Hyperspace: VI – part six


Zaalbar:

When I walked into the garage, it was to see Jen Sahara staring at a holo-feed emitting from the communication console.

"(Jen,)" I said. "(You should eat something.)"

She shot me a small smile, before glancing pointedly to the plasticeel receptacle clasped in her hands.

I huffed. "(Caffeinated beverages do not qualify as sustenance, Jen. Your body requires fuel, even if you wish to deny it.)"

There was a hollow look about her, now, and I was not sure if it was due to the altercations on that madclaw cruiser, or the revelations back on my homeworld. She put me in mind of a young nest-mother I had known once, who had lost both her cub and her mate to a pack of katarn. Although Malarghh had kept on living after that tragedy, it seemed like a light inside her had been snuffed out.

"Observation: the physical limitations of organic meatbags require an ongoing intake of caloric matter. You have my abject sympathies for the fragilities of your being, Master."

"Thank you, HK," Jen said, but her voice lacked the amusement that droid's disturbing remarks usually evoked in her. HK was interfaced with the console, controlling the audio-visual feed that was playing, and Jen had turned back to stare at it. "Come listen to this, Zaalbar. It's the fallout from Kashyyyk."

The two days we had spent docked next to a foreign space station had flown past. Auto-repair bots had surrounded the Ebon Hawk, under the watchful eye of T3-M4, and their work was now close to completion. My assistance had been enlisted by Carth Onasi to offload what spare material supplies we had onboard. Some of it was stock from Davik Kang's days of ownership, and some was what we had amassed during our travels. Scavenged salvage – mostly weapons and armour, all in varying states of repair.

The corpses, too, had to be disposed of. Space was an anonymous graveyard, and I understood the necessity of ejecting the incriminating Sith bodies here. I did not wholly approve, though; to my mind, decomposing matter was better served to fertilize the soils of a planet rather than add to the junk that floated meaninglessly throughout the stretches of space.

Between removing near-all our salvage and anything else Carth Onasi required to pay for ship repair, I had not the time to seek out Jen – until now. But she had been on my mind nevertheless.

I knew the others had taken to accompanying her – Jolee Bindo had reiterated his concerns about leaving her in solitude, even though I believed we all understood that without his input. There was an injured look in Jen's eyes that belied the hurt to her soul.

Mission might tease me about not comprehending the scope of Jen's past, but I understood well enough. She had committed dark crimes, and betrayed many who had followed her. And now, she struggled to reconcile with all she had done.

A year ago, I would have labelled her madclaw and unholy, and believed the only way to assuage such past misdeeds would be to end her life in a battle put on for the gods' pleasure. And while I still honoured the customs of my people and our laws regarding criminals, it had been Jen herself who had shown me that restitution was an alternative path to redressing honour. One could not wipe out atrocities one was responsible for, no; but one could atone for them – and perhaps in a more productive way than searching for death in the Shadowlands.

It would not be a fitting end for Jen Sahara, regardless. I am not sure the wildlife of my home would be enough to break her mettle.

Jen motioned me forward with her uninjured hand, and my attention was drawn to the informational holo-feed she was staring at. A scowling Human in a tight Czerka uniform was speaking to a gaudily decked-out Twi'lek.

"…of all planets. Czerka Corporation has invested heavily to protect the interests of many indigenous species all throughout the galaxy."

Jen snorted.

The Twi'lek shot a coy smile at the holo-cam, before addressing the Human. "So Czerka does not have any immediate plans to return to Kashyyyk?"

The Human's scowl deepened. "At this stage, return is proving difficult. Our starport has been destroyed due to an internal rebellion instigated by illegal off-worlders. There have been sightings of agents from the Sith Empire brewing dissent on the protected surface of G5-623. You must understand that the Wookiees are a both primitive and simple species. Organizations that have a vested interest in disrupting economic harmony would find untouched civilizations like the Wookiee one a prime target for their malcontent."

Jen whistled. "The Sith? They're blaming your people's uprising on the Sith?"

I felt a growl in my chest. "(Czerka are a soulless organization that care only for their own greed and profit margins. They look to hide their own weaknesses by pointing the finger elsewhere.)"

"Yeah… but naming the Sith as perpetrators is interesting. There must have been some witnesses in the Shadowlands… or maybe Bandon was causing trouble with Czerka hunters before we arrived." She was frowning. "Regardless, publicly blaming Malak's forces is more ballsy than I'd expect from sodding Czerka."

"…to rebuild the starport on Kashyyyk?"

"We are working with inter-galactic organizations to ensure the natives on G5-623 are fully prepared to govern themselves."

Jen snorted again. "What he means is that galactic non-profits who actually care about indigenous autonomy are making it difficult for Czerka to re-establish their presence. Or, that Czerka's cutting their losses and walking away."

"(My homeworld is named Kashyyyk,)" I rumbled, glaring at the suited Human in the holo-video. "(Not that offensive string of letters and numbers.)"

"…comment on the cessation of hostilities with the Exchange?" The Twi'lek was idly playing with a string of pearls, his glitter-coated eyes constantly straying back to the holo-cam.

"The recent discord between us, you will recall, originated on the Selkath mining colony of Rii'shn. It has come to our attention that the disharmony between our organizations was deliberately manufactured by the Sith Empire." The Human folded his arms. "Video surveillance has been released to both Czerka Corporation and the Exchange that illustrates the presence of a robed Dark Jedi on Rii'shn during the events that set us at loggerheads." There was an outraged sniff from the suit. "It is a safe assumption that this is the same Sith agent spotted fleeing a stolen scoutship from the Czerka docking bay in Ahto City, not long before it detonated."

Jen's eyes were fixed on the obnoxious Czerka representative. She appeared far more interested in his words than the prettified Twi'lek who was interviewing him.

"So does this mean all economic sanctions imposed upon the Exchange have been lifted?"

The older Human shot a hard stare at the holo-cam. "Czerka Corporation has long had a history of working amiably with the Exchange, and we will not tolerate any entity that interferes with our business relationships."

Of course they were friends. Czerka and the Exchange were as corrupt as each other. The only difference that I had ever determined was that the Exchange were more open about their dark dealings.

Despite the content of this unpalatable holo-feed, the look of intent concentration on Jen's hairless face satisfied me. The hollow grief had been chased away, at least for now.

"...expand upon that?" The painted Twi'lek fluttered his eyelashes at the stone-faced Human. "Does this mean you are now levelling sanctions at the Sith Empire?"

"We, together with the Exchange, have offered commercial backing to the Republic's war effort. The menace of the Sith Empire's galactic greed cannot be understated. While Czerka Corporation may be an economic confederation, at our heart we are a humble consortium that believes in both freedom and peace for all. The objectives of the Sith Empire are contradictory to those ideals, and thus to all species around the galaxy."

"Whoa," Jen said. "That's… unexpected. I don't- I don't remember there being a Dark Jedi presence on Rii'shn."

I could feel a curl of anger in my chest. That Czerka would so blatantly espouse themselves as upholders of peace and freedom when they had done their best to strip-mine my homeworld was galling. They are gone, now, I reminded myself. And that was due to Mission's ideals. To the might of Canderous Ordo. The aid of Carth's cub. And, to Bastila Shan and Jen Sahara, whose quest led us to Kashyyyk in the first place. In that respect, it would be more accurate to blame the Czerka expulsion from Kashyyyk on the Jedi Order, rather than the Sith Empire.

HK-47 had swivelled his head to face Jen. His crimson photoreceptors flashed. "Statement: I disabled all surveillance at the Exchange docking bay in the Selkath colony of Rii'shn, Master. However, our extraction from The Lady's Garter was hurried, and I did not have time to do the same there. Commentary: Selkath territories are notorious for the proliferation of their recording devices. It is possible that I missed one."

Jen blinked, and I could smell her surprise before it formed on her face. "Me," she whispered. A shocked laugh escaped her. "They've some footage of me there. Stars, of course they would assume it was a Dark Jedi."

"Observation: It was mentioned that this footage was released to the Exchange and Czerka Corporation. Conclusion: This has the slippery fingerprints of manipulation from a third party."

"Not the Selkath," Jen mumbled under her breath. Her eyes narrowed. "That cursed cantina was well beyond the borders of Emnaad, and that's the only place on Rii'shn the Selkath control… no, this is the GenoHaradan at work."

Perhaps I misunderstood. I did not recognize that phrase.

Jen gave another laugh, her expression clouded with thoughts and conclusions I did not follow. The corner of her mouth was twitching. "Rulan did tell me the stability of the Republic was in their best interests. It would be fitting that they would find a subtle way to add support to their favoured side in this war."

