I begged, before turning back to stare at the Enclave. I took a deep breath, and tasted the scent of flowering grass that beheld the onset of spring. "I must head back to the Enclave."
…
She was gasping for air, beneath my choke hold. But if I let go then it would mean my end. And she deserved everything she had coming, the betraying, jealous schutta-
…
"Bastila," Kylah said, drawing me into an empty officer's room of the Endar Spire. A large plasticeel table dominated the humble room, which was otherwise bare of any furniture. A meeting room, of sorts. "Galdea has just imparted to me-"
"Master Galdea," I murmured, unable to help myself.
Kylah's dark eyes flashed with irritation. "Master Galdea," she snapped, "has just imparted to me the extra-ordinary powers of command you have been granted. What is going on?"
The last question was hissed out like a whiplash. I looked away. "Kylah, Master Galdea is leading the Endar Spire in actuality. You know this. I will not be countermanding anything he says-"
"And yet you have the power to do so!" she interjected, her voice high with incredulity. "It is hard enough to stomach the secrecy around these Force ruins you are hunting – and do not look at me like that Bastila, I know you have been granted more details than I or any Knight on board – but this? This is- this is ludicrous!" she ended on a splutter.
She was not the only one who thought so. The reactions of the Republic officers had been galling. Even that experienced advisor to the navi-pilots, Captain Onasi, could not contain his disbelief when he glanced my way. Certainly I was well-known to Republic soldiers; famous, even. But a leader I was not, not yet, and the Endar Spire was not a small assignment to grant a greenhorn.
Still, it was irritating. I could only trust that the Republic military would obey my command, and pray that I would not need them to.
And as for Kylah- she was accustomed to leading me, guiding me, speaking for me-
For there were many times the galactic press cornered me for interviews, or various delegates wished to question the strengths and foibles of my Battle Meditation. Kylah was adept at leading those encounters, emphasizing that it was a team effort, that my power was due in part to the tutelage of experienced Jedi like her.
It was only since I had returned from Deralian airspace with a galactic secret she was not part of, that I began to comprehend the imbalance in our friendship. And I began to sense her frustration when she was unable to command me.
Kylah was my closest friend and confidante, and I did not wish to upset her – but it was time for me to step out of her shadow.
"I am sure it will not be necessary," I said at last, meeting her gaze with a wrench of self-control. "Master Galdea leads us, and if something untoward were to happen to him, then Knight Seris would step up as the next experienced."
"Then why grant you powers you don't need and won't use?" she snapped. "Why?"
As a last resort. In case Galdea and Vima and Karon are wrong. In case she wakes up. No one on the Council believed it was plausible. Her mind was too damaged, the personality overlay too complete. But given her power and history, it made sense to be cautious. If, for some unknown reason, something changed with her state of mind, I would be the first – and possibly only – one to know, due to our Force-bond.
And I might require unconditional assistance from all onboard to contain her.
It seemed a fanciful scenario. The few times I had spoken to her, there was nothing of the former Sith Lord or Jedi Knight in her. Just a shell, inhabited by the echo of a meek scholar, who beheld horrifying dreams I intercepted but she couldn't remember.
"I am sorry, Kylah, but this is Council business, and I am not permitted to say more."
…
The Aqualish crumpled to a dead heap at my feet.
Bastila! Revan's voice, intense and commanding and concerned, sliced through the wild rage owning me. I realized, vaguely, that it may not have been the first time she had called me.
I stared down at the Aqualish. He had suffocated to death. Suffocated, by-
No! Revan snapped. You will not wallow in self-pity or guilt! Not now!
I had killed him by-
Pick up the damn corpse, Bastila! We passed another utility cupboard, just before the corner. Move the body!
Mechanically, I bent down and obeyed, my mind blank with shock. The Aqualish was surprisingly heavy, and I found myself struggling to drag it backward. By the time I had reached the small door, I was panting with exertion.
The strength of the Force is returning to you, Revan muttered, as I stuffed the dead Aqualish next to another row of deactivated cleaning bots. Find another lone soldier, and compel him to lead you to a ship. You can do this, Bastila.
Compulsion. A dark power in itself, but not as dark as-
I clenched my fists, shook my head wildly, and forced myself to focus. The utility cupboard swished closed, and I once more started down the corridor.
Do you remember which way to go?
Yes. Down the corridor, to the left.
We were on the move again, encased by shiny curved walls. My bare feet were silent on the glistening floor, and the only sounds to be heard were my fast breathing and overly loud heartbeat. We passed closed doors, behind which I could sense faint flickers of sentient life. Just keep walking.
Just keep walking.
This was not going to work. This was insane. A lone prisoner, wandering blindly through a foreign space station, completely helpless-
You are not helpless, Bastila.
Revan's presence, nestled within my psyche, felt stronger than my own. I could not perceive any separation between us now; how much was I controlling my own physiological actions, and how much was I simply bending beneath her will?
We can sort out the intricacies of our bond later, Bastila. For now- there's a lot of doors, here. Living quarters, maybe? What can you sense?
