Nexus: Shatterpoint
Carth Onasi:
The same charged readiness from earlier had settled once more throughout the docking bay. From my vantage point in the corner, I could spot Ensign Joss marking the hatch, ducking behind a discarded refuelling gig as he kept his sights firmly on the one point of entry.
We were both a good thirty metres away, but we'd still be the first to hit enemy fire.
Corporal Tensey had set two proximity mines either side of the internal exit hatch, set to trigger the moment anyone stepped through. The prox mines might be enough to startle any incoming hostiles, give us all a chance to fire off a few quick shots-
Those blasted energy shields, though. Standard military issue would resist four direct blaster bolts, but the first wave of Sith bastards had taken more heat than that before they'd fallen. I'd hit that last one standing at least seven times before Mission's rogue shot had scored through his shield.
And Mission herself was far too exposed, her and Dustil both-
She's as safe as can be. Dustil's guarding her, and he's invisible.
My worry for them both was a sick thing, twisting in my guts.
::I'm moving to the roof of the 'Hawk.:: It was Jolee's voice, crackling through the ear bud linked to my wrist-comm. ::Seems our best bet to take these vermin down from a distance is Tobosh. I'll make sure nothing hits him.::
I kept my gaze tight on the hatch as I considered his words. Jolee's strength was neutralized if he came within reach of any Force-nullifying tech, and he was right about Tobards-
::Er, it's Tobards,:: Ensign Tobards corrected. First thing we'd done was synchronize the pilots' comms with the Hawk's. ::And I've got good cover up here. I don't want anyone drawing attention to me.::
I could understand the ensign's reluctance, but the moment he ducked into view he'd be vulnerable.
::Ach, you get hit, Tobosh, and we've lost our best marksman. If I'm standing pretty near you, they'll be too busy aiming at me.::
::Tobards,:: Tobards muttered again.
"It's a good idea," I weighed in. "It won't take long for professionals to sight the source of blaster bolts, Tobards, no matter how good your cover is. Jolee can use the Force to stop you taking any fire. We need you protected."
There was another ghost of static in my ear. ::Guys, Teethree says there's something heading down the transport corridors towards us. Five minutes away, he reckons.::
::What?:: I clipped out as my gut tensed. ::Mission, I need a little more detail.::
Something coming- that seemed blasted ominous, given our current predicament.
::Well, if Psycho-Droid hadn't shot up all the cams, then Teethree might actually have visual,:: Mission snarked back.
::Explain,:: I demanded. ::Where's the astromech getting this from?::
::I got Teethree to slice into logistical command, see if he could track any hatch openings. Give us a warning of anything coming, maybe. Whoever it is, they're definitely headed this way.::
"Alright," I said quietly. There was a preternatural calm settling over me, now, as I focused hard on the exit. "Everyone, stand ready."
::Uh...:: Dustil's voice was hesitant. He'd never been afraid to speak up, when he was a kid. Now, he only did when he was angry about something. ::Mission, if Teethree can- uh, do you think he can hack into the air-con controllers?::
::Sure. Why?::
::It's just- in Dreshdae, well, Mex used to- I mean, in the early days, when all we wanted to do was leave, but of course we couldn't, and it wasn't like we could do anything in the Academy itself-::
::Dustil,:: I cut in. I hated the way he second-guessed himself. If I could see Korriban destroyed, one day, I'd throw a damn party. ::Spit it out.::
::Mekel would slice into the Czerka atmo regulators back in Dreshdae, and sometimes we'd blow the conduits up. A way of rebellion, I guess. We stopped- we stopped after...::
He trailed off. I didn't have time to wallow in bleakness over what my son had endured. When I was a kid, our way of railing against authority had been nothing worse than insipid holo-graffiti that didn't hold up against a sani-clean. "Someone died," I finished for my son in a quiet voice.
::Yeah,:: he whispered. ::Some trader. We only meant to cause material damage, but-::
::Lemme see what Teethree says!:: Mission interrupted. Seemed even she knew that now was hardly the time for a heart-to-heart. I would've liked to assure Dustil that it wasn't his fault, everything he'd had to go through, been forced to participate in-
My mouth etched into grimness, and I deliberately flat-lined my thoughts. First, we had to get everyone out.
::If you go blowing bits of this place up the moment someone walks past- eh, how can that bucket-droid even tell if it's a friendly or hostile?:: Jolee's concern might've had some weight, if the prox mines weren't already primed with the same anonymity.
Besides, I'd already tried hailing Revan with no success. "We'll get a transmit from the others if they're on their way back, Jolee."
No answer meant they were busy. Just like us.
I chanced a quick look down at my wrist, pinging the status of the crew comm-links. Seven of the remaining eight wrist-communicators from the 'Hawk were currently deployed, the droids having their own inbuilt comms, and Zaalbar, as customary, refusing to clip anything around his shaggy wrist.
My gut lurched. One of the wrist-comms was black.
::Yeah, he can do it!:: Mission enthused over the airwaves. ::Better yet, there's an air-temp alternator just outside. Teethree can set it to overload when the hatch is opened!::
::That could trigger the mines,:: Corporal Tensey murmured. ::Might make a decent enough explosion to go straight through their energy shields. Will likely render the hatch inoperable, though.::
Ordo. It was his comm-link that had faded into inactivity on the tiny screen. Ordo's down.
::Then we hope there's only one lot of bad guys left, right?:: Mission sounded so damnably optimistic. If she thought of checking the comm-
"Do it, Mission," I ordered tersely, wrenching my gaze back to the hatch. A dead wrist-comm didn't mean anything. A crew member could just as easily go down with their comm still active. And- Mission's had blacked out in the Shadowlands, when she'd run into Dark Jedi-
Ordo's failed signal told me nothing other than that his wrist-communicator had been damaged. Revan was still out there, still active, and I wasn't going to believe any of the crew had fallen while she still led the way.
She'd make it out. She promised. And after all of this, we could finally start thinking about a future.
::Done,:: Mission confirmed. Her voice was breathless. ::Just in time, 'cause they're right outside-::
I started firing the second the hatch opened.
xXx
Inon Daelidar:
Star Forge High Command was a salient fusion of contemporary technology and the archaic. Our starships were superior to any in both breadth and manoeuvrability but, as Fleet Commander, I was reliant on a row of ancient flat screens as my only guide to what was actually manifesting in the skies.
I might be copacetic about our current fleet advantage, but the antiquated surveillance was nothing short of irritating. There was no excuse for my predecessor to have overlooked something so basic as installation of holo-topographics and a semi-decent sector surveillance matrix.
Her incompetence led to her end. Just another smear of Lord Malak's wrath marring the command floor. That would not be my path. Fleet Commander of the Star Forge was a coveted position, even with its inherent dangers – but I knew how to placate our tempestuous lord.
I knew how to win battles.
The glower stayed fixed on my face as I perused the line of consoles blinking delayed snub location and health status back to me.
"Reactor core explosion detected on the Lightstar, General!"
I didn't allow my fierce expression to slip, not even an inch. All the officers milling around this command deck were incompetent clods who responded best to fear; frankly, trying to implement a sound battle strategy within the limitations of poor fleet data and maladroit staff had been challenging at best.
The Lightstar, though. That's Adashan down.
Inexperience amongst the Sith brass aside, the EMP scrambler had gifted us the early advantage, and the famed battle meditation of our lord's latest apprentice was now driving that advantage deep into the Republic's craw.
"The Lightstar is breaking up, sir," the breathless voice of the console tech gasped out. He turned, young face staring gormlessly at me. "She's a goner!"
"Keep your eyes on the screen!" I growled.
One out of three. Oh, the words struck satisfaction deep within. Adashan, Gant, Dodonna. Three Republic fleets spearheaded each by a fossil from the Mandalorian Wars. A lifetime ago I'd fought with them. Reported to – even respected, in the case of Forn Dodonna. A lifetime ago. But all three commanders had been too cautious to grasp the opportunity Supreme Commander Revan had offered – too blind to accept the inherent weaknesses of the Republic we had once defended against a barbarian horde.
"Gen-general-"
It was damn Jha'hasi, stuttering like a tenderfoot, back again and as welcome as the scent of decomposing faecal matter. I did not turn to face him.
"Um, we- we can't get the airlocks open to release the last few squads. I can't find-"
My impatient growl stumbled the idiot back into silence. Jha'hasi hadn't been able to handle that insubordinate starpilot Troystar, the runaway from Karath's disaster who'd turned up in his A-236 in the middle of our defence formations. After that singular waste of my time, it was hardly surprising to find Jha'hasi flummoxed by a stuck airlock.
"Commodore Beso is in charge of internal defence, Lieutenant," I clipped out impatiently, still with my back to him. Beneath my fingertips, the flat-screen displayed Gant's fleet moving in to flank Dodonna's; as if one final, desperate thrust of their combined strength would punch through our defence. They lack the numbers to stand firm against our augmented armada. I could throw all squadrons at them now and cement a Sith victory. I frowned. It was a tempting proposition, but edging our craft too close to those powerful Republic dreadnoughts would accelerate our own losses – and, the simple strategy relied on the three Republic fleets being the whole of the enemy assault.
Even I had to admit Sith Intelligence had been sketchy in recent weeks; I could not conclusively assume more bugs wouldn't spit out of hyperspace beneath a fourth banner.
The Republic's attrition rate so far bordered on the extreme, and their vanguard was attenuating sharply beneath our superior fist – but the shrewdest of commanders knew that, sometimes, the unbelievable could eventuate in the fires of battle if one didn't consider all possibilities.
The reports of the skirmish above Kashyyyk showcased that. Admiral Karath would have assumed victory was his for the taking, right up until his flagship ripped to pieces around him.
Without Karath, our only commander left with any modicum of experience is Admiral Sara, and she's pinned down in the Mid Rim with no reinforcements. It was a grim thought I did not have time to indulge in. Lack of qualified high command was one topic that had to be addressed with our lord, sooner or later – but without an obvious solution to present, I risked raising his ire.
"Yes, but- but General, um-"
"What?" I snapped, spinning around to glare at the floundering lieutenant.
