Nexus: Fulcrum – part two


Revan Freeflight:

I was moving the instant the Force was unleashed.

Sprinting to the wall, power fuelling my heels, about to launch into the air-

The edge of Malak's charged assault skimmed across my back: a sharp jarring followed by a deathly lack of feeling. A jolt of electrostatic discharge married with something more insidious.

Keep moving!

I jumped high, high enough to clear the railing, feet landing on the walkway beyond with a thud as I ducked into an immediate roll.

A blast of heat spat above my head.

"This chamber is sealed, Revan!" Malak hollered from below. I was running again, following the arc of the walkway as it bordered the chamber. The crackle of electricity behind me hissed in my ear. "You cannot run from me. I will have your death by my hands this time!"

I have to keep moving! Force-induced lightning I could withstand, absorb, reflect- but the complete numbness down the skin of my back confirmed Malak's vortex of black-and-white was more than just lightning.

An image flashed through my mind – fingertips, shrivelling white with decay. Kylah's, on the Leviathan, when I had unleashed death upon her and held it back purely for my own enjoyment of the moment.

A dark, deathly power, that sort of drain. Somewhere, at some place and time, it seemed both Malak and I had learned it.

"You are nothing now!" Malak was still bellowing like an enraged wraid. His taunting derision from earlier had morphed into a blistering fury.

Because I hit him. Because that second blow did more damage than he let on. Because he had been playing with me, right up to the moment I showed him I was more than just prey.

"Look at you running like a null!" His yell still came from behind me, below in the central chamber, but the sound was closer, now. He was following. "Lord Revan never ran from anyone... not even me!"

Oh, let him think I'm running away. My free hand caught the edge of a pillar as I hurled myself behind it. It'll stop him working out what I'm running to-

A pause, then, as I raised the bar of cyan high and beheld one source of Malak's burgeoning power.

My train of thought hiccupped. My eyes widened. Whatever I'd been expecting wasn't this-

I heard a thud behind. Malak, breaching the walkway, coming after me.

No time to investigate-

Both hands snapped together on my weapon's hilt, and with a rapid surge of Force strength I stabbed the 'saber straight at the body-sized capsule inset into the far side of the pillar.

Bright white flared as an unforgiving recoil slammed me hard back against the chamber's exterior wall.

I gasped, winded, weapon still clasped tight, but the capsule-

The capsule was not even cracked-

There was a flash of scarlet from my right: Malak's 'saber, flying once more, and it took less than a second to launch myself diagonally over the railing in evasion. I caught the whistling sound of something whirring dangerously close to my head as I fell.

I touched ground below, in front of the kaiburr, landing in a crouch with one fist resting on the chrome floor and the other still holding my weapon aloft.

The Force tightened around me in reaction.

"Oh, did you think that was transparisteel, Revan?" Malak's sneering mockery came from above and behind. "Did you think it would be that easy?"

I twisted on a heel, legs straightening, glaring back up at the now-distant walkway.

"What the frell is that?" I wasn't talking about the sodding casing of the capsule. Lightsaber-resistant, obviously – the only material that sprang to mind was the same cortosis woven into Malak's armour, but I'd never seen a translucent alloy of it. Nor one that repelled assault with such intensity.

The Star Forge can manufacture many material wonders. But it's the contents, the contents of the capsule-

"Mal." I didn't shout. I didn't need to. "What did you do?" My words still echoed, hard and grim and- and-

-and that was anger, creeping into my steady resolve. The image of the capsule burned in my mind: a naked body enclosed within, wired and trapped in kolto jelly, and somehow the key to Malak's power.

I didn't know how. I didn't know what. Except... except some deep-rooted part of me suspected something that my consciousness didn't grasp, and that same part was simmering with a long-forgotten malcontent.

Malak had paused, a towering figure standing feet abreast on the walkway above. The sparks of black-and-white closed tight around his torso, an interplay of shadows twining like snakes around his form.

"You were a fool, Revan." Malak had lowered his voice, the same as I. His lightsaber was held loosely in one gauntlet as he leaned over the railing to speak down to me. "All you ever saw was an infinite fleet rolling forth to crush the Republic. Droids, weapons, ships... you never realized the Star Forge was more than just a factory. You never thought about growing the power of the Dark Side itself."

