Hyperspace: VI – part seven


Mekel Kadoni:

"Keep your head down, Mekel," Yuthura hissed as we strode towards the end of the space station. "I do not trust this Suvam, and we do not know who else is here."

I rolled my eyes at her back. Yuthura had been edgy as frakk since we'd left Korriban and found her galactic cred accounts had been emptied. Of course, it wasn't exactly hard for a Dark Jedi Master to finagle more creds, but we needed to source ID papers. Good ones, if we wanted to avoid Darth Jackoff and his army of nutbar gimboids.

Sometimes, I wondered if Yuthura wanted to turn back. Korriban had been a chivhole, but she'd enjoyed what authority she'd wielded. I didn't quite believe her when she claimed she was happy to try her hand at smuggling. I had the feeling she felt it was a step down.

From one way of looking at it, I guess it was. I just wanted to be the frakk away from all the power-games and back-stabbing that went along with the Sith. A smuggler's life sounded fun, actually – independence and freedom of choice and all of that. But we needed papers, some hot goods to run with, and a signature change on the small freighter we'd nicked. So here we were in the arse-end of sod-all.

I didn't know where Yuthura had heard of this joke of a station, but she reckoned Suvam Tan could get what we needed. He'd answered our comm a week ago, fell over himself promising to keep up his end of the bargain, and all but begged Yuthura to dock and come meet him in his "cantina."

I'd snorted in disgust when I'd seen the size of the station – or lack thereof. I was willing to bet this kriffball's cantina was no more than a kitchenette where he pawned overpriced firewhiskey to spacers desperate enough to seek him out.

We'd spotted another freighter docked on the station. Larger than ours. We weren't close enough to make out more than that, but it'd be a smuggler – that had to be near-all of Suvam Tan's clientele. Depending on the peeps on board, we might have a shot at pinching it for ourselves. I'd wanted a closer look, but Yuthura had insisted on meeting Suvam first.

She was pissy about the additional company. Her fault for turning up a day early – that Rodian insect had promised anonymity, but that was based on a day from now. Still, I'd seen her in a snit enough times to know there was no talking to her until she'd verbally skewered the object of her ire.

Or worse, if he didn't grovel enough. Sometimes, I wondered whether Yuthura would ever let go of being First to a Sith Headmaster. She expected immediate obedience.

Sometimes, it wasn't that bad, actually-

Yuthura stopped ahead, turning back to shoot me a glare that said hurry the frakk up. Not that she would phrase it so, of course, but we'd been together long enough that translating her expressions was easy as kassi-loaf.

I shot a little Force speed under my heels, and was by her side in seconds.

We walked on, and I felt my shoulders tensing.

I was getting angry, for absolutely no reason. It wasn't the strangers. The chances of running into a group of smugglers that could challenge the likes of Yuthura and me together had to be non-existent. I was also feeling upset as frakk, with no bloody idea why. I wasn't bleeding sad – in fact, I'd felt more free than ever - ever since we'd shot away from Korriban.

Free to do what we wanted, shag when we wanted, and not have to worry about one of us waking up with a 'saber through the gut.

But the anger and the grief was there in my head, had been since we docked at this chivhole of a station. It was flashing in my mind, pissing me off and making me angry. My stupid mind wasn't making any damn sense, even to myself.

We heard voices as we neared the end of the only corridor, before turning into the hatch on our left. This must be Suvam's cantina – the Rodian himself from the holo-transmission was behind a bar surprisingly stocked with dozens of colourful bottles. Two sents were seated on the far side of the room and, with a jolt of wary surprise, I felt their power through the Force.

Frakk. Frakking frakk! Oh, they were strong, both of them. Powerfully strong. The swirling miasma around the two of them was blatantly obvious. Yuthura froze, staring across the room. Leaning back against the wall was a yellow-skinned Twi'lek, his eyes trained directly on us. The other sent looked to be a female Human from the back, with a mop of dark curls. She didn't bother turning.

"Ah, my visitors!" the Rodian hailed us and, with feet like ferracrete, I followed Yuthura's guarded steps over to Suvam Tan. "A drink on the house, and welcome to my humble home! I go weeks without guests, and then they all come at once!"

He laughed loudly. I could spot the twitchy fear around his eyes, the uneasy crack in his voice. He was one step away from pissing his pants. No doubt, the last thing he wanted was a Force-fight on his precious little corpse of a space station.

The Twi'lek across the room took a swig of his drink, but his attention remained fixed on us. The Human dropped her head into her hands.

"We wish to conclude our business and be on our way. Immediately," Yuthura said, her voice cool as she leaned against the bar. She wasn't looking at Suvam, though. Just like me, she was staring at the strangers. The Twi'lek in particular.

In reaction, I pushed out with the Force. Just a little. Just enough to eavesdrop, but not enough to be noticed.

"Would you like a drink while you wait?" the Rodian asked desperately. He couldn't actually want us to stay and socialize, but maybe his tactic was bribery by booze. Or maybe he was just half-crazed with fear. "I have quite the range, fully stocked since my last shipment-"

"If you desire my credits, Suvam Tan, then you will produce what you have promised without delay." Yuthura always could draw cold authority into her words, and it seemed to shut the little bug up.

"Telos," the Human snapped suddenly, raising her head. "Explain frelling Telos to me."

Telos. My stomach clenched. The Human didn't have a Telosian accent; something more Outer Rim, I suspected. I'd heard that accent recently, and it sure as frakk wasn't from my homeworld.

Suvam squeaked. "I will return shortly." He bowed, and all but sprinted out of the room.

"What's to explain?" the Twi'lek was saying. His voice was smooth. "It was a casualty of the Sith offensive."

"Mekel," Yuthura whispered. Her voice was harsh. "Let us follow Suvam. Now."

They're talking about the bombing, I realized with a sick jolt.

"Don't you sodding play idiot, Yudan Rosh," the Human seethed. "Or I swear I'll gut you."

Yudan Rosh. The name was like a sucker punch to the gut. I'd never met the guy, but even the greenest Initiate knew his name. Now the fear rolling off Yuthura made sense – she'd probably recognized him on sight. If he knows her, and suspects we're on the run from Malak, then we're frakking fried!

Yudan Rosh laughed; a low, dark sound that echoed through the small room. "If you were going to kill me you'd have done it by now."

But what the frakk would Yudan frakking Rosh be doing out here? And who's bleeding insane enough to threaten him with gutting?

"Mekel-" Yuthura hissed and jerked on my arm. She'd be listening in, same as me no doubt, her Force intent on their convo. And yeah, I wasn't jacked on hanging about either, but they were talking about Telos-

"I could say the same back to you," the Human returned in a voice just as dark. "Stop pissing about, Yudan, and answer the question. Telos makes no sense. Not the way it was done. It's on the Peragian trade route, and two major hyper-lanes run directly past it. Geographically, the planet is a gem, and it's loaded with natural resources besides. It should have been captured with minimal casualties." The woman was leaning over the table now; her words lashing out, demanding answers. This sounded personal. "Instead, it was obliterated. A potential base, a logistical prize, and millions of sentient lives. All gone. Why?"

Oh, no, this was a conversation I had to hear. This was my damn homeworld, its fate being discussed by Yudan Rosh and what must be another of Malak's top Dark Jedi. Nisotsa Organa, maybe, except it didn't look like her from the back. She'd been blonde, in those holos from the Mando Wars. Hottest of the Thirteen, I'd always thought - at least before her hair fell out.

She hadn't looked so hot when I'd last seen her at the Academy.

She hadn't been the only high-profile visitor to Korriban. Bandon Stone and Sharlan Nox kept turning up too, like expired credit chits certain to screw with your day. Bandon was a sadist and drunk on his own power, and I'd always have a soft, squidgy, I-want-to-dig-your-eyeballs-out-with-a-fork place in my heart for that sociopath Sharlan. He'd been the one to capture Dustil and me from the fires of Telos.