I breathed in, and let the Force flow out. More faint flickers of life, one behind each door, quiet enough to be-
Sleeping. If this is luck or the Force, I don't care, we'll take it. Try one.
The door consisted of the same cinereal metal, inlaid perfectly into the curvature of the polished wall. I stared in askance at the access panel. The utility cupboards may open for anyone, but surely individual rooms would require some authorization or unlocking mechanism?
Revan was there, tangled in with the threads of my Force. I could feel the depth of exhaustion within her, and yet it didn't seem to hold her back at all. She grasped the reigns of our collective power, all the while concentrating on the infinitesimal oscillations of electronics that flickered within the door's circuitry.
I could not make any sense of energy on such a minute scale, but her control was deft. A small tweak, and the door gave way.
Beyond was a small spheroid space with a bunk and a sleeping Duros in plain clothes. I stepped forward. The door shut behind me as I stared at the snoozing Sith.
Wake him up. Mind tricks and compulsion. You can do this, Bastila.
Yes, yes I could. Kylah had always been a master at it, and I had learned a few things from that schutta. I took in yet another shuddering breath, and my gaze darted to a footlocker by the foot of the bed.
See if it's unlocked.
It was. I was not interested in the detritus of holo-mags or candy bars, but the slim-line blaster nestled on top was nothing short of miraculous. I picked it up with unsteady hands, and turned my attention back to the Duros.
Wielding the Force still felt sluggish, but it had improved. I could do this. And I had little time in which to do so.
I knelt down next to the stranger, the blaster held limply in one hand while I reached out with shaky fingers of psychic power.
"Wake up," I whispered, and nudged him gently with my free hand.
The Duros twitched, and alarmed red eyes snapped open.
Say you're doing Malak's bidding.
"I am acting under orders from Darth Malak, and you shall help me," I intoned, intertwining strands of Force into my words, wrapping threads of power around his weak mind. Keep your eyes fixed on his. The sleepiness on his face was chased away by confusion, and his whole body tensed. "You shall help me," I repeated.
"I- what?" the stranger slurred, shuddering awake. His gaze slipped from mine, dropping down to stare at my crumpled attire in disbelief. "Who the frakk are you?
"Have you never seen a Dark Jedi just rolled out of bed before?" Revan snapped, through my lips, through my body. "Lord Malak requires your obedience. Get up, soldier!"
Leave this to me! I snarled, suddenly furious at her presumption – and more than a little alarmed at her ability to take over. I can, and shall, do this!
I… I'm sorry, Bastila. Revan's immediate remorse was like a deluge of rainfall. She retreated from me slightly. I- that was instinctive. I won't do it again.
I was immediately mollified, more so when I understood the hot shame rolling from her did not just concern this incident. Of course it did not.
I stared deep into the large eyes of the Duros. "I am under orders from Darth Malak, and you shall help me."
The words sat heavy in the air, echoing with compulsion. The Duros nodded, his face blank. "You are under orders from Lord Malak, and I will help you."
It is okay, Revan. Perhaps I over-reacted, too. And do not vow that – for if my life is in danger, then I would wish for your assistance.
"I need a ship. Lead me to the closest one-man ship, so I can act out Darth Malak's orders."
He stood, turning to face the door. "I will lead you to the nearest ship, so you can act out Lord Malak's orders."
He took a step, and I felt Revan's hesitation, her desire to interrupt once more. Bastila… he's not in uniform.
She was right, I realized with chagrin, even as I was struck once more at her ability to see through my eyes. It had not been long ago when I hadn't believed that possible. I pushed back to her, just a little, and was rewarded with a wild scent and thick humidity that could only be from the Shadowlands.
At least our bond was equal, even if her power eclipsed mine. But I trusted her. I did.
"Put your uniform on," I ordered, as the soldier's hand lifted toward the access panel. "You are on duty, now."
The Duros began to strip, mechanically removing his sleeping tunic, before turning, naked, to retrieve an ecru uniform from an inlaid closet. He glanced back at me once, and I repeated my command, feeling the Force sink deeper into his mind.
The deeper I went, the longer it would take to dissipate. Sometimes, it never really did. A sentient could live out an entire existence under the yoke of another person's dark will.
No regrets, Revan whispered. We will get you out of here. By any means necessary.
That was Revan's entire life, if one were to cut right down to the bare bones of it. By any means necessary. Any sacrifice, any method, any way to achieve the end result – no matter the damage that might be done to one's soul. No matter how the end result might warp along the way.
Bastila, please- She was distraught. Suddenly, sharply distraught. I've got to get you out of here. Recriminations and judgement can come later- but I need you. Your counsel, your knowledge- Sithspit, Bastila, this is too much to bear on my own!
Her anguish was akin to a slap in the face, and now it was my turn to feel the burn of shame. Revan, I did not mean to- my thoughts are still not entirely sensical, and far too wrapped up in past history. The Duros was still bare, now holding aloft a pair of creased uniform trousers. I am not judging you. Everything that has happened since the Endar Spire, everything you have done and struggled with – you are once more a champion of the Light, Revan. Do not let your past, or even the ill-timed thoughts of someone like me, make you forget that.