Jha'hasi had an eye for detail and was adept on the comms, but damn if he wasn't an irritant who demanded a stupid amount of micromanaging. Once this battle had morphed into victory celebrations, I was going to think seriously about transferring him to head of Janitorial Services.
Jha'hasi had taken a wary step back. The teenage pustules on his disgusting Human face contrasted starkly against his chalk-white skin. He swallowed. "Commodore Beso told me to tell you he doesn't know what to do."
Disgust at others' incompetence was nothing new, really. It was almost a relief to let it show, even if Jha'hasi was an overwhelmingly easy mark.
"I am overseeing the defence of Lord Malak's Star Forge, our most vital resource, the very station we are standing in – and Beso dares bother me with maintenance faults?"
I was fair roaring by the end of it. Damn Beso was two weeks into the position after Commodore Jinna had smirked at Lord Malak – imbecile! – and, quite frankly, I was beginning to think a spiced-up Gamorrean would do a better job.
"General." Jha'hasi's weak chin shook, but he lifted it. "Commodore Beso is otherwise engaged with the surveillance blackout spreading through the Forge."
I could feel the twitching in my jaw. Common sense told me none of this was Jha'hasi's fault – the pathetic Human just required someone to handhold him into action – but if Beso was so inadequate that he couldn't multi-task simultaneous maintenance failures, then I'd be making damn sure his head rolled after this-
"And the battle droids," Jha'hasi finished on a whisper. His gaze darted to the left and right. "Um- they're dropping fast, sir. Something or someone is disabling them – and quickly. Two-thirds have already- already gone dark."
The soft words had me backpedalling into silence.
Someone's breached the Star Forge. Someone competent enough to scythe through our internal defences.
"Why isn't Beso working with Maintenance?" My words snapped out, cold and hard and showing none of the unease that Jha'hasi's report had just stoked.
It doesn't matter if all the damn droids get ripped to shreds. No one is more powerful than Lord Malak. What's the worst the Republic can do, send one of their wrinkled Jedi coots after the Lord of the Sith himself?
"Maintenance Head's missing, sir." Jha'hasi was still whispering. Easily cowed he might be, but at least the boy understood how to be circumspect. "So is his second, Corporal Kampton. A handful of other maintenance techs as well: Ensign Carly, Ensign-"
I jerked my hand upright to halt the soft diatribe. In my gut, the unease grew.
Someone's inside. Someone dangerous. Someone ignoring the fleet combat to gun straight for our lord.
Absurd, how victory could sometimes teeter on the edge of one powerful person. I'd seen it too many times – throw a Force-user into the mix, and everything could upend in the most unexpected of ways.
There is no one in the galaxy more powerful than Lord Malak. He, who toppled Lord Revan herself. It didn't matter who the miscreant was that dared broach our perimeter: Lord Malak would eliminate them in a blink. The only battle of uncertainty was in the skies, and that uncertainty was slim, indeed.
The comfort of those thoughts felt shakier than it should have.
"Tell Beso to ignore the droids and surveillance," I ordered Jha'hasi. "Find someone from maintenance – a corporal, even a damn ensign – and get them to report directly to Beso. He needs to get those airlocks open to release the last of our strikefighters."
"But- but the droids-"
"I will contact Lord Malak myself." He will already be aware if there is any true danger. Lord Malak ordered no interruptions. Ignoring his command might have... unpleasant consequences. A text-only feed, then. Less chance of repercussions, particularly if I signed it with Beso's electronic auto-print. "If there is any internal threat of import, Lord Malak will extinguish it. We need those ships out, Lieutenant. Hop to it!"
Jha'hasi offered me a limp salute, before dipping his head and turning on his heel.
My attention drew back to the flat consoles. At a glance, the stats looked as reassuring as before: victory was at hand, it was only a matter of minimising our own casualties that I had to concern myself with. Enough time to break and send a forged comm to the Dark Lord. All was well, and the Republic's loss today would go down in the galactic archives as one of the most decisive.
Hard-edged facts, backed by the fleet data blinking at me from the antiquated consoles.
And yet, as I felt my mouth compress into a thin line of grim displeasure, I realized my satisfaction from earlier had all but vanished. All that remained was the same condescension for the incompetence that surrounded me - and a nascent, unwelcome sense of foreboding.
xXx
Sammy Tobards:
Aim, shoot.
Blighters were moving fast.
Hold. Keep the sights steady.
I'd seen one duck behind the nose of that snub a nanosec ago. I'd wait for a flicker of movement-
Double-tap.
He ducked out of sight again, but not before discharging a blaster bolt back at me. I was beginning to appreciate my Jedi defender, standing firm in front of me and slightly to the side, deflecting any heat headed my way with an upraised glow-stick and the ability to invisibly hurl grenades away before they even came close.
Wait.
I didn't think the mark would pop back into sight from the same direction, not with the way I kept hitting him. Which meant I should guard the rear of the snub, right there-
Fire.
The mark stumbled. Through the scope mod on my weapon, I saw the tell-tale crackle of an energy shield dying. Another double-tap: the body jerked, collapsed, and then stilled.
I swung my sights back over the hangar.
That was three I'd personally downed, but space knew how many – if any – had fallen when that explosion had ripped the entrance hatch clean open. One of the Sith buggers had detonated a cluster of smoke grenades, hiding them all from view at first.
I'd seen Ensign Joss fall. Pegged his murderer before moving on. Didn't know Joss well, but I'd raise a drink to him later on.
"I'll be right back," Jedi Bindo muttered. I edged back from the scope, just enough to spot the old man jumping fluidly off the edge of the freighter's roof.
Blast it! He must've had a solid reason for disappearing but, despite my earlier reluctance for his presence, I suddenly felt a heck of a lot more exposed.
I squinted back into the sights. I had to trust the Jedi, and keep focused on my own game.
Another sweep back across the hangar- there, I spotted a black figure, dropping fluidly into a crouch, aiming a rifle elsewhere-
Something scuffed softly behind me.
Footsteps, on the roof of the Ebon Hawk, coming at my back.
Too soon for it to be Bindo, who'd at least warn me of his returning presence.
It was moments like these – charged, heady moments in the thick of battle – that tested a soldier's mettle. I could unleash one, maybe multiple, hits on the unsuspecting mark below, knowing whoever was behind me only needed a second to land a killing blow.
Or I could lurch to the side, and hope to evade an enemy that already had the jump on me.
My trigger finger squeezed. Twice-
I felt the pressure before the pain. The thud against metal as I was slammed sideways into the freighter's roof, a heavy weight pinning me, a sharp stabbing pain biting deep into my shoulder-
My... shoulder?
"Got him," someone muttered.
The weight – a fully armoured body, I realized dazedly – was half-dragged away. I rolled on instinct, the sharp burn of adrenaline hastening my movement, as I ended in a crouch with no weapon in my grasp.
Staring in disbelief at the old Jedi who couldn't even get my name right.
"He was too close," the man muttered, shuffling forward to turn over the body that had been pinning me seconds ago. The Jedi began fishing through the corpse's utility belt with a practiced hand. "I had to double back, and hope I'd down the fellow before he got to you. Just give me a minute, lad."
My shoulder throbbed, deep into the bone. The grind of pain only intensified as I leaned forward, flattening myself once more against the freighter's roof, minimizing my visibility in a combat zone.
In stark contrast, the crazy old Jedi looked strangely calm as he crouched next to the dead, more concerned with the fruits of his looting than being sighted by the enemy.
He saved my life, I realized numbly. Didn't seem right to lecture a mystical Jedi, but part of me just wanted to push the old man flat before a rogue bolt got him straight in the chest.
My gaze caught on my discarded blaster; I leaned forward to grasp it, barely biting back a moan as a deeper shaft of pain made its way down my back. It was bad.
Not mortal, no; but bad enough to affect my aim. Bad enough I wasn't sure I'd be lifting my weapon any more today.
"Stang," I muttered under my breath, jaw clenching. Couldn't hear any noise elsewhere in the hangar, but I wasn't pinning my chances on all enemies down until I was certain. "Jedi Bindo, take my gun. It's got a specialized targeting scope modded onto it. I can't- I can't shoot like this."
"One minute," the crazy Jedi grumbled, like I was asking him to hurry out of the 'fresher. I jerked back to stare at him in disbelief.
The old man was grinning at a plasticeel ball held in his wrinkled grasp. He looked absolutely absurd.
"Uh, there's likely other Sith still out there," I hissed, still pressed taut against the ship's roof while the Jedi thumbed at a toy in his hands.
Bindo raised one bushy eyebrow at me, before tucking the ball away and lifting his arms. Making him even more visible up here, and he hadn't even turned his glow-stick back on-
My whispered protest died as a gentle amber light began to glow around his fingertips.
"Yes. That's why I thought I'd heal you up so you could take 'em out. I'm a useless shot, lad."
Lad. I was going to be a grandpa in three months, if I managed to fly out of here, if I executed all my orders. I was-
I gasped as the back of my shoulder suddenly plunged into ice, simultaneously pricking through with needles of burning heat. The pain, though... the pain then completely ceased.
"There." The Jedi wiggled his thick white brows, which stood starkly against the leathery brown of his skin. "That should do you for now. Get back to work, lad."
I tentatively rolled my shoulder. No discomfort, no restriction of movement- I found it impossible to believe my injury had completely vanished- I didn't even know what had caused it; a blaster or vibrosword or heck, even the old man's 'saber cutting through the Sith's body- but my shoulder felt as good as new.
It was then I remembered feeling the same weird sensation earlier, when Corporal Tensey had been guiding me to the Ebon Hawk, when I'd been crippled from that shiv to the gut in the first wave. I hadn't even thought on my previous injury since then, other than a vague surprise that no pain had stopped me-
"You healed me before," I mumbled in awe, my eyes widening. "Just like that? I'm all fixed?"
"Ach, not quite." The Jedi looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Part is just blocking out the pain receptors in your shoulder. I don't have time for much else, and doing this much is dangerous if you're stupid with it." The old man harrumphed, scratching absently at his bald head. "I can look after you proper, lad, when we're not in the thick of action. Just keep yourself as still as you can, and let's take care of these Sith first."