Nisotsa Organa was more reserved than Bandon or Sharlan; but she had the same streak of savagery, the same twist of cruelty, the same penchant for torture and killing. That sort of thing was always a bit of a turn-off.

Maybe it's Nisotsa after hair replacement therapy.

It might have been funny. If she wasn't something, like, twenty years older than me, twenty times more powerful than me, and hanging around with Yudan Rosh.

He wasn't even staring at us anymore. I shot Yuthura a fierce look, even as I recognized the fear in her eyes.

"Talvon and Malak had command in that sector," Yudan frakking Rosh drawled. "Admiral Karath had just defected to our side, and Talvon was testing his commitment. They were both Telosian, you see, even if Talvon was only from his mother's side. Karath… Karath brought a lot of Republic troops with him. He was important. Talvon wanted to ensure he would be ultimately loyal to our vision, no matter what he was asked to do." Yudan smiled. From here, it looked like a firaxa baring teeth. "In the end, Karath proved loyal to the same leader we all swore fealty to."

He descended into silence. Darth Revan. At least that frakkface has karked it. The woman said nothing, and Yudan Rosh began to speak again, his voice bland and emotionless.

"We acquired a highly skilled and loyal Admiral, with a veteran fleet of starships. I'm sure some would argue a planet was a fair price to pay. Of course, if Talvon hadn't been going round the twist by then, we could have had Telos as well." Yudan shrugged. "In war, you win some; you lose some." His voice was flat with apathy. He looked like he didn't give a crap about any of it, and I struggled to contain the primal urge to stalk over and sock him one in the jaw.

sock him one? What the actual frakk?

That was a dangerous thought. While there were plenty of people I wanted to punch, senior Dark Jedi who could zap me in a blink were not on that list. No matter his thoughts on Telos.

"Heh, don't worry about those two," a dry voice rumbled behind us. "They won't blow up the station." The voice chuckled. "I think."

I turned to see an old geezer wearing a dung-brown tunic, an openly curious gleam on his lined face as he made his way to the bar. His gaze stilled as it focused on the unnatural fluorescence of Yuthura's eyes.

The colour had – interestingly enough - dimmed since we'd left Korriban, but it was still noticeable. He knows what she is, I realized. I reached out with the Force, and felt a swirl of it around him, too. It was eclipsed by the choking maelstrom of the others, but it was there.

Bleeding shyrack balls. We're surrounded by frakking Force users! The old man gave a sort of unconcerned shrug, before leaning over the bar to pilfer a bottle and mug.

"I'm Jolee," he said, in an absent tone as he uncapped the bottle and poured himself a shot of what looked like firewhiskey. He glanced over to Yuthura again.

"And I'm going," Yuthura replied silkily, and this time her grip was tight enough to be painful. I would have followed, were it not for the angry yell that had us all turning-

Yudan Rosh, one of the most powerful Dark Jedi in the gods-damned galaxy, stood dripping wet and glaring at his companion. Whatever had been in her glass was blue and steaming from his skin in light curls of noticeable smoke.

It would have been frakking hilarious in other circumstances.

"Would you look at that," the woman sneered. "It seems I need another drink." She pushed her chair back and stood, before turning to stride towards the bar. I couldn't resist a once-over; she walked with an animalistic grace, sleek and fluid, like a predator totally at ease in her environment. I had to admire anyone with balls big enough to throw cocktails over Yudan Rosh, and while she looked a fair amount older than me, she was kinda hot too-

She either completely failed to notice Yuthura and me, or simply didn't give a toss, because she ignored our presence to copy the old man by leaning over the bar and grabbing another bottle of Suvam's stash.

But I was staring at her. And now I knew why her accent was familiar.

"Frakk me!" I burst out. "Ness Jonohl?"

Yuthura let out a sort of choking noise, Ness over-filled her glass as she spun to look at us, and the old man hummed like a senile jackass.

Ness was staring at us both with wide, startled eyes.

"Your drink is full, dear," the old man murmured.

Ness jerked back to her glass, grimaced, and then carefully put the bottle to one side. With a measured slowness that was overly deliberate, she took a long draft of her drink and then turned to face us again.

"I go by Jen Sahara these days," she told me in a forced voice.

False names were standard on Korriban, but I didn't give a ronto's arse about that. What the bloody frakk was she doing hanging around Yudan Rosh? And what happened to Dee?

Her gaze had shifted to Yuthura, who was staring back with a cold, composed expression on her face. Yuthura didn't exactly hate Ness- Jen- whatever- but she wouldn't be interested in staying anywhere near the woman who'd convinced her other two apprentices to sod off, and thoroughly outclassed her on Korriban.

Not to mention Ness-Jen's fantastic choice of company.

That was on Yuthura's mind, too. "I thought you were headed toward a Jedi Master, not a Sith Master," Yuthura said, her voice managing to sound both accusing and silkily disapproving. She was thinking of Kel. Kel, who'd been promised a life with the Jedi Order. And what about bleeding Dustil?

"Run into some old friends, Jen?" Yudan frakkface Rosh said, as he wandered closer. His voice twisted acidly on her name. But his gaze was narrowed on Yuthura, one Dark Jedi sniffing over another. If they were kath hounds he'd have his nose up her butt. Frakk. Frakk! I didn't know much about Yudan Rosh, other than he was too powerful to challenge - and I wanted us outta here. Now. "And where do you know this lot from?"

I felt angry again. I felt furious, as Ness-Jen spun to face Yudan, her fists clenching and the Force sparking a raging chaos around her. "Leave them alone, Yudan. You're here for me, not anyone else. So leave them the frell alone."

Yudan had gone back to staring at her, his skin gleaming wet under the spaceport's lighting. His eyes were the piercing yellow of the truly damned – Yuthura was one of the few anomalies who'd turned a different shade – and Yudan Rosh had been pissing around in the depths of the Dark Side since frakking Malachor.

He gave Ness-Jen an imperceptible nod of agreement.

The surprise felt like a rush of gree-spice. Who the frakk is she, that Yudan Rosh would back down for her? The same woman who'd triumphed over Uthar Wynn and Jorak Uln. I couldn't believe, now, that I'd actually challenged her outside the Academy's gates, second time we'd met.

I was taken, suddenly, by an irrational urge to see a showdown between her and that power-mad gimboid, Bandon Stone. He used to flounce about the Academy, label himself a Darth like he didn't kiss Malak's wrinkly toes along with the rest of them, and then piss off after kidnapping the strongest Adepts.

Ness-Jen was a firebrand. But was she a Sith? Did she, also, bend knee to Malak?

She had turned back to stare at Yuthura. "Kel and Dak left Kashyyyk with Master Quatra from the Jedi Order. They're headed to Coruscant." Her eyes narrowed. "They might meet up with Thalia, there. It could be quite a reunion if you followed."

Yuthura turned cold. I didn't have to look at her to see her expression ice over. She got testy when people told her what to do – even in friendly, just-trying-to-make-an-innocent-suggestion sorta ways.

Ness-Jen laughed suddenly. I scowled as I felt her amusement swirl around her in a tangible wave of Force. Man, whoever trained that freakshow taught her frakk-all in control, with the way she bled her stupid emotions out everywhere. "Okay, okay," the woman said. "I can see I'm wasting my time. Guess I've been hanging around Staria too long."

Staria – that was the pious Cathar who'd preached that Korriban wasn't the place for me. Maybe the uptight kittycat had been right about that, but the way both her and Ness-Jen waltzed about shoving every screwed up Sithling towards the Jedi was as stupid as it was dangerous.

My gaze slid back to Yudan chivhole Rosh, who was staring at Ness-Jen through narrowed, frakked-up eyes. The blue booze still dripped in misty trails down his Sith-marked face. The thought of trying to redeem the likes of him was completely borked. But if they're all travelling together, then does that mean he's on the run from Malak? Just like us?

That sounded even more borked.

Suddenly, I found I didn't give a crap. All I really cared about was the one Ness-Jen had omitted. "Where's Dustil?" I said, scowling.