The hatch opened, then, and Canderous Ordo strolled in. His hard gaze landed on Jen. "Revan, come to the common room," he said. It was more a command than a request. "We've got something to discuss."

"Supposition: you have aligned your objectives with them in the past, Master. Perhaps they seek to do the same again," HK intoned. "They make as worthy an ally as they do an enemy."

"In the past… Rulan said- wait, what?" Jen's voice sharpened on the last word. "How did you know I met one of their agents in the Shadowlands?"

There was a slight whirr from the HK unit. "Clarification: I was referring to your dealings with them when you grasped the mantle of the Sith Empire, Master. Assumption: Although you never divulged your objectives to me, I understood that you were working with their organization for some ulterior purpose."

Jen's jaw had dropped, and the shock rolled off her in waves. I wrinkled my nose. Humans, much the same as Twi'leks, expressed their emotions in a gustatory fashion. I always found it ironic that Mission so often complained that I was the one who stank.

"Huh," Canderous interjected, frowning at HK. "So you've heard about your master's past. What did you have to do with it, Tinhead?"

"HK, what were you doing before we found you on Tatooine?" Jen whispered.

"Answer: I had completed your latest assignment, Master, but being unable to reunite with you meant my memory core remained fully inaccessible. Reminder: Sith protocols maintain that all droid knowledge be locked before assassination missions, and restored upon return. Your death was widely accepted." The droid had paused the video-feed to answer Jen. His mechanized voice dropped in pitch, to incorporate an almost chiding tone. "Admonishment: Had you informed me earlier about your identity, my full capabilities would have been unlocked sooner."

"(Jen?)" I murmured, alarmed at her stunned expression. She was staring at the repugnant droid in utter astonishment, all colour having drained from her face. Even Canderous Ordo looked surprised. I did not follow the implications of the droid's words, but I did not like the pale, shocked expression on Jen's face.

"I- I- what?" Jen looked completely flabbergasted. "Sun and stars, HK, are you saying that you used to be my assassination droid back when- when- who in the Outer Rim built you in the first place?"

"Answer: Why, you did, Master. Qualification: With the technological assistance of the Star Forge, of course."

Jen merely gaped at him. Canderous threw back his head and laughed, long and loud. "I've never known how much to credit to this Force of yours, Revan, but coincidences do seem to follow you lot around," he guffawed. Canderous looked highly amused despite there being no discernible humour that I could comprehend in the conversation. "At this point, Malak himself could drop out of the sky and I wouldn't bat an eyelash."

"You were… you were my droid? " Jen stuttered. Her voice was high-pitched with disbelief. "Before? Before all of this?" She waved a failing hand. I wasn't sure if she was indicating the ship, or had merely lost motor control of her limb.

"Answer: Other than a few temporary masters during your assumed death, you have always been my master, Master. My birthplace is the Star Forge. Commentary: the organic damage to your inefficient biological processor appears to be substantial. Have you considered an array of cybernetic implants?"

"The Star Forge," Jen whispered, blinking. "HK, does this mean you know where it is? That you- that you've always known where it is?"

"Rhetoric: How else would I be able to return to you upon completion of my assignments?"

Canderous gave a deep belly laugh again, thumping his side. "So all this time we've been hopping from planet to planet, Psycho-droid here has known the coordinates. Oh, this is great. If only the princess had let the truth out back on Tatooine." Canderous shook his head, his mouth still split with a grin.

"(Perhaps there is a certain symmetry here, Jen,)" I hazarded, wondering at the odd chance of HK-47 being a spectre of her past. Combined with the Dark Jedi comatose in the medbay, it seemed that Jen's history was catching up with her. All I could do was my best to ensure she walked through it untainted, this time.

Jen shot me a dark look. She looked far less amused than the Mandalorian. I could understand that she didn't appreciate reminders of her corrupted past, but she must also realize that that was inevitable, given the path she had chosen.

"Maybe." Jen muttered. "You do understand that Jen's not really my name, right, Zaalbar?"

I huffed. "(I am not a simpleton, Jen, even if I may not comprehend all the intricacies of your life. Names are merely a marker of identification.)" I shrugged. "(If you wish me to call you by your new-old name, I shall.)"

The smallest of smiles curved on her face. "I- I don't mind, Zaalbar. It's a nice reminder of how you and Mission see me. Only as the woman you have known for these past few months."

"(You are the woman who rescued me twice on Taris, Jen. Whoever you once were, you do not have to be that same person again.)"

Canderous had wandered over to the communication console, and switched off the paused holo-feed. "Revan, leave Psycho-Droid and head into the common room. As I said, we've something to discuss."

Jen shot one more look at the robot who hailed from the darkest part of her past. Perhaps his abhorrent personality made more sense now. Although my preference still remained for someone to melt him down as scrap. "Shut down, HK." The light in HK-47's eyes winked out, and Jen sighed. "I have no idea what to do with him," she muttered.

Canderous threw her a shrug. "He's a useful combat droid. He kept the 'Hawk secure on the Leviathan, and had a part to play with the Wookiee liberation, also."

I was not all that happy with the comparison, but perhaps it was a reminder that even the most undesirable of machines could be used for a good purpose.

Canderous had marched back to the hatch, throwing a commanding look back to Jen. "I'm sure we'll find a way for him to pull his weight on the Forge. Come on. Follow me."

Jen acquiesced without further comment.

In the central common room, we found most of the others. Jolee was leaning against the kitchenette, a cup of caffa clasped between his hands. The faint aroma of firewhiskey wafted from him, and I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

Mission and Juhani were seated, both with a bowl of synthesized nutrients in front of them. Thermal batteries and targeting scopes littered the table, remains left from the Mandalorian's incessant tinkering with his weaponry.

"(You should eat something, Jen,)" I rumbled, waving a paw at the empty seat next to Mission. "(Sit, and I shall get you some food.)"

I did not wait to hear her answer, but merely began working the synthesizer. Canderous had found a seat, also, and began talking. "Our time here is almost at a close, Revan," he said. "The 'Hawk will be space worthy in a matter of hours, and that twitchy Rodian wants us outta here in no more than eight."

I turned around with a full bowl and spoon, and heard a chuckle from Jolee Bindo. "You met him as well, huh?"

"Hey," Mission interjected. Her voice had spiked in indignation as she looked up from her bowl of pureed food. "What, you both snuck out? Far out! Carth told us all to stay put. I actually listened this time!" My young friend was scowling, throwing her displeasure at both Jolee and Canderous in turn.

I placed the bowl in front of Jen, and motioned toward it. She pulled a face. While I could understand her distaste, I still stood over her with limbs folded until she began eating.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Mission," Jolee Bindo replied in a mild tone. "Although, at my advanced age, I do find myself wandering places I don't mean to."

"Revan," Canderous cut in, his voice a lot more serious than the old man's. "You need to make a decision regarding Rosh."

Jen's gaze darted to the closed medbay doors, her spoon stilling in the air. Her mouth twisted.

"This is a good place to get him off our ship," Canderous continued. His flinty gaze held hers. "There's a whole empty space station for him to rummage around."

"Because I'm sure our alcoholic friend won't mind a Dark Jedi for company," Jolee drawled.

Canderous grunted. "I wasn't exactly gonna give Rosh or that Rodian much of a choice. Besides, Onasi's stripped the damn 'Hawk of near all our supplies just to foot the repair bill. I'm sure that can cover babysitting duties." Canderous raised a brow. "It's your call though, Revan."

"I'd advise against it," Jolee said, placing his caffa down on the bench to level Jen with a serious look. "I ain't happy about the idea of waking him, just yet. He's stable an' he won't die, but a few extra days in a healing coma would be safer."

"I dunno," Mission piped in. "Safer would be him off this ship, I reckon."

"With the drugs in his system, he won't be a threat." Jolee said. He paused, before qualifying further, "well, not upon waking, at least." Jolee cleared his throat, but kept his gaze on Jen. "If you want him to tag along with the rest of us, Revan, then you'd better make darn sure his darker instincts are reined in."

"(This is a sensible place to part ways, and he is not one of us,)" I said slowly. "(But a short time ago, Jolee Bindo was not one of us. Before that, Carth Onasi's cub was not one of us. This Yudan Rosh may be more dangerous, but it comes down to whether we can trust him. Whether he is worth the risk. And I am not sure anyone can judge that other than Jen.)"