I shuffled forward, muttering a dazed word of gratitude as my hands reached to retrieve my fallen gun. I'd heard of Jedi miracles many a time. Never experienced them personally, though.
This was the sort of stuff you told your grandkids about. Desperate battles. Miraculous Jedi. Victory, hopefully, despite the odds.
My gaze narrowed through the scope as I once more shifted into a sniping position.
"Can you... can you sense any hostiles around?" I whispered, not budging from the sights. That was a Jedi skill, I thought. Being able to see people... except not with the eyes.
"No," he said quietly at my back. "Their fandangled trinkets kill the Force around 'em, meaning all they'd be is a..."
The old man trailed off as I began another visual sweep of the hangar. There was a fresh black-clad body next to the second Sith snub – I saw the captain's son pull something from the corpse's belt, rub at it briefly, before tucking whatever he'd found away in a pocket. Funny, it was exactly what the old man had done.
"...a null patch of Force," Jedi Bindo was muttering. "Aye, she always said it was the absence she could pick up on. Huh, and these buggers are using tech that nullifies the Force for metres, so surely I should be able to..."
I blinked, and the Onasi boy had vanished from my sights. He must've moved fast, to get that quick behind cover without me spotting him.
My scope moved steadily to the far wall, before trekking back again. "I can't spot anyone," I whispered. I might have to move, get into a position to sight the rear of the docking bay, in case they'd infiltrated that far. Or, maybe, this was finally it.
The captain would be on the comm if he thought it was over. Unless he's down-
"There's three left." The Jedi was right next to me, then, lying flat as if he had a gun in his grasp, too. His words echoed strangely in my ear, and it took me a second to realize he'd opened up a comm channel. "Eh, one's underneath the darn 'Hawk. Someone gun for that guy. The other two have made it to the Republic birds by the airlock. Tobosh and I will get those."
I flipped around, biting back the urge to correct the Jedi as I shuffled forward. The freighter's roof was flat, but large – I had to wriggle metres forward to get a clear view.
"Not spotting anything," I whispered again, spanning my aim over the Aurek II snubfighters I'd flown in with.
"Behind the hyperdrive of the furthest one." The old man had moved with me, but he was standing, now, lightsaber back in hand. From my angle, I couldn't see the ground beyond the snubs. "They know you're up here, lad. Keep your sights fixed and I'll tell you if I sense any movement."
::The mark under the 'Hawk is down,:: Captain Onasi reported in my ear. ::It wasn't me, though.::
My gaze narrowed as my aim firmed.
Hold.
"The remaining two are pinned behind the last starship," Jedi Bindo said over the airwaves. "Ten creds say there'll be an incoming projectile headed our way."
Keep the sights steady. Wait for any movement.
::On it.:: The captain's response was terse. ::I'll try to draw them out.::
Blinding light flared behind the snub, then a second time; flash grenades possibly thrown by Onasi-
"One's down," Bindo muttered. "There's only one left."
A black-clad figure darted into view. I let my barrel lead the target, squeezing the trigger, as the mark turned to fire a wild shot back at us- but I knew Bindo could deflect that-
The flare of a shot landing next to me barely registered; a strangled cry of pain from my side, as I felt the old man collapse next to me.
"Bindo!" I cried, firing once more before rolling in evasion, feeling the burn of a second bolt glance off my forearm.
"Blasted- disruptor- can't deflect-" the old man wheezed. "Get- the last-"
Gun was still in my grasp. Pulling into a crouch, I saw one form standing below through a blurry gaze.
"Last one-" the old man choked.
This Sith bastard was wearing some ugly purple chest-plate, even missing armour from one entire leg. My hands firmed, and I made to depress the trigger- this hit would go straight into the bastard's un-helmed face-
"Last one's down!" Bindo gasped.
My finger twitched. At the final moment, the old man slammed a hand roughly into my leg, causing the shot to skim just above the mark's head. In turn, I could see the mark wrench a weapon in my direction, and only then did I recognize the man: that Mandalorian merc who'd left with the others earlier.
"Stang," I muttered in askance, quickly thumbing open a comm channel. "The Jedi says they're all down. Er, someone tell that Mando-"
Onasi was already there, down below, striding to the Mandalorian with an upraised hand waving in my direction.
::All Sith reported down,:: the captain's voice said in my ear. ::Tobards, fix your aim back on what's left of the entrance. Mission, get Teethree monitoring the nearby hatches again. Everyone else, report in.::
"They're dead," I said with relief, feeling my shoulders sag. "It's over. You alright, Bindo?"
::On it,:: the Twi'lek kid affirmed.
::Mission and I are fine,:: the captain's son commed in. ::Saw the two Republic pilots go down. Dad, are you okay?::
"Stang, not Tensey too," I muttered, squeezing my eyes tight. I'd been her gunner for near on a year. Professional and a darn good sort, even if she did have a tendency to run her mouth after a couple of beers-
::Tobards? You marking the entrance again?:: the captain asked. ::You two alright up there?::
"Yeah, I'll be there in ten seconds. Just need to move around." Grief came later. Every grunt knew that. Sometime in the future, I'd bring Tensey back to life with a tale or two over a fresh beer. "I'm fine. Bindo-"
It was then I became aware of the ominous silence at my side.
"Jedi Bindo?" I whispered.
xXx
Revan Freeflight:
"You holding up okay?" I asked Zaalbar, after the last droid had been thrown into the corridor wall by Yudan with a devastating crunch. Hadn't taken long for HK to fire a redundant disruptor bolt into the thing's torso and claim the kill; but, frankly, we'd all stopped quibbling over the accuracy of his stats weeks ago.
Zaalbar nodded at me. The side of his furry face was matted with dried blood, sign of another injury – although this one, at least, had been glancing.
My shoulder still throbbed when I dropped the Force. We'd exhausted our remaining kolto 'derms and bacta patches – Canderous having been the one to carry most of our medkit supplies.
It'd been a risk to leave Jolee behind, considering his expertise with healing. For all I knew, though, the others back at the 'Hawk needed him more. At least it was a damn sight easier taking the droids down, now that we knew their weak spot – and were sticking to the narrow transportation tunnels.
I grimaced as my gaze gleaned over HK. One robotic limb hung sparking intermittently at his side. Good thing he was ambidextrous.
In fact, the only one of us not injured so far was Yudan – and considering the way he kept leading the charge around each corner I was putting that down to blind luck.
Luck. Skill. The Force. Whatever the reason – I'll take it.
As for Bastila – she was close, now. Very close.
"How far until the upper meditation chambers, HK?" I asked, drawing the Force in tight to minimize my presence. Up ahead, the silvery corridor veered to the left. Even here, this high in the Star Forge, the odd sigil was scratched low down on the arc of the wall. Repeating the same, obscure, message.
The Builders have upset the balance between life and death.
"Statement: The entrance to the meridian viewing chamber is around the next corner, Master."
Life wasn't the same as Light; nor was death anything more than a natural part of the survival cycle. Not to say that the Force couldn't kill, but any Jedi worth their robes knew that the light and dark sides of the Force did not simply equate to life and death.
I frowned. I didn't think it was a translation error, even if Sidi-Massassi script seemed to be a notoriously simple scripting language-
"Revan. Can you feel that?"
Yudan's low voice scythed through my thoughts; I glanced up straight into his narrowed, intense gaze.
Something malignant was crawling through the Force.
I stilled, both in mind and body, as the creeping sensation tiptoed eddies of swirling malevolence in the air around us. Slowly, slowly, increasing in strength. Not Bastila, no; this close, it was impossible to ignore the way her meditation oscillated in rays of psychic strength aimed beyond the walls of the Star Forge.
This felt more exploratory. And originated from deeper in the Forge.
Something whispered-
Revan.
In my periphery, I saw Yudan jerk with surprise.
Revan, I can sense you.
Malak. My heart stuttered, and I could feel him now- a morass of dark energy centred in the very nexus of this cursed place. Growing, magnifying, swelling in strength.
Come to me, or I shall find you.
The threat was almost a caress as it brushed against my mind.
Do you hear me? Do you remember me? A soft chuckle. I remember you. In all of your iterations. Which one is it, I wonder, that I shall finally have the pleasure of squeezing the life from?
Bravado. Mockery calculated to induce me to reach out in return; but his words had the opposite effect. I withdrew, thoughts cooling, instinct simmering into patience – for he was not my first objective.
Do you remember us, Revan? The way you used to moan beneath me? You would-
The Force thickened, tightened, and encased hard around my mind. Blocking the taunts that crawled through the air around me.
Malak would still be able to sense me, yes- but he'll stay by the kaiburr if he can lure me there, my intuition whispered. There is little time left – but there is time. Time to save Bastila, or better yet, use her-
"Revan-" Yudan's voice was choked with emotion, and the sheer oddity of that was enough to silence the crepuscular voice of my own cursed soul.
"They're both drawing on the kaiburr now," I said quietly, meeting Yudan's burning gaze. "Which might even work to our advantage. Let's go. Let's go find Bastila."
xXx
Dustil Onasi:
"Nine Sith accounted for." Ordo was sneering at a disruptor pistol he'd pulled from a corpse, before chucking the disassembled therm battery to the side. "Problem is, there should be ten."
"Where'd you get your intel?" Dad demanded. "And the others- I haven't heard from them-"
The minute Dad had commed the all-clear, I'd rushed to his side. I knew Mission was okay; I'd been marking her, somehow managed to make sure none of those bastards came close- but Dad had been right in the thick of things-
"I got separated," Ordo grunted, grabbing another mini-disruptor to pull apart. I didn't know where he'd found the time to loot the frakking dead.
"So there's one guy left," I muttered, fingers clenched tight around my 'saber hilt. Maybe those incoming marks could blank the Force out on me, but I'd had practice stabbing Sith without the Force.
Problem was, I was used to staying unseen. That frakking tech totally castrated my skills – same as old man Bindo.
My gaze slipped back to the loading ramp of the 'Hawk. We'd brought Jolee down from the roof, but he was in bad shape. Disruptor hit had chewed right through what looked like half the flesh on his chest. Dad had tried to get him inside after shooting him full of kolto and ceramol, but he should've stuck a tranq in the old man as well. Jolee had regained consciousness – and was as crabby as ever.