Her eyes slid to mine. "Well- uh. Actually, he's on our ship."

I jerked around in reaction, staring wildly at the open entrance as if my old friend would suddenly appear. Instead, in slunk the petrified form of the station's rotgrub trader.

Dee's here? At this turd of a spaceport? I had to see him. Did he even know who he was travelling with? What the frakk was he still doing with them? Somehow, I'd had the idea he woulda disappeared off into the galaxy with his dear old dad, maybe to that new astro station that orbited our decimated homeworld like a frakking memorial to the dead.

"Eep," Suvam squeaked, his gaze darting around the lot of us, standing all together like we were having a touching heart-to-heart. Suvam looked as desperate as a spice addict run out of shot. "Anyone need another drink?" he gasped.

"I need my trade completed," Yuthura snapped. "Now."

"I-I have the data-work, back in the office," the spooked bug stammered. "I've pulled my bots away from-" he shot a frantic look at Yudan Rosh- "I mean, they're loading the goods now, and affecting the required changes to your ship. It won't be long!"

"I'll see to the papers now, and then we shall wait back onboard," Yuthura stated. Her face could have been carved from a slab of permacrete. It was gonna take ages before she thawed, I could tell. "You shall stay in constant communication with me, Suvam Tan, and I will transfer half the funds upon completion." Her violet eyes narrowed as she stared at him coldly. "You promised anonymity, and you have not delivered on that. Do not displease me further."

"Yes- yes, of course, come with me then," Suvam mumbled, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two Twi'leki Dark Jedi like a frakking game of pong. He stumbled backwards, moving out of the room.

"I have to see Dustil." My words came out, low and a lot more firm than I usually dared with Yuthura.

She shot me a look of annoyance. Her violet eyes were pinched with a cautionary fear. She wanted her trade, and she wanted away from Yudan Rosh. "Now's not the time," she said, her tone clipped and demanding an end to the conversation.

But Dee had been my blood before her. And while I labelled Yuthura my Master, my lover, my ally… Dustil had been a true friend. Well, before he'd frakked it up by blaming Selene on me. I gotta make sure he knows who he's travelling with. If nothing else… I gotta make sure he's okay.

"I'll go see him quick while you sort out the admin," I said. I saw the fierceness on her face, and held her gaze anyway. "I gotta do this."

She closed her eyes, just for a sec, as if internally debating the concession.

"Eh, you can follow me. I'll rustle him out of the ship." It was the raspy voice of the old Human, the one who'd stood aside from events for the most part with his nose in a drink. He turned his head to the others. "May as well leave those two here to finish their drinks in peace." The old man eyeballed Yudan turdface Rosh up and down like he was critiquing a work of art before cackling. "Blue looks good on you, sonny."

Yuthura glanced my way again. Her eyes widened the smallest amount; from her, that was akin to a warning. I could tell what she was thinking. I've killed people for less, Mekel. And so has he! And yet, other than a seething glare of animosity, the Dark Jedi who'd led fleets into war under Malak's banner did absolutely sod-all.

"Fine," Yuthura said to me. "Go. You have little time, Mekel. I shall return for you forthwith." Her voice was glacial, and she spun on her heel before leaving the room after Suvam.

"Humph," the old man muttered. "Strong woman." He peered back at me. "Well, don't just stand there like a limp fish, boy. Come this way."

He meandered off in Yuthura's wake. I shot one last look at the others. Yudan Rosh had turned emotionless, staring at me blankly as I made to leave. Ness Jonohl, in comparison, was an open frakking holo-book. She frowned at me in puzzlement, brows creasing over green eyes, like she thought I was the weird one here. Yeah. Whatever. She was an oddball, alright.

"Okay. Don't kill each other," I muttered as a farewell. "Or do. I don't give a crap."

I ran outta there before either of them could take offence.

For a senile old git, the man was already halfway down the bleeding corridor by the time I'd caught up. He shot me a speculative glance as I drew close. "So," he said slowly. "Judging by your age and attitude, you were trained at the same place as Dustil Onasi. Old friends, hmm?"

I couldn't hide the surprise that twisted my face at his words, and the man's eyes narrowed as he caught it. Onasi? Dee and I had been fast friends since the moment Sharlan had tied us up and thrown us in his ship's hold next to a pair of blubbering girls who'd never surfaced on Korriban. We'd shared dreams, and secrets, and trust – for a while.

But we'd never swapped family names.

Didn't make two shots difference in my case; I'd been a joyboy since my ma had sold me off as a squalling babe. But Dustil had been from the rich side of Thani - capital city of Telos before it burned. It was evident in his accent, his reserve, his frakking way of walking, even.

And he clammed up tighter than a Hutt's credit purse when our convo danced anywhere near his childhood. I'd like to think I'd respect his desire for privacy. But, frakk. I wasn't sure I'd be holding my curiosity back next time my fingers had HoloNet access.

Funny, the name seemed kinda familiar, too.

I shot the old man a smile. "Yeah, we go way back," I drawled. "Cousins from Corellia. Trained as security guards, y'know, before we went our own ways."

The old man snorted. I'd forgotten what he said his name was. Joel? Jolly?

"You're an atrocious liar, sonny boy. You think I can't tell the pair of you are Sith-trained?"

"You think I can be arsed with this conversation?" I shot back. "It's none of your business, gramps." I looked up to see a large hatch emblazoned with Dock Three on it. I smirked. "This must be your port, old man. Tell Dustil its Mex here to see him, and he'll come out."

He gave me a beady eye, as if it were meant to frakking break me or some such banthacrap. "Manners, kid. You'll be surprised how far in life it'll get you." With a huff, the old man still stalked through the hatch to do what I wanted anyway. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, screw that. Like asking 'please' ever got me anywhere.

I wandered into the dock after him, stopping to eyeball the freighter from a distance as he clambered up the loading ramp and tapped something into a control panel. He vanished inside, and I was left staring at the starship I'd thought about nicking a mere hour ago.

It took up about a quarter of the hangar's available space. Same one they'd left Korriban in. Pretty beaten up, and I didn't pretend to know anything about its model. Bet they're here for a signature change. Just like us.

Minutes passed, and I was left shifting my weight uncomfortably in the quiet hangar. Ness-Jen had dropped Dustil's name and I'd shot here like a desperate ash-rabbit sniffing a scent on the wind. Only now did caution rear its ugly snout, and the thought occurred to me that separating from Yuthura might've been a bonehead move. Especially with who else was on this station.

The ship's entrance opened. There was no one there. I narrowed my eyes, and pushed out with the Force in reaction.

There was a patch of null-Force in entranceway. Relief rushed through me like a high.

"I can still sense you, Dee," I snapped. Back on Korriban, I'd been inordinately proud that I was the only one – other than Master Uthar – who could tell when Dee was sneaking about.

Dustil appeared in the blink of an eye, gaping at me like a stunned gizka. He ran down the loading ramp and across the hangar, only stopping when he was a metre or so away.

"Mekel?" he gasped. "Mex?"

"Dee." I grinned stupidly, holding back the urge to go hug him like an emotional tween on a hot date. Any other time, I'd twist his arm into a drink. Wouldn't even need to use a mind-trick to score 'em free - Suvam was too piss-scared to ping us for it. But no way was I heading back to mingle with Yudan Rosh and Ness-Jen, or whatever her name really was.

Dustil gave me a crooked sort of smile, like he didn't believe I was actually standing in front of him. "What the frakk are you doing here?"

It was exactly my reaction, and I couldn't hold back a snicker. "Yuthura and me, we're trying our hand at smuggling. You?"

"We're- it's complicated," Dustil said, hitching his shoulders and looking awkward as frakk. Still the same old Dustil, then. He's on the run, just like us. Has he been running since Korriban?

"Seems like everyone's on the bleeding run these days," I muttered.

"You have no idea the crap I've been through," Dustil blurted out. His eyes were wide as he stared at me. "Mex, Saul Karath is dead. Dead."