Juhani had placed her spoon down, turning to look at Jen before throwing her opinion into the wind. "We cannot trust him yet. But it does not sit right with me that we would offer a chance of redemption to all we met at Korriban, and yet deny it to him."

Jen threw her a dry look. "You'd save the galaxy if you could, Juhani."

The Cathar gave her a smile, full of affection and admiration. "I am a Jedi, Revan. And so are you."

A faint colour rose on Jen's cheeks, and she looked away. "I- I need to talk to him, I guess," she muttered. "You have to wake him, Jolee, whether he stays or goes. I'll give you some time to do that. I need a moment to think, anyway." She stood, muttering under her breath, "frelling HK."

I tried to catch her eye, motioning back to the half-full bowl of synthesized gloop.

"I'll be in the garage. I'll head back to see him soon," Jen told Jolee. She glanced back to me, jammed one last spoonful into her mouth with a wrinkle of her nose, and then left the room.

xXx

Yudan Rosh:

Coming to awareness was a process of automation. Reach out with the Force and identify one's surroundings. Keep up the façade of slumber, but use one's sense of smell and hearing in tandem with the Force. Locate the nearest weapon and wield it, if required.

A lifetime of reaction upon consciousness. Trust no one, and nothing.

Now, the Force was weak and indistinct. My soul yearned to sink back into the depths of slumber. Vaguely, I wasn't even sure why guarding myself was so important.

The haziness of my thoughts was unusually cumbersome. And the pain that followed, radiating out from my gut, was distinctly worse.

"Calm down," a raspy voice soothed, which immediately had me tensing. The pain heightened, and I only just held back a groan of discomfort. "You're among friends."

There was a pause, and I struggled to identify the voice before opening my eyes. The Force. It is… It was shaky and slippery, and my grasp toward it weaker than a neophyte Initiate's.

Drugs. Medication. Something is interfering with my own personal defences.

I am a prisoner. The thought sparked a surge of caustic adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, but self-control kept my eyes shut. Gather information about your environment first. Appear weaker then you truly are. Let them underestimate you.

"Well," the voice continued, "suppose I'd better qualify that. You're among friends who don't trust you. Heh. But you're safe enough, sonny, and panicking ain't in your best interests."

Sonny? My limbs were leaden and weak, but not restrained. The Force was indistinct and hard to reach, but not impossible. I would be able to harness it if I tried harder.

Wherever I was, it seemed my captors were complete idiots.

I opened my eyes. It took a moment to focus against the contrast of the halogen lighting.

An old, dark-skinned Human was staring at me with wary interest. His pose was benign and casual. I had the urge to lunge out in pre-emptive attack at my would-be captor, but something held me back – possibly my own physical weakness. For there was a drug-induced lethargy deep within my muscles, and the grinding pain in my abdomen went well beyond unpleasant. I will make a move when the time is right.

And then, recognition flared through my pain-riddled mind.

The old man. The Leviathan. Revan.

My gaze darted swiftly around the room in reaction; a small storage area, not much more than a closet, really. Shelves lined with towels and bacta patches and containers full of hypoderms. A make-shift medbay, for a place not large enough to have a dedicated one.

The vented ceiling was a dark grey; a blend of durasteel and titasteel common to smaller scoutships and freighters. The ducting lines along the side looked commercial rather than military, and the lack of any obvious surveillance further cemented that impression.

I'm on Revan's freighter. I felt the unfamiliar taste of bewilderment. In my mind rose the recollection of her levelling that cyan blade at my heart. Her eyes, fierce with green fire, as she stared down at me like the blazing Jedi Knight she had once been.

Like Malachor and all that happened afterward never occurred. Like she had never fallen. And the injustice of that burned, as I ignored the corner of my soul that rejoiced at the sight of her uncorrupted face.

So. She hadn't killed me on the Leviathan. But why had she not just shoved me into the nearest escape pod?

Because Revan is reckless. I tried to pretend I did not think that with any measure of fondness. Before she fell, she was reckless to a fault. It used to drive Malak absolutely crazy.

The old man coughed, and it was with relief that I dragged my jagged thoughts away from her.

"I can imagine it's a bit disorienting, waking up here." He was staring at me with a beady expression. "If the Force feels off to you, it's just the Ceramol in your system. It's the only pain-med the crew bothered to stock, I'm afraid. I remember Zhar telling me once that Ceramol and kolto together had a tendency to scramble the Force in Twi'leks." His mouth thinned. "You needed the kolto, and the Ceramol's taking the edge off your pain, hard as that may be to believe. With your internal injuries, I imagine the discomfort is substantial."

Ceramol. That explained it. Not an impossible handicap to overcome, if I didn't wish to wait the effects out. Still, I would have preferred the pain.

"We're going to talk about Zhar, one day soon," the old man muttered. "That is, if you end up sticking around. Half the crew want to pitch you over to a nearby space station with only an alcoholic Rodian for company." He paused. "Not that it would be all bad. He's got quite an extensive range of spirits. Although don't tell our pilot I snuck out."

He waggled his eyebrows at me. I stared back, wondering if the rambling, half-senile act was designed to put me at ease. If so, it wasn't working.

"Where, exactly, is this space station?" The words scraped against my throat, which made me speculate upon just how long I'd been out cold.

"Oh ho! So he does talk!" The old man sounded almost gleeful. "We're docked on some old station orbiting Yavin Prime. Seems to be in the hands of a sole smuggler doing trade runs for the Exchange and the like."

Yavin Prime. Outer Rim, not far from Kashyyyk, but nowhere close to any well-known hyperlane route. Last I'd heard, the Yavin sector was uninhabited barring primitive indigenous species - ever since Exar Kun had been ousted from one of its moons. If there was a space station here, it was likely some relic from his time.

"I didn't want to wake you up just yet," the Human was grumbling. "Seems to me that gut of yours could take a bit more rest, and you don't strike me as the sort of fellow who will idly lie back and let your body heal. But, well, the others insisted. We'll be heading out in half a day, and someone's got to decide what to do with you."

Do with me? It was galling, to think of my life in the hands of others. Barring Malak, I had not taken orders from anyone. I'd put up with Bandon's hot air and grandstanding for my own purposes, and no one else had dared speak to me in the same fashion. Bandon may have grasped a larger depth of Force power than I, but the difference had not been insurmountable, and I'd more than outstripped him in combat.

I'd long since gleaned Bandon's weaknesses, for I'd realized an altercation between the two of us was inevitable. At least it had been, until Revan ended matters so spectacularly.

The old man was still staring at me with interest. He said half the crew wish to offload me here. It wouldn't take long, I suspected, before I found a way off some decrepit old space station. But what would I do, then?

The only purpose I'd felt in recent times was the undying drive to end Darth Revan. And surely she was still there. I did not believe otherwise. I refused to believe otherwise.

But, it seemed, I could not strike out at Revan Freeflight. Not without proof of her corruption. And once again, I damned myself for the fragility of feeling I had never been able to shed since a teenage Revan first stepped onto Coruscanti soil.

"What do the other half wish to do with me?" My head was clearing, now. The pain was constant and deep, but I could ignore it. When it became unbearable, I would reach out for the Force, and by then the Ceramol should have adequately worn off.

The old man snorted. "Well, our pilot wants to knock you out, tie you up and ship you off to his superiors. Or, failing that, shoot you in the head. Still, you can't really blame the fellow. I understand you were on the edge of killing him yourself."

It took longer than it should have to connect the dots. I had never liked the way drugs addled my thought processes.

Revan's soldier. Had Revan actually found love again? It seemed unlikely. Beyond unlikely. It must be a simple fling that, judging from the explosive stand-off back on the Leviathan, would now have turned remarkably sour.

The love Revan and Malak shared once had been eons deep. Before their fall, Malak would have damned the galaxy just to keep her happy.

Afterward… well, even their love had burned to ashes. And the fallout had affected more than just them.

I felt my teeth grit, and forcibly pushed away the dark, heady memories that Revan had absolutely no recollection of. Part of me desired that she find out, one day, everything that had occurred… and a larger part of me hoped she never would.

"At the end of it, the decision is Revan's. So, let's see if you can sit up, huh?"

I stared back at the man; he was serious, now. "What is your name?" I asked.

"Jolee Bindo." He harrumphed. "You won't have heard of me. I'm one of the few not-famous ones here."

I ran through the list of Revan's crew in my mind once more. I'd known it off-heart months ago. Jedi Padawan Bastila Shan. Republic warhero Captain Carth Onasi. Mandalorian General Canderous Ordo. They were all famous enough, even if the Twi'lek, the Cathar and the Wookiee were not. I suppose if one were to add in Revan herself – and now my own presence – then it amounted to a rather notorious manifest.