"One left – Ordo, why do you think there should be ten?" Dad asked again, before thumbing open a channel over the comm. Didn't know why he bothered, really. All the Republic pilots except that wounded marksman were dead, and Mission was still within earshot. "Mission, has Teethree picked up on anything nearby?"
::Nothing so far,:: Mission replied. She was still lying under the snub, snug in her sniping spot. I'd seen her shoot down at least one Sith, and she'd hurt another before I'd shoved my 'saber through his black heart.
Together, we'd downed our share of 'em, at least.
Killing felt too easy, these days. I remembered Mekel saying that, once, a bleak look on his face that he usually didn't let show.
"I ran into an associate of Revan's," Ordo answered at last. He threw the second weapon away in disgust. "Haar'chak disruptors. One-shot wonders before the battery completely kriffs itself."
"Associate?" Dad demanded. "What do you-"
"Don't get your jockeys in a twist, Republic. Whoever the sent was, he saved my arse and took out a pretty number of battle droids at the same time. Fairly sure he ain't here gunning for Revan." The Mandalorian shrugged. "Leave her to do her job, and let's focus on ours."
::There's hatch movement,:: Mission said suddenly. I hated the unwelcome lurch in my stomach. ::Um, not sure if its headed this way yet.::
"Tobards, take point," Dad ordered into his wrist, before turning back to shoot me a hard stare. "Dustil, get-"
"Already on it," I muttered, pulling tight on the Force before inverting the weaves with a deft twist. Just like that, and I was once more hidden to the naked eye.
Just like that. Except if Ordo was wrong, and there were another nine of those chivholes, then we were truly frakked.
Dad was striding to the side of the hangar. I saw him duck behind a refuelling gig, the same spot one of the ensigns had been in before he'd karked it. Dad swiftly dropped into a ready crouch, turning to sight the jagged hole that'd once been a hatch. I'd always thought of Dad in the skies, shooting down starships with perfect aim from behind the safety of a snub's turrets.
He seemed just as competent and calm here, fighting face-to-face with the enemy.
Ordo- Ordo looked frakking ridiculous, flattened against the wall, his right leg naked and marred with streaks of dried blood. One hand raised a steady blaster at the entrance, and a grenade was primed in the other. Ordo's teeth were bared, and he looked for all the galaxy exactly like how Dad had once described the bloodthirsty, savage, Mandalorian barbarians.
But this Mandalorian barbarian was Dad's ally. And, despite all the snark between them, I got the distinct feeling they were pretty much friends, too.
::ETA, Mission,:: Dad clipped out, his voice echoing through my earbud. ::And I hope Ordo's blasted intel is right.::
::Definitely coming here. Four minutes.:: Mission sounded quiet. She'd wanted to see to the old man, she'd sounded shocked when she heard those pilots had karked it, she'd- she'll be scared spitless, stressing out over her Wookiee and frakking Revan.
But Mission was still lying ready, gun in hand, looking to shoot more of the bastards.
Mission was so- so genuinely nice and good, just like Selene had been- funny, and cheerful, and optimistic- but there was an inner strength to Mission that I wasn't entirely sure Selene'd had.
But Selene was smart enough to know Korriban was killing us. So was Mex. I was the dumb idiot more into increasing my own frakking power than finding a way off that dirtball planet.
Mekel'd had nothing to do with Selene. Maybe part of me had always known that. Maybe that was why I'd always wondered- what if I'd agreed with her straight-off? Would we have made it? Would she still be alive-
::Intel can only help so much,:: Ordo muttered. ::One di'kut or many- with our limited resources and time, our strategy boils down to nothing more than blasting anything walking through that hole.::
::Two minutes,:: Mission whispered. ::Moving fast. Carth, can you check- I mean, it's definitely not the others, right?::
::They'd answer the comm,:: Dad replied in a tight voice. ::Jolee, haul your arse back inside the freighter.::
::Eh, 'm not moving.:: The old man's voice was faint. I'd put it down to a crappy line, if I hadn't seen the bloody mess of his chest. ::Might be I can help from here. Not sure I'm up to moving anyway. Heh.::
::One hatch away.::
::I'm ready,:: the Republic marksman threw into the convo. I'd forgotten what his name was. ::One more Sith blighter going down.::
::There's something-:: old man Bindo wheezed. ::Something off- I sense-::
A robed figure in red stepped through the hole.
Something exploded in mid-air, like Ordo's grenade had detonated prematurely. Time seemed to-
-stop.
I caught a glimpse of Ordo, thrown back from the frag blast, caught like a flutter-gnat in the wind.
Dad, on the opposite side of the entrance, flung high into the air – before smashing down into the line of consoles.
Mission, shrieking behind me, as something dropped from her hands with a clatter.
I froze in horrified disbelief as the figure sauntered nonchalantly into the hangar. Tall, thin, bedecked in silver and scarlet, with black lips marking a damned, pale, face.
Sharlan Nox. Oh no. No. No frakking way!
Something blurred in the air.
Jolee Bindo. Landing limply in the Sith Lord's outstretched arms. A long, thin hand rested over the old man's forehead.
I didn't have to sense the Force to know it was at work.
But then, thin, pink tentacles – frakking tentacles! – protruded from slits in the Sith Lord's cheeks, and slithered towards the old man's face.
Numbly, I remembered wondering, once, what those slits were for-
...
Something kicked me in the side.
"Wake up."
Slowly, I became aware of the grilled press of metal, hard against my face. I groaned, tried to stretch, but my hands were caught tight against something-
"Wake up, you gimboid," someone whispered.
Violent images flashed through my head: fire, raining from the skies; buildings shattering as I ran in desperation; the sight of my apartment complex exploding, before something slammed into my head and everything blacked-
"Mum!" I screamed, jerking awake, struggling to sit, only to stare into the prettified face of a stranger.
He was scowling. "Not so frakking loud! You'll get Lord Arseface back in here."
Panic fluttered like a horde of gnit-flies assailing the inside of my throat.
My hands were bound behind my back. Legs tied together. Something cinched into my forehead, and someone was sobbing- no, two someones, a pair of Twi'leki girls in the corner. The corner- the corner of what looked like a starship's brig-
"Mum," I cried again, helpless, as my mind replayed the rending destruction of my home beneath the weight of turbo-lasers shooting down from the heavens. I could hear the discordant wail of planetary alarms again, feel the panicked throng of people shoving me this way and that-
"Frakk, are you gonna be as bleeding useless as Blue One and Two over there?" the boy hissed. His dark blue eyes flashed as I stared at him dazedly.
The boy was Human, mid-teens, with a handful of years on me. His glittering, skin-tight costume and painted face immediately identified him as the sort of sent I would never normally associate with. A delicate circlet of gold wrapped tight through his jet-black locks.
"Thani," I said numbly, blinking. "It was- was-"
"Blitzed," the teen said bluntly. "Same as the rest of Telos."
My stunned gaze then noticed something else: he was bound, too.
So were the whimpering girls.
The teen followed my gaze. "Cantina dancers. I've seen 'em before, rolling in the creds at Starshine's Waterhole. Everyone likes twins." He snorted in disparagement. "Helpful as tits on a Hutt, in this place. Say, don't suppose an upper-class nob like you knows how to slice through restraints?"
"Where are we?" I asked hoarsely. Nothing seemed real. War was something that happened out in space – tales of adventure that Dad would occasionally relay, although he never made it sound as exciting as I thought it really was.
"Picked up by a bunch of scum-loving Sith." The teen's blue eyes were outlined in black kohl, and his lips were an unnatural shade of red. He's a hooker, I realized in horrified awe. A joyboy. A sent who sells- sells his-
Picked up by the Sith. The words hissed through my stuttering thoughts with terrifying comprehension.
Don't trust the Sith, Dee, Mum's voice murmured in my head. Don't trust the Jedi. Don't trust anyone who uses the Force. Just hide like I showed you-
Hide, Dee. Hide-
It wasn't working! There was nothing there! I couldn't feel the weaves she had painstakingly shown me in secret, the weaves to wrap tight around my body and invert so no one would notice me.
I could feel my eyes widening, my body shaking, my heart thundering like a swoop about to explode on the track-
The boy kicked me with his bound legs. "Keep your dumb head together! This isn't the frakking time to bawl your soft, stupid eyes out."
I swallowed. My throat was dry. I blinked stupidly at the teen, who seemed a lot more confident and in control than I was. "What the fr- fra-" I swallowed again, forcing the curse word out, "-frakk can we do, then?"
He was about to say something, just as the only hatch to the room opened.
The man who walked in was as dressed-up as the boy. But different. Imposing instead of handsome. Robed instead of sequined. Authoritative instead of imprisoned.
Sith.
Black lips in a white face smiled down at us. "Mm, four pretty little playthings."
"You told me you only had two, Sharlan," a voice snapped out behind him. Another figure emerged, this one clad in combat-armour, with sun-streaked blonde hair pulled tightly back from a beautiful face.
Both of them had sharp, unnaturally yellow eyes.
"Two finds inventoried against your five, my dear. Consider it a showcase of your superiority." The man trilled a high-pitched laugh. "Perhaps that will be enough for a transfer back to command."
"Yes, you're only thinking of me," the woman drawled sardonically.
It was the robed man, sauntering closer, that my horrified gaze fixated on. He raised a pale hand, and I couldn't move, but something was lifting me, off the ground and into the air-
"I shall send the girls to Uln," the man murmured, stepping close. On the ground behind me, the pretty boy was strangely silent.
"No you frakking won't," someone growled, but all I could see was a thin white face. A hand grasped my jaw, and I flinched- but the rest of my body was suspended. I hung; lifeless, helpless, useless, as the pale man moved ever closer.
The air was cold. A black slit on either cheek of the man's face breathed open.
Gills, my mind squeaked in petrified shock. But that's not right, he's Human not aquatic, so what are they?
I didn't want to know the answer.
I'm gonna die. A sob stuck in my throat. My body wracked with shudders. Mum. Dad. Where are you?