I stiffened. That chivhole Karath had sold out our homeworld. If there was one person Telosians all around the 'verse wanted dead- "Are you sure?"

"I stepped on his corpse," he said. He looked solemn, before the corner of his mouth twitched. "I may have kicked it once or twice."

I snickered again. "Frakk, really? Damn, Dee, what in the bleeding hells were you-"

"There's more," he interrupted. He looked a little wild, leaning in close as if to whisper state secrets between us. "There's a frakking galaxy more you wouldn't even guess at. I don't even know where to start. Bandon's dead too, Mex. That bastard karked it as well."

I could feel my eyes widening. Bandon had been a chivving prick, and I'd always thought he'd end up nabbing Dee on his next run at the Academy. Dee hated him too, but there'd been a sort of hero-worship underneath his angst. In some ways, Dustil had been more invested in the Sith ideology – and hierarchy – than me. Power impressed him.

Me, I just wanted to do my own damn thing. Freedom. Something I'd never had, not really.

Still, I'd not have pinned my old mate Dee to go gallivanting on adventures that included wiping out traitorous Fleet Admirals and powerful Dark Jedi.

But it couldn't have been Dustil who'd got the kill on Bandon. No, not when he was travelling with the woman who'd taken out Dee's old Master, and Yudan frakking Rosh.

My eyes narrowed. "Dee, do you know who-"

The entrance of the freighter opened again, and another figure stepped out. A blaster was held loosely at his side, and I recognized Dustil's father as he cleared the loading ramp. The words died on my lips. Four years of Sith training made one suspicious of just about everyone, best mate's dad or not.

Damn, but the man looked old. He'd looked rough on Korriban, too, but that'd been just after their bloodbath with Uthar. The whole sorry group had looked like refugees from a war zone. Now, the guy just kinda looked sad and worn-out and suspicious as he glared at me.

[Safe to talk?] My fingers twitched against my thigh.

Street-sign was a hangover from my past - those slippery, dark days in the play-rooms of Telos's underbelly. We didn't trust anyone but fellow lays, and sometimes it was necessary to shoot a warning to each other without our clients knowing. Or our handlers.

It wasn't perfect. Right hand for words, left hand for letters. It wasn't complex. But it was a drukload better than nothing.

The spaceport's entrance behind me opened.

[No.] Dustil was looking over my shoulder. And I felt the presence of Yuthura draw near.

"Mekel, there is no more time for social mingling," Yuthura said at my back, her voice gentler than normal. I felt myself tensing, felt the scowl on my face. Yuthura was… I didn't know what Yuthura was to me anymore. Lover? Partner? Master? Neither of us had stepped away from that final role, not completely. And it had nothing to do with the frakking decades between us – it was, simply, the shadow of Korriban that I'd no idea if we'd ever be able to shed.

Dustil's face had shut down like a Czerka-stamped clean-bot as he stared past me to Yuthura. He'd never quite got what was between us, but then sometimes I reckoned Dee didn't know how to loosen up and have a little fun. Take a risk, here and there. Play the pazaak hand of life, and enjoy the thrill of the unknown.

Or maybe he was just smart enough not to dance with fire.

"Yuthura," Dustil acknowledged, in a cold voice that impressed me. Maybe he'd grown some steel somewhere along the line, because he sure as frakk wouldn't have addressed her that way on Korriban. Behind him, his father shot a hard stare at the both of us.

"Adept," Yuthura issued in a cool tone.

[You know who's here?] I signed rapidly, aware our time was coming to a close. Frakk, if Dustil didn't know exactly who he was travelling with-

His eyes widened comically. [You do?]

"Mekel." Yuthura's voice was hardening. "It's time to leave."

"You okay, Dee?" I asked, my fingers furiously twitching. [He's powerful. He's bad.]

[No.] Dustil shook his head. He signed something else; it looked like a sloppy form of joygirl. Dustil's sign had never been precise, but then he hadn't grown up with it the way I had.

"I'm okay. I'm fine," Dustil said. His voice turned abrupt. "You still have that SpiderNet account?"

I blinked. "Yeah." That was from our early days in Korriban. The first time Dee, Selene and I had snuck out to Dreshdae, we'd set ourselves up with anonymous comm accounts. Figured we could do with a way to contact one another that didn't run through the Sith network.

I was surprised he remembered. After Selene, our interactions had devolved into no more than impersonal snark, and his trust in me had vanished. I'd half expected him to have deleted that account, somewhere along the line.

[R], his left hand twitched. Left hand for letters, when the right wasn't enough.

"After all- all of this, I'll get in touch," Dustil muttered. His dad had walked closer, and behind them the ship's hatch opened once more. I glanced over warily to recognize the lithe form of that Cathar, Staria. Frakk, it's a whole shipload of Force-sensitives. She was clearly a preachy light-sider, despite who she was travelling with.

"Mekel," Yuthura growled, and her hand dropped onto my shoulder. "Now."

[E]. Another letter, although maybe it was an 'F', Dee had a habit of frakking up the subtler ones. Yuthura's hand tightened with Force power, and spun me around like a top.

Her eyes sparked with irritation undercut by fear, and her voice dropped to the slightest of whispers. "We do not know his objectives," she murmured, so soft I could barely hear. She was talking about Yudan Rosh. "Nor can I tell if he knows who I am. He is too strong to face, particularly if he is allied with-" her lips pursed, and she shot a glare over my shoulder. "We must leave."

The Force swirled in her grasp, and behind me, I could feel it catch around the Cathar. Dee said he was okay. He said he was fine. I had to trust his word on that. I had to trust that my friend knew what he was doing.

If only he'd never reunited with his stupid dad, then maybe Dee could've been travelling with us instead.

Yuthura's hand dropped to encircle my wrist in an ironclad grip, and she pulled me back to the exit. If the Force frakking wills it - as the bat-shite Jedi spout - then I'll catch up with Dee again one day.

I glanced back, one last look, as yet again my Master dragged me away from my best friend.

[V], I caught over my shoulder, just as the hatch closed.

Yuthura marched us back to Dock Two in dead silence.

I didn't feel like yakking anyway. Even by the time we'd belted ourselves into the cockpit, not a frakking word had been spoken between us. She was probably a little pissy with me – and I'd have to deal with her static later – but I knew it was edginess turning Yuthura mute more than anything else.

My thoughts stayed on Dustil.

At least he was- Okay. Fine. But he'd been trying to tell me something, something he didn't want to say out loud.

Revoke? Reveal? It had to be a word that Street Sign didn't incorporate, but then that didn't really narrow it down. Sign was a covert way of communicating – small, hidden movements that the eye didn't catch unless one was looking for it. Downside being, of course, that it's breadth of vocab was limited. Revolt? Revolution?

Was there some borked chance that Dee had was caught up in a mad attempt to thwart frakking Malak? It seemed insane- but they'd killed Karath and Bandon along the way. Yudan Rosh was travelling with them, and it didn't look like he was playing Malak's side, pissing about with a bunch of light-siders the way he was. And then there was bleeding Ness-Jen, who – I reminded myself with a kick – had come to Korriban with Bastila frakking Shan.

Well, I had nothing but time. As Yuthura flicked on the comm and began snapping out orders to Suvam, I jumped on the side console, pulled up a dictionary on Galactic Basic, and started scrolling through a list of words beginning with 'rev.'

xXx

Malak Devari:

The heart of my empire rose majestically in front of me, an awesome crystalline structure of kaiburr mounted deep within the bowels of the Star Forge. Drawing power from the only star in the Lehon system, the crystal amplified it further, and the Rakatan technology funnelled the raw energy into the weapons factory of which I was master.

Truly, the Rakatan Empire concealed some almighty secrets I was still unveiling.

They had been a Force-sensitive species, and yet I wondered if their depth of power had been lacking. The eddies of the Force swirled around me here, in the heart of the Star Forge, whispering a promise of immortality. The Rakata had either not heard this whisper or been unable to grasp it – otherwise, surely, their species would still be the conquerors of the galaxy they once were.

