Nexus: Catharsis


Zaalbar:

...

"(What is that smell?)"

My nose wrinkled in distaste. Ahead of us, Chuundar raised a cautious paw as he halted beneath a low-lying tangle of kshyyy vines.

"(Our burned-out campfire)," I answered slowly. But that wasn't quite right. I knew the scent of soot well. Any Wookiee worth his chest-fur did. This odour sat thick in the humid air of the Shadowlands, acrid and rancid and pungent with ash.

"(Wildfire)," Chuundar muttered, his voice a warning, as he turned his shaggy head to stare intently at the pair of us. "(You rested in the thicket ahead, cubs? You turned over the remnants of your cooking embers?)"

"(Yes)," I assented, answering for Drawwlog. But our friend had turned away, his young shoulders bunching uncomfortably.

That morning I had been the first to leave, freshly rested beneath the guard of Drawwlog's watch. As I padded back toward the Rwookrrorro waypoint, my sole concern had been luring the katarn that had chanced upon us into the waiting might of my elder brother.

I had left Drawwlog behind to deal with the dregs of our night's habitation.

Chuundar huffed, loping forward again. The harsh air scraped against my throat as I followed.

"(I was in a hurry)," Drawwlog whispered beside me. "(I was worried there might be more katarn)."

My stomach, empty but for the wasaka berries we had foraged the previous day, lurched at his quiet words.

Drawwlog and I were not yet grown enough to prove our mettle against the might of our planet, alone and unaided, as the gods bid all young warriors should. This excursion was merely a trial; a practice-run Chuundar had successfully argued for, despite the oddity of sending two younglings out alone without the watchful supervision of an Old One.

My brother had a keen eye and a sharp mind that would serve him well as chieftain, one day. He understood the need for our friend to test himself away from the shade of his autocratic sire, who would no doubt preside over Drawwlog's coming-of-age.

"(You did not see to the campfire cinders)," I said to Drawwlog, my words heavy. Ahead, I saw my brother's muscular form tense as he caught my words.

"(Stay here)," Chuundar barked at the both of us. With an irritated grunt, my brother bounded forward and soon slipped out of sight.

I did not drop Drawwlog's gaze.

"(Fire does not catch in the Shadowlands)," Drawwlog replied, but it was a feeble protest, and judging from the worry in his dark eyes, even my young friend realized as much.

Over Drawwlog's shoulder, beyond the nearest wroshyr, I caught the first glimpse of blackened, shriveled gorse.

Our home was a humid environment. Moisture hung dense in the air, even in the depths of the Shadowlands. The sap of the wroshyrs ran thick through branches and roots alike, and the musty soil held water enough to sustain all manner of life that called Kashyyyk home.

But fire was always a danger in any forest.

"(My father...)" Drawwlog muttered. "(If this is my cause, he will never allow me...)"

He did not finish the statement. Drawwlog's sire had little faith in his youngest cub, and no patience with failure of any kind. Let alone the sort of mistake that no true guardian of Kashyyyk should ever make.

"(It is out)." I heard my brother's words before the pad of his returning feet. "(No wroshyr caught, of which we can be grateful. But the fire damage is extensive enough that there will be questions)."

Drawwlog's head drooped. The charred scent of burnt tinder irritated the inside of my muzzle. Chuundar, drawing close to us, bore streaks of soot marring his shaggy coat.

I caught my brother's gaze above Drawwlog's bowed head. Castigating Drawwlog for idiocy would aid no one, but I wondered if Chuundar felt the desire to do so regardless.

I did.

"(It was my mistake)," Chuundar said after a lengthy pause. "(A pack of katarn took us all by surprise, and I chased you both away to safety. By the time I returned, it was too late)."

"(Chuundar-)" Drawwlog gasped.

"(Go. Look)." My brother's voice had turned hard. "(See the ramifications of your actions, cub, and then we shall never speak of this again)."

Drawwlog ran, and I stared mutely at my brother.

"(Perhaps it was too soon for you both to come here)," Chuundar muttered. "(But what is done is done. Drawwlog needs the chance to grow from beneath the bough of his ancestors)."

"(You will tell Father?)"

"(No)," he answered, voice sharp. "(I will tell no one. And neither shall you, Zaalbar. Freyyr would not understand, and Drawwlog's sire would not forgive. The truth of today shall stay silent as the wroshyrs)."

...

The odour was acrid against the back of my throat.

The mighty wroshyrs in my mind slowly dissolved as the grind of pain made itself known. My forearm was numb. Somehow, I knew that was a bad sign.

I gasped in a wintry breath that smelled of ash and tasted of death. It was not quite the same as wildfire in a forest, no; I could recognize the difference now. This was the residue of ozone upon the air, mingling with charred organic material-

Jen!

I lurched off the floor as awareness scalded through my body, overriding the deep lance of pain that bordered on debilitating. We had been facing Bastila Shan. Jen had been talking- arguing- with her bond-sister, before Bastila had done something to her and then I was thrown back-

I was barely aware of my own unsteadiness as I gazed in horror upon the scene in front of me.

The air was iced with cold. The scent – I knew it now – was the taint of foul electrical discharge. This was nothing like a Shadowlands bushfire.

This was everything like the Leviathan had been.

Madclaw madness.

The slam as cauterized durasteel landed on the ground ahead was loud, but the blast of frigid air from beyond was worse.

"(Jen!)" I howled, unable to see ahead, my arms full of Carth Onasi and my shoulder weighted with Canderous Ordo.

"Whoa!" Mission cried, having followed Jolee Bindo through the hole he had made in the welded lilac hatch. "Jen- what's all that black stuff- Jen, are you okay?"

I leaned against the wall, unable to bend through the makeshift entrance without dropping the comatose pilot. My nose wrinkled in immediate disgust; I had to fight the urge to gag against the rancid stench of scorched hair and flesh.

"Jen!" Juhani gasped. She was deeper in, having entered first with the old man. "Jen, are you alri-"

"Stand back!" Jolee Bindo's voice was loud and sharp with an alarm I had never heard from him before. "All of you, get back, now!"

A low voice I did not know murmured something in reply.

"Juhani, you must take the others back to the ship," Jolee Bindo ordered. "Do it now, child!"

The Cathar protested something, but Onasi's cub heeded the old man, clambering back out through the hole. Mission followed, and as she retreated behind me I finally caught a clear glimpse into the chamber beyond.

Jen was kneeling, surrounded by an aura of darkness. Threads of madclaw black licked flames around her frozen figure, like spirits from the netherworld resurrected to conquer her mind and body alike.

The fur on my neck stood up in shock.

"Do not come near," the same foreign voice from before ordered, quiet as the night, commanding as nature itself. "I will be alone. I will it."

My soul howled at the sight of the woman I was indebted to, bowed beneath the weight of a foreign anathema I could not comprehend. Slips of inky black wisped about her, the shackles of a curse she could not chase away.

This is what Mission meant when she said Jen was once Darth Revan. I knew it only as a title of the baseborn Sith, but now I understood the name went deeper. The roots of a perfidious evil had risen forth to claim Jen Sahara once more.

On the Leviathan, Jolee Bindo had drawn Jen Sahara back to herself. The Human male who knew the Shadowlands like one of my people, the hermit who was more of a Jedi Old One than he would admit. Jolee Bindo had spoken words of Jedi counsel; words I had not heard, words I could not replicate.

Jolee Bindo was not here this time. Only I, and...

Beyond Jen Sahara, standing preternaturally still next to a vast viewport window, was her lost bond-sister.

Bastila Shan was facing away, a figure netted in flowing black, garbed as the Jedi I had once travelled with would never have desired.

Neither of them moved nor spoke – lest not so I could hear. But, somehow, I knew words were flowing between the two of them.

I must reach Jen Sahara. I felt my hackles rising; whether at the unnatural cold or in stark trepidation, I did not know. I have not the wisdom of a Jedi, nor the strength of a magic bond, nor even the easy camaraderie of one such as Mission. But I must try. This madness is not what the woman I vowed my life to would wish upon herself – or upon her bond-sister.

I took a step forward, wholly uncertain of what I would do or say, but only knowing that I had to do something.