Dad was a warhero. Surely, somehow, he'd come for me-
"You threw inhibitors on the boys. That means they're strong." The woman was close now, too. "We're in a frakking war, Sharlan. I don't give a ronto's arse what you do in your spare time, but I'm not letting you piss around wasting valuable resources just because you get off on the strong ones. What's your name?"
The last question was snapped out like a command, and made no sense until I heard the pretty boy answer.
"Mekel Kadoni." The teen sounded sullen.
"And yours?"
All I could see was gleaming yellow eyes. Two pairs, now, staring at me with the detached observation of the powerful. Two faces waiting for my answer.
Dad, where are you? Dad- Dad was a famous starpilot. If anyone could find me, Dad would. Dad had scored three medals against the Mandos, Dad was pretty much a household name these days – even if it didn't make up for him never being home. Dad was-
Dad was a famous starpilot. Dad was a household name.
A hand tightened cruelly around my jaw. Tears I didn't know were there spilled out over my eyes.
"Answer the lord, little pet," the man said. The inky slits had disappeared, now, leaving behind only pale, smooth cheeks.
"Dustil," I gasped. "Dustil Balon."
A common Telosian surname, from my mum's line. Her dad had been a Telos native. Not her ma, though, she'd been some sort of exile who'd sought refuge-
The woman snorted. There was the sound of boots clanking away. "I expect to see them both on the roll-call at the Academy, Sharlan. Otherwise I'll go straight to the top, and make damn sure Revan knows what you do with half your frakking finds."
Swish of a hatch closing. Fingers, gentling on my jaw, as the pale man leaned close again.
"Looks like you have a lucky escape," he murmured, before pressing black lips against my forehead in a feather-light touch of benediction.
I gagged, recoiling, panic flooding like acid through my limbs.
I was dumped to the floor in a heap.
"What a shame," the man drawled. "I suppose I'll have to make do with the twins, instead."
...
The old man from Kashyyyk hung lifeless in the Sith Lord's arms. Something shuffled behind me- Mission, who must've lost her weapon, and would lose her brains if she moved out from the cover of her snub.
Dad and Ordo and that Republic marksman were nowhere to be seen.
I'm the only one who can stop Sharlan Nox. The realization was as terrifying as it was liberating. Crashing through the frozen, petrified stillness of my mind. The only one who can stop him killing Jolee or Mission or- or Dad, if he hasn't already karked it on a frakking console screen-
Hatred felt good. Blinding fury battered into my impotent sense of fear, breaking through the hidden Force weaves, and submerging everything with the roaring promise of vengeance.
I was not the same scared, powerless, little boy anymore.
"Hey, arseface!" I hollered.
Sharlan jerked, dropping Jolee Bindo to the ground as he turned to stare at me in surprise.
I thought I heard the old man groan. It was hard to tell above the rush of rage in my ears.
"Yeah, I'm talking to you, frakkwad!" My 'saber was tight in my grasp. The Force rocked a promise of power around me, all the potential to do whatever I wanted-
Fear. Hate. Passion. They can fan the strength of your Force, my boy. Uthar's voice chuckled in my head. But only if you master them. Use your emotions as fuel, but stay in control of the fire they ignite.
I was going to fry that perverted bastard's heart.
"I thought you got off on the strong ones, turd-for-brains! So leave the old man, and come after me instead!"
Korriban scarlet blazed in my grasp.
Sharlan's head cocked. He took a step towards me. And then I felt it- a vortex of raw, swirling Force, centred solely on the corrupted Sith Lord as his intrigued, damned, eyes pinned mine.
He was stronger than me, even in the throes of my hatred.
Those slimy tentacles – or whatever the frakk they were – contracted back into the Sith Lord's face. His hand lifted.
"Well, aren't you just the loud-mouthed delicacy," Sharlan Nox murmured. His eyes blazed, even from the distance between us. I felt the oddest sensation of magnetism, dampening my rage- like my limbs had suddenly frozen, like all I wanted to do was walk towards his glowing, glowing eyes-
Hide, Dee, Mum hissed. Hide!
The Force rushed inwards like a torrent, curling tight around me before inverting.
All the emotions returned, but this time undercut with a chilling comprehension.
I had to get out. I had to get out, and lure him away, away from the others, back through the hatch, away from everybody-
"Where did you go, little snack?" The Sith Lord was frowning, now. I began moving; silent, silent steps to the side. Uthar had been intrigued when he'd chanced upon my trick.
You are not inaudible, my boy. Forget that at your peril.
Silent steps. Forward and sideways. Then- Sharlan Nox moved faster than I could see without the Force. I blinked, and he was standing still in the place I had just been. Right next to the snub that Mission was hiding beneath.
I was halfway to the hatch already, but all he had to do was bend over and peek underneath that frakking starship-
"What's the problem, bonehead?" I jeered. The Sith Lord spun around, the scarlet of his robes billowing out behind him. "Can't you see me?"
More steps towards the exit- a blur in the air, and suddenly Sharlan Nox was in the spot I had been a second ago, one hand grasping at empty air.
Mere inches from my sleeve.
My hand grasped tight around the 'saber hilt, concealed within the weaves of invisibility. My feet moved forward; slowly, quietly, as I held my breath. My other hand slipped into my pocket as I breached the hole that had once been a hatch-
I was slammed back into a jagged edge of durasteel by a fist in my gut. Breath exploded from my lungs on the impact, the Force unravelled, but my sword-arm moved on instinct-
An iron band twisted my hand back unnaturally; I screamed as agony shot up my limb, something crunched, and the 'saber hilt fell from my prone hand with a clatter.
The red disappeared as the 'saber knocked off into fail-safe mode.
"Too predictable, going for the exit." The bastard's grip still forced my arm back, and it hurt like a schutta, and his other hand was now on my throat-
I choked, flailing desperately for the Force.
"Still, you are a clever little titbit." His face was so close, now. Frakk! Frakking frakk! My eyes blurred, I could barely see or breathe, and in the centre of his pale white cheeks gaped open a slit of darkness. His eyes glowed, and his voice turned mesmerizing. "I think I shall keep you."
No! No you frakking won't, you frakking Hutt-spawned gimboid!
In my pocket, my other hand brushed against the trinket I'd pulled from a Sith corpse. With a squeeze of my fingers, I felt the thing vibrate.
The Force winked out. Sharlan's eyes dimmed. My knee jerked up, hard, straight into the sleemo's crotch.
He bellowed in pain, stumbling back, releasing me.
The air was harsh in my crushed throat. My arm was agony- but I could still bend it into my chest, stride forward, jerk my elbow hard into the bastard's face-
He caught my upraised limb and swung it further, launching me into the ground.
"I don't need the Force to extract your soup!" He was on me; I was rolling frantically, trying to wedge a knee between us. "This shall simply be all the more unpleasant for you!"
Somehow, I wriggled free, clambering to my feet one-handed, hearing the clink of that Force-nullifying gadget drop to the ground, the hiss as the Sith Lord's lightsaber exploded to life within his grasp.
I stumbled back, out through the hole, eyes fixed on Sharlan as he rose to a seated position. A twitching proboscis curled out from both sides of his face.
Run!
I turned, and sprinted down a gleaming corridor.
Six steps, and the Force flared to life.
Hide, Dee!
Another step, and I was tucked back into the realm of invisibility. One hand, punching forward to release a hatch, hearing footsteps behind me, praying uselessly that I had enough of a lead to keep going, to find a place to ambush the knobhead-
If you're facing a superior foe, make them do the work. Of all the frakking sents, it was frakking Revan whispering in my head. Words she had said back on Lehon. Make them chase you. Tire them out. Don't stop moving.
"Come and get me, arseface!" I yelled, and ran.
xXx
Bastila Shan:
This is our game board today, my apprentice.
Malak had murmured that earlier, whilst pointing to the viewport that boasted the glittering lights of his armada. What I discerned through battle meditation was the same game board, albeit seen from an alternate dimension. Pinpricks of life, all sparks for me to mould, all pieces to be played in the dejarik match for the galaxy itself.
And Revan was the most powerful piece of all.
-you can be the saviour. both of you. if she will only listen-
The battle of ships was still raging in the skies. A last gasp of Republic forces had entered the fray, adding a further impotent push to their beleaguered front. Without the scrambler destroying their sensors, perhaps it would have been enough.
But my battle meditation had tipped the scales.
Ironic, really, to think on how often my gift had been used in the name of the Republic, only to be turned against them at this final moment.
It matters not. All these ships, all these lives, they are but an infinitesimal slice of the whole.
If I had more time, I would muscle the pressure further, expedite our victory by remaining in a Force trance until destruction of the Republic assault was a shining certainty. But my influence thus far should be enough for the remaining Sith pawns to gain dominion; I had to attend to Revan.
-if she will not listen you can make her-
I stood.
-you can make her listen. show her what she needs to see-
"Deactivate the null field," I ordered the slayers standing over the broken body of my once-master. He had to be one heart-beat away from death's door. There was no sentiment left inside of me for him.
After all, Vrook had chosen his path.
A wisdom all Jedi adhered to was accepting responsibility for their own actions. Vrook should have realized that. Should have discerned-
What? That his padawan would turn on him?
-individuals do not matter. you see this now. what matters is the whole-
I could not- would not allow myself the weakness of emotionalism. The Revan of old understood the necessity of shedding one's vulnerabilities for a greater cause. And it was the Revan of old I would resurrect, buried deep in the fractured shell of my bond-sister.
I kept my gaze firmly away from Vrook's fallen body.
"My lord?" a slayer asked in question, straightening from his post.
Through the Force, I could sense my once-master ebbing into unconsciousness. Perhaps, that small reprieve, was the final gift I could grant him.
"We have company," I said smoothly. My gaze drew unerringly to the oblique hatch at the end of the chamber. This was the moment I had been waiting for.
A sharp wedge of nervousness chafed through me, like the brittle sensation of crushed ferracrystal scraping against my skin. A minor discomfort I would prevail over. "Stand down, slayers, unless I command otherwise."
-you can show her. draw deep-
Around me licked the power of the Star Forge.
-draw deep. the power is here. the power to save everything-
The half-moon hatch opened.