Immortality would be mine. It was close, already, and I took another step closer each day.

Further afield, I could sense the presence of my newest apprentice, succumbed to the depths of exhausted slumber. I allowed her that small reprieve, now that my emotions had cooled. The news regarding the disastrous failure of the Leviathan had enraged me at first, but that storm had passed, and now it was time to consider my next move. She would be an integral part of that. Better that she replenish her physical reserves while she could.

Bastila Shan was the first Force-user I'd brought to the Forge - but I had reason for that uncharacteristic caution.

For Revan had shared the location of the Star Forge with me. Knowledge could be a dangerous thing, even for Shadow Hands. And this superweapon was powerful enough to tempt many into prospects of betrayal. I did not know if learning its secrets had been the final push I'd needed before I'd formulated the Deralian plot against her – but it had been one of them.

We'd ruled the Star Forge together, for a time. And as I evolved, day by day, into the Sith Lord I now was, the idea of treachery was seeded and began to bear fruit. Once I understood that the Star Forge was the crux of Revan's might – that without it, she was merely a strong Force sensitive with nothing to power her armada – then I realized I could be the next True Master. If only I wrested control of both the Sith Empire, and this legacy of the Rakatan.

And I would not be foolish enough to share my power with anyone until they were wholly my subordinate. Revan had taken my fealty far too much on faith, in the end.

Bastila Shan did not know the coordinates of her location, and I would enlighten her only when I allowed her freedom of movement – and that would not occur until she was truly mine.

That moment was close, though. I could taste its sweetness upon the Force.

Bastila Shan held promise, a promise I had not fully accredited Bandon Stone with, nor Arran Da'klor before him. Both men had been hot-tempered, courageous and powerful. And, yet, they had both lacked a certain discipline and forethought that was necessary to become a true Shadow Hand to the Master.

Nisotsa was the flipside; too cautious to step up and grasp what was within her reach. Kylah had been naught more than an amusing diversion offering a bountiful gift in the Endar Spire. Yudan… he might have been great, had I ever been able to fully trust him. But Yudan's core had been broken well before I'd even grasped the helm of the Sith Empire, and that had made him nothing more than a useful tool.

"Tell Malak I have killed them. All his allies, all his underlings, I stand on his sinking starship surrounded by their corpses."

"I will come for you, and I will come for him."

Oh, those words, reverberating through Bastila's mind in a broken imitation of the driving power Revan used to wield… that had been enough to send me into a tailspin of fury. The Star Forge had rocked around me, responding to my rage, as I ripped the images from my captive's mind in a furious need to understand everything that had occurred.

I saw the bodies on the Leviathan. I felt Bastila succumb to the pleasures of the Dark Side. I tasted the echo of Revan's former glory.

And through it all, I seethed with thwarted fury that drove every sentient in this place to their knees.

But all storms pass, and now it was time to plan. Now, I began to see the advantages in the failure of the Leviathan. Now I began to see the gifts Revan may have inadvertently given me.

The first gift was the deaths of Nisotsa, Yudan and Kylah.

It had not escaped me that numerous underlings vying for power and status could be destabilising. Trust was not a commodity amongst the Sith, but if a Master had only one apprentice they could nurture and train and use, then that apprentice could – to some extent – be relied on to strengthen the Sith Empire and further augment the Master's goals. Without the distraction of other potentials snapping at his or her heels.

One could argue the infighting was merely a mechanism for producing the strongest apprentice, but that didn't equate with Bandon faltering before the likes of Nisotsa and Kylah.

Or that the only Dark Jedi of note still remaining was Sharlan Nox – a most peculiar specimen with the ambition of a ferracrete brick. But he has his gifts. And his lack of interest in either status or power makes him safe to bring here to the Forge.

Sharlan Nox was not any sort of apprentice in the making. He was naught more than a sentient device that could produce unique assassins, provided one remembered to feed him.

But the others- Arran's death had been a waste. The blackout from Korriban told me all I needed to know about Uthar Wynn. Bandon, I should have directed after Revan alone. But Bandon was arrogant and prone to being misled – so I'd sent Yudan with him. Yudan, who'd been driven by unholy vengeance since the news of Revan's resurrection broke. For while I'd ordered Bandon to bring in the brain-damaged echo of my former Master, Yudan was my insurance should Bandon somehow cock it up. I'd expected Yudan to hone in quickly for the kill, given the opportunity.

It had been a severe miscalculation.

But, no matter. I'd seen his corpse through Bastila's eyes. I would not waste another thought on that fickle, pathetic Twi'lek.

Now I was left with only Bastila Shan. And hers might be a strength that I was just beginning to comprehend.

The breaking of a light-sider was a truly beautiful thing. For some, it happened as a shattering epiphany, where they shrugged off the carcass of their weak beliefs and arose anew. For Bastila, it was a series of small concessions, each taking her closer to the precipice she now stood upon.

It would make her a stronger Shadow Hand, in the end. I could see the final metamorphosis of my empire, and there would be only two left at the helm. No more infighting, no more treachery from within.

And it was curious, I realized with a vague sense of recollection, that I was not the first to think along these lines.

She was staring silently into space, alone on the elevated viewing platform of the Nexus, a robed penumbra of authority that eclipsed the entire command deck.

Beneath her, Admiral someone-or-other was striding along the lower deck, checking in with various techs as the starship flew to link up with the rest of our fleet, now that the personal mission of Lord Revan was complete.

I had come as soon as I heard. She was hard and she had chosen the correct course of action – but this would have been difficult, even for her.

She was more powerful and awesome and magnificent than ever, but a fading whisper of empathy was one of her few weaknesses left. And the fact that I cherished it was one of mine.

The viewing platform had been a recent addition, installed halfway up the height of the massive bridge windows. I'd heard Arran sniggering that she'd had the transparisteel replaced with pricey ferracrystal to match her new station, and I'd given him a zap for that.

Vanity had never been a characteristic of hers, before her rebirth or afterward. And Arran Da'klor needed to understand the hierarchy had changed, now. It was important to display the proper respect. Arran had always fomented casual backchat, and while that may have amused Revan Freeflight, Lord Revan was another matter.

Arran had to learn, or he'd end up the same way as Talvon.

Revan hadn't acknowledged me in any way, despite my arrival. She was as still as a statue of the night, raised high above us all.

I could feel myself tense. The Force flooded through me, a decalescent burn of energy, and I jumped high into the air.

I landed behind her with a quiet thud.

"He died well," she said, her voice clinical. She knew, of course, why I'd come. Comfort. Concern. Care. I hoped she didn't count it as a weakness. "At the end, I was reminded of the Jedi Knight he once was."

I took the five steps to her side, high on the viewing platform, where no one could hear us or interrupt unless the Force was theirs to command. Her masked face remained facing the solitude of space.

"You did what was needed," I murmured. I reached a gloved hand toward her, wishing the damned mask gone, but the slight twitch of frigid darkness spiking on the Force halted my movement of frailty.

"I know."

There was a shiny steel bar, bolted onto the transparisteel, and she leaned forward to grasp it. She was still scrutinizing the black of space, I assumed, although the mask made it impossible to see her eyes.

They were the dark green of a jungle at dusk, now. Slowly, slowly, turning like the rest of us.

My gaze dropped to her ungloved hands, gipped tight on the metal bar. Strange, to see such ashen skin, when the whole of her body was always clothed in shadows – excepting those few quiet moments in our quarters. Or that time in the officer's mess. Or the conference room, right on that poraclay table before the Malachor strat meeting, when Yudan and Em walked in. Ah, that had been gratifying. One of the last times I'd seen Revan truly embarrassed.

And one of the last times I'd seen her truly undone. Perhaps, that would not be a bad way to comfort her today. Perhaps it would be the only method she would allow.