As I did so, however, I caught the slightest flicker of peripheral movement.

My limbs stilled, my head turned, and my gaze darted sidelong to see Yudan Rosh in a ready crouch, one golden limb raised high at Jen Sahara's back-

"(No!)" The roar was feral. My muscles bunched into a frantic leap toward him. But I was metres away, and no shield against the Force. "(You cannot!)"

The Twi'lek's fist released, fingers spanning out in invisible attack. I skidded mid-sprint, glancing back wildly to Jen, praying she had guarded her back against an ally that everyone else had doubted-

She did not fall. She did not stand. She did not turn around to face us.

Whatever Yudan Rosh had attempted, it did not work.

"Stasis, Yudan?" Jen Sahara's voice was naught more than a murmur, deep and throaty like the purr of a rancor. "I expected a lightsaber in the back."

Inaction held me still; I no longer knew if I should go to Jen, or stride forward to knock the duplicitous Twi'lek flat.

"I will not allow you to fall again, Revan." Yudan's voice had lowered just like hers, but when I looked to him, I saw the palpable cast of defeat cross his face. His outraised limb shook, clenched, and then fell down to grasp his lightsaber.

Perhaps we fought for Jen in our own way, but Yudan Rosh could not win. Not like this. All he would accomplish would be to further damn the woman we both swore to follow.

"I know," Jen whispered.

Like a loose vine swinging back and forth in the depths of darkness, I once more stared uselessly at her bowed figure.

Further ahead, Bastila Shan had whirled around, flurries of dark material spinning around her like a wyyyschokk's web. Her skin was chalk-white, and her eyes blazed with the foreign hue of corruption I had seen in the alien irises of Yudan Rosh. Bastila Shan had always been lithe for a Human, but the woman in front of us now bordered on skeletal.

Bastila's mouth tightened.

"Revan. We have spoken enough," Bastila clipped out. Her foreign accent was as crisp as I recalled, yet there was a hardness to it that was unfamiliar. "You must deal with your… your allies, and then face Malak alone. I cannot follow. From a distance I shall lend you my strength, all that we have together, and he shall be defeated."

I stepped forward.

"(Do not turn against her, Yudan Rosh)," I rumbled in the softest whisper I could muster. I took another stride, allowing the man the advantage of my back as I focused only on Jen. "(Honour can come after dishonour. Jen Sahara taught me that. Strength after corruption. Have faith in her, as she does in you)."

"Revan," Bastila prompted again, this time in overt irritation. "You understand enough. Your old general just assaulted you. We cannot accommodate unnecessary sentiment – not even yours."

"(Jen)." I was near her, now. I could see my own breath puff in the arctic air. Around her, the obsidian flickers held steady, like an encircling wreath of death. "(Please. This is not the way)."

But what words did I have to offer? Nothing more than the simple, stark utterances of a sentient that had no comprehension of the struggles one like her faced. All I had was a Wookiee's understanding of right from wrong.

Jen Sahara did not answer.

Bastila was glaring at me, now, as I stepped around to face Jen.

"I shall abide no interference, Wookiee," Bastila snapped. "Abide by the terms of your life-debt to Revan and obey our will, or face the consequences."

"You will leave him alone."

Jen's voice was not loud, but the words still crashed implacably throughout the room. Her chin snapped up, and the turn of her profile was angular, almost sunken, in her strange hairless cheeks.

"Revan, the galaxy-"

"Will wait a minute. He has earned the right to speak his piece." Jen glided to her feet smoothly, silently, turning to gaze upon me. Her eyes... I had never been adept at reading the emotions of aliens. Yet the dispassionate way she viewed me through those darkened green eyes caught at my heart.

The woman I had travelled with for so long looked like she did not even recognize me.

"This is the only way." Her lips barely moved. "There is more at stake than we knew when we first embarked upon this quest."

Jen Sahara's words were slow, measured, and laden with a deep grief I could only presume stemmed from the horrors of her past. My gaze dropped to the flashes of nightfall that danced around her. I did not know if they were a manifestation of the corruption that shackled her, or simply an indication of her state of mind.

"(I know little of your Force, Jen Sahara)," I began slowly. "(I can only say what you and Bastila Shan and Juhani and Jolee Bindo have told me. This Dark Side is not a tool that can be controlled. You may have the right intentions, but when you start compromising your own honour those intentions change. You have been down this path before. You know where it ends)."

Jen jerked a hand upright, in the abrupt and universal motion for halt. It took me a brief moment to realize the gesture not directed at me – but at Bastila Shan.

I could not forget the mind-talk those two were capable of.

"(Your bond-sister would have you reclaim this factory)," I continued. I wondered what Bastila Shan was murmuring in Jen's mind. Lies? Threats? Promises? "(What will you sacrifice to do so? Will you destroy the starships outside that you vowed to fight for? Will you kill the allies that have been at your side and bled for your cause? Will you forsake everything, Jen Sahara, only to find you have become what you once were?)"

Jen's closed expression did not change, not at my words. But a second later, there was a flinch, and those heavy eyes shot back to Bastila.

Her bond-sister, whispering words of poison I could not hear.

"Sacrifice is required for a higher purpose," Jen said hoarsely, but she was staring at Bastila, now. "You must understand that, Zaalbar. I... sacrificed everything I held dear, last time, for the sake of the whole. All, all ruined..." The words trailed away, lost and bereft as a winter's breeze.

"For the sake of sentiment," Bastila cut in. Her eyes flashed the bright yellow of sunstone. "Because you trusted where you should not. This time it is different."

"(Is it?)" I whispered. "(Would any Force master truly agree with that?)"

"You know nothing, Wookiee!" Bastila snarled, face contorting in a fury that was as sudden as it was unbridled. One hand shot up, fist clenched, and for an instant I felt a tight band compress around my neck-

"I said no!"

Something frozen lashed through the room.

The pressure against my throat dispersed as if it had never been. Jen made no move that I could see, but the thwarted scowl on her bond-sister's face was answer enough.

"We have the power this time, Revan." Like the flick of a switch, Bastila Shan retreated into an eerie calm. "We have the strength to use it wisely, and the understanding to keep our focus on the true threat. Revan-"

She stopped talking, but the two women were still fixated on each other. Words, unspoken, were travelling between them, and I had the sinking image of Bastila's will slowly entangling Jen's like a kshyyy vine-

...

"(We are the guardians of Kashyyyk, Zaalbar)," Chuundar rumbled. "(And the wroshyrs are the pillars)."

We stood together in the depths of the Shadowlands, quiet and still as the area around us.

There was a balance in nature that Wookiees understood well, and the harmony of the encircling kshyyy vines as they grew upon the mighty wroshyrs were but one example.

Sometimes, though, that balance was upset.

"(Tell me, brother, what do you see?)"

I frowned, staring at the massive hulk of the wroshyr. Everything from the tiniest dirt-bug to the ancient trees obeyed the cycle of life, and even the centuries-old wroshyrs would eventually succumb to old age or disease. Rough hanks of bark would erode, then, and the symbiotic kshyyy creepers would no longer encircle the outer shell, reaching for the skies with the aid of Kashyyyk's pillars.

No, instead the kshyyy found cracks in the trunk to snarl deep inside, slowly strangling the inner bark, tainting the wood-flesh with sap-poison as the vines hastened the inevitable.

The tree might take generations to die, but a decomposing wroshyr could make a gigantic mess.

"(This tree is not old)," I said slowly. "(Nor do I see any sign of disease, bar the blackening tar of kshyyy sap breaching its trunk)."

Chuundar huffed in approval. "(Come)."

He began loping around the girth of the colossal tree; which, down here, bore little evidence of the kshyyy vines that had overcome it hundreds of metres above. The creepers were no danger to Wookiees; in fact, their tough, sinewy fibres made them a staple in many of our constructions topside. But their prolific nature made them a danger to much of Kashyyyk's foliage – even the wroshyrs, if circumstances allowed.

"(There)." Chuundar raised a paw, indicating a jagged hole in the trunk only a scant few metres from the ground. I frowned again, staring at the edges of thick bark as the hole narrowed half a metre deep into the tree. I knew not what manner of event could have dealt this damage – but I could clearly see it was not a mark of decrepitude.