Somehow, I had known she would enter first.
Revan strode in, cyan bar blazing in her hands, attention drawn briefly to the slayers before dismissing them as unimportant.
"Bastila," Revan said, voice quiet, as she stepped deeper into the meditation chamber.
I called to the Force, and it answered. Oh, it answered. Rocking around me with the power of planets.
"Revan. I knew you would come."
It felt almost... aberrant, to be staring across from her once more. The woman my life had revolved around for what had to be more than a galactic year, now, since the death of the Nexus.
Revan appeared the same as on Korriban: dark curls a mink-rat's nest atop her head, with her expression broadcasting every tumultuous emotion as it crossed her soul. Concern, suspicion, anguish. Vulnerabilities. Vulnerabilities when you do not use them.
I may have only encountered Darth Revan once, in all her glory, yet I knew the woman standing before me was but a pale shadow of what she had been.
Her power still blazed, though. And her old self... her old self was still there, buried beneath the dross of Jedi brain-washing.
Revan's mouth quirked. "I told you I would come. Can't say the journey's been all pazaak and spice-shots, though."
She halted some metres in front of me. The Force beckoned, swelled, surged, as I drew in its life-beat. Revan had to be sensing that, now.
-show her the power-
"Again. You could not come alone?" I could hear the censure drip from my voice as my gaze travelled scornfully over her companions. That distasteful robot. Oh, her old general I could perhaps understand – but the Wookiee? "Honestly, Revan. You did not think it wise to bring the other Force-users with you? Or, better yet, allow us the chance to converse alone for once?"
"All of my companions grant me strength, Bastila, Force-borne or otherwise," she replied in a neutral tone. "I would have asked Juhani to accompany me, but she hasn't been conscious since your snubfighter exploded on us."
I could feel my lips curl at the asked- if Revan had not yet realized that every member of the crew was hers to command-
My thoughts stilled in shock as the rest of her words evolved into meaning. "Wait- did you say exploded?"
The look she levelled on me was sad. "Lehon was a trap, Bastila. The snubfighter was primed with permacrete set to detonate the instant your holo-transmission cut out. If I'd followed your plan, the pair of us would be nothing but spacedust now."
The calefaction of anger was fierce and immediate. Malak. Malak! I should have known- but I had suspected something, had I not? Of course a Sith Lord would manoeuvre me to his own ends! It was to be expected of Lord Malak, but the betraying taste of being exploited was a recurring thread woven bitterly throughout my entire life.
-no one can use you if no one is more powerful than you-
At least Revan had never sought to manipulate me-
"Malak tricked you, Bastila. We have to get you away from him. Back to the 'Hawk." Her face was impassive, but the bond between us yawned open. We have to get you away from the frelling Forge-
Never sought to manipulate- oh, the shock of such deceit originating from her!
"Do you honestly believe you can conceal your thoughts from me?" I spat the words out, indignant and vehement and flat-out seething with rage. Power churned a conflagrant fire in my soul, burning alongside my anger. "I will not allow you to destroy the Star Forge!"
The flare of Force awakened in Revan, also; the strength that not even near-death and a mind-wipe could erase.
But it did not compare to the torrent coursing through my veins, stemming from the ancient kaiburr itself.
"And how do you plan on stopping me?" Revan's voice had turned soft. Her eyes narrowed. Weaves of Force shielding curled around her presence, like she believed I would pre-emptively strike out.
-show her-
I would not attack her. I could not! No, I had to persuade Revan, remind her, induce her back to the cognizance that had once empowered her to act for the good of the galaxy, no matter how ruthless that direction required her to be.
But, first, to showcase the almighty power at my- our- fingertips.
Mere hours ago Malak had fumbled through my meditation to snuff out the feeble heart of one lacklustre pilot. I had noticed. I had always been quick to learn.
My fury focused to a sharpened point. My hands clenched into fists, and I struck.
Two heartbeats stuttered into silence. Two gasps choked through the air. Two thuds echoed as two bodies fell to the floor.
Lifeless and still.
Revan whirled around in shock.
"Bastila! You just- your own guards?"
"This is the power of the Star Forge, Revan," I said coolly. My emotions were back under leash. I would make her see – and if this small display of power shocked her so, then it wouldn't even take me long. "The power over life and death."
"Power over life and death," Revan muttered, turning slowly back to face me. Her expression was granite-hard, now, as she began to comprehend. "And where's the balance? When you kill your own?"
"These were slayers. Jonn Dan's slayers." A murmur from Revan's old general, Rosh. "What were they still doing in circulation?"
"They were Malak's guards, not mine. I trust not their loyalty." I eyed over Rosh and the Wookiee, both standing metres back by the dead. The former held his weapon ready in guard, like that was any sort of peril with the Star Forge responding to my will. "Tell me, Revan. Should I trust the loyalty of your guards?"
"Is that a threat?" Revan hissed at me. Her muscles bunched beneath bloodied, tattered clothing. Her desire to protect her followers was evident – Darth Revan had shed that weakness, but I had come to know my bond-sister well during the months aboard the Ebon Hawk. She was pertinacious. Reckless. Loyal – even when it handicapped her.
-make her angry. her shields will slip-
"This is- this is Vrook Lamar." Rosh's voice laced with disbelief. "Jedi Master Vrook Lamar! What is he doing here?"
Startlement widened Revan's gaze, but she did not turn from me this time. "What? Bastila-"
"Irrelevant," I forced out. I would not look at his fallen body. "Revan-"
"Vrook is your master!" she cried, interrupting me with the histrionics of the weak. "Bastila, what did you do?"
"He still lives. Barely," Rosh muttered. "Despite being riddled with blaster burns."
"He was an obstacle in my way," I snapped. "You have not answered my question, Revan. Are your allies obstacles as well?"
"Query: Master, permission to remove Uptight Soporific from your redundant-"
The Force shone from Revan like a star, battering my senses and occluding our bond, drowning out whatever meaningless drivel her inane droid was spouting. Revan's power was a growing storm, lashing alongside her temper, rocking the foundation of her shields as she threw them over her allies instead.
"You will leave them alone!" she growled.
And the bond was open. So open.
All the kaiburr's power I had assimilated was waiting. The memory of that evil, dead world was forever at the forefront of my mind. With a deep wrench on the Force, I threw all my conviction and dread and visceral sensation that Malak's vision evoked directly into our mind-link.
Revan stumbled back, gasping.
-show her the death of the Force-
I could see Malak's past again: the necropolis of a space rock bordered by an eerie, violet atmosphere, devoid of everything. The plague growing, as if directed by some unknown hand, eradicating all light and dark Force until there was nothing- nothing- left.
I relived the experience once more, further magnified by the Star Forge, and projected it ruthlessly through our bond.
The Star Forge crooned in my grasp.
-show her the power you can draw to defeat the true evil-
Flashes of feeling, of memory, of truth.
The kaiburr's amplification of the Force. The means to build fleets within weeks. The augmentation of my own battle meditation; the ability to extinguish individuals with a thought; Darth Revan's original conquest that almost brought the Republic to its knees – and collectively we could achieve so much more.
All, all, all, possible with the Star Forge! Together, we would be each other's strength, and the galaxy would prevail.
Revan was struggling, ramming the psychic Force back through our mind-link, fighting with the desperation of the fearful. For I could sense her fear: fear of her own darkness. Fear of that kernel of black emotion she still carried, the kernel of strength that could be enkindled to nothing short of epochal.
We can control the darkness together, Revan! Together!
The purple world... She was gasping in my mind, gasping to hold herself together. There was someone... something... I had to find a way to stop-
-together nothing can withstand you-
Roll the dice... Another gasp, another flail. It didn't work. All I know is that it didn't work!
You must have faith in me, in us! I demanded, my mental voice shouting alongside the currents of power that submerged us both. You shall not be a slave to the Dark Side this time!
For what was the Dark Side, really, but freedom from constraint?
One merely required the wisdom to harness it with impartiality, and with this much power surely we could-
"Release her!"
The furious growl snapped my awareness to the burn of plasma. Yudan Rosh, Revan's faithful kath hound, pointing a green glow-stick at my throat. In his shadow, the Wookiee had a disruptor levelled in my direction. The robot was aiming some sort of ridiculous projectile at me.
And Revan... Revan was on her knees, head clutched in hands as the Force rocked a hurricane around her.
"Kill me and you kill Revan," I said softly, staring into the burning gaze of Revan's pet Twi'lek. His slight pause as that thought sunk in was all I required.
Like yielding to a vacuum, the Force surged back through our bond, wrested from Revan's impotent, stricken mind. It was instinctive to transmute the Force into telekinetic energy, and hurl the power wildly outward.
But the moment Revan's three servants were thrown into the wall, she was right there, a closed fist launched straight at my face.
Her punch cracked hard in my jaw. I flew, sprawling backward, stunned, angry, furious- my emotions rocking frenetically around me-
-show her everything-
Revan was on me, pinning me to the ground, her thoughts chaotic- I'll knock her out if I have to!
-show her-
The kaiburr ignited emotion within me – all the volatile affectations I could feed it I did – resentment for years of impotency, fear at holding the leash of an amnesiac Sith Lord, enmity directed at a duplicitous childhood friend – emotions black as tar-mud as they resonated through our bond.
An earthquake of passion battering against her restraint.
Oh, and I felt the depths of Revan's desires, too – for there was fury within her, and grief, and the lingering residue of frozen calculation that had once mastered her.
Stronger still, deep in my own soul, was my unyielding abhorrence at whatever could so permanently extinguish the Force from existence – the only thing that made me special.
The same revulsion echoed in Revan. She might not consciously recall the Unknown Regions, but she still knew. She still knew.
"Stop it!" she was screaming. Futilely fighting and failing to remain unaffected. Stop it!
I was on my feet again, and she was clutching at her head again, as fragments of the past rose in her mind like flowers of truth.
Movement elsewhere- My hand lifted to hurl the returning Twi'lek back from me. He landed, collapsing next to Vrook.
Good. Two useless bodies for the clean-bots to clear.