Revan was already pulling herself together, quicker than I ever could have, and I sensed the steel of resolution fire in her once more. She may have claimed she needed me, but I wasn't entirely sure she did. Her drive and steadfast determination had always been a core foundation of her personality.
Okay. Enough of the naked green guy. I'm not sure about you, but those body warts aren't doing it for me. Let's roll out.
Not to mention her inability to remain serious when the situation warranted it.
Coping mechanism, Bastila. I felt a small rumble of wry amusement from her. It was her first in a long time. We all have them.
The Duros finished buttoning a shirt, before slipping feet into electronic dress shoes. They tightened with a hiss, and he looked back to me in expectation.
"Find me a ship," I repeated. "A small one with a hyperdrive. Under Darth Malak's orders."
"I shall find you a ship, under Lord Malak's orders."
I felt more confident now, with my mind a little sharper and focused on our objective. The Force willing, our luck would hold, and this would work. For now, I could only keep placing one foot in front of the other, and keep it together.
"How close is the nearest ship?" I asked the Duros, holding his crimson gaze as we stepped out from his living quarters.
Get him to address you as Darth… I don't know. Make up a name. Darth Rosa. It will be more convincing if you run into anyone.
"We are in the accommodation wing 3F," the Duros replied in a monotone. "There is an officer's docking bay adjoined to the common rooms ahead. Beyond that are the factory bays for this wing of the Forge."
Darth… Rosa? I thought faintly. Honestly, Revan, that's patently ridiculous-
Okay, just 'my lord' will do. There will be other guards in a docking bay, Bastila, who will think to question your presence. We can only make this bluff as convincing as possible, and hope it's enough to haul jets out of here.
"Lead me to the officer's docking bay, but skirt around the common rooms," I said in a rush. I had not seen most of the Star Forge with my own eyes, but Malak had been keen to espouse upon the output of the factory bays. Somehow – I did not understand the mechanics of it – the Forge created whole starfighters. The armada that fuelled the Sith offensive. I imagined the factory bays to be very large, and no doubt riddled with soldiers. "And address me as 'my lord'. I am a Dark Jedi, and your superior."
Oh, how sick those words felt, dropping from my mouth.
"Yes, my Lord."
Would we encounter any further soldiers? It seemed likely, here in the heart of Darth Malak's empire. And yet, the corridors remained empty as I followed the marching Duros. It added weight to the military reports I had read, the ones that claimed Malak had more ships than men. Perhaps that was true.
Or perhaps Revan's famous luck was riding with me.
There is no such thing as luck, Padawan. Master Vrook had told me, time and again, irritated whenever anyone mentioned luck - often with regard to Revan Freeflight. She had been renowned for it, once. The Force's own luck, at the head of the Republic. Before she turned it against them.
I felt the aversion from Revan, as she inadvertently caught my uncontrolled thoughts once more, but she said nothing. I pursed my lips, and vowed to stop thinking.
The corridor widened as it separated into three. The Duros led me a short way down the left one before it ended in a set of double-doors guarded by a console. He turned to face me, a faint crease in his beryl forehead.
"We are at the docking bay, my Lord."
Was there confusion in his expression? Puzzlement, as to why he was following me?
I could not risk this failing. Revan was correct, and I had been wrong to doubt her earlier. By any means necessary.
"You shall obey me," I said, staring deep into his vermillion gaze. "I am doing Darth Malak's bidding, and you must obey my orders."
"I must obey you," he intoned. "I must obey your orders."
"Open the door, and lead me to a starship I can fly out of here," I said, willing my voice to snap with authority. "So I can do what I need to, for Darth Malak."
"For Lord Malak," he repeated, and placed his hand on a scanner next to the console.
I had the brief impression of a relatively bare docking bay, sleek and cylindrical like the rest of this cursed place. Half a dozen snub-fighters were arrayed on the hangar floor, although there was space for easily twice as many. One section of curved wall was lined with consoles and astromech droids, along with a handful of busy technicians.
And in amongst the ships were at least a dozen crew.
Bluff it out, Revan instructed. Get him to lead you to a snub, un-couple it, and open the docking bay doors.
"Lead me to an available star ship," I directed the waiting Duros.
He nodded, and strode into the cavernous room. With a fleeting prayer, I followed him.
The silent walk across the glistening floor seemed to take eons. I noticed one mechanic glance our way, throwing a frown of confusion at me. Confidence. Arrogance. Act like you have every right to be here. I forced a glare in his direction, raising an empty fist in a threatening motion.
That had been the last thing the Aqualish had seen.
I swallowed, but held the mechanic's gaze until he look away, back to the refuelling gig he was working on.
The Duros halted next to the first snubfighter we reached, and turned around to face me.