Near the base of the hole, a pale creeper – so thin and weak, down here in the lightless Shadowlands – had wormed into the inner hull of the wroshyr.

"(This happened some time ago. An accident. Perhaps some off-worlders trespassed here to hunt our big game, and crashed their vehicle into the wroshyr)." Chuundar's voice was calm. In his stead, my father would have been full with invective at the blight of foreigners, who found their way to Kashyyyk from time-to-time. "(But the tree is sound, Zaalbar)."

Chuundar reached down, one paw trailing the thin kshyyy vine down to the soil, before yanking it out by the roots.

"(I thought Father always left the kshyyy vines alone?)" I ventured, as my brother began applying a ground paste of fermented wasaka leaves to the tangling fibres of the kshyyy. It was one of the few substances known as toxic to the pervasive plant.

There was a rumble of amusement from my older brother. "(Father believes in allowing nature to find her own course. I think, sometimes, a guiding hand can help forge nature's strength. This wroshyr will remain a pillar of Kashyyyk for many generations yet)."

"(But it still bears the same weakness for a kshyyy to find)."

"(The trunk shall thicken and scab over in time, Zaalbar)." Chuundar shrugged, wiping his paste-stained fingers on his flank. "(In the interim, we can stand watch. After all, we are Kashyyyk's guardians)."

It was a more proactive approach than our chieftain would take, but I found myself nodding in agreement. Chuundar snorted, before clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"(Our father is wise, and it behooves you to listen to his words. But he is not all-knowing. Take heed of your elders, but learn to grow your own wisdom too, little brother)."

...

Was Bastila Shan the kshyyy vine slowly strangling Jen Sahara's will? Or was it the dark side of their Force, intertwined in that insidious mind-bond, that fettered the both of them?

"(My brother was once good and righteous, Jen Sahara)," I said softly. "(The Wookiee I faced a few weeks ago was not the same brother I revered. Yet there was a time when Chuundar's honour was greater than his ambition)."

I did not think she was even hearing my words. Jen, still, had her eyes locked with her bond-sister.

An angry hiss cut through the chamber as Bastila Shan took a step closer. "Revan, this wastes time we cannot afford! The petty squabbles of some meaningless individuals-"

"(Chuundar did not wake one day a villain!)" I hollered, drowning out Bastila Shan's disparagement with the strength of my voice. "(He could justify every action, Jen. Every time he believed the compromise of his own integrity was necessary-)"

"The Wookiee is raving," Bastila snapped, her voice almost a growl. "Revan. This is of no import. Deal with him, so we can focus on what we must!"

I drew away from Jen to meet Bastila's vengeful glare. The battle was with her, I realized suddenly. With the tortured woman who had not even been on Kashyyyk. The one who no longer addressed me by name, whose poisoned eyes spat scorn and enmity and labelled me as nothing more than an obstacle to remove.

I understood, then, that I could not reach Jen Sahara over the acidic invective of the one chained to her.

And Bastila Shan was a Human I understood even less than Jen Sahara.

I huffed, drawing in a draft of air as I held the furious gaze of the fallen Jedi. "(My brother wrested control of the largest settlement on Kashyyyk, Bastila Shan)," I said, hurriedly searching for the words before she intervened again. "(Chuundar believed in the greater picture. He thought he was strengthening Rwookrrorro, and that sacrifices were a small price to pay for his vision of the future. Right to the very end, when he struck out at his father and brother alike to hide his own atrocities, Chuundar still believed in his own ideal – and could not see how it had warped along the way)."

Did Bastila Shan dare to ignore the parallels? How sacrifice would erode objectivity, even in the best of men, even without the pernicious nature of their Force influencing matters?

There had been a time when Chuundar had revered and loved our sire. My brother had believed in a better world, and no doubt envisaged Freyyr as part of it. Once, Chuundar would never have dreamed of exiling our father, of striking out at him, of silencing Freyyr by any means possible.

Jen Sahara had labelled the man dying behind us as Bastila Shan's own master. From what I understood of the Jedi Order, their masters raised Force-sensitive cubs as their own.

Riddled with blaster burns, Yudan Rosh had said. Vrook is your master! Jen had cried. Bastila, what did you do?

Sparks of furious white sprung to life, spitting and crackling around Bastila's clenched fists. At my side, the black glow dimmed. Bastila did not move forward to attack me, but I could read the desire to do so in the bunching of her shoulders.

"You dare compare the scrabbling of some backwater village with the fate of the galaxy?"

"(Look upon the body of your Jedi father!)" I roared, flinging a hand behind me.

Bastila Shan blinked. The jagged shards of white vanished, as if in surprise, as the woman stumbled back a pace.

But Bastila did not turn to look.

"(That is what you shall become, Bastila Shan!)" I cried, my forearm still gesturing to the wall behind us. "(How can you claim the greater good when your own actions belie it?)"

Her eyes narrowed. "Sacrifice-"

"Sacrifice is fundamental, Zaalbar." It was Jen, stepping forward to flank me. I felt the bottom of my stomach fall out with the weight of her heavy words. My head turned, slowly, apprehensively, to face Jen Sahara again.

Her face was drawn; blank and dead as if she were no more than a carved effigy of remembrance. Her lips did not seem to move, but Jen Sahara's strangely low voice was impossible to ignore. "Sacrifice is a truth I discerned during the Mandalorian Wars. Cede a few thousand to save five times that many. Grant the enemy ground if it gives you the overall strategic advantage. The Mandalorians are a warlike people, and we had to learn to fight the way they did."

All attention was on Jen Sahara, now. With a start, I realized the black dregs of her corruption had completely gone. Jen stood facing Bastila, eyes wide and dark and ancient as the galaxy itself. With a shiver of foreboding, I realized I had no idea if anything had reached Jen at all – or which side she now stood upon.

"Many thought the galaxy would be a safer place if the Mandalorians were driven to extinction." She continued speaking, voice as quiet as it was commanding. "Their culture encourages honour through combat, strength through the subjugation of others. But the Mandalorians are not the only warlike people amongst the stars. One could argue the Zabrak of Iridonia are just as bloodthirsty. Their love of violence blights the Zabrak species as a whole. Would peace not be more prevalent, galactically speaking, without the existence of the Iridonians?"

"(Jen, what are you saying?)" I rumbled, fists clenching in stark alarm.

"And we cannot forget criminal organizations like the Exchange. What do they offer, other than a means of encouraging the base desires of all who engage their services?" Jen Sahara's voice was monotone, hard as titasteel and just as implacable. "No, better to wipe every element of the Exchange from the galaxy. Czerka, too, if they keep dealing in extortionist trade and indigenous enslavement."

Bastila Shan was frowning, now. "Revan-"

"Disease is another factor, Bastila. Think of the rakghoul plague. Malak stopped at surface bombardment. Perhaps he should have bombed Taris into complete oblivion. Can you imagine the death toll should that virus ever be transmitted to other worlds?"

"Revan, you are being preposterous-"

"Am I?" Jen cut in coldly. "Differing cultures and beliefs breed friction, and it is far more efficient to stamp out dissent than inveigle oneself in any form of mediation that fails more often than it succeeds. Think of the whole, Bastila," she mocked. "Think of the galaxy, not the individual."

"Of course there must be a balance-" Bastila was spluttering, bright spots of red dawning on her pale cheeks.

"Yes." The word was a hiss. "Balance. There's the magic word. And where's yours? When you cannot even look upon Vrook's body?"

"That is not fair!" The cry was plaintive, but Bastila still did not look.

"How much do you sacrifice, Bastila? How far do you go?" Jen drew in a deep breath, and she turned to face me. Somewhere, between the blank expression and the green eyes that now blazed with emotion, I could once more see the honourable hero I had sworn my life to.

Jen's next words, barely more than a whisper, stuttered us all into silence.

"How far do you go, until you become the war?"

xXx

Yudan Rosh:

Have faith in her, as she does in you.

I stood silent and still, my will eroded by a Wookiee's simple loyalty, realizing that my faith was as much with him as it was with Revan. That, perhaps, Zaalbar's method of vanquishing Darth Revan was a redemption I had started to believe in.