My wandering thoughts stilled as I processed what my eyes were seeing on her unnaturally pale hands. A blotch of brownish crimson alongside her thumb. And another, higher up on her wrist.

Dried blood. Talvon's blood.

"You didn't use a lightsaber." You killed him with your bare hands.

"Talvon was descended from Beast Riders, on his father's side." She turned, finally, to acknowledge me. The charred mask was as expressionless as ever. Just like her face. "Amongst them, the blood and the blame must be felt by the leader if an execution is ordered. The leader carries the weight of it."

"Talvon was raised on Telos, not Onderon," I said, hearing my voice tighten with emotion. Stars, she has to do this to herself, doesn't she? Talvon had to die, we all knew it, he'd long since turned rabid and unhinged. I should have killed him myself and spared her this. "He was a Telosian in every aspect that counts."

"Nevertheless, I thought it fitting."

Telos should have warned me that Talvon wasn't strong enough for the Dark. But I'd seen the advantages of his proposed offensive. A powerful statement of our might as we re-entered Republic airspace. We knew our grand victory might be years in the making, but Revan needed… we needed the quickest path. Shock-tactics. A rapid, brutal front that would make the Republic yield in terror before it shattered beneath our might.

I had not realized how much Talvon relished crapping all over his own backyard. How much Talvon's mind had already begun to fracture.

"That newcomer, Bandon Stone." She changed the topic deftly. A statement of disinterest, of icy detachment from Talvon's death. "What are your thoughts on him, Malak?"

Once, she'd called me Mal. Once, I'd named her Revvie. Rev. My flying star.

The idea of pet-names and endearments was mildly embarrassing, now. Demeaning. Pathetic.

"He is the first Adept from Jorak, and he's certainly strong," I answered.

"Stronger than I expected," she murmured. "But his large mouth is annoying Alaki. They'll fight, soon, if Bandon doesn't rein it in."

"Do you wish me to speak to him?" Sometimes, the urge to end a sentence with 'my Lord' was strong. Revan did not demand it from me, her lover, her Shadow Hand, her second in command.

Not yet.

She paused. "No. It may prove a useful test, for both of them." As I puzzled over her response, her fingers tapped along the polished hand rail. There was dried blood under her neatly trimmed nails. "Talvon broke beneath the weight of the Dark Side's power. Yudan will challenge Jonn Dan, one of these days. Arran and Rab have already duelled, and it was not friendly. Rab was fortunate he walked away only missing an arm."

She was silent, then, and I found myself thinking of Rab Vooktari. I felt a flicker of concern for him. But there was little room for friendship in our ranks, these days. The infighting was merely a method for us all to find our position in the pecking order.

I shrugged, turning away from her to stare into the soullessness of space. Truly, I did not understand how she spent so long, still as a wraith, facing the unknown. And yet her best strategy came from these quiet moments. Unlike me, inaction was sometimes her ally.

She spoke, again, her voice cold and dark as a breath of a winter's night. "The way we once led together, fought together, and lived together, is not strong enough for our new path, Malak. Tensions flare between our followers, and it weakens our position. We need to be stronger than this. I wonder if there is a design to all the infighting that is now commonplace."

I frowned, not following her. Personally, I thought a firmer hand was needed – Arran had to learn to shut his big mouth, as did Bandon. And Jonn. He'd been harassing Yudan over something personal for weeks, now, and Yudan was going to snap one of these days.

More of us would die before it was out. I knew that as a truth, much as I knew my own position was secure. But whether that was due to the depths of my power or the depths of Revan's love for me, I was no longer certain. Sometimes, I thought it the former.

The camaraderie we had all enjoyed was fading, had been fading for months.

Revan was still facing me, and I understood she expected a response.

"What is your point, Revan?"

"There is an interesting philosophy I have uncovered in an ancient Sith holocron." Her tone was completely devoid of emotion or inflection. "The rule of two. It postulates that the power of the Dark Side is strongest amongst the Sith when there are only two Dark Jedi mastering the Force: a Lord and an Apprentice."

A crepuscular shiver coursed through me as the implications reared. "What- what are you proposing, Revan?"

"I do not propose, Malak." Her words lashed out like a whip. The authority behind them echoed a darkness on the Force. "I command, when required."

"And is this a command?" my Lord.

"No, this is purely conjecture. But it is conjecture that has caught my interest. Truly, we do not benefit from our leaders squabbling like undisciplined children." She paused, averting her cursed mask from me again. "Perhaps I am merely speculating if this is the innate order of the Sith. That, over time, we will naturally progress into this hierarchy whether we force it or not."

She was, coolly and calmly, thinking on what strength the deaths of those she had once loved would give her. Those who had followed her through the crucible of the Mandalorian Wars and now beyond: into the depths of perdition for a vision only she truly understood.

We dwindled into silence, both facing out into infinity. Mere inches of physical space separated us but, sometimes, it felt like a chasm growing in width as to be impossible to breach.

Revan had never followed through on the theory she'd stumbled over. By the time I'd turned on her above Deralia, there were still more than half a dozen Dark Jedi leaders left. Arran, Bandon, Yudan. Nisotsa, Sharlan, Uthar. Others, who have now faltered as well.

But it was an interesting concept. I had little time for the rest of the recollection; I had still been shedding my weaknesses then, slowly evolving into the power I was today. But memory had its uses, and there was a detail from that moment in time I'd never dwelled on again until now.

The rule of two.

At first, I had brought Bastila Shan here with only the thought to gain mastery over her unique gift. But the Star Forge whispered to me how much stronger Bastila would become once she succumbed to my will – and I could sense the dark potential within her. Some Force-sensitives turned powerfully like that, gained depths they would never come close to realizing as a light-sider.

Provided they did not lose themselves in the process. A sharp mind and a strong will are the other two pillars required for a true master of the Force.

Bastila Shan could be a worthy asset to me and my Empire.

It was a future I would realize. And it was close. So close. One more prod, perhaps two- and then she would be totally, irrevocably, mine.

She must turn on the Order first. I will grant her full freedom of movement when she has no recourse for return.

And then she must turn on Revan.

The former would be easier, and the foundation was already there. Bastila's doubts, her bitterness, her suspicion – I felt those emotions whisper like faithless phantoms slipping through the cracks in her mind. And I knew, then, how to nudge her into that final step of no return.

Beyond the Outer Rim. What made Revan double-cross the Republic? What made any return to the Jedi Order impossible for either of us? What we found beyond the Outer Rim.

Even now, my mind shied away. Let sleeping demons lie, I'd once begged Revan. It is beyond known space. Your objectives are sound, but your reasoning for them is not.

I could bring Bastila here to the heart of the Star Forge, where the Dark Side ruled supreme. Immerse her in the almighty Force that swirled around the giant kaiburr like a space storm light-years in width. Rip into her mind, and show her my half-forgotten memory of that encounter after Malachor.

Make Bastila Shan experience Revan's justification for her invasion of the Republic. Make Bastila accept it, agree with it, embrace it.

And then, when the Fleet dragged their half-broken armada into realspace around Lehon, Bastila would understand that her only way forward would be to unleash her Battle Meditation against them. That the only chance for victory was triumph over those she had once called her allies.

Of course, no fleet could breach the first defence of the Star Forge – that was controlled by that smaller mirror of kaiburr down on Lehon itself. No… and if Revan's memories were slowly returning, then instinct would guide her there. She recalled nothing, yet, of the Star Forge, according to what I had pulled from Bastila's mind.

But the Force whispered to me that Revan would retrace her old footsteps. To Lehon. The Force whispered, with thrumming anticipation, that it was destiny.

So I would be ready.

I was not sure if Bastila had the strength to turn on her bond-mate. Truly, their psychic link was more powerful than I had first realized, and I was still learning more of it. But Bastila didn't need to be the one who betrayed Revan. Oh, no. If I can use Bastila, somehow, as bait-

I would prefer to kill Revan by my own hand, for I would enjoy the sweetness of it. But I was no fool. If there was a way to lay a trap and make it seem one of Bastila's making-

Then either Revan will die a final death, or she will escape believing of Bastila's treachery. And Bastila will have nothing left in the galaxy to turn to.