"Open the cockpit," I said. These ships were small, one-pilot fighters, but it would be enough for me to escape. Even a starship such as this would have basic provisions onboard. And a true Jedi could last a long time without food or water, if required. "You must un-couple any landing gear locks, and open the bay doors. Immediately."
"My Lord, what about pre-flight checks?" The Duros blinked, creases of confusion appearing around his eyes. "It is customary to-"
"This is urgent, soldier!" I flared. "I must do Darth Malak's bidding, and so must you! Deactivate any mechanical locks on this ship, and open both the cockpit and docking bay doors. Immediately!"
"Immediately, my Lord," he echoed, his voice dull and blank. He turned on his heel toward the wall of navi-computers, while I stood next to the ship, attempting to emulate a pose of supreme confidence.
My fists wanted to curl in on themselves. The slim-line blaster lay heavy in my grasp, and I did not know if that made my appearance any more conspicuous than it already was. And yet, there were no actual soldiers here – just ground-crew going about their business. A rather skeleton ground crew, for a half-dozen ships. This is not a factory bay, though. This might actually work. I can do this, I can.
I glanced back to the starfighter. I did not recognize its make, but I had never paid overt attention to the specifics of starship design. It did not have the same alien look as what I recalled of Malak's fleet, however.
No, these are Republic cast-offs. Ships assigned to officers for errands or missions, I suspect, Revan murmured. She sounded absent, as if something else was distracting her. You know how to pilot a snub, right?
I have not been in one of these before, I shot back, before comprehending the defensiveness in my not-quite-answer. I sighed. I have run co-pilot many a time before, Revan.
Not quite the same thing, Bastila. Have you ever sat in a pilot's seat?
I felt my lips pursing. Once. The memory, even a year gone, was still sharp.
…
There was an amber light blinking on the telemetry. Something about the hyperdrive coolant, although the temperature appeared to be within acceptable limits. I could only hope the alien craft would stay alive.
And the passenger strapped into the seat behind me.
I shivered. Horror was still churning in my gut, horror blended with something akin to awe. I could feel her life presence echoing faintly in the Force, a soft spark that was close to sputtering out once more.
And yet, her emotions sang to me. Incandescent rage licking around a core of bitter ice that was cracked through with so much grief. I knew she was close to death, and I knew I should not be sensing her as strongly as I did.
Perhaps it was simply being in the presence of one so powerful, one so dark. Perhaps it was because I still clutched onto the Force so desperately.
It was a mere twelve hour hyperspace journey from Deralian airspace to Dantooine. I had been stationed with an exploratory Republic cruiser, flanked by Masters Kester and Jai'lel. We had not expected an anonymous report from a Sith betrayer, detailing the relatively low defences of the Nexus and her master. Any other time, and I would not have gone. My talents were best used from afar - but this was too great an opportunity to waste.
I did not think Master Kester nor Master Jai'lel would have approved of my actions. This was a chance to remove the Dark Lord from the war, not save her. But, even upon their deaths and her seemingly inevitable one, I found I simply could not walk away.
Mercy was a tenet of the Order, after all. And now… well, Jedi did not kill their prisoners.
And yet, I feared the thought of her waking more than I feared her death.
The Republic would assume my end, when they received news of the Nexus' destruction. But if I had returned to them, with a comatose Dark Lord instead of Master Kester and Master Jai'lel, then I could predict their subsequent action. And it would entirely nullify my efforts in saving the life of my captive.
My captive. Darth Revan.
Oh, what would Master Vrook say when I landed.
…
With a concerted effort, I pulled myself from the reverie, struggling against a residual dizziness I blamed on the remnants of the jerrikerr-kolto. It was still difficult, at times, to concentrate.
So much so, that it took a moment for me to realize Revan had retreated. There was a definite chilliness resonating from her, and I did not know if she was affronted, or masking a deeper anguish.
I… I am sorry. I did not mean to dwell on that. It could not be healthy for her to witness my past memories of her. It could not be beneficial for her state of mind. Particularly since she was not the same person I had pulled from the wreckage of the Nexus.
That harrowing flight was burned into my recollection. I'd stayed awake the entire journey, on a constant knife-edge of terror that Revan would wake or die under my watch. When the ship had finally exited hyperspace, a thruster warning of the sublight drive had sounded and I had to fight back another surge of unwelcome panic.
I had overcome my weak emotions, and managed to land the craft a little messily in the peaceful starport next to the Jedi Enclave.
I had not known of our Force bond then. I had not seen her memories, merely tasted her emotions without understanding what it meant. I had known my arrival would shock, but I had hoped the Council would consider some path to redemption for her.
Perhaps they would have. Perhaps, if I had never found out about the Star Maps.
And yet, if I had not, then surely we would have no chance against Malak now.
There was a mechanical thunk from near the front of the snubfighter, and an astromech whirred toward the ship, before connecting with the landing gear. I looked over to see the Duros nod at me from the console, before he bent over it again. The small droid beeped in reassurance, and then retreated. It is un-coupled, I realized with a glimmer of relieved hope. We are almost there.