She had returned. She had stumbled, perhaps even fallen... and somehow found her way back to her feet again.

The Force convulsed around Revan, an icy tidal wave of potential – once more held tight beneath an iron will. The power was deep, it was dark and all-encompassing... but it no longer owned her.

Revan glanced sideways, to acknowledge the Wookiee who embodied more wisdom than most Jedi I had ever known.

"How far do you go," she said softly to the room at large, "Until you become the war?"

Oh, Revan.

I heard a harsh intake of air as Bastila Shan struggled not to react. The latest paragon of the Jedi was younger than I expected, for all that I had seen her atop the Lehon holo-stand. She was shorter than Revan, and carried herself with an innate poise even while flaring with passionate fury. Bastila's rich brown hair was cinched back in tiny ornamental braids, leaving bare an aristocratic and unnaturally shock-white face.

So strange, to think that this slip of a Human had been the one to show Darth Revan such unwarranted mercy. It would have taken a special brand of devout courage... courage, that later faltered beneath the machinations of her own Order.

"The depth of power we can reach will hold us true, Revan!" Bastila's verbal riposte was more of a dying splutter. "You have seen this before-"

"And it's a load of kath crap I used to justify my own helplessness in the face of a horror I could not overcome," Revan broke in sharply, swinging back to stare solidly at her. "Bastila, all such power guarantees is that our darkness will simply be all the darker."

My jaw clenched. Fingers pressed hard against the grooves of Zhar Lestin's lightsaber. Revan recalled so little of her past, but the cursed Star Forge had evidently been bleeding back remnants to her. And despite that – or perhaps because of it – Revan now understood a truth that had eluded her before.

The Dark Side cannot be mastered without losing oneself.

I felt my voice return as I stepped forward. "No one in the annals of history has ever mastered the Dark Side and simultaneously remained true to the Light," I said in a low voice. Once again, I was entrenched at Revan's side. But this time – I hoped – it was a more conscious decision than in the past.

I would find my own path away from Revan one day. But not yet. Not yet.

Revan's head tilted ever-so-slightly in my direction, but she kept her attention fixed on the young woman Force-bonded to her. "It is the height of hubris to assume we can achieve what is patently contrary to everything the Dark Side entails," Revan said. "Your guards struck down Vrook. I highly doubt he was here to fight you, Bastila. How can you justify that with your goal of galactic harmony?"

The young woman flinched visibly. "He was- he was-"

"An inconvenience," Revan finished. Her voice softened. "I know. I mutilated the face of my own lover for the same reason."

Revan... remembers? She remembers that? The passion in her voice wasn't dark, but at that moment I worried just how close she was to breaking. Revan was reaching Bastila Shan, now, but would either of them recover from the fallout?

"Malak was guilty!"

"But I believed him innocent!" Revan roared. "I saw that cursed memory, Bastila! I cared more about losing face among my own damn subordinates than the well-being of the man who had stood by me since infancy!"

My breath caught. I had always imagined that Revan had known at that juncture...

"Balance, Bastila," Revan continued hoarsely. "I don't know where the frelling balance should be, but I'd slid light-years past it by then. While slicing off a lover's jaw was by no means the worst atrocity I enacted, perhaps it was the most personal." She paused to draw in a shuddering breath. "When you lose empathy for those closest to you, what do you have left?"

Bastila Shan did not answer. She stood stock-still, unshed moisture glistening in those flawed, sun-bright eyes that mirrored my own.

Revan's voice dropped to a gentle murmur. "Look at Vrook's body, Bastila."

The younger woman jerked, but she still refused to heed. Twin tears budded and fell, tracking a telling path down her pale face. "You are- you are forgetting-"

"The true threat?" Revan whispered. Like a sandcrawler, slowly but inexorably pressing her point home. "The scary danger we can't even define? The horror in the Unknown Regions? I claimed the Star Forge to fight against whatever it is. Who's to say that wasn't the enemy's plan in the first place?"

"What?" Bastila hissed in shock. The widening of her eyes said it all: that was a speculation that had never occurred to her. Or to myself. Or, I assumed, to Darth Revan.

"If so, then all I achieved, in the end, was to continue what Mandalore started. To further weaken the Republic – and the galaxy as a whole."

"No." Bastila shook her head wildly, delicate braids swinging, artificial light glinting against the betraying wetness on her cheeks. "No-"

"We don't know, Bastila. I don't know, and neither do you. All we have is broken fragments from my mind, and a handful of Malak's corrupted memories that he forced upon you. We can't trust either source!"

"The Star Forge is a relic of the Rakatan!" Bastila protested. "Their species is extinct! Whatever is beyond known space-"

"Yudan told me I learned of the Star Forge before I went to the Unknown Regions, Bastila," Revan cut in doggedly. With each word, I could sense the chaotic Force encompassing her harden, and the uncertainty around Bastila Shan grow. "So the knowledge was in my mind, when I rushed head-long to face something powerful enough to start the Mandalorian Wars." A harsh laugh escaped Revan. "Or maybe the Star Forge was purely my own decision. I simply don't know. But enlivening a millennia-old superweapon of the Dark Side to take on the Republic sure doesn't sound like the actions of a galactic guardian."

"You did it to save the Republic. To save the galaxy," Bastila whispered, her voice wobbling. "It was the only way to be strong enough to fight against- against- Dammit, Revan! If not for Malak, the galaxy would be stronger, more defensible, lean and war-hardened and ready to stand firm against anything!"

"I don't believe that anymore," Revan countered in a flat voice. "And I certainly wasn't thinking about the Republic at the end. Bastila-" She broke off with a sigh. "This place amplifies every insidious desire and destructive thought you have. It slowly warps your intentions and purpose. If you allow yourself to succumb – no matter what your end game is – then one day you will find yourself betraying everything you value. Because you no longer value it." A ghost of a wry grin twitched at Revan's mouth, but her eyes were still so damn bleak. "I guess the Jedi don't have it all wrong – and I rather think you know it."

"But-" Bastila swallowed, and Revan took a step closer. Little more than a metre separated them, now. "But everything you've- I've- done... it's all been because... and it's all..."

"Ruined," Revan finished. "I know. We did it to ourselves, Bastila. But that doesn't mean we can't try to make it right. That you can't find your way back to the person you were."

There was a painful ache in my soul. It did not escape me that Revan excluded herself from that last sentence. You are more like the champion you once were than you realize, Revan Freeflight. I yearned to say the words aloud. More than I believed could be possible.

"I- I-" the young woman stuttered, and another teardrop trembled on her lashes. "I am not sure I know anything anymore."

Revan snorted loudly.

There's my old friend, I thought in exasperated affection. Once more displaying her irreverence in the most dire of situations.

"I know that feeling well," Revan muttered. "But the one thing I'm certain of is that the Star Forge must be destroyed. For the sake of the galaxy, Bastila." Her words were wry, teasing. "For the greater good."

"You- I- you cannot-" Bastila broke off, voice hitching and shoulders shaking. With a loud sob, she abruptly dropped her head into her hands. "Damn you, Revan!" she cried, voice muffled and broken. "How can you jest- such serious matters- must you always-"

Revan strode the last step forward, and with a half-muttered oath, embraced her bond-sister fiercely.

The sense of amelioration was cathartic. My eyes closed briefly as I felt the inherent darkness around the two women contract. A victory like this wasn't won in a single conversation, but Revan was successfully holding the tide of calamity at bay. And Bastila Shan, I dared to hope, would prove strong enough to keep fighting the same demons we all did.

As the young Jedi prodigy fell to pieces in Revan's arms, I looked sideways to see the Wookiee appraising me.

"(Jen Sahara is unlike any sentient I have ever known)," Zaalbar rumbled in a quiet whisper. "(She is an astonishing individual)."

"I heard that, Zaalbar," Revan muttered, but she kept her arms tight around the sobbing Bastila. For all of Revan's levity, she sounded on the verge of tears herself. "Hah! You're the amazing one."

Personally, I rather thought they were both correct.

xXx

Bastila Shan:

"Go to Vrook," Revan murmured. "While there's still time."