Except me.

Bastila would finally reach her zenith in a surrender to the Dark Side – she would finally evolve into my true Shadow Hand.

My thoughts turned to the planet below – Lehon, the once-capital of the Rakata – and a plan began to formulate. The details- ahhh, the details would need sorting out, but I still had time before Revan came near. I would sense it when she entered this system, and I would know when to act.

But first, Bastila's ties to the Order and the Republic. I felt the lids of my eyes half-close in pleasure as I stared deep into the massive kaiburr that reverberated with pure Force.

It was time to wake Bastila, bring her here, and show her a memory.

xXx

Revan Freeflight:

Awkward crew briefings in the Ebon Hawk were beginning to feel all too damn familiar.

There'd been the Tatooine landing, when Bastila attempted to take charge. Of course, I hadn't shaken off that quack's treatment from Taris, so I'd barely noticed Carth's irritation or Mission's petulance. In hindsight, it'd been blatantly obvious that Mission was going to sneak off the sodding ship first chance she had, and now I was surprised Bastila had been so easily appeased by the teenager's sulky promise. To be fair, Bastila may have had other things on her mind. Like me.

Then, the conversation on Manaan, just before we'd left – when I'd been hungover and ashamed and barely able to look anyone in the eye. Bastila had been out cold in the medbay, and the others all stared at me with varying degrees of expectation and anger.

They'd given me far less than I'd deserved, really; even counting in that shiner from Canderous. After all, I'd scuttled the Ebon Hawk, which caused them to be towed by the Sith and grounded by the Selkath. Not to mention my late return into the fray - that had been too late for Karon.

And then, our crew briefing in hyperspace, just after leaving Korriban for dust. That had been a new level of awkwardness. I was barely dealing with the despair of losing Bastila, and had three damn Sithkids to somehow rein in. One injured, one scared, and one sullenly angry. Somehow I'd cobbled together a sort of training regime to impose a routine on us all, even underneath the withering derision of Canderous.

Apparently, I'd once been a charismatic leader who'd directed armies into war. Seems a bit ludicrous, looking at this lot.

We were all crowded into the common room once more. Suvam had given the Ebon Hawk the all clear, but now that his other visitors had left – and hadn't that been a surprise – his urgency for us to make space tracks had dissipated.

I cleared my throat. "Teethree, project the Star Map again."

The luminescent holo-map sprang into existence above the table. Mission leaned forward, her light brown eyes wide with interest. Next to her, Dustil paid no attention to the cerulean sphere – his gaze was darting warily between myself and Yudan, who'd taken to leaning silently against the back wall.

At least Dustil wasn't hiding this time. I'd run across him earlier – more than once – skulking around the ship while cloaked in the Force. He'd been tailing me, only fleeing when my gaze lingered on the blank patch of Force that heralded his presence.

I'd put credits on him shadowing Yudan as well. Watching us both in fear or readiness should we fall. And – I reminded myself with a kick – Dustil had seen Carth and me together... his father and me. Me, the one who'd re-opened the sodding Academy that had imprisoned him for the last four years. And that wasn't even touching on Telos or his mother.

No wonder the boy hadn't shown his face since we'd escaped the Leviathan.

It'd always be like this, I suspected- the upsurge of black shame deep in my soul, when past repercussions reared up to slap me in the face. And what is it really, but justice, of a sort?

As for Dustil- Well. If it hadn't been for Carth's presence here, I imagined he would've run after mouthy Mekel. His old friend; just another lost, directionless Sithling.

I felt myself frown. Mekel. There was something… curious about the expressive teen. He had potential, sure; his depth of power seemed to fall on the strong side of middling from what I could sense. But it wasn't that. His emotions shouted out to me on the Force; his unease, his desire to find his friend mingling with the one to flee- it was the vividness of them rather than the feelings themselves that felt familiar, like I should recognize something here, something I couldn't quite put my finger on-

"There," Canderous said, grabbing my attention as he jabbed a finger towards the bright green speck that marked our end-game. "A fair way into the Unknown Regions. Even the Mando'ade are cautious when they venture out there."

I felt the corners of my mouth turn down. Caution. Yeah. Not one of my strengths. I deliberately didn't look at Carth, standing arms folded, face expressionless, in front of the hatch that led to the cockpit.

"The Star Map is more than just a set of coordinates," I said, gesturing to the route lines that led to the Forge. "The safe hyperpoints are marked out – as long as we feed these into the nav-computer, we'll avoid anything that could pull us out of hyperspace."

Travelling outside of known hyperlanes was a gamble, at best. Uncharted space meant uncharted phenomena. Undetected planets. Undetected asteroids. Undetected black holes.

The sort of thing that could disrupt a hyperspace journey – generally, resulting in the destruction of the hapless ship.

"Except that this map is, what? Thirty thousand years old?" Carth said, his voice low and intense. "Maybe that's little time on an astronomical scale, but it's still enough for things to have changed."

"Apparently I've taken this route before," I muttered, trying hard to keep the snark out of my voice. I glanced towards him, and the darkness in his gaze cut something deep inside of me. I felt my cheeks burn, and looked back to the map.

"Teethree, shut the map down. The rest of you- before we go," I began, "there's a reason I've called you all here."

I took in a deep breath as the shimmering Star Map winked out, and all eyes turned to me.

"There's-" I paused. "The Star Forge is in the Unknown Regions, but we're not that far from the edges of the Outer Rim Territories now. Teethree calculates it as little more than five standard day's journey. We won't be stopping anywhere along the way. This is the last chance for anyone to jump ship."

I was staring at Mission. And it didn't take long for her to start glaring back at me.

"Uh uh." She shook her head angrily. "No way. I can't believe you're even suggesting this, Jen!"

"We're heading off to face Malak," I said, struggling to keep my voice calm. "The chance of us dying-"

"Far out!" Mission burst out angrily. "You're the one who's always believed in me, Jen, even back on Taris when the others just saw me as a kid! I can help-"

"Against the Force?" I cut in. "Against the Star Forge itself? Stars, Mission, I've never doubted you, but-"

"But you doubt me now? Is that it?" She'd clambered to her feet, arms jammed on hips, light brown eyes sparking with indignant temper. "Big Z and I have always been a team. There ain't no way I'm letting him – or you! – go off and do this without me!"

I subsided, then. Maybe I'd known it was useless. Canderous was eyeing me over in mild derision; despite his growing attachment to her, he didn't see a problem with the young street kid following us into the greatest of dangers yet.

Street Kid… she's about the same age now as I was when I first joined the Jedi. I remembered enough, just barely, to know I wouldn't have allowed anyone to send me off into safety if I hadn't been invested in it myself.

There are ways. If I truly love her, there are ways to ensure she stays behind-

There was a strong appeal to that creeping whisper from the black side of my soul. Questionable methods, but with an outcome I craved. And I knew then that I'd always be fighting this, this urge to use less-than-desirable tactics, this internal debate over what constituted the right choice, anyway-

If something were to happen to Mission, I'd react badly- just think of how I reacted when I thought Yudan was dead and I don't even remember him- there's no way I can keep Carth behind or any of the others, but a twist of the Force could hold Mission here-

And each time, I'd have to battle through the internal quagmire of twisted thoughts, and hope I chose the right path.

She's one of my weaknesses. I can't bring weaknesses to the fight with Malak-

But for all that I wanted Mission's safety, I couldn't… I couldn't do this to her. She was my friend, not my subordinate. Not my follower.

And while the thought of her being cut down like renni-grass against Malak's forces was enough to carve a black-seated horror within me, she'd more than proven her worth since we'd first met. I didn't have the right to choose for her, not here.

Somehow, my gaze caught against Carth's, who was staring at me with a deep understanding in his dark eyes-

He blinked and looked away.

I cleared my throat. "Sorry, Mission," I muttered. "I guess I- I had to try."