I knew nothing of this old man. Judging by how mortal my injury had been - and that Revan had never been able to heal a chivving papercut – then this man must have been Jedi-trained. I was well-versed with the annals of the Jedi Order, but his name was unknown to me. Perhaps he'd left young. But- My eyes narrowed. "You knew Zhar Lestin."

"Yes." His voice had hardened, bushy white eyebrows slamming down over dark eyes. "You could say we were best buddies back when we were kids. Me, Zhar, and Karon Enova."

That was… interesting. Malak and Revan's masters. Now dead, but their childhood friend follows Revan. Perhaps it was just an odd coincidence, one of those funny quirks of the Force.

Jokes, sometimes, the Force plays on us all. Take life less seriously, you should. Learn to laugh a little. A smile. A smile, now, my Padawan. A raspy chuckle. Consider my day's work done, I will, if today I wrest a smile from you.

That voice, creaky and high-pitched, was one I hadn't heard in my head for a long, long time.

Jolee Bindo cleared his throat, and the memory fled like a shadow in the sun. Bindo's expression had transformed into open speculation. "I've spent most of my recent years hanging out with the Wookiees, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm not up to play with recent events. Who was your Jedi Master, Yudan Rosh?"

Oh no, I was not going to play nostalgia with a rambling old man. "Where is Revan?" I asked, struggling upright and swinging my feet off the bunk with a groan. I couldn't hold back a grimace of pain, and a surge of dizziness engulfed me. My vision immediately speckled with black. "I will see her now," I rasped, my breaths coming out high and fast.

"You can barely talk," the old man snapped. "Take it easy, sonny. If you rupture something, I may not be on hand to save you again."

"You're a medic," I forced through gritted teeth. "You would not have roused me if you believed the chance of me dying was high."

"High, heh… fine. Far be it for me to talk any sense into the likes of you," Jolee Bindo grumbled. "But I'll foist one last piece of advice your way, sonny. Don't say or do anything stupid. There's a few Force-sensitives onboard, and those who aren't ain't exactly pushovers either. No one here has much of a mind to give you any chances."

Slowly, I forced myself to my feet, ignoring his comments. I was not an imbecile.

The oncoming surge of nausea was strong, and I held it back with an effort of will, my fists clenching in reaction. It was easier to conquer physical weakness with the Force but, for now, I'd have to rely on the effect of the pain meds.

"Where is Revan?" I repeated, this time keeping my words firm and unshaken.

"Humph. Try the garage. You'll have to go through the common room- here, you'd better let me lead the way." Muttering something about idiots, the old man opened the hatch and wandered through. I took a deep breath and followed, concentration focused exclusively on not tripping over my own unsteady feet.

Shavit, but I hated feeling so weak. Especially here, around Revan and her allies.

Looking down at myself, I realized the old man had removed my armour, and replaced my no-doubt bloodied and torn clothing with what amounted to little more than grotesquely coloured rags. I grimaced. What I wear is irrelevant. Deciding on my next steps is what I need to focus on.

And- and not falling over.

The room beyond was clearly the central hub of the freighter. Jolee Bindo had meandered over to a comestible dispenser bolted onto the wall. My attention was immediately drawn to Canderous Ordo. He was seated and, in typical Mandalorian fashion, surrounded by various pieces of weaponry.

Ordo's expression stilled at my entrance, and his hands tightened on the nearest blaster.

Next to him perched the young Twi'lek girl, Mission Vao. I hadn't been concerned about her the first time I'd boarded Revan's freighter, for I had been anonymous beneath a Mandalorian helm. And, even now she knew my name, she may not have realized it had been I down in the Shadowlands.

It was dark and she was panicking. The chances of her recognizing me are sli-

Her eyes widened. "You're that marsh toad from the Shadowlands!" she accused.

"What?" Ordo demanded, his voice warping into a low roar. "Ad'ika, did this chakaar hurt you?"

There was a whistling through the air, and the blaze of a red lightsaber at my neck. The Force flooded through me, ready to do my bidding, breaking through the fuzziness of the lingering Ceramol. I clamped down hard on the urge to react, aware that my injured body could fail me - and that passivity might actually be the safest course of action here.

I slowly turned my head to survey the weapon's owner, keeping my face expressionless.

A young Human male stood, glaring at me with a mixture of hate, fright, and the recognizable awe of a youngling. The Force was swirling uncontrolled chaos around him. There was emotion there, deep and black and bittersweet. This one was strong, but undisciplined in the matters of Force control.

Also, he was obviously not from the Jedi Order.

"You said something about lightning, Mission," Ordo growled. "Back on Carpet's planet. You told me you got hit." In my periphery, I could see the Mandalorian wielding a large repeating blaster levelled in my direction. "All bets are off if this shabuir struck you in the Shadowlands."

"Sheesh, guys, settle down. It wasn't him, it was his best buddy. This one actually tried to get the bald sleemo to let me go." The girl sniffed loudly. "He didn't try very hard, mind you."

"Huh," Ordo grunted, and there was a thunk as his weapon was placed back on the table. I was still holding the gaze of the young Human, whose eyes had widened after my absolution from the most unlikely of sources. He switched off the lightsaber, gave a squeak of alarm I'd place credits on him regretting, and then vanished.

I blinked. He was completely gone. I couldn't even sense him in the Force.

Perhaps Jolee Bindo overdid the Ceramol, I thought fuzzily.

"Think you got yourself an admirer there, ad'ika," the Mandalorian commented in a teasing voice. "That's the first time I've seen Sithkid in days."

"What?" the girl squeaked. "Don't be ridiculous, ya old geezer. We were playing pazaak earlier. Turns out, Dustil's just as crap as Jen."

Ordo snorted. He looked back to me again, and I realized I'd been standing stock still, waiting for my respirations to stabilize and my vision to clear. Maybe the old man hadn't been voicing garbage when he urged me to take it easy.

"You and me got some things to settle, Rosh," Ordo said, his voice cooling. "But amongst the Mando'ade, we don't discharge our debts on injured parties." He paused, jerking a thumb in the direction of an exit. "I expect you want to see Revan. She's off sulking in the garage behind me."

Jolee Bindo snorted, having turned around with a steaming beverage in his clasped hands. He hadn't moved, I realized, even when that young Force-user had brandished a lightsaber at my neck. Jolee Bindo gave me fair warning, and now he's standing back to see what I do. On one level, I could appreciate that I deserved no chance from these sentients. On the other, I did not see the point in healing someone from a mortal wound, merely to stand back while they were threatened.

"Canderous." The kid Twi'lek rolled her eyes at him, before shooting me a wary glance. "Don't hassle Jen. She needs some time alone, is all."

"Sulking," Ordo muttered, and the girl stuck her tongue out at him.

It was… too much. This sense of camaraderie and allegiance amongst these people… the warmth they obviously felt toward Revan. It was a bittersweet reminder of my own past before the shadows had strangled everything.

"Go on, then," Jolee Bindo urged, jerking his head toward the hatch Ordo had indicated. "The galaxy knows that lass could do with the distraction."

Jerkily, I nodded, and began walking. Behind me I heard the girl mutter. "Sheesh, but he's a quiet one."

Well. I had never seen the point in talking when one had nothing of import to say.

I stepped into the garage, and the hatch closed behind me. Revan was there, but she was not alone.

And the pair of them were so deeply involved in conversation that they did not even register my entrance.

xXx

Revan Freeflight:

I stared at the shut-down frame of HK-47. It seemed unbelievable. Crazily coincidental. I had no recollection of him whatsoever; stars, I'd been travelling with the damn homicidal droid for months without any glimmer of familiarity.

But then, I hadn't recalled Jolee Bindo, either.

HK had an upright humanoid shape that was heavily armoured, allowing him to pose as a combat droid with protocol specifications. But there was a distinctly foreign look about the angular lines of his build that denied any sort of mainstream manufacture. I'd noticed that well before the revelations of today.

Combine HK's physical appearance with his unique attitude, and it all screamed out a custom-built blueprint. That I'd apparently designated. I wondered, with a shiver, if the Star Forge had spat out any others. It can make starships, and it can make scarily competent assassination droids. What else can it do?

I glanced around the rest of the garage, searching for a distraction. It was mostly empty. Detritus from Davik's old swoop bike still milled about in a corner- someone having strapped the chassis to the wall and gathered the loose parts into a storage canister. I'd heard Mission moaning about repairing the bike, and even caught Dustil, once, trying to reframe the repulsors.