Get out of my head! She was building a wall, but it could not stop me. Not when the same fervour of passion echoed in her own core. I won't yield, Bastila! I will not fall again!
Her will was stronger than ever. I had to concede that, without the Star Forge, I would not prevail against her.
But I did have the Star Forge. All Revan had was a broken mind, and a tempest of power over which she lacked the training to master.
"If you cannot overcome me then how do you expect to defeat Malak alone, Revan?" I hissed. You need me. And the galaxy needs us!
Not... this... way!
That ridiculous robot bleated something about a no-kill list as I deflected one of his projectiles. Lightning was not something I had ever initiated, but now was as good a time as any-
The minute a sharp current exploded from my fingertips, Revan vanished.
What? Revan?
A fizzle from the robot, but still he levelled a weapon at me. Thermal energy narrowed into a weave of need in my grasp, and my mouth tightened in satisfaction as the droid's hapless weapon began to bend. Folded, twisted, its barrel turning full circle to point back at its owner.
-do not lose sight of her-
The kaiburr whispered a warning, and the instant I stepped away, something unseen skimmed hard against my forehead. I reeled, realizing instantly that without my step back the blow would have struck me direct on the temple. Knocked me out. By my ignorant, unseeing, blinded bond-sister.
-you must show her who she once was!-
Revan was utilizing some fancy Force trick to render herself invisible, but she could not hide from the Force as it spat currents of nascent lightning, dawning from my fingertips, an achromatic discharge engulfing this side of the chamber.
A flicker- there. There. Her signature flared back to life, as her body flared back into view. My tracery of purple-white twined around her figure- she shuddered, but somehow my attack was absorbed into her instead of assailing her flesh.
Revan's chin lifted. Sparks of white died into nothingness. Her green gaze glinted rock-solid determination as she glared.
"That will not work on me." Her voice was as cold as space.
-show her-
"I did not intend it to, Revan."
Did she still not understand? Did she still believe I meant to attack her?
No, no, I only unleashed that lightning to see her, to make her see, make her see the past, and understand-
And what better way, than to show her the past?
The past I had once thought to hide from her, to let those dark memories die with me, before I saw the glimmers of truth that shone between the shadows.
All through my trial of purgatory and perdition, those early days when I was relegated as nothing more than Malak's conduit to Revan, I had cursed every assignment he had imposed upon me.
Every taunting question he dared me to level at Revan through the bond. Who found us? What were Talvon Esan's last words? How did Arran Da'klor die? Who was our first recruiter? What happened to Kreia? How did I lose my jaw?
Why did we invade the Republic?
Who. What. How. Why.
And with every refusal of mine to accede to his will, Malak had shown me his truth before moving onto the next, damned, question.
...
The pain burned like acid through my limbs. Inside my skin, like molten fire, like flames licking through every nerve centre.
Even now, after Malak had pulled back, tears still streamed helplessly down my face as I begged for the torment to cease.
"You should have asked Revan my question," Malak murmured. "I shall win in the end. You understand this. Your defiance does nothing but break your spirit and body."
I could not answer. It seemed an inordinately difficult task merely to force oxygen through my cracked lips. Still, still, I would hold onto my resolution to remain separate from Revan. Malak's twisted games would not have me reaching out to her, tempting her with her dark past...
...no matter the cost to myself.
"Perhaps I shall show you the answer, before moving onto your next assignment." A gloved finger touched me gently on the cheek. I jerked, but the restraints had no give. "Would you like that, little one?"
...
Bastila!
And Malak showed me. With my every refusal to pose his absurd memory trips to my fugitive bond-sister, Malak rewarded me with both pain and memory.
Every shadow of his past allowed me a glimpse of Revan, Darth Revan, the Sith Lord I had never seen as anything more than a spectre of corrupted evil.
I slowly began to perceive the depths of her calculation and power.
By the time I learned the truth of what they had found in the Unknown Regions, I understood so much more than Malak.
The wider picture. The greater good. The whole requires protecting, not the individual.
Revan and I were the best defense for the galaxy. If only she saw, and embraced, the truth of her past.
Bastila, Malak can't hurt you anymore! I won't let him! She was choked with emotion, still dwelling uselessly on the ravages of pain I had endured at her old lover's hand. That wasn't the point!
That was hardly worth thinking on!
Those glimmers of truth, obscured within the gloom of Malak's petty mind-games, were what she had to see!
I felt the snarl on my lips, in my soul, as I dredged forth one of those cursed memories and exposed all of Malak's thoughts straight into the esoteric link that chained us.
...
"Are you certain Nisotsa is the correct choice?" I asked without preamble, stalking into the room.
Revan was leaning over a transcript, masked and robed despite the anonymity of her chambers. She struck a deathly beautiful figure, but there were times I hungered for her to drop the disguise, even if only between the two of us.
Opportunities for intimacy were so rare, these days. So inconsequential with what we had to face. But a corner of my soul mourned regardless.
"Jorak Uln will shape the adepts I require on Korriban. Nisotsa shall recruit them for him." She did not look up, merely tapped one gloved finger on the techJournal in front of her.
I knew the production of the Star Forge eclipsed all other priorities, but once Revan had taken the time to listen.
"Nisotsa will resent the transfer, Revan. You know she has been angling for another crack at command."
The mask lifted to appraise me. "Nisotsa is no commander." Revan's rejoinder was smooth, but implacable. "She excels at intelligence retrieval and discovery of Force adepts. That is where I shall utilize her."
Even midway through the Mandalorian Wars Revan had perceived that. But, somehow, I did not think my lover would have phrased it so clinically then.
Revan's head bowed back over the transcript. "Ensure her compliance, Malak. She will submit beneath a firm hand or a stroke to her ego. I trust you to handle her with alacrity, for we have no time or resources to indulge her desires."
We have no time for our own desires. It could have been my thought, or hers – whispering a warning directly into my mind.
...
Malak had thought my fealty to Revan would erode upon exposure of her true character. How she clinically withdrew from those closest to her. How she came to utilize their skills with detached ruthlessness, precisely like – as Malak took perverse pleasure in pointing out – my talents had always been used.
Perhaps he believed that in showing me thus, I would no longer have faith in Revan's loyalty to me.
Malak had never understood.
Nisotsa. A horrified murmur. She turned from me in the end.
Revan had mourned Nisotsa Organa's death on the Leviathan, without even remembering the woman. But the Revan of old knew that friendship was an extravagance true leaders could not afford.
Loyalty had to be absolute, whether induced by fear or respect. The fickle bonds of camaraderie could only extend so far before they became meaningless.
...
"Remember me as I was."
"What?" I looked back to Revan, but her mask still faced the anonymity of space.
"Talvon's last words," she elaborated. Her voice was cold. "He made a fine Jedi Knight, once. Remember him as that man, Malak. Not as the failure he became."
She turned fluidly from me, silent as a wraith, pale skin marked with Sith-black and fingertips tarred with brown blood. In one smooth motion, she leaped down from the viewing platform.
Had her words been wistful? Nostalgic? No, I decided. That was merely my own frail longing for the woman she had once been. The Supreme Commander of the Republic might not have had the fortitude to cut down a monster of her own creation, but Lord Revan certainly did.
What about you, Revan? Will you remember Talvon Esan, insane Sith commander or revered Jedi hero? Is there any room left in your heart for that, or am I to do your grieving for you?
...
Talvon. I killed him.
Executed. You did what was necessary.
I... I had to. I could hear belief in her words. Talvon's death didn't strike the same echo of devastation that Nisotsa's had. But I don't know why...
To prevent another Telos. You kept your eye on the end game, Revan, so other sentients could enjoy the fragility of emotionalism. That is what makes a true guardian – knowing what to shape into a weapon, what to cut down, and what to leave behind.
...
"She has gone."
Revan's two lightsabers crashed against my single blade. I thrust back in a show of strength; the second our weapons no longer crossed, one hand dropped from my hilt to clench tight in the air.
Revan's choked gasp was satisfying, but it did not last long. I launched sideways, already anticipating her counter-attack-
Needles of piercing hot pain engulfed me regardless.
"Too predictable, Malak." There was a measure of mirth in her voice that galled. It took me only a thought to fling her lightning away, but Revan's continued success in striking me was beginning to fray at my reserves.
"Who has gone?" I demanded, lunging forward to strike again. The creeping residue of electrical burn on my skin was both an irritant and an accelerant for my Force-use. Physical suffering. Passion. Resentment.
Emotions to fuel my own strength.
In the spiralling depths of our training spars, there were times where I did not know what was more potent: my love for her or my hate.
"Kreia." She grunted as she ducked beneath an overhand, sidestepping neatly before her shoto glanced off my armoured shoulder. "Focus, Malak. There are consequences if I keep slipping so easily through your guard."
I had always been the better duellist, but I had always been handicapped by my concern for her. It was a weakness I was slowly learning to shed.
"That old bat?" I snorted, as a rippling wave of poisoned energy flared from my fingertips. Revan, anticipating a concussive force, tensed as she guarded against a threat that did not eventuate. Her eyes widened as my blade knocked hers aside, and my boot kicked hard into her knee.
Revan stumbled back, almost falling.
"I never trusted her," I said, striding forward to drive home my advantage, but she launched herself into the air before my blade could strike. I could feel the taint of Force-poison seep into her veins before she dispersed it. Enough to have weakened her, at least. "Desertion though... shall I track her down for you?"
Revan landed silently behind me. As I turned in response, her flying lightsaber almost caught me side-on. Our robes were cortosis-woven, but we were duelling bare-handed. Minutes ago, my calloused fingertips had been trailing down the vulnerable skin of her neck.
A flare of animosity dawned deep within. In one stroke, she could have sliced through my hand, just to win a training bout.
"No," Revan answered, as her scarlet blade snapped home. "Kreia is no threat. She is perhaps the only one who truly perceives what the galaxy faces. She will have disappeared to fight against the threat in her own way."
"The only one?" The rage turned black, now. I was the only one, the only person who had been at Revan's side her entire life. I was her Shadow Hand, and both my power and my experience trumped some wrinkled, miserly, sarcastic old woman!