"Yeah? Well next time, don't," she snapped, and skivvied past Zaalbar to stomp out of the room. She paused at the hatch. "I'll be in the cargo bay. Y'know, just sitting around, being young and useless."

I sighed as she left. Zaalbar rumbled deep in his throat. "(Do not take her words to heart, Jen. I have had much experience with her ire when I have tried to hold her back. Mission's temper is a flash-fire, and dies down as quickly as it takes root.)" He stood, too, towering over the central table as he turned his gaze on me. "(I appreciate that you tried, but I do not believe she will be moved. And if there is one thing I know about my friend, it is that when she is left behind she has a tendency to find her own trouble.)" He huffed. "(I will check on her.)"

I stifled a hollow chuckle as Zaalbar left, understanding the truth of his words. Stars, maybe this was an idiotic thing to bring up in the first place. Even if I'd succeeded, could I really expect Mission to stay put – here? Or believe that a nervy, alcoholic Rodian could stop her from following us? But everyone I cared for was on this ship, everyone – except Bastila – was right here, surrounding me. I'd felt the desire to protect at least one corner of my heart, package it away safely, for all who have ever followed me have died or worse-

I couldn't help but look at Yudan, then; the null part of my past, but the bastard's face was closed and expressionless as he stared back, still leaning insouciantly against the freighter's wall.

"Don't even start, Dad," Dustil snapped, and I jerked back around to see the teenager glaring at his father. "I can see what you're thinking, and I'm not going to pretend to listen, this time."

My gaze flew to Carth; he was obviously torn as he viewed his only child. "This isn't your quest, Dustil," he said quietly, before ending on a sigh. "But I've underestimated you. Gravely. I won't do it again. And you're- you're a man, now. I'd feel happier if you would stay behind or make your own way to Telos… but I won't ask you to do it."

Those words, the fragile understanding between them both- it was a private moment, and my observation would be wildly unwelcome, but I couldn't help but take it in anyway. The softening of Dustil's sullen, wary expression, and the quiet pride of Carth's. It was a gratifying moment that I shouldn't be witnessing- but it warmed my heart, nonetheless.

"I'll go see Mission," Dustil muttered, looking awkward as he stood, shoulders hunched as he stared away from anyone's gaze. I wondered, briefly, if the boy would ever become accustomed to emotion of any sort, and how much Korriban was to blame for that.

"I'll be launching soon," Carth warned, as his son left and he looked ready to do the same, his hand pressed against the hatch control that led to the cockpit. "Get yourselves strapped in."

"Carth," I said, my voice halting his exit. His expression was indecipherable and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He said nothing, however. I breathed in. "When we get close to the Star Forge, I'll run co-pilot."

His gaze darkened on mine. "You… remember something…?"

"No." I shook my head. "Just in case."

Was I warning him? I didn't know. A large part of me didn't want to be anywhere near Carth and his justifiable bitterness. But I couldn't afford to hide away like an emotional coward, not with everything at stake. And it wasn't just my broken memory, here….

The Republic would be shooting at us on sight. The thought of Carth having to face that, or being ordered to bring us in… I couldn't let it happen. The crux of it was, I simply had no idea how he would react to that sort of order now that he knew the truth.

But I knew I had no choice- I couldn't let us be taken by anyone's forces. No matter what Carth might decide.

Not when Bastila was still prisoner. Not when Malak was still out there. Not when I was the best – perhaps the only – shot at toppling Malak.

I had to hope we'd arrive before any Republic offensive, and that this hypothetical scenario remained just that. For if I'd thought things were bad between Carth and me now…

We've only been at Yavin three days. Sure, the brass have the Forge coordinates, but they'll need time to rally the fleets.

I'd strike fast, if I were in their boots. Roll the dice of chance, and gamble on speed trumping might- a forward advance of whatever ships were available, for reconnaissance and infiltration if at all possible-

Likely, it'd be a suicide run, but it would send back valuable information to the rest of the Republic Fleet, and might even surprise Malak.

Well. I had to hope the Republic brass was more cautious than I. For, if they weren't, then we might very well arrive in the middle of a Republic vanguard.

Carth was still staring at me, his face grim and set. I had no idea what he was thinking. Once again, I felt the longing for the easy camaraderie that had once existed between us. Even should I never be able to claw anything deeper back, the desire for his respect was strong. It didn't seem possible that it would ever return.

He said nothing, merely turned and stepped through the open hatch.

Focus. Focus, Revan, I commanded myself, as Carth disappeared behind the closed door. Focus on the endgame. I took a deep breath and – despite the incongruity of the moment – actually heard the echo of the blasted Jedi Code run through my mind.

There is no emotion… I wondered, idly, if I'd ever believed in it. Certainly, mastering emotions was useful no matter what a person's station was. Although, sometimes I wondered if the Jedi used it as a way to pretend they didn't have any emotions in the first place.

Yes. Because I'm the most suitable person to judge the frelling Jedi.

With that in mind, I glanced back to Yudan, who was still leaning quietly on the fringes of the room. I couldn't help but feel a twitch of black humour. "So… er, were all our past briefings this awkward?"

I saw the corner of his mouth curve, ever so slightly. For a second there, I could've sworn I almost made the bastard smile. "No," he said flatly, turning on his heel and leaving without another word.

"Well, young pup, I'll give it to you," Jolee drawled, staring at the closed hatch. "You sure know how to clear a room."

"Sometimes, Revan, you're a blithering idiot," Canderous added.

I laughed. I couldn't help it, and it was hard to stop. I wondered, briefly, if my companions of old had been so quick to criticize me. If not, then maybe it's a humbling force I sorely lacked.

"So, five days, huh?" Canderous added, his expression turning thoughtful. "We should make the most of them, then."

"I've stocked up enough." Jolee added, brandishing a bottle filled with clear, amber fluid. "Better than that swill you tried to foist on me earlier, Mandalorian."

Canderous snorted. "Good stuff's hard to come by when you're running from planet to planet." His flinty gaze firmed on me. "A drink or two, maybe, on our first day of hyperspace. But we've a battle to prepare for, Revan. All of us."

I raised a brow. "Sparring, huh?"

He gave a half-shrug in return. "Preparation, of whatever sort. Mind and body. No point heading into battle if you don't take it seriously."

"Preparation is a good idea for us all," Juhani said quietly from behind the table. "Revan…" she trailed off, until she'd completely captured my attention. I motioned for her to continue. "Duelling practice would be useful for you, I suspect. Your hand…"

She didn't finish. I glanced down at the maimed limb, and was surprised at her perception. I needed to become more comfortable weilding only one lightsaber, and I had little time to do so.

"Yeah." I sighed. "You offering?"

"Of course," she murmured, gracing me with a small smile.

::Ship's taking. Buckle in, everyone.:: Carth's curt words shot through the ship's intercom, seconds before I heard the turbine compressor whir underneath our feet.

This could be my last trip in the 'Hawk. The thought was both nostalgic and bittersweet, as I shimmied into one of the safety harnesses attached to the plimfoam benches. End-game. It's not far, now.

The desire to reach out to Bastila was strong. I felt a deluge of Force surge hard through the bond, then, buffet against my shields; something insidious and baneful and powerful. I stifled a gasp, and it was almost impossible to push back, to strengthen the barrier between us rather than reach out with a supporting hand.

Tears pricked against the back of my eyes as I understood whatever Bastila was enduring was entirely my fault. If it had not been for her act of mercy, I wouldn't be here, right now. And she wouldn't be Malak's prisoner.

I gritted my teeth, and shame curled in my belly as I slowly built the shields between us even higher.

I'll come for you, Bastila. I'd vowed that back on the Leviathan, a whispered promise full of darkness and grief.

Now, it was just a raw conviction.

I'll come for you, Bastila.

Just hold on.

xXx

Authors Note:

Thanks to kosiah for the read-through. Mekel's thoughts on Nisotsa being hot are entirely your fault.