This room reminded me of our last hyperspace journey, when I'd spent most of my waking hours here, training and discussing the Force with Juhani and the Sithkids. Kel had been quiet, Dustil sullen, and Dak moody and lacklustre- at least at first. Strangely enough, it had been Canderous who'd gone some way to dragging Dak out from the depression of losing one of his best friends and his arm.

Whereas I'd spent the time running from Carth, until he'd finally cornered me and we'd-

I gritted my teeth, dragging my thoughts away.

The last two days had been quiet. I'd only seen Carth once, just after docking, when he'd walked into the common room to address us all. He'd demanded, in a flat voice, that everyone stay restricted to the ship. Something about a nervous, trigger-happy Rodian, and that the 'Hawk's safety would be compromised if anyone was caught disembarking.

His eyes had been on me when he'd said it. The message had been clear. Don't leave the ship. Or else.

Of course, both Canderous and Jolee had flat-out ignored him. Jolee had returned from the station muttering about a roomful of alcohol and an over-eager host. I couldn't think that Carth was ignorant of the old man's travels, but then, Carth had other things on his mind.

I sighed. I'd had little time alone, and I honestly wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. I'd milled aimlessly around the ship – avoiding the cockpit and Carth's quarters – with one or another of the crew tacitly keeping me company.

It was up to Carth, now. When he was ready to talk, he'd find me, and I'd just have to suck it up and take whatever he dished out.

I kept my eyes on the hatch that led to the common room, attempting yet again to think of something other than Carth. I have to head back to the medbay. Staring at the powered-down HK wasn't giving me any answers, and I'd have plenty of time to grill the droid later. Right now, there was another important matter to deal with. And in a way, I was just as uncertain what to say to Yudan Rosh as I was to Carth.

Would Yudan want to travel with us, or leave?

Should his opinion hold any sway over it?

Could I trust that he wouldn't join Malak's side, if we took him with us to the Star Forge? All I knew was that Yudan had once been a close, trusted friend of mine. Which meant he must have been the same to Malak.

And- Malak had turned on me. Was Yudan part of that, too?

The hatch opened. But it wasn't the one I was staring at.

I spun around, to see Carth take a step into the room. And my stomach bottomed out in reaction.

He looked- like he hasn't slept in days. Like he's been tormenting himself over- over me. The anger was still there, darkening his eyes to almost black. I couldn't tell if it was hatred or not- but it must be, surely-

"Revan," he said in a low voice. I couldn't hold back a slight wince. It was my name, far more than Jen had ever been- and it wasn't like I wanted him to call me something I wasn't- but it was a reminder, perhaps, of the events that stood between us like an unpassable schism of darkness. "I have some questions."

I swallowed. "Ask. I'll- I'll answer. As best I can."

His mouth thinned at that, although I didn't really understand why. His voice remained cold. "Mission said you found out in the Shadowlands. Is that true?"

"I- yes." In a manner of speaking.

"So- what? I fell for a dead woman?" His brows had lowered. "All that time, on Taris- on, on Korriban – none of it was really you?"

I sucked in a deep, shaky lungful of air. "It was me," I whispered. "I just didn't know my name. It was me since my head injury on the Endar Spire… Jen is- was a completely different woman to me. To the one you've travelled with."

"And you killed her."

I felt my breath hitch at that. Jen Sahara was not the sort of person I would warm to naturally. Nervous, shy, meek. She'd been intelligent, sure enough, but had wasted that under her controlling father's thumb. And now, I was stuck with her faded memories, a constant reminder of one of the many, many lives I had ended. "I have no idea if it was by my hand. But I know I'm responsible, nevertheless."

"Yes," he bit out. "You are."

I stayed silent, having no rejoinder to that. What could I say? Jen Sahara had been tortured, under my command, presumably for no other reason than her untapped Force sensitivity. She could have been so much more- flourished, perhaps, if she'd found the strength to step away from her father. She could have become a trained archaeologist, or, or, a medical doctor-

"What happened on Rii'shn?"

Carth's question was sharp, and wholly unexpected. I could see a flare of anguish in his face, then, before his expression hardened. He'd asked about Rii'shn before. More than once. And I'd always found a way to distract him.

I must have taken too long to respond, for his brows lowered further. "You owe me an answer," he growled. "Dammit, Revan, you owe me a galaxy more than just one blasted answer."

I looked away. It was easier, somehow, to reply without holding his gaze. "I walked into a trap," I said in a monotone. "Assassins that Malak sent after me. Things turned a bit- messy." Understatement of the year, there, Revvie. Why don't we just say we had a wee disagreement and cancelled any future play-dates.

"And?" His voice was uncompromising. I felt my temper rise a little, at that, no matter how unjustified it was.

"I went Dark," I said, forcing the words out. "I guess that's what you want to hear. I had- a voice in my head. Flashbacks of a similar incident." Each word was a wrestle of will to voice, and there was worse to come. Somehow, I knew Carth wouldn't let up until he'd had the whole of it. "By the end, I enjoyed slaughtering everyone in sight, and when I came to I thought I had the voice of a dead Sith Lord in my head."

There was a pause. And then- "What?"

I could feel my anger stirring. It was at myself, though, I knew. "All the time, Carth, I convinced myself I was some other third party, with Jen and Darth Revan in my head, taking turns apiece to screw with my sanity." A bitter laugh fell from my lips. "Pretty crazy, huh? Enough to make one go see a doctor for help."

And hadn't that turned out well?

"You- you mean- wait a minute- you knew you weren't Jen Sahara, you knew Revan was in your head, and it didn't even occur to you that Revan might actually be you?" He was a mix of incredulity and blistering anger, now.

This was going about as fantastically as I'd expected.

My fingers cramped into fists. My eyes prickled, and I blinked furiously. "Bastila told me I'd been a Jedi Knight. She'd told me I'd never fallen- no, she told me Ness sodding Jonohl had never fallen, and I latched onto it like a lifeline, believing it was my real name." The words kept stumbling out, harsh and low and like little droplets of acid. "Everyone knows that Revan is dead, right? How could I be her, truly her, and not just a screwed up sent with a ghost in my head?" My jaw clenched, before I finally admitted the truth of the matter. "I didn't want to believe it, I guess. So I didn't."

I sneaked a look back to him. Was it self-loathing on his face? Was it about his own poor judgment- he got it wrong with Saul, before. The man he looked up to, the man who mentored him. And now, Carth's looking at me in the same light. Worse, even. Because Saul was my creature. And Telos-

"I shouldn't have become involved with you," I whispered. Somehow, my anger had vanished in the beat of a heart. "I knew that at the time. I guess- I guess I was selfish."

The pain in his eyes seemed to agree with me.

It was- It was getting too much. I could feel the grief, again, rising from the marrow of my soul. I'd thought I could handle this, but everything Carth felt was justified. He had every reason in the galaxy to blame me, to despise me-

My gaze stilled on the blaster clipped at his hip. Carth never, since Korriban, walked around the ship visibly armed- not like Canderous, who made a game of seeing how many weapons he could carry and still walk without keeling over. Carth always disarmed, or at least tucked them away discretely into a chest holster concealed beneath a jacket.

The ship's home base, he'd said once when I'd queried him on it. Not to mention that Mission keeps trying to twist them off my belt as a prank-

My eyes were stinging, now, still pinned on the gun. The last thing I wanted to do was break down in front of Carth. But the despair hadn't left me, no matter that I'd tried my best to rise above it. I'd known our next conversation would test me. A smarter woman would have walked out of the room. But Carth was right. I owed him- and he deserved so much more than me.

I saw his hand twitch, next to the blaster I couldn't drag my gaze from.

"If the billions out there knew you were still alive, they'd cheer me for pulling the trigger," he whispered. He'd caught my gaze, then. "To stop any chance of Darth Revan returning."

I closed my eyes.

Standing like a blind woman in the middle of a freighter's garage, holding myself upright against the hammer of words from a betrayed lover.

I could picture it in my minds-eye, myself motionless while Carth's hand slowly lifted. Unsure if he had the fortitude to shoot the monster he'd come to care for-

"Do it," I mouthed. "Let it come to an end then."

Just like the Leviathan, but this time I couldn't watch.

Yet… this time I wouldn't be held back by inaction. This time I couldn't be. Carth and I… the debts between us- it was insignificant, really, compared to what was waiting for us at the Star Forge. To the mistakes I had to fix. As much as my heart might yearn for the impossible, our mission trumped personal and I knew it.