A cold smile curved Revan's bloodless lips. "Use your emotions, Malak. Do not allow your emotions to conquer you. Too many have become slaves to the Dark Side, and I would not have that same fate befall you."
...
Stop it! Damn you, Bastila, I don't want to see this! I could have- could have sliced his hand off- and for what? You think showing me this will induce my cooperation?
The horror etched deep within her. But I could sense the comprehension, also. A part of her still understood.
You created Darth Malak. At that point in time, he was still a capable, adept commander of your empire. He may have taken your lessons with resentment, but he grew strong from them.
He's a monster! Oh, there was fury in her, too. A flash of my own tortured screams flickered between us, and it stoked her rage. You can't be blind to that!
He is, now. Tools do not last forever. But you knew how to forge them, Revan, much how you forged yourself. You understood that emotions fuel the Force. That you can exploit emotion for the power you require, no matter how arduous or galling the task is.
I failed, Bastila! The Dark Side controlled me, not the other way around!
She was angry. She was devastated. She was beset with emotion, for the names and faces of a past all glimpsed through the bitter eyes of her old lover.
If Revan would just allow those emotions to break free, she would experience the might within our grasp, the full depths of what the kaiburr had to offer – and I could help her control it.
I would not fail like I did on the Leviathan. This time, I would embrace my own strength with the calculation required.
Perhaps that is so, Revan. But you- we- shall not suffer the same fate this time. You were close, Revan! So close to remaining the guardian you strove to be! Even at the very end, you almost – almost! – had the fortitude to undertake the most distasteful of actions to do what you must! You almost mastered it all!
No one can master the Dark Side! She didn't believe now, but she had once, and she would again.
We can! We can and we shall! Even if I have to force you-
...
Agony stabbed into my ribs. Even gasping for breath was torture. Punctured lung, perhaps. Snapped ribs. Right leg definitely broken with that last attack from Revan.
Fury roared in my soul. Like a wild rancor, flinging back his head and bellowing his discontent to the universe. My own rage burned and broiled, deeper than ever before.
And it was still not enough to overcome the Force holding me impotent against a starship's bulkhead.
Unholy chaos swirled a firestorm in Revan's black eyes. Her robe rippled and flared, her steel mask long discarded in a distant corner somewhere.
Inky shadows of death danced an eerie vortex around her as she prowled closer.
Rarely had I seen her so undone, and this time – directed at me.
"It wasn't me!" I growled, barely able to force the lie out beneath her invisible bonds. My lips were numb. I would go down fighting, but she did not even allow me that grace, held shackled beneath her will the way I was. "I knew nothing of Arran's actions, Revan! I have always been your shield! You know I would never betray you!"
"I know."
Like the flipside of a light plunging into darkness, the black aura of insanity extinguished into nothingness.
Her pale, Sith-marked face smoothed into calm.
She... knows?
Revan had always taken my fealty for granted; always, always, always – to the point where she would toy with my emotions and my pride and even my own men without bothering to divulge her motives. Perhaps she had none, beyond a sadistic delight in seeing how far her Shadow Hand would bend.
But at this juncture, I had actually believed she would open her eyes to the truth.
You can only push people so far before they push back.
"Arran's treachery on Deralia has left me with a problem, Malak. All my leaders are convinced you are implicated. Alaki, Saul, Sara, Jorak, Daelidar... even Yudan. They may not name you directly, but I know my men, and I am aware of what they do not say. Arran could not have worked alone."
Did I betray Bandon or Nisotsa now? Neither of them were particularly charismatic leaders, but she could pick the truth from their minds. If I toppled them to save myself, I would have to see to their demise personally.
Or, perhaps Revan could be convinced to believe this was all Yudan's doing, and wouldn't that be a particularly sweet twist of irony to see him fall by her hand-
"You are too useful for me to eliminate, Malak." Her voice had dropped to a rasp of a whisper, but there was no feeling in it. Her lightsaber pointed at my face. "But I cannot have my entire upper rank believe in any weakness of my will. Know that everything we sacrifice is for our cause."
I did not understand what she meant to do. Not at first.
And then, when I did, I still did not believe it. Even as the torch of pain against my face turned unbearable, and my screams morphed to struggling gurgles, the situation was simply incomprehensible.
But the pain incinerated everything away. Love, trust, loyalty... not that there had been more than a dying flicker of that left.
In the ashes of agony, only enmity remained. And it burned bright.
"I shall send in the medi-bots." Her words came from far away, from some nether-hell of hate I would send her to. My breath bubbled, struggled, faltered, and every remnant of consciousness not twisted in torment focused purely on drawing in oxygen. "I will find who was behind Arran Da'klor's treachery, Malak, and you shall have the pleasure of dealing with them."
There was a pause. Footsteps. I was lying in a puddle of my own spilled blood.
Like a mewling kit drowning in water, I was drowning in pain, struggling and failing to clutch onto the Force as it slipped from my helpless grasp.
"I trust you understand that I only act as I must, Malak. I cannot afford weakness, no matter where the blame for it lies."
...
Mal! Mal! NO!
It was him, Revan! That was your mistake! I screamed the words at her, willing her grief to die beneath the anger I knew she was holding back. You should have killed him at that juncture, innocent or not!
She was swimming in self-desolation, but the turgid depths held passion, too. Innocent-
For he was guilty after all! He turned Nisotsa Organa against you! Arran Da'klor! Heroes from the war you won, tools you could use to defend the galaxy!
I didn't believe he could be guilty. Her words choked. With shock, with horror, with budding comprehension. Was that comprehension discerned from Malak's memory, or her own? I didn't believe he was behind Deralia, the first time. Arran said I would never know-
"You will never know." The faint sneer of a dying man's voice, the echo of a memory I had never seen before. "You will always doubt your followers, my Lord Revan."
The bond between us thickened with ice. And the kaiburr danced fire through us both. I no longer knew if the Force was originating from me or her, but in the end, the strength was ours combined. If she would simply stop flailing about-
Use your emotions, Revan! Do not allow them to master you – for that was why you let Malak live, was it not? Even believing in his innocence, had you been truly objective you would have known his death sent a more powerful message than a dismembered jaw. That one moment of impaired judgment showcased your remaining weakness – and allowed Malak to strike again.
But it was Malak after all. The horror morphed into disbelief, which was slowly transforming into something more feverish. He cost me Arran Da'klor.
"You're right, we were loyal once." The same skein of memory combed dead fingers through Revan's mind. As intertwined as we were, I heard all she did. "And you burned that out of us, burned it out of us all."
Burned it out of him... but was it my doing or Malak's? Something clenched in the bond. A fount of fury – held back by the jaws of determination, perhaps, but the turmoil of the past was eroding her will. And her passions would melt it away. He turned Nisotsa-
"Redeemed... what a joke." Rasp of a woman's voice. "What a frakking joke."
I had no choice but to kill her by then.
Malak turned them against you for no reason greater than his own ambition. He considered blaming Deralia on Nisotsa. You saw that. He thought to implicate Yudan-
Oh, there was the anger, belching into life, screaming a roar in synchronization with the kaiburr.
Some of the fury was directed at me, but that did not matter, for Revan could no more lash out at me than I her.
Malak betrayed you. I would hammer that home until it evoked the rage such treachery deserved. You, the one he had sworn to protect and shield and follow. Even as a Jedi Knight he sought to play you-
"Beautiful Bastila," Malak had murmured, that one time I met the famous Jedi Knights from Coruscant. Knight Malak Devari, gazing soulfully at me and kissing my hand just to make his childhood love jealous.
I could sense her recoil at that thought, and her dark emotion grow.
If not for Malak, you would stand at the helm of an empire now, holding firm against the worst threat the galaxy has ever seen! The death of the Force, Revan. The death of the Force!
I rolled the dice... but it wasn't enough-
There's two of us now! With a stronger Force-bond than any master has ever seen! What is that, but a sign from the Force itself? Why else was I placed in a position to save you, but for you to save the galaxy once more?
A ghost of a woman flickered through our consciousness. A robed Jedi, yellow double-blade in hand, as she walked shakily past two corpses. I- Revan- we could sense her fear, and it was vaguely amusing in the way a bleating tach could be; but there was surprise, too, as she lifted her lightsaber and stepped close with a fierce expression conquering the fear on her face-
Me. You remember me?
Revan did not hear, caught in the tailspin of past emotion. I will test the psychic strength of this Jedi paragon before capturing her. But I won't draw it out too long. There is a person responsible for her presence, here, and only one knew of my current location.
Revan-
I trusted him as no other, and he dares to send Jedi after me?
Revan, come back-
He would ruin everything we fight for, all I have sacrificed. All, all, ruined! Her growl turned visceral. A thousand needles of raw power pierced through me, as the rush of a Force high engulfed the bond. A tempest of black rage roared in our minds. He betrayed me. And I lost everything!
So take it back! I gasped, we gasped, and I could no longer see the separation of our thoughts. Do not let the galaxy turn into sectors of dead worlds. Reclaim what was yours, what is ours, and defend the galaxy once more!
Everything upended in a rush.
I choked, the physical making itself known, lying on my back as my body burned. Veins pumping blood through limbs that suddenly felt engorged, every beat of my heart thudding like a jungle drum in my hollow chest.
-power. power. power-
Revan shone white in my senses, glowed black to my eyes, as I turned to sight her.
There was a movement from the wall, from the Twi'lek, as he slowly lifted his head off the ground to stare at Revan. He was no concern, not now that Revan understood. After all, he had been her faithful subordinate, when she was both light and dark.
Visible black wisps danced around Revan's kneeling form. Her head bowed. The tunnel of psychic connection that joined us was iced in black permafrost.
So cold... but our pool of power was fathomless. The Force ricocheted, echoed, doubled back on itself, and amplified into sheer magnificence. The fury in Revan's soul had been quenched by a calculating glacier of the night.
One she could rule, this time. One we could both master – and save the galaxy along the way.
xXx
Author's Note:
Coming up next: What happens afterward in the meditation chamber.
A Republic vanguard's worth of thanks to kosiah for the beta.
Yes, there is an interesting backstory to Morgana Balon's parents. This fic probably does not have the scope for it. Maybe one day I'll write an off-shoot.