The same mechanic from earlier was staring at me in blatant curiosity, and I threw him another glare with all the haughty anger I could muster.
The mindwipe, Revan's voice returned, dark and cold. As cold as space. Show me who was involved.
Revan-
I have that right, at least. Show me.
It was a command, granite hard and implacable in its necessity for my answer. I knew it was a bad idea, but after everything, I found I could not deny her. I kept one eye on my biddable Duros, and recalled the past.
…
I stared up at the prone figure floating in the bacta tank, and even now, while lines of sedation forced their way into her veins, I could not quite stop a shiver of apprehension. Not when I gazed upon the visage of the Dark Lord herself.
Her face was colourless, a play in black and white, her skin so pale against the dark crevasses that cut deeply into her cheeks. It was just one more sign of corruption that plainly stated how far the mighty had fallen.
She had worn that ridiculous – and intimidating – mask when I had faced her, when it had just been us two left, battling through the psychic side of the Force-
Why had she abandoned a physical challenge, to fight me where I was the stronger? It still puzzled me, that question. Had it been overconfidence, or merely a desire to test me? I did not know. Revan's power in the Force was overwhelming, but my talent at twisting beneath her psychic probing had proved to be a match for her. She could not break through my mental shields, and I had begun to pierce hers.
Revan was notorious for changing the game plan, so perhaps she had merely been testing me. Surely she would have switched strategies – had her flagship not been suddenly, dramatically, fired upon. The ensuing explosion whilst we were so heavily interlocked caused a psychic tearing that had ripped our minds apart. I'd had warning – I had heard the proximity alarm, but Revan had been too deeply entrenched in the spiritual side of the Force that was my forte. The one area where I'd had more training than her, and I was able to frantically gather up the loose threads of my floundering mind, even as I felt Revan's blow completely wide open.
My eyes were still fixed on the limp, naked figure resting in the blue liquid tank. There wasn't an ounce of fat on the heavily scarred and marked body, just sinewy muscle packed over a skeleton, held in by black and white skin. The Force could burn through a body, I knew that.
Clustered around the medical input console was Master Nemo and Knight Ri'thanok. Ri'thanok had spent his entire life devoted to medical training and physiology, so it was not surprising he was involved with the sedation of Darth Revan, despite it meaning knowledge of her identity.
"I don't like this," he muttered to Master Nemo. "The neural readings are too advanced. It shows too high a psychic alertness than should be possible."
"We already risk cardiac arrest," Master Nemo replied. "It seems unlikely she is consciously aware of us. Ri'thanok, we cannot increase the dosage."
"We must do something. The thought that she may have some awareness is not ethical, Master Nemo. We could add tystullinium to the IV. There are no known contraindications with her current dosage, and it will deepen the coma-"
"No," Nemo refuted. "That will make the Council's next steps impossible. Thank you for your assistance, Ri'thanok, but you must leave now."
I felt a slight touch on my arm, and turned to see Master Karon also staring at the bacta tank as Knight Ri'thanok silently left the chamber. Karon, so recently ascended to the Dantooine Council, and all because I had captured her old Padawan.
Karon's browned face bore an overwhelming grief.
"You always were too reckless," she said sadly, turquoise eyes fixed on the bacta tank. "Always too quick to jump into situations, without a thought for the consequences."
"This plan is foolhardy," a gruff voice spoke from behind. I had been so deep in thought and memory that I had not registered the presence of any new arrivals, not even my own Master. He stepped up to flank me on the other side, also touching me briefly in reassurance. "This poses an unnecessary risk to us all, in particular to Padawan Bastila."
"Abundantly clear, your views were made," the raspy, high-pitched tones of Master Vandar filled the room. He, too, hobbled closer. "Reached, the decision has been."
I looked back to the tank, and sensed the Masters were doing the same. Master Vrook stepped closer, so close he could touch the ferracrystal, his head craned up to glare at the unconscious face of what was now my bond-sister.
"Overconfidence," he all but spat. "You were always too damnably overconfident. Everyone is fallible. Even you. Especially you." Vrook spun back to address us, his expression bitter. He had never approved of Revan or Malak, even when they were but Padawans training on a completely different planet. Sometimes, I had wondered if the dislike was personal. "The bond should be severed," he growled. "Padawan Bastila would survive it, now. Should this mind-link be allowed to deepen, it will become both a threat and a vulnerability to her."
I shivered. The danger was two-fold, here. I was connected so very intimately to the Dark Lord of the Sith herself, and Vrook feared what such constant exposure to the corrupted side of the Force may do to me. But, also, he was concerned about the bond itself – and its inherent vulnerability. For the few histories we had regarding Force-bonds created in such a fashion told us that when one recipient died, the other often did so, too.
Hence the desire to sever the bond in its infancy, before it had a chance to strengthen.