"I can't." I detested the feeble whimper my voice had devolved into, the helpless shaking of my shoulders as I stood, impotent, in the embrace of a mind-damaged former Sith Lord. Oh, the absurdity of allowing myself to become so undone, of being unable to hold back the tide of mortification, of shame-

-you will lose everything. they will not forgive. and Malak will win-

"The Star Forge-" I mumbled brokenly. What is the right way? Revan speaks of balance and empathy, but when I have sacrificed so much already... How can I truly know if turning back is the right path?

-the right path is the one that ensures the galaxy's survival at any cost-

Well, I'm hardly the judge on what's right, Revan's thought nudged against mine. There was an almost soulless quality to her mental presence. But I think I'm the master of what's wrong. Trust me, Bastila. Trust me.

-you convinced her before. you can do it again-

"The Star Forge still calls." My eyes were squeezed tight, yet still leaking incriminating tears of unchecked emotion. My face, wet and sticky like a child's, pressed hard into Revan's shoulder. My heart stuttered and shook with uncertainty, and I felt more adrift and lost than I ever thought possible.

"Yes," Revan uttered, a hollow echo of fathomless grief. She pulled back gently, and I could sense the exhausted struggle within her as she scrambled to overcome her own pain. "Right now, it's telling me I'd murder for a cup of caffa."

My breath hitched, and I found myself frowning in nothing more than pure reflex against such impudent flippancy. "Revan-"

The faint twitch at the corner of her mouth forestalled my response. "Coping mechanism, Bastila," she murmured in wry apology. I was at once beset with a recollection of her muttering something similar, during that thwarted escape run that now seemed a lifetime ago.

Surely no more than weeks had passed. Days, even. Yet in such a short span of time, I had transformed into someone entirely different. I no longer knew myself, let alone what I would do next.

-save the galaxy. what else can you do? what else would any true protector do?-

All I felt like I could do was follow Revan's lead.

Revan stepped back, dropping her arms. Her eyes were dark pools of desolation, and through the bond ricocheted a vacant sense of emptiness, a pervasive desire to cede all purpose and drive.

The sentiment stemmed from us both.

The Dark Side offered seductive power and freedom from transgression. The Light demanded accountability even as it strived for the lofty heights of selflessness.

I simply wanted to surrender and let someone else look after the galaxy for once.

"The kaiburr is nothing more than your own thoughts, Bastila," Revan said gently. "Corrupted, warped, and louder than normal... but it stems from your own soul."

"I am not sure if that makes it better or worse," I whispered.

The smile on Revan's face was so sad. My own despair and self-doubt were choking me, but every now and then I sensed a glimmer of her disposition... if my soul was a turgid ocean, hers was a chasm of devastation that spanned planets. Impossible to quantify or breach.

Yet there she was, standing before me, somehow finding the wherewithal to do what she must. I had the awful supposition that the only thing holding Revan together now was me. My brittle fragility and failure to cope, compelling her back into the role of leader.

Or, perhaps, Revan Freeflight merely had the grit to keep on going, no matter what she had to suffer through.

"It is not anything but an explanation, Bastila Shan," the quiet voice of Yudan Rosh spoke. Another flawed, fallen sentient, standing aloof from us with a distant expression on his Sith-marked face. "The Star Forge... the Dark Side tempts you with your deepest desires. Some of us have learned the hard way that what is delivered is but a corrupted version of your original intent. Of course, your intent has changed by then, but in the end, what you desire is often not even what you truly need."

He blinked, as if startled by his own words, and his attention sharpened on Revan who had raised a brow in question. The Twi'lek smiled faintly. "But now I am waxing philosophical, and that is most unbecoming for a former Dark Jedi."

Revan snorted. "Well, I did say you liked to act on the tragic side, Yudan. Although I suppose you've earned the right." Her gaze darted back to mine. "Bastila. The kaiburr is calling you because you are allowing it. You're meant to be at least moderately proficient at mental guarding," she said dryly, before her voice snapped into a steel command. "So raise your shields."

My teeth clenched.

And like a padawan bowing beneath the will of a master, I did as I was bid.

"Go," Revan ordered, taking a step back from me. "Go and see to Vrook."

I stumbled forward, blinking back the blurriness that obscured my vision, vaguely aware of the Wookiee – of Zaalbar – leaning over the fallen body in brown that was crumpled against the sloping wall.

Did Vrook still live? Could he still be alive, after all those- those bolts-

The searing sound of my own words – shoot out his knees. Scrape him off the floor of my chamber. If he tries anything, kill him – mocked me with my own cruelty.

I could have ordered him away- no, no, he would not have listened- but surely I could have stunned him or found some other method rather than order those Force-cursed guards to butcher my own master-

Hot tears scalded down my cheeks as I collapsed next to the man who had mentored me since childhood. Vrook had always been gruff and distant – but he was one of the only people I had left in the galaxy, now that I had spurned everything the Order had taught me.

"(His wounds are serious)," Zaalbar rumbled from across Vrook's motionless body. Dark blood soaked into tattered robes, leaving them more crimson than brown. "(The torso one is the most worrying)."

It was impossible to halt the flood of unbearable shame.

"Bastila," Revan said, coming to stand next to me. "The old man risked everything to come here for you. If he's any sort of Jedi, he'd consider his life a fair exchange. Vrook would be proud of you, right now, for turning away."

"Proud of me?" I stuttered in disbelief. "Revan, I have failed at everything-"

"No, you haven't." Her voice was oddly quiet, and yet it silenced me regardless. "Because we're going to win."

I glanced up sharply; she had sequestered her mind from mine, a faraway look on her composed face, and a cool, steel edge to her presence in the bond. Perhaps Revan felt the weight of my gaze, for she looked back down at me with a faint smile.

It did not breach the hollow look in her eyes.

"Internal bleeding," Yudan Rosh intoned, walking closer. I could feel the strands of Force venture forth from the Twi'lek's grasp, investigative threads of energy that were well beyond any concentration I could currently muster. "He needs medical attention, and we have exhausted all supplies. My own prowess with healing was somewhat mediocre, even when I claimed the title of Jedi Knight."

Force abilities warped and changed with one's use of power. But surely, I could at least try-

"Draw him down deeper, Yudan." Revan's tone turned abruptly flat. "We're out of time. Malak is calling me."

I gasped, my eyes flying back to Revan, whose shoulders had tensed as she stared at the chamber's half-moon doors. What- what does she mean? Malak is calling her – how?

Revan sighed; a quiet slip of sound that barely registered. "It's time to move, and I need your skills elsewhere, Bastila. Vrook's survival will just have to rest upon luck."

"Luck," I mumbled brokenly, as the Force surged out once more from the Twi'lek. I fought against the inane urge to block the fallen man, even as I felt my old master subsume into a deeper, more stable, state of subconsciousness. "Master Vrook never believed in luck."

"Call it the will of the Force, then," Revan returned quietly. Her hand dropped to rest on my shoulder, a gentle prompt to leave. To leave my master, broken because of me. "Bastila, I need your skills out there. You can turn the tide around."

"Battle meditation," I whispered, feeling my eyes flutter at the thought. My entire being was fragmented into a hundred vacillating slivers of indecision, and even the thought of lapsing into normal meditation seemed absurd. "I- I cannot, Revan. It requires a level of concentration and purpose of mind that I simply do not have right now."

How could I play at being the Republic's puppet saviour again? After everything? It felt like hypocrisy of the worst sort.

"You can and you will." Revan's hard-edged command brooked no argument. "Because you must."

Only you can achieve this, Bastila. Revan's indomitable will hammered into me from all sides. The Republic has a shot at destroying the Star Forge, and that is the real victory today. I'll do my damnedest to get you out of here alive- but if I don't- if I fall against Malak, then we must make sure the Forge is taken out.

Despite everything I had considered and formulated in recent times, I found myself beginning to agree with her objective. Her objective, that had once been mine.

If the Star Forge is destroyed while we are on it-

Then we die. Yes. Revan did not even sound grieved at the thought – merely resolute. But the Republic will have a chance to rebuild. A chance to survive. If the threat is real, it has made no overt move yet.

The threat was real. That I was more convinced of it than the redeemed Darth Revan was absurdly ironic.

We blow the Forge, Bastila.