I wouldn't let Carth shoot me, not while I still had Bastila and Malak and the Forge to deal with.

But maybe I just needed to know if he'd actually do it. It wasn't like I wouldn't be able to dodge in time-

You always were too reckless, someone rebuked in my head. It sounded like Karon. Always too quick to jump into situations, without a thought for the consequences.

Reckless idiot, a different voice murmured with affection.

I wondered if Carth's grasp was shaking, like last time. If he truly thought he could follow through. Surely he didn't believe he'd be quick enough on the draw- a split second's thought and I'd wrap the Force around him before he'd even begun to press the trigger.

This is unfair to Carth. And as that realization unfurled in my mind, I understood that it wasn't my right to know what he would do. Perhaps I had lost that right.

"I get why you feel betrayed, Carth," I said, my eyes still squeezed tight. The resolve was firming. It was like I'd accepted what was out of my reach, and now only looked towards that which I had to do. "I won't ask you to trust me again. But you and me- we're not what's truly important. Not when compared to stopping Malak." I breathed in, deep to the bottom of my lungs. "So either hammer that trigger home and do something about your anger at me, or let's move on and focus on our mission."

My eyes snapped open.

Carth's face was anguished with heartbreak as he stared at me. His hand was nowhere near his blaster, which was still clipped safely onto his belt.

"I won't let you move against the Republic," he whispered brokenly. "I won't let you become Darth Revan again."

Oh, Carth. His tenacity to his own ideals was one of the things I admired the most about him. I wish I could believe that. How would you be able to stop me?

"If Darth Revan returns, I shall know," an arctic voice bit out behind us.

I flinched.

Carth's hand moved, for real this time, resting at the weapon on his hip. His expression had hardened, staring beyond me, at the intruder who I heard slowly walking into the garage.

Yudan. I had little memory of him, but it was obvious our history was huge.

I turned. Yudan's attention was focused exclusively on Carth. "There is no one left alive who knows Revan as well as me. Malak is too insane to count." He was five metres away from Carth, now, his hands relaxed at his sides. His face was pale and drawn. He didn't look like a threat. But still-

Carth's grip was firm on his blaster. The Force shook like a thunderstorm around me.

"I knew Revan Freeflight as well as a close friend could, and I followed Darth Revan into the darkest pits of perdition. If Darth Revan returns, I shall know," Yudan repeated, his voice dropping. "I'll ensure she dies. And stays dead, this time."

They stood, staring at each other in grim silence. Of an equal age and height, they'd fought in the same wars. Once on the same side, once on opposite.

Carth's mouth twisted in pain, and he swung his attention back in my direction, as if Yudan Rosh wasn't worth any more of his time. He seemed at a complete loss for words.

Yudan, too, had shifted his gaze to me.

Like twin sentinels, they stood, facing me and the creeping shadow of my evil. One, a dark voice from my forgotten past. The other, a shining promise of a future I had to accept, now, was completely out of my reach.

Carth gave the tiniest shake of his head, threw one last glare of mistrust at Yudan, and left the room in silence.

I was vaguely aware of the flood of tears I struggled to hold back. All I could see was that octagonal room back on the Leviathan, drenched in death. The Togruta, the betrayer, and the woman who'd once pledged her life to me. Darth Revan. Neither of you grasp just how much she has already returned.

"Damn you," I whispered to the man who was still in the garage, the one who'd interrupted Carth and I. "Damn you, Yudan."

"You damned me a long time ago, Revan."

It was- enough. Maybe because it was Yudan and not Carth- the one who'd sliced two of my fingers off and laid the death-blow on Zhar, the one who I couldn't even remember, the one who was sodding well corrupted himself-

Maybe because it was him, the melancholy disappeared and a hot anger rose up in its stead. Not a dark, unstoppable rage that would blacken anything in its path, but a pissy temper that felt a damn sight more healthy than it probably should have.

"We need to talk," I bit out, shooting him my most ferocious glare. Yudan didn't look fazed in the slightest. "And, sod it-" I stared around the empty garage. Most if not all of the crew were onboard. Zaalbar had advanced hearing, and anyone with Force powers could listen in if they desired. Last thing I needed was for Dustil to go telling his dad whatever Yudan would reveal about my past. "-we're leaving this ship. I need a drink, anyway. Follow me."

xXx

No one had been around when we disembarked the 'Hawk. Left the docking bay. Trudged into the mysterious space station.

We walked without speaking down a long, grey corridor. The sound of our footfalls wasn't loud, but it still echoed. There were Republic markings along the skirtings of the walls, raising my curiosity about the history of this abandoned place.

Everything felt a touch surreal. Here I was, casually strolling along to grab a drink with a friend, as if I were leading a perfectly normal life. As if Yudan was a perfectly normal sent. As if I was.

As if I hadn't just left my battered heart back on the 'Hawk.

My gaze slid to Yudan. Jolee had patched him up well enough, I thought, although he was pale beneath the muted gold of his skin. The old man must have rustled up the dregs of the clothing bin, for Yudan was attired in a torn pair of trousers, and a bright pink shirt too small for his build. It looked completely ridiculous on him.

My interest regarding Yudan Rosh was only natural, considering our past. He was slightly taller than me, a similar height to Carth, but he reminded me more of Canderous – albeit a golden, hairless version from a different species. Yudan's entire body was packed with lean muscle, like he'd spent his life dedicated to training.

He was a warrior, obviously, much the same as Canderous or Juhani. I had the vague recollection of Bastila telling me he was one of the best duellists alive-

My maimed hand clenched at my side. Without some form of advanced prosthetic, I'd be changing the lightsaber form I was most adept at. Yudan had made that abundantly clear back on the Leviathan.

"Do you have something to say?" he asked in a monotone, and I realized I'd been staring at him.

"No, uh, no," I muttered, wrenching my gaze ahead. There were doors leading off in both directions. The entire place was eerie; completely devoid of life. "You've been in that Mandalorian armour so long, I'm surprised you're not still wearing it. Or some fancy ceremonial tunic that shouldn't step foot outside of a sodding temple." Somewhere should be the station's owner. And a roomful of alcohol, if Jolee's word was to be trusted.

"Ceremonial-" Yudan stopped without me realizing at first, and I had to turn around several metres ahead. He was staring after me, eyes blazing. "What do you remember, Revan?"

"What?" I frowned, puzzled. "It was just an off-hand comment. Nothing behind it."

It was- awkward as frell, talking to someone who knew my entire past, while I had little recollection of the man at all. No idea why he'd latch onto something like that, seeing as he'd probably worn nothing but brown robes followed by black most of his life.

Although, I had the feeling I'd been rather disinterested in adopting any sort of dress code, so why should I expect others to?

"Hello, hello!" a voice squeaked out nervously. Behind me, a Rodian male was almost tripping over himself in fright. I sensed Yudan move the final metres back to my side. "Your ship's almost done. Carl assured me everyone would stay onboard for the length of your stay."

Carl. Carth's attempt at a false name, I thought with exasperated fondness. My heart ached. He'd grounded all of us – me especially – and he had every reason to keep me pinned down.

But, then, I'd never done particularly well at following orders, especially not ones I thought were stupid. I needed a place to talk with Yudan, away from the others- and, stars, I couldn't imagine Dustil obeying this sort of directive from his dad, so really, what was Carth thinking, expecting me to?

Carth. I'm sorry. I wish-

I bit down on my inner cheek to stop the useless thoughts, and sent a fake smile to the twitching Rodian.

"We're just after a drink. That's all," I said, in a voice I tried to make as soothing and gentle as I could. "Just a quiet place to chat away from the others. We won't cause any trouble."

The Rodian's black eyes had widened dramatically, fixed on Yudan's face. It might have been recognition – or maybe just the sickly yellow of Yudan's eyes, the black crevasses of corruption alongside his cheeks. It wasn't hard to spot a powerful Dark Jedi.

The Rodian squeaked again. "I'm happy to send alcohol back onboard with you. The salvage your pilot has off-loaded more than covers the repair-bots' work. I-"

"We'd like to talk somewhere here," I interrupted, with a firm voice. The temptation to cut this conversation short with a little Force persuasion was strong. Did others, those firmly entrenched in the Light, feel the same desire for short-cuts, for methods where the ethics blurred?

It wasn't like it'd cause any harm- just a quick twist of the Force augmenting my suggestion: that he grant us privacy, allow us a brief window of time on his station. It wasn't a dark employ of the Force, not really, maybe just a little grey-

Was that how it started? Tiny, tiny steps with seemingly solid justification behind them? I didn't know. Sometimes, I thought a fall was merely a journey of a thousand stumbles, without the time or inclination to pull oneself back up again.