"Padawan Shan has had the risks explained to her," Master Galdea said, frowning. Lines etched deeply into the Cerean's elongated forehead as he faced my Master. Galdea was the only one not eyeing over the Sith Lord. Even Nemo was ignoring the medical telemetry to gaze upon the floating body. "The memory that Padawan Shan intercepted led Nemo to the Star Map on Dantooine. It has shown us that Revan's mind – broken as it may be – holds secrets that can aid us to a victory that has been slipping out of our grasp. We do not know the exact location of the other Maps, and these may prove impossible to find, particularly on Kashyyyk or Korriban. We do not know what the Maps lead to. We do not know what other secrets the Sith Lord may be hiding, but if it gives us a chance against the powerful and foreign armada that Darth Malak now leads, then I believe it is the right path."
"Everyone should have a chance for redemption," Master Karon said quietly. "I am, still, unsure if this is the correct course of action."
"Destroyed, her mind was," Master Vandar murmured, as he turned to address the Zabrak. Karon's bright eyes broke away from her old apprentice to gaze down sadly at him. "To be redeemed, one has to be whole."
"Jedi Knight Revan Freeflight cared for the Republic more than aught else," Master Galdea added. I realized, then, just how divided the Council could be. They did not generally talk like this in front of me, but due to my connection with Revan I was now heavily involved. "More than the Order, more than her own life, more than her lover Malak. By doing this, are we not helping her redeem herself?"
"A forced redemption is not a true one," Master Karon retorted, an unusual flash of irritation sparking in her bright eyes.
"Redemption," Master Vrook muttered. "That's a wasted opportunity on the likes of her. But I'd rather that, than this ridiculous idea of using an unknown Force sensitive who is on the cusp of death-"
"She does not want life, that one," Master Galdea murmured. "But her psychic signature is strong, and we can overlay it on Revan's fractured mind. It will work, underneath the Force skill of the best of us. I am confident, and so is Vima."
"There is a sort of bitter irony, I will concede," Master Vrook said, "that the echo of Jen Sahara may live on in the woman who tortured her to death."
I shivered again. My confrontation with Darth Revan had taken place in the skies above Deralia. After the destruction of the Nexus, Darth Malak had abandoned the Outer Rim planet to turn his focus to the Lannik system. All that remained were a sparse army of Revan loyalists that had not been quick enough to proclaim loyalty to Malak.
Between the nearby Republic forces and a small fleet spearheaded by Coruscant's Master Kavar, they were able to retake Deralia. There had been survivors; victims that Kavar had transferred to Dantooine before rejoining the war effort.
Some were Force sensitives. A standard Sith strategy was to locate any who held the spark of Force within them, and either send them off for training or break them until they went Dark. In the case of the scholar Jen Sahara, it seemed that someone took the latter a step too far. And whether it was by Darth Revan's direct hand or not, she still bore the responsibility. It was her program to recruit as many Dark Adepts as possible.
I heard the door behind us open, and another set of footsteps walk over to join us.
"Everything is ready," the quiet voice of Jedi Knight Vima Sunrider told us. I turned to nod at the striking older human, as always feeling slightly in awe of her presence, despite her friendly demeanour. Knight Vima was less than a decade older than Revan, and on track to become the youngest Master at the Dantooine Enclave. And, given her psychic prowess, she was often granted the same respect and authority as many Masters already.
In an operation that required as much skill and psychic precision as what they professed to do to Darth Revan, they needed the best. Knight Vima and Master Galdea were the best in their field, and Master Karon no pushover herself. I was required for the bond, but Galdea had assured the Council that the Force-link would actually improve the depth and strength of the personality overlay. For I could monitor her in a way that was not normally available.
Knight Vima's face was blank underneath a mop of bright strawberry blonde hair as she, too, took the time to stare up at Revan's prone form. How could a naked, lifeless body still seem so intimidating?
Because she has caused the death and destruction of so many.
Vima turned her head, frowning, before her pale blue eyes caught mine. She smiled slightly. Despite her Knight status, I had spent some time training underneath her as well as Master Galdea – when Master Vrook would permit me. He was, at times, cagey about it. Young Jedi Knights with vast amounts of power – and at a little over forty years, Vrook would consider Vima young – made him wary of the Dark Side. I sometimes wondered if that was why he kept delaying my own Knight trials.
Around Vima, I always felt slightly embarrassed of my Battle Meditation.
For it had been her mother Nomi who, during the Exar Kun conflict, had rediscovered the lost art of Battle Meditation – a powerful Force talent long thought lost to the annals of history. From what I had pieced together, after Nomi's death the entire Order had held its collective breath as Vima grew up, waiting and hoping that Nomi had passed on her fantastical gift to her progeny.
She had not, although Vima had matured to become a powerful Force user firmly entrenched in the Light. The emergence of my own ability with Battle Meditation had taken everyone by surprise, my own Master included.
"I am ready to proceed," Knight Vima said.
"As am I," Master Galdea echoed, rubbing a hand along his sweeping hairless head. "Karon?"
The Zabrak sighed, but did not answer, still staring at her old apprentice with glistening, distraught eyes.