My head dipped in a nod.

I could not undo the travesty of my own actions, much the same as Revan, but perhaps- perhaps- we could begin to set things aright.

Revan. A low baritone punched into our conjoined awareness with the subtlety of a permacrete detonator. I will go after your little crew if you do not come-

A brief flash of psychic power flared from Revan, and the mocking voice was cut off abruptly.

My gasp was loud and harsh. Revan's eyes narrowed as my own widened in shock. Malak. His voice was familiar and frightening and loathsome, and had never entered my consciousness from such a distance before.

Malak was- was speaking into Revan's mind from afar- and how long had that been happening?

I knew how powerful he was, with the kaiburr's strength in his clenched fist, deep within the nexus of this place. That is part of why I strove to claim it for our own. Because I knew we could not be victorious otherwise.

No, no, I had been thinking of the galaxy-

"Bastila, you can spend your days berating yourself for a fall you had no chance to evade after-" Revan's voice was almost a growl. "After we win. But we're out of time. Leave Vrook, and-" she stopped, abruptly, frowning as she stared at the body. "Overconfidence," she muttered under her breath, glaring at Vrook.

Everyone is fallible. Revan's voice rang in my mind, but somehow I knew she wasn't speaking to me. Even you. Especially you.

I felt like I had heard those words before.

"Bastila," Revan said sharply, giving her head a little shake. "Stand up."

With a start, I remembered. The memory, sharp and brittle like broken ferraglass, of Darth Revan floating in that kolto tank while one master after another took turns apiece to stare at the comatose Sith Lord I had brought to Dantooine.

I had shared that recollection with Revan, during our desperate flight for freedom. So odd – and strangely sad – that what she focused on was Vrook's castigation as he had glared upon her stricken form.

"Leave the past behind," Revan was saying, as she pulled me to my feet. "I need you in the present, Bastila. I have faith in you. Just like you have always believed in me."

In that instant, I could feel the strength of her regard shine through our bond like a beacon of warm light.

"You had the courage and strength to face down a Sith Lord on her own flagship," Revan murmured, "Even when the corpses of Jedi Masters lay warm by your feet. This- this is no more than a hand of pazaak by comparison."

The smile on my face was tremulous, but the hope within, I thought, beheld a stronger core.

Whatever would happen to me later was of no import. Not now. My focus narrowed to one objective only: destruction of the Star Forge.

"Three fallen scions of the Jedi Order, standing against the might of the Sith Empire," Yudan mocked in a gentle voice. "Things are never dull around you, Revan."

The corner of Revan's mouth twitched, but she did not turn from me. "I will stand watch until you start, Bastila," she murmured. "But then I must go."

Revan gestured impatiently to the centre of the chamber, and as I began to move, I saw her gaze linger over the dismantled form of that dreadful robot. Her thoughts grew distant, once more, as she withdrew from us all, thinking only on her next steps. On what was required of her, despite the yearning desire to avoid what she must be anticipating as the most horrific encounter of all.

Malak.

As I fell to my knees, I glanced one last time over my shoulder. A thoughtful frown was pleating Revan's brow as she looked over Yudan and Zaalbar, before she took a deep breath in and her mouth edged into grimness.

I knew, then, that she meant to go alone.

xXx

Forn Dodonna:

::It has been a pleasure, Forn.:: Admiral Rickard Gant stared at me seriously through the holo-stand. His Core-bred accent was almost drowned out by the wail of his dreadnought's emergency sirens. ::Get as many of those Sith bastards as you can. I'll see you on the other side.::

"Rickard," I bit out. "Get yourself to the escape-"

Gant's holo-image winked out abruptly.

I allowed my eyelids to flutter closed for one second only.

"Sensors indicate the inertial compressor of the Astral Pride has been destroyed," a tech said, his inflection devoid of any emotion. Only the sharpest made it to my command deck; only those that wouldn't break in the face of death. "Thermal readouts indicate life support systems are failing."

Gant's Astral Pride had been in service longer than the Meridus. I never, truly, thought I would live to see the dreadnought's demise. I never thought I would hear Admiral Rickard Gant admit defeat.

Or Adashan, gruff old dinosaur that he was.

"Status report on the Meridus," I clipped out. Surrender was no option; I knew that as well as Gant. As well as Adashan. "Inform all Wing Leaders to evade any proximity to the break-up of the Astral Pride, and absorb all of Gant's remaining starfighters into our squadrons."

"Right away, ma'am."

"Epsilon Squad are surrounded," Commodore Tar'coya slurred, from his place next to the holo-topographic. He was pointing a stubby finger deep into the diaphanous map, near one of the needling fins of the Star Forge. "They made it near that cursed thing's turbines, but they're taking too much heat to do anything about it."

"Ma'am, our primary shields are down to forty percent," the closest tech said. His neighbour was busy muttering orders into his headset. "We've isolated the hull breach, but otherwise the Meridus is sound."

I had Gant to thank for that. He'd drawn the Astral Pride away, knowing it would tempt the advancing Sith forces into targeting either his flagship or my own, leaving one of us intact to direct the Republic vanguard – for whatever time we had left.

A fourth and final force had entered Lehon airspace some minutes ago, beneath the banner of a commodore who was as inexperienced as his fleet was small. The accompanying snubfighters had been immediately ordered to defend the Meridus, allowing my men to forge further ahead. I doubted not the commander's bravery: merely the longevity of his life, once the Meridus faltered.

I felt my lips thin as I struggled to tamp the bitter ash of defeat down. Oh, the Senate would rally more troops, no doubt; but this had been our one chance to strike while Darth Malak was on the backfoot, our one shot at blowing out the heart of his strength before the Sith had time to reinforce.

This battle was the epoch of the war, I knew. And between the initial assault of the scrambler, and the ongoing cancer of Bastila Shan's battle meditation, the outcome had been painfully obvious for some time.

I turned from the holo-stand, and strode firmly to Tar'coya's side. However it would end, we would go down fighting – for the Republic.

"Have they landed any damage?" I asked, frowning at the isolated group of the snubs swamped by almost three times as many. All other squads were too far away to assist; Epsilon were on their own. We simply could not afford to send them any of our dwindling fighters.

I knew when it was time to cut one's losses, but it never sat well.

"No," Tar'coya growled. "Damn bogeys were all over Epsilon the moment they got close. Although our losses have stabilized in the last few minutes – there! Another one down," he ended, as a red spark died beneath his finger.

"Leave Epsilon," I ordered curtly. "Order Rho and Tau squads to the ventral fin. They might have a chance while the Sith are occupied with Epsilon."

"Stabilized," Vandar murmured, thumping his walking stick gently on the ground. The Jedi Master had been oddly quiet ever since the Ebon Hawk had docked in the space station – and the uncertainty of allowing blasted Revan Freeflight free passage still sat uncomfortably within me. At the end, I had to concede her logic was sound: we gained nothing by detaining her at this juncture. If, against all odds, she actually prevailed, there would be opportunity to deal with her later.

The Jedi Order's time of exonerating their own villains had come to an end.

"Not the only squadron, I see, that has found their fortune transformed." Vandar had raised his stick to gesture at a group of green specks on the other side of the battleground. Adashan squad, the few surviving remnants from the old general's fleet, all patched together in one final fist of strength.

"Adashan Seven is down," the tech behind me reported. "Adashan Wing Leader reports all nearby bogeys cleared. They are free for another run at the Star Forge, ma'am."

"About time we had some flaming luck." Tar'coya's jowls were twitching. "Look, Rho's closing in already."

"Luck," Vandar echoed, but his word was a question. The little green Jedi had closed his eyes and, of all things, appeared to be humming.

"Send Adashan in to back up Rho and Tau," Tar'coya commanded, frowning as he submerged his stocky head deep within the translucent holo-map. "If they're fast-"

"Epsilon Three is down." Another clipped update from the consoles. "But he took out five marks first."

"I can see that," I said slowly, wonderingly, my eyes pinned on the remaining four Epsilon strikefighters that were taking an awfully long time to die.

"Done it, she has." Vandar's voice was strong, suddenly, and brimming with emotion. "Effects of battle meditation on our side, now, we are beginning to see."