I forced a smile, aware it probably appeared more like a rictus of pain. Well, the Rodian wasn't even staring at me anyway. "We'll be on our best behaviour," I promised. "Look, just a few drinks, away from our ship, and-" I frowned. "What's your name?"

"Suvam," he said. He didn't look at me. His large black eyes hadn't moved from Yudan's visage, and the stink of fear was rolling off him. Of course it was. The last thing the Rodian desired, no doubt, was an unstable Dark Jedi running amok on his station.

I sighed. "Yudan, promise him you won't break anything. Or, you know, hurt anyone." I waved my hand in the air. "Blow the place up. Do Sithy Dark Jedi things."

Yudan flashed an indecipherable look at me, before turning back to the Rodian. "We are not here to cause any sort of trouble." His voice was silky; deeper and smoother than I'd heard it before. And the thrum of compulsion was evident on the Force. "You can find us a place to sit and have a few quiet drinks."

"I have just the place to sit and have a few quiet drinks," the Rodian mumbled, spinning around. "Follow me!"

"Yudan!" I hissed indignantly, feeling my face flare with annoyance. "That was the sort of thing I was trying to avoid!"

"I am sorry," he said blandly, sounding anything but as he began traipsing after the Rodian. "Did you mistake me for a tame kath pup, Revan?"

My eyes widened in further outrage, but the Rodian was probably too far ahead to have heard my name, and now Yudan was walking away-

Sun and stars! This conversation was going to drive me mad, I could tell. Which is probably better than wallowing in my own heartache. Canderous had already tried, more than once, to lift my mood which had been desolate enough before I'd spoken with Carth. Canderous had even pulled out the twin lures of sparring and alcohol, brandishing a couple of bottles he must have traded or nicked from Suvam. It hadn't worked, though. Finally, he'd stomped off with a comment about childish sulking-

I was a grown woman in my thirties. I had more issues to deal than was reasonable on any level. I did not sulk.

Still, it felt better to be seething at his comments, or outraged at my maybe-enemy-turned-ally, than spend the time slowly sinking back into the despair that seemed to dog my every thought.

Suvam turned into a room that opened out into a large half-circle dominated by benches and tables. On one wall was a bar, behind which the shelves were lined with an impressive array of colourful bottles. I felt my eyes widen in appreciation. Getting drunk right now would be beyond idiotic. That was true, but a couple of drinks wouldn't go amiss. It might be enough to loosen the awkwardness that was bound to otherwise dominate our conversation.

The Rodian had scampered over to his collection of booze, before turning around to shoot Yudan a worried look. The room itself was large enough that we could easily sit out of earshot – good thing, too, because the topics I planned to touch on did not need to be overheard. But, still, there was the matter of surveillance.

My eyes caught on the black ducting around the edges of the ceiling. Easy enough to hide mics in there, or pinhole holo-cams. "I should be able to short anything out," I muttered, more to myself as my gaze roamed around the industrial walls that beheld no decoration whatsoever. Obviously, Suvam was not a decorating sort of guy.

"And you thought to upbraid me for utilizing a simple mind trick?"

I scowled at Yudan. I didn't want to concede any sort of point-scoring, here, not to sodding Yudan Rosh. And privacy was damn well important.

But one could easily argue that the destruction of a civilian's monitoring equipment was hardly the behaviour of a Jedi. I couldn't ever forget Yudan's prime motivation. But what did he constitute as stepping into the shadows of darkness? How can you call something good or evil, when there are a thousand shades of grey in between?

Darth Revan hadn't been grey, though. I couldn't kid myself on that.

"Go take a seat, Yudan," I said. I was still glaring at him, yet his composed expression implied he was entirely unruffled by my ire. He had to be in some discomfort; the lack of colour in his skin tone and the sheen on his face belied that. And, yet, he came across as completely unconcerned by everything around him. It made me wonder if anything in the galaxy unsettled the bastard.

I daresay he's seen too much to care about anything, anymore. And that's on me. The despair rose again, choking in my throat, the flash of Nisotsa's corpse, a red ring around her neck- all the other millions I've killed or betrayed-

I spun around before it could show on my face, and stomped over to Suvam.

"Surveillance," I said, through clenched teeth. I leaned over the bar, but the Rodian was still gawking at Yudan. "There better not be any here."

"No, no, of course not," he mumbled incoherently.

I let my irritation come to the fore, then, and slammed a fist on the bar. Suvam jumped, and his round eyes shot to mine.

"I need your vow that there is no surveillance here." I didn't want to threaten the fellow, but there was no point in this conversation if I had to watch every second sodding word. "You'll have nothing to worry about, assuming I can trust you."

Suvam's bulbous black eyes blinked at me. "I don't spy on Dark Jedi!" he squeaked. "I leave all cams disabled so they don't zap 'em! Or me! All I do is offer free drinks, make the trade, and keep 'em happy!"

His panic was evident in his shaking hands. As was his honesty.

"Great. Calm down, then. Make us a drink of- of something, and-" I halted in mid-speech, suddenly weary and mildly ashamed of the sent's obvious alarm. "We only want a place to talk, Suvam. I know you need us off this station. We'll be a few hours, at most, and then you'll see the back of us. I promise."

He quivered a nod at me, and then began pouring something into a pair of tumblers. I only started frowning when he picked up the third ingredient. A simple drink would have sufficed. I guess he's trying to placate us with fancy highbrow cocktails. It smelled fruity and looked vaguely tropical. I half-expected him to stick a paper umbrella and a wedge of sour-fruit in it.

Suvam slid the two highball glasses over the bar. Faint puffs of mist curled over the edge of the ferracrystal. I had the sudden recollection of Yuthura Ban, surrounded in undesired multi-coloured drinks back in that cantina on Dreshdae, when an underling had tried uselessly to sidle into her good graces.

"Thanks," I said slowly, eyeing over the drinks in askance. "We'll wave you over when we need a refill. Or, er, a different drink."

Suvam gave a shaky nod. I collected the glasses, turned, and headed back to Yudan Rosh.

Yudan was lounging against the wall, his eyes half-lidded and his posture relaxed. For some reason, it irritated the frell out of me. Maybe because I was so on edge, while he almost came across as bored.

I thudded the drinks down on the nearby table, took a seat, and wondered how in the Outer Rim to start. We both desired information – well, I was assuming on Yudan's part – and neither of us had any amount of trust in the other.

You want to play question and answer, kid? It was the voice of Jolee running through my mind, sparking an idea. But it hadn't been Jolee Bindo who had said that to me.

"I met an interesting sentient down in the Shadowlands," I commented. Yudan's gaze flew to mine. "We both wanted to interrogate the other. Of course, in retrospect, now I understand just why he asked some of the questions he did. But at the time, taking turns to ask a question was a solid framework for us both to get what we wanted." I took a pull of my drink. It was sweet and bubbly. I grimaced. "So. A question apiece. I'll start."

"You wish to shift this into a lark, Revan?" One eyebrow raised at me in mocking disbelief. "With alcohol? Are we divulging into boorish drinking games, then?"

I shrugged. "The drink's up to you, Yudan. All I'm proposing is that we grill each other in turn. Unless you have a better idea?" He stayed silent this time, and I held back a smirk of victory. Okay. No point jerry-dancing around. May as well dive straight in. I took another gulp of the foul tropical concoction for fortitude, and kept my gaze fixed on the piercing yellow of his.

"What did I find beyond the Outer Rim?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His lips thinned. His eyes flared with deep emotion that echoed in the Force, until he sharply reined it in. And I understood, then, that the detachment he so often expressed was no more than a very practised, very expert façade.

"I wasn't there."

"Who was?" I fired back.

"Malak. Talvon. Alaki. Kreia. Others." Each name came out low and emotionless. Talvon I'd heard whispered in the shadows of my mind. The other two were unfamiliar. Regardless, Yudan hadn't answered my initial question.

I scowled at him. "What did I find?" I repeated. "Surely you must know something?"

"You didn't speak of it." He had turned away. "None of you did, other than in general terms. All I knew was that you considered there to be a threat greater than the Mandalorians. You argued that a stronger Republic was required." He gave a hollow laugh. "We all saw sense in your arguments, whether we believed you had found something or not. The Senate had hogtied the brass for years, and in doing so almost gift-wrapped the Core to the Mandalorian Clans. Now on the other side of war, we were victorious but tired. Exhausted of it all, and determined to leave behind a lasting peace. Somehow, you convinced us that invading the Republic would bring that about."