"To do this, we require the skills of you three," Master Vandar said to her, his voice gentle. "Crucial here, is your history with Revan Freeflight."
Master Karon nodded. "Let us begin, then."
…
I pulled back to awareness, to hear nothing but silence from Revan. Did that help, or merely make things worse?
Karon, Galdea and Vima. So they are the ones that did this to me. And Karon is gone, now.
As is Galdea. He was lost on the Endar Spire.
Vima is the only one left.
What are you thinking, Revan? I asked sharply. I understood revenge, oh yes, I only had to think of that schutta who was responsible for Galdea's death, for the Endar Spire, for everything I was enduring at the hands of Malak-
I sucked in a shuddering breath, and focussed on the Duros. He was still bent over the screen, green fingers tapping commands under my will. Revan, you must know the whole Council decided on the course of action taken.
Vrook didn't agree.
No, I conceded. He felt the risks too great for me.
He may have been right.
What are you implying? I gasped, suddenly outraged with her. That your intimacy with the Dark Side has corrupted me? How… how dare you!
No! She was taken aback, as if the depth of my anger had surprised her. Don't jump to conclusions, Bastila. I was merely thinking on Vrook's observations… for we may be each other's greatest strength, but we are also each other's greatest vulnerability, now. Would one of us survive the death of the other?
My fury at her vanished, my emotions flaring into life and snuffing out quicker than they ever had before. Through the bond, I wasn't sure if Revan's musings of our link held the touch of wonderment or fear.
I highly doubt it, I answered at last. In fact, I believe I could say with certainty – no. Our connection is too strong, and we are too enmeshed in each other's thoughts and feelings. There would be nothing to pull one of us back from death, should the other die.
Is Malak aware of this?
No… no, he knows little of Force bonds. In truth, no one knows a great deal about a Force bond such as ours.
He'll kill you, Bastila. If he finds out it's a way to get at me-
He won't find out, I whispered. He's more powerful than me, yes. I cannot deny him when he rips into my mind- but, Revan, he does not sense what I hide from him. He can only pull out what he is looking for, or what I am overtly thinking. He does not have my skill, nor my experience when it comes to psyche. I felt a puff of air escape my lips, an echo of a bitter laugh. Much like you, really. Although you have always been quick on your feet.
There was a loud humming next to me, and when I looked sideways I saw the cockpit window begin to open. My hope was now burning a fervent flame.
I heard footsteps closing in behind me.
I whirled around to see the mechanic, a frowning Bothan, openly eyeball me up and down.
"I don't have any departure orders," he challenged, one hand resting on a cylindrical holster at his waist.
The Force spiked within me, a passionate and furious response to danger, and I surrendered to it. "I am following Darth Malak's orders, and anyone who disobeys me shall pay the price!"
I felt my power buffet against his mind. Behind him, I saw another two mechanics stop what they were doing to stare at us in open curiosity. The Bothan's hand dropped away, the same time as I heard a thunk from the snub-fighter. It was ready for me to enter, all I needed now was the interior docking bay doors to open. From there, I could fly out of the airlock.
I was almost free.
"I-I-" the Bothan stammered. But I could see the suspicion rearing in his gaze. One command from him, and everything might be derailed. The Duros had his head down, doing my bidding, and I had no other allies to draw upon.
"Yes, of course," he muttered, taking a step back, but I didn't believe him. I could not fail, not now, not so close- You need to compel him-
In an unnaturally quick movement, I lifted the blaster and shot the surprised Bothan in the face.
"Does anyone else doubt me?" I hollered, infusing my voice with as much autocratic clout as I could muster. The Bothan crumpled in front of me, and I would not feel guilt, I would not, I had to get out of here and would do so any way I could-
There was a loud creaking noise as the docking bay doors began to separate, showing the airlock beyond. Adrenaline was sharp and hot in my veins, and this was really going to work-
And then I felt it. A vortex of darkness, honing in on me. A miasma of evil so inherent in this unholy place, but separate and sentient and focused on my location. And moving fast.
My horrified gaze shot to the Duros, who was now staring at the corpse by my feet. The docking bays were still, slowly, opening, but even from this distance I could see the bewilderment on his face. He slowly lifted a hand as if to cancel his last command-
I raised my blaster, pulled on the Force to make my aim true, and fired at him in rapid succession.
Get in the ship, Bastila!
The double doors I had walked through earlier crashed open beneath an immense psychic will, rather than any sort of electronic process.
NO!
I was scrabbling frantically up the side of the snub, if I could just get in and power up the ship, I might still have time-
The cockpit window smashed down with an explosion of shattering transparisteel, and I was flung hard onto the ground below.
Despair blistered through my mind. Mine or Revan's, I did not know.
I heard the footsteps and surprised yells of scattering mechanics. I felt the ominous presence of Malak overshadow every sense. I tasted the desolation as it once more gained a foothold into my soul.
But I still had hope.
Go. You must go, I ordered my bond-sister in desperation. My free bond-sister, who was stronger than Darth Malak. Block yourself from me, and escape Kashyyyk.