"Vandar," I snapped, glaring at him, unable to believe the sudden burn of hope in my chest. "Are you- are you absolutely certain?"

"Battle meditation," Tar'coya parroted, jerking back to scowl angrily at the Jedi Master. Oh, Tar'coya had been riled when Vrook had absconded; even more so when he learned that Bastila Shan was working against us. Any more of the truth would likely set the veteran Sullustan off into a righteous rage for weeks.

Good thing Tar'coya had been otherwise occupied when the Ebon Hawk – and Revan – had been on the holo-comm earlier. I held the man in relative high regard, but Tar'coya did have a tendency to allow his biases to colour his objectivity.

Not that I could entirely blame him. Not when it came to Revan Freeflight.

"How come a wrinkled master of your supposed experience can't achieve what a traitorous young Human can?" Tar'coya growled, flashing his black eyes at the short Jedi Master. "It's ridiculous that no one else in your flaming Order knows how to waggle around this fancy meditation."

"No more than myth, many of us believed, before Nomi Sunrider rediscovered the art," Vandar replied in a calm, high-pitched creak. He dropped to one knee, then, and raised a three-fingered hand to his furrowed brow. "But help, at least, I can. My strength, I can send, to bolster Bastila Shan – if she will accept it."

The cryptic old master hummed again, before his eyes shut tight, and a golden glow of esoteric light began to radiate out from his crouching form.

To give my men credit, only two of the console technicians glanced Vandar's way, startled, before their attention snapped back to their work. Tar'coya let out a derogatory grunt – such a contrast from the adulation he had once levelled at the Jedi – and turned back to the topographic.

"Epsilon squad is down. But they- they wiped out all bogeys bar five. That won't be enough to stop Rho and Tau." The reports of my comm techs were always relayed in flat, emotionless tones – but this time I heard something new.

"Rho squads' going in for their first sweep on the ventral fin," another said. "Tau's holding the heat back; it could be a good run."

Hope.

"Vandar's right," Tar'coya admitted with a snort. "We're badly outnumbered, Forn. But we're beginning to break through despite the odds. Sigma are still active around the anterior fin. And, look- Rho and Tau are holding steady, they might be okay without Adashan squad. We could send Adashan in between the fins to aim for the belly of the beast."

I frowned, considering. Targeting the turbines, as we had been, would only halt factory production. There were generators behind the turbines we hoped to breach – as a means for destroying the superstructure – but we'd always known it would take multiple direct hits.

A quicker route would be blowing the massive transformer housed at the base of the Star Forge. Tucked away in the centre of the three massive prongs, and protected by turbo-laser defense matrices on all sides. Between the factory-powered lasers, and the swarm of Sith strikefighters, we hadn't come close enough yet to even try.

"Send out a Fleet-wide comm to all starpilots," I ordered suddenly. Morale, I knew, could sometimes achieve as much as the Force could. "Inform them that Jedi Bastila Shan is now empowering the Republic armada with her battle meditation. Tell them that today, we will see the fall of the Sith Empire."

Tar'coya frowned at first, and I could see his doubt over the wisdom of my missive lurking in his alien gaze. Beside us, Vandar Tokare crouched motionless, still encased in a mystical hue of light.

I lowered my voice to a murmur. "Many out there won't know she was working against us, Tar'coya. Many won't even know she was captured – and if they do, what they will glean from the transmit is that we have liberated her."

"Bastila Shan is a war criminal," Tar'coya growled. "Who is personally responsible for any number of our fallen today-"

"She is a young woman who has been held captive by a Sith Lord, Commodore." I allowed my tone to harden with displeasure. My men were circumspect, and professional – but I'd be an idiot if I didn't expect the closest techs to be listening in with half an ear. "Bastila Shan is a Republic hero, and has no doubt suffered through unimaginable horrors at Darth Malak's hand – all because of the Force abilities she used relentlessly in the name of the Republic. Be glad our strike team have recovered her, and be proud that she is still strong enough to fight on our side."

Tar'coya subsided, and his sharp nod, while not exactly cordial, did appear to be in grudging agreement with me. For even Tar'coya could admit that Bastila Shan was more hero than villain. That she could be forgiven, if not lauded.

The Force and the Jedi Order alike could damn me, though, before I allowed them to grant Revan Freeflight any form of refuge – brain damage or not. I may have denied her abilities to her face, but I'd known exactly who I was dealing with on the holo-comm. That had most assuredly been the same Jedi Knight I'd once known. The driven, passionate, powerful Knight who had fallen so dramatically.

If Revan had already rescued Bastila Shan, then it was a safe bet to assume she still grasped the same astronomical power.

"Send Adashan in to target the transformer," Tar'coya ordered, and I followed his command with a curt echo of approval toward the nearest tech. With Rho unleashing their first torpedoes at the ventral turbines, and Adashan swinging around to engage on a risky trajectory that might yield an even bigger payload, we were on the offensive for the first time.

We'd had no communication back from the Ebon Hawk, or from either Zeta snub that'd made it in with them. The statistician in me hadn't expected success; heck, the odds on any of them making it inside the Star Forge in the first place had been minimal.

But I'd been the one to approve the use of Zeta squad to cover the Ebon Hawk, despite Tar'coya's overt incredulity.

It hadn't been Captain Onasi's faith, nor Vandar's urging, that had convinced me to cede to Revan. No - simply that I had seen her nail too many reckless manoeuvres in the past, no matter what side she stood on. From rogue Jedi to Republic hero to Sith Lord to... whatever she was now.

If Revan toppled Darth Malak – her old second, her own creation – I wouldn't even be surprised, although I imagined Tar'coya would eat his own hat.

But Revan was too dangerous to let live.

Focus on the star battle, Forn, I chided myself, reigning back the wandering thoughts. One step at a time.

And as one of the techs confirmed a direct hit on the ventral turbine, and another rattled through a series of Sith snub casualties, the blaze of hope burned brighter.

There'd been a time when it had felt natural to have faith in Knight Revan. Now, as I stood knowing that no one in the brass would allow her survival, it was surreal to recognize that my faith in her was still there.

xXx

Revan Freeflight:

A hard knot in my chest eased when I sensed the first fingers of Force stretch out from Bastila's kneeling form.

My soul was ground away; worn down and brittle, like a hollow echo of something that had once been whole. If I let myself pause, I could still taste the uncontrollable rage from earlier, mingled with the frigid floe of calculation that saw the galaxy as nothing more than a game board. A dejarik match to win. A round of And'zhai runes marked out to obliterate any who stood against me.

It was a struggle to conceal the strength of my detachment from Bastila, and I wasn't entirely sure I'd succeeded. I'd pulled her back – but only because Zaalbar's words had reached me.

To think, that the analogy of a scramble for Wookiee chieftainship could be compared with what we face. I'd understood Bastila's derision, but the weight of Zaalbar's wisdom had hit harder.

Golden threads of attachment; the links I had forged with all my companions. Anchors holding the dark at bay.

Jolee brought me back from the edge on the Leviathan. Carth did the same, back on Korriban.

And now I meant to face Malak alone.

A knock from behind had me turning: Zaalbar, leaning forward, to pound on HK's unresponsive back.

"(His actuator is damaged, I believe)," Zaalbar growled. "(A loose connection due to his crash against the wall)."

"So you try percussive maintenance," I muttered, recalling HK suggesting something similar once.

On me.

It'd seem like an amusing titbit of karma, if not for the fact that HK was my own, creepily comical, creation.

Zaalbar grunted, before thumping harder against the droid's torso. With a faint electronic hum, a crimson glow shot to life in the droid's photoreceptors. Zaalbar landed one last blow, before HK spun on a metallic foot, his working limb shooting suddenly upwards to point a weapon directly at the Wookiee.

"Threat: Do that once more, Mobile Carpet, and my personal safety parameters will override the master's no-kill criterion."

"(You will need a better weapon first)." Zaalbar huffed, flicking a dismissive paw at the upraised projectile launcher in HK's grip.

The barrel of the thing was warped – no, bent – almost a full one-eighty, turning the launcher into a more a work of abstract art than a weapon. HK's head cocked, as if in surprise. With a mechanical cluck of disgust, he threw the scrap weapon on the ground.