Some unknown threat turned me on the Republic? I blinked, not quite grasping the rationale for such an extreme course of action. Some unknown threat, that hasn't even eventuated? The only sodding threat to the Republic since Malachor has been me!

It all seemed… insane. Insane justification for power. I must have been well corrupted, then, merely searching for some twisted logic that would hold my followers to my damned cause.

But in the Shadowlands… when Bandon had captured me… I'd remembered something.

As always, the flashbacks faded like a res-corrupted holo-still, half the pixels coming through null. But vague snippets remained. There'd been a purple world. The Force had felt both alive and evil. Malak had been at my side, clasping my hand.

"Are you in love with your soldier?"

The sheer audacity of the question had me swinging back to face him in disbelief. "Excuse me?" I spluttered. "What sort of question is that?"

"A pertinent one," he snapped. "The Jedi preach that romantic entanglements are but one of the paths to the Dark Side. You and Malak flouted their ethos, and later devolved into Sith Lords. So, I ask again, are you in love with your soldier?"

I looked away. I cared deeply for Carth – months of desperate adventure had a way of forming strong bonds. But the transformation from friendship into something deeper had been recent. Carth made me smile, in his arms I felt safe… and the attraction was strong. Was it love? Or, more accurately – had it been love?

"I don't know," I whispered, staring at the plasticeel table. There was a grimy crack running straight through the centre, like something had been slammed down on it in force. "It was such early days. It had the potential to be, given more time. If I'd known, I never would have…" I trailed off. With a grimace, I suddenly realized who I was confiding in, and knocked back my drink.

In a jerky movement, I pushed back my chair and grabbed my empty vessel. Yudan's was still untouched. Muttering something about a refill, I stalked back to Suvam and used the minute's grace to recover my equilibrium.

Obnoxious nosy frelling Dark Jedi, I cursed inwardly, storming back with a bright blue drink this time. I hadn't expected a question so personal, I'd thought he would more likely interrogate me on… actually, I have no sodding idea. Damn, but this was awkward. And he was annoying.

I sat back down again with a scowl at the expressionless bastard. "I didn't start this conversation for it to devolve into ship gossip," I muttered.

He gave an unconcerned shrug. "You ask your questions, I'll ask mine."

"Fine." I glared. "What do you know about the Star Forge?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "It spits out alien starships." He finally took a swig of his tropical concoction, and didn't so much as grimace. Honestly, it was disgusting. I had no idea how he kept a straight face. "It's a Force relic, but I'm assuming it has some sort of environmental power source as you never appeared to require any materials for it. Maybe a nearby sun… I don't know, Revan. You did not allow anyone bar Malak to set foot on it, and you rarely spoke of its capabilities. All I can divulge to you is that it powered your armada."

It wasn't much I didn't already know, other than his speculation towards the power source. Which might be worth considering, when we actually arrived there. I frowned. "How did I even find out about it? About the- the Star Maps?"

"An abandoned Sith Academy on Malachor V."

I sucked in a deep breath of surprise. "What? As in- as in Malachor? The final battle of the Wars?"

Yudan gave a short nod. "You discovered the ruins before, of course. You learned of the Star Maps there. I expect whatever archives or structures remained were blown into space dust following Malachor."

My thoughts raced. Was this all linked, somehow? A Sith pointer to a Dark relic, on Malachor V- a sacred planet of the people who'd invaded the Republic. And something led me to the Unknown Regions after the Wars, which then turned me back to this earlier discovery-

My head was spinning. More alcohol was probably a bad idea. I grimaced, and took a drink anyway.

Turned out, the blue one tasted even worse.

"You- you were there?" I asked. "On Malachor? With me?"

"No, Revan. You told me." He was starting to sound pissy, now.

My eyes narrowed. "I told you about the Sith Academy, but not the Unknown Regions?"

"As I said earlier, no one spoke of that," he bit out. Yep, definitely pissy. "You came back impassioned and fierce, convinced of a threat, and ordered the lot of us to hold guard in the Outer Rim Territories, while you and Malak went gallivanting across the galaxy."

"To find the Star Maps," I said slowly.

"Yes." His voice was short. ""What, exactly, do you recall?" His eyes narrowed when I blinked in reaction. That was a huge question. "It's my turn, Revan. Tell me what you remember."

I looked away. There was nothing to stare at, in this utilitarian room. No viewing window, no holo-art, no paint veneer to break up the grey. Somehow, I didn't think this room had always been a cantina. "Small… fragments. Fragments of memory. Not much, really. A few flashes of Talshion." It was more a set of feelings than any recollection, now. The pang of hunger, the fright of being caught, the excitement of a heist. A blind man's counsel as both my education and the shaping of my character.

And, through it all, Malak.

I sighed heavily. "One or two of my time at the Order. And… and after."

"The Wars? Or your fall?"

"Both," I murmured. There was a handful of black scorch marks high on one wall. It made me wonder if Suvam had had to deal with blaster brawls in the past. "Few enough memories, and most of them half-forgotten. All intangible enough that I was able to kid myself about my identity, I guess. Actual events, names… those things elude me."

"So I gathered in the Shadowlands," he replied, his voice short and low. Yudan had been the one to name me, back there. To force me to accept the stark truth of it all, when I'd spent so long immersing myself in any fabrication that could explain my own head. Ness Jonohl. That'd been the biggest self-deception. I grimaced, and looked back to him.

"So you don't recall anyone from your life?" He'd folded his arms. He was leaning casually against the industrial wall of the spaceport, but his sharp gaze belied the intensity of his concentration. This question was important to him, I thought. "You looked blank when I said Alaki's name earlier. And Kreia's?"

I shook my head.

"Meetra?" he asked, and still I shrugged helplessly. He took in an audible breath. "Me?"

I forcibly turned my gaze away. His voice had twisted on the last, and the bitterness in it was audible.

"I remember little even of Malak. Little enough that I didn't understand it was Darth Malak in my memories." I curled my fingers around the blue bubbling liquid. "I remember killing Arran Da'klor." My voice came out cold. The shadows of death and lightning played through my head. He'd killed himself on my dagger, but not before I'd butchered him. "I recognized both Karon and Zhar."

And there was no way I was going to bring up Nisotsa.

I recognized you, too. And I remember rescuing you from the Fett. But, somehow, that felt too damn personal to say. Maybe once I'd known him well, but I didn't anymore.

Yudan gave a hollow laugh. "How much of you is even left?"

"Who the frell knows," I muttered. It doesn't matter. Juhani said memory isn't everything. And when I think of how far we've come, what we've accomplished so far… I find myself agreeing with her. My fingers clenched, and I felt a furious rush of resolution. The eons-old conviction flared to life inside me again, despite the despair, despite Carth, despite everything.

And I cherished the burn.

I looked up to pin him with a glare. "But know this, Yudan. I'm heading to the Star Forge. I'm going to stop Malak. I'm going to rescue Bastila. And I'm going to destroy that factory. My next question is this: what do you plan on doing?"

He was silent for the longest time. I had no idea of his leanings, nor could I work out what I even wanted him to answer. But I held his gaze, still staring fiercely into those cursed, fallen eyes.

At long last, he broke away, lifting his tumbler to down another swig. "Alright," he said, his voice low. "I'll play your ally once more. I'll stand with you and your crew against Malak, and help destroy the Forge. And when you fall-" he swung back to me, "I'll run you through myself."

He meant it as a threat. But, in a sense, it was the promise I needed. Yudan and Carth, two watchers against the Dark. One powerful enough, perhaps, should he catch me unawares. The other with a tangible hold on my heart. Between them both, I could only hope they'd manage to take me down, should the worst happen.

Again.

It was a promise, and I welcomed it.

I smiled. "Fantastic. It's your turn, Yudan."

xXx

Authors Note:
Coming up next: A waste of a perfectly good cocktail, ruminations of a Sith Lord, and yet another awkward crew briefing.

Revan's thoughts on Jen possibly being a medical doctor is a nod to the Dr Jen Sahara in kosiah's fic 'Memory'. It's nice to know that in another 'verse, Jen Sahara has a happier ending. Thanks, kosiah, for giving her that.

Also thanks to kosiah again for the read-through.

Edit: I've also started capitalizing Human, under the argument that I capitalize other species as well. While not done in RL, we also don't use species as proper nouns the way one does in a SW universe. It's an interesting debate nevertheless, and I will slowly retroactively edit my earlier chapters to include the capitalization.