I could feel her thoughts twisting around, trying defiantly to locate some path to triumph from the ashes of our doomed escape attempt. Go, Revan. I will attempt to buy you some time, but you must hurry. And… do not get captured again. I rolled onto my front, shards of broken window crunching under my hands as I pushed myself to my feet. I would not face him from the ground.
I could not bear it if you are captured again.
I swallowed, lifted my chin, and turned around. With every ounce of self-control I could muster, I once more met the corrupted gaze of the Dark Lord of the Sith.
There was a pleased look in his poisoned yellow eyes.
"My dear Bastila," he murmured. He stalked closer, the smooth stride of a loth-cat homing in on its prey. "I did wonder how long it would take for you to launch a futile escape attempt."
There was a low thrumming of mechanical laughter from his vocabulator.
Bastila-
Go! Sith's blood, Revan, go!
"You did well, little one," he murmured, coming to a stop in front of me. His gaze bored into mine, and I felt my teeth clenching. "But I cannot have you kill any more of my men."
I felt the shroud of Force come down between us, the disconnect of Revan's presence beneath a shield, and, once more, I was alone.
But she was free, and she would find me. If I could only give her some time-
"I will never stop trying, Malak!" I hissed. "You shall not break me. You shall not turn me!"
"Such passion!" he taunted. He stepped closer, so close I could feel a wave of heat rolling from him, so close he towered over me like a sentinel of darkness, eclipsing my vision. "I see the drugs are wearing off. Good. I did not like seeing you so weak, but you had to prove yourself, little one. And you have."
I did not understand him, and it must have shown in my face. He chuckled again.
"Did you think your room was unguarded by chance? Did you not stop to consider why your door was unlocked, why this wing of the Forge has so few men?" He hummed, his cursed gaze roving over my face. "The Star Forge is powered by the Force, Bastila, and I am its master. I watched every step of yours with interest. I wished to see how far you would go to escape. Would you kill, if needed? Would you even be able to, through Kylah's poison?"
I took a step back, despite myself. Transparisteel shards cut sharply into the soles of my feet, a reminder of just how close I had come. And yet, it had all been a test-
"A true Jedi does not kill, Bastila," he mocked.
I felt the rage, then, blaze through the despair that had dogged me since that schutta had rendered me no more than a helpless prisoner. "A true Jedi does not kill if they can help it, Malak!" I spat. "There is no law that forbids killing, in the face of danger to oneself!"
"Is that so?" he murmured. "And tell me, dear Bastila, would you kill your old friend Kylah, if you had the chance?"
"I-I-" I would not answer that. Malak knew my thoughts regarding her already. But I had to distract him, for as soon as he discovered the truth of Revan's freedom, I knew exactly what orders would be relayed to the Leviathan. The Leviathan, where Kylah was stationed.
I had to buy Revan time, time to leave the Shadowlands and leave Kashyyyk. Perhaps it would only be minutes, but that would be additional minutes on top of the time it took for orders to be relayed, for the Leviathan to move into position. I did not know how far from the Ebon Hawk Revan was, and could only have faith that I might make a difference.
If I was lucky, Malak might even knock me unconscious before discovering the truth. He wouldn't kill me. Not yet.
He was chuckling again, the same dull mechanical hum I had heard so often. "Maybe, one day, you shall have the chance to face Kylah. I might allow you that chance, dear Bastila, if you continue to impress me."
By any means possible.
I jerked the blaster up once more, firing before I aimed, simultaneously drawing hard on the Force and allowing the quick power of my anger to flow through it.
The blaster was thrown from my hand in an instant, but I was already focussing on a seismic wave of power, an assault quick and furious enough to draw Malak into fighting-
He stood his ground beneath my blast of power, his yellow eyes crinkling in delight, as one hand raised in a mocking come hither motion.
I felt the scream of frustration grow in my lungs, sensed the desperation when my power could not even touch him, and one fist clenched in furious reaction. The Force swelled, lashing out at Darth Malak like a whip.
His eyes widened, but he was otherwise untouched. "Oh, little one, you have come far. Catch!"
And from his belt, he threw a cylindrical object toward me. I caught it by pure instinct.
I gasped.
My lightsaber.
"I have modified it somewhat," he purred. "But I believe you have earned it back. Let us dance, Bastila. I am curious to see how you have evolved."
I cannot refuse. This is a way to buy Revan time. Minutes, or hours, or merely seconds- I do not know what will make the difference.
Behind me and beyond Malak were the deserted snubfighters. The interior bay doors were wide open, now; the only barrier between me and space was the airlock. There was a heavy scent of Peragian fuel on the air, and my bare feet crunched as I slowly side-stepped around the Dark Lord of the Sith.
It was an odd place for a showdown, but I would make the most of it. For Revan.
My thumb flicked on the switch of the hilt I had recovered from a Dark Jedi's corpse, the one Master Karon had modified on Manaan to suit me better.
A double blade of scarlet bit into my vision.
xXx