One second later, and a slim-line disruptor had retracted smoothly from the droid's forelimb.

"Statement: Master, while Upright Soporific is no longer an apparent threat to your personage, I point out once more the limitations of my abilities when I am forced to work within the restrictions of your dewy-eyed directive."

There was a soft footfall at my side. "Bastila Shan has commenced her meditation. Leave the Wookiee behind to guard her," Yudan murmured. I could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Malak's strength grows, Revan. It is time for us to face him."

My eyes drifted closed. Oh, Yudan wasn't going to like this.

"Exultation: My joy at facing a worthy foe such as Meatbag is tempered only by my inability to fire a weapon at him. Insistence: Master, redact that insipid no-kill list or my only option will be to physically hurl my disruptor at your former apprentice."

"What?" It took a second. I blinked, my jaw dropping open, feeling the shiver dance down my spine as HK's inference slowly made sense. That no-kill list he'd rattled off on Lehon- it'd been a litany of fleshbag synonyms- yet HK had always used those absurd nicknames not just as a taunt but also a unique reference to specific sentients-

And I'd created him during the worst part of my past.

My lips felt suddenly dry. "HK, who is on my no-kill list? Apart- apart from the recent additions."

HK's head cocked as he replied. "Answer: Karon Estharre-Ryn Enova, Zhar Lestin, Meetra Surik, Xaset Terep, Arren Kae, Yudan Kala'uun Rosh, Malak Devari."

"Huh." The air choked out of my throat. My eyes blinked furiously, as my own heartbeat thundered in my ears. I was so convinced that Malak would never... no matter what I did, I still had that blind, idiotic presumption that he would always follow me. I even made sure my own damn assassination robot wouldn't be able to take him out!

"Revan." A quiet murmur from a different ghost of my past.

I swallowed. "HK... how about you remove Malak from that list?"

"Confirmation: Already done, master."

"Karon and Zhar are on that list." The whisper of Yudan's voice was barely audible. "Revan, if that odd piece of machinery was created after you held mastery of the Star Forge, why would you order it to leave two Jedi Masters alone?" He sounded... odd. There was an inflection in his voice I couldn't decipher. "Perhaps I can understand Meetra, for she and Xaset were already powerless and exiled by then. But why would you... and who is Arren Kae?"

I raked a hand abruptly through my hair. "If you don't know, Yudan, then how the frell do you expect me to? I don't recognize half those people." Some of the names meant nothing. Yudan – and Carth – had mentioned Meetra before. A famous hero of the Jedi Thirteen. But... the name was a blank. "Sun and stars," I muttered, "Maybe I just wanted to take out Karon and Zhar personally."

And the black irony was, in the end, I'd witnessed both their deaths anyway. I could've saved them, if I'd only been quicker, hadn't run, or held it together-

"I don't- it doesn't matter," I said in a rush, feeling edgy and hollow and most of all – driven to start moving. "I've got to- I've got to go."

"(You mean to leave us here)," Zaalbar said softly, his voice a gentle burr. Zaalbar understood why, I thought. From the growing black expression on Yudan's face and the indignant jerk of HK's triangular head, I could see the Wookiee was the only one.

"Objection: Master, I question your erroneous use of the singular-"

"HK, you are to stay here and guard Bastila Shan from any danger," I clipped out gruffly. "No complaints. You'll take orders from Zaalbar or Yudan."

Or- or Bastila, I almost said. Almost.

"Revan-"

"She's the central game piece, Yudan," I uttered in a low, hard voice. My attention shifted deliberately to Bastila, making it obvious exactly who I was speaking of. In my head, Bastila had dimmed to a hum of shaky concentration. Shakier than I would've liked.

I didn't know how much Bastila had been swayed back to our cause, and how much was simply her conceding to me out of soul-wrenching exhaustion.

I let my gaze slowly recoil back to Yudan. "I'm just the distraction," I whispered to him. "Don't you see? If I can hold Malak at bay long enough for Bastila to turn the fleet battle around, allow the Republic a shot at destroying-"

"Revan!" Hands slammed down on my shoulders, fast and hard enough for me to jerk with surprise. The scowl on Yudan's face was as fierce as his gaze. "You cannot face Malak with such a self-destructive attitude, alone or otherwise!"

"No, you misunderstand-" I choked, and Carth's demand rang through my head like a bell.

Promise me you'll get out of there alive.

I blinked hurriedly, feeling my focus harden once more. "I'll do everything I can to end Malak and get us all out, Yudan. But my primary objective is the destruction of the Star Forge. First and foremost."

Yudan stilled. His hands dropped, as slowly as his nod of acquiescence. "I... understand that logic, Revan. But you cannot convince me that you are better off alone."

Yes. Yes, I can. My throat felt suddenly tight. "You vowed to kill me if I fell, Yudan."

Yudan's expression tightened, like he knew I had a play in motion, but could not see the game yet. "I did. I did and I shall. But we both know what a fall is, Revan. As does your Wookiee. A stumble is not a fall."

Somehow, I didn't think he would've allowed me that grace a week ago. Yudan's eyes flared as they stared into mine. There was a sharp ring of yellow bordering the pupil, that shone with the dregs of corruption, but in amongst it were flecks of-

"Blue," I whispered. Crystalline blue. "Your eyes. They're, they're changing-"

He blinked, and looked uncharacteristically startled before chuckling ever so quietly. "If I actually walk away from this place alive, I have no idea what the future holds for me." Yudan's face softened, turned gentle with affection. The look was so unfamiliar- like, despite the years of friendship we'd obviously had, before the torn veil of my broken memory, he'd still kept emotional guards up around me-

That was… an odd thought. It didn't really seem to make sense.

But one thing I did realize, down to the marrow of my bones- I trust him. Implicitly. I cleared my throat, still holding his gaze. "Bastila is… she is my weakness, Yudan. My vulnerability."

One brow quirked at me in mild amusement. "I do understand that, Revan."

"No, I mean…" I looked away, and my voice dropped to a whisper. "Our bond. It's strong… stronger than anyone ever expected. Bastila is convinced that if one of us dies, the other will follow. And she, of all Jedi, would know."

"Revan…" Yudan's voice was low, the whisper of spidersilk against granite. "Your droid and the Wookiee will guard her life with their own. I would be of more use-"

"That's- that's not all." I glanced back to him, and felt my teeth grit. "I've stumbled a lot. You don't know the half of it. Nisotsa… I- look. If I stumble in the heart of the Star Forge, I don't think I'll return. Not against Malak. Not next to the kaiburr. I'll fall once more to what I was. You vowed, once, to end Darth Revan." I saw his eyes widen slightly, as the implication hit. "Take Bastila out, and you'll take me out. Dark or light."

Yudan's expression turned stone-cold serious, and his intense gaze roved over my face, like he was memorizing it. I felt unbearably sad, then, that our past was one giant black hole in my head. I'd forgotten so much, and I found myself yearning for more remembrances of him.

"Go," he whispered. And, then, the slightest of smiles curved his lips. "Go do what you're best at."

I stepped back, already turning, thoughts already shifting further afield, as something slammed ungently against my mental shields.

Malak. I had to leave. His preference might be for me to come to him, but the man was an idiot if he chose to wait much longer. He'd already threatened my crew-

"(Jen. Go. We shall stand guard)," Zaalbar rumbled.

And for all that I had to leave, it only took one second to-

Zaalbar's furry arms cinched tight around my torso as I barrelled into him. The musky scent of snarled fur made my nose wrinkle, and I wondered idly when Mission had last wheedled him into a 'fresher.

It was the light, inane thoughts like that which kept me anchored. Kept me sane.

"Your life-debt is fulfilled, Zaalbar," I said, drawing back. "I'll kick your furry arse if you don't concede that."

The Wookiee huffed, but his head dipped in a nod. "(Fight with honour, Jen Sahara. Who you were does not matter. Be true to who you are now)."

"I will," I promised with a faint smile.

Then I turned. Drew deep on the Force, and left the chamber in a sudden sprint.

xXx

Author's Note:
Coming up next: Revan vs. Malak

A silo of foraged wasaka berries to kosiah for the beta.