The anger burning like a familiar wick in my gut told me he was wrong. I'd thought about it, at the least. Maybe I'd been one step away from acting on it before Deralia happened.

Anger is dangerous, especially here, my mind whispered. Powerful – yes. The blazing heat of emotion dulled the open wound along my side to insignificance. I didn't even notice my back anymore. But if I stumble here, I'll fall into my past. I told Yudan I wouldn't return from that. I'm not sure I could.

I'm not... sure-

"The Star Forge is like a living creature, Revan." Malak raised his hand. Power pulsed throughout the chamber, thudding against my senses, choking my own grasp on the Force. "A creature that is leashed to my will, and bowing to my command. You never had that same mastery. You were blind."

And the vortex around him grew once more. Intensified by the kaiburr, but drawing on-

"Seven sentients," I muttered, eyes narrowing. Malak hadn't moved to follow me down yet; in that respect, he was more of a grandstanding braggart than he'd been before we stepped into the shade of the dark-

I cinched the errant thought back. No time to stutter over the contrast between the man of my broken memories, and the stranger my senses swore stood before me. Malak might be pausing to relish the moment or to gauge my fortitude – but I would use that delay for my own benefit.

Information.

"The bodies... they're not dead." I let my eyes wander over the nearest pillar. From this side, all I could see was a darkened column of smooth shadow. "Are they?"

"They're not alive, Revan." The cadence of his automated voice had rumbled back into a mechanized purr. "It would be almost amusing, to see you stumble over your old glory this way. If it were not so pathetic."

Achromatic shards of energy popped and snapped around him. The Force coiled in my limbs, ready to move at the first sign of offence, but the man merely stood and laughed at me.

"Oddly enough," Malak continued, as his chuckle died away, "it was Sharlan Nox who first gave me the idea. Not that I would ever be foolish enough to allow him entry into this chamber."

They're not alive, Mal says. I could feel myself frowning in thought. But how can the Force travel through seven corpses? And where- and where is the Force coming from? I tripped along the torrent of Malak's power, following the deluge through the kaiburr as it split back to the pillars- the origin felt like a tear in the very fabric of life. Seven tears-

I had to find out more. I had to get close to another capsule, without Malak gleaning my intent.

"What, do you not remember Sharlan?" Malak, still jeering, still prodding for a reaction or a weakness. Looming over me from the railing above, as he spouted jibes and threw forth references that meant nothing to me.

The name he dropped elicited no memory, no recognition. Nothing, except a faint whisper from another-

Bandon Stone. A dead master's voice. Yudan Rosh. Nisotsa Organa. Sharlan Nox. Zhar, warning me in the Shadowlands, listing Malak's top Dark Jedi. Any one of those names should worry you-

"I'd send Sharlan in for a nostalgic reunion but-" Malak paused, ensuring he had my full attention. "-but I'm afraid he's too busy hunting down and killing off your crew."

I jerked.

And Malak was in the air, bearing down on me with a scarlet 'saber and a fistful of charged power.

Force like wildfire bent to my will. Coursing through sinew and muscle, granting me celerity and lift as I once more launched myself high in evasion. The air crackled with charge- I cleared the railing once more, bounding to the left before Malak's wild blast could strike home.

He landed with a thud below, back in the centre of the room.

"Running again!" The thwarted snarl of fury crested in his voice, surged on the Force. "There really is nothing of the Dark Lord left within you, is there?"

More than you realize, Mal. I darted around the elevated path, ice in my heart, one hand outstretched. More than anyone realizes.

I sensed him vault high to intercept me. I had to be fast- faster- and then his boots hammered down where I had just been, a shockwave of sound augmented by his ire; a clamour of rage vowing to end me once and for all. But ionization was already crisping my maimed hand, three digits blistering as opalescent current shot forth to net around the pillar ahead.

With the sound of his footfalls sprinting closer, I wrested all of my Force-strength out through one limb at the nearing capsule. It was a spider-web of electrons designed to destroy rather than manipulate- but there was no conduction in the pillar, on the capsule, even around the casing-

No accessible control or conduit or weakness of any kind for an electrostatic charge to burn through and fry what lay beneath.

I caught a brief glimpse of a prostrate body as I passed: limbs tucked in a mesh of suspended cables, scarlet skin of a doomed Zeltron that couldn't be more than a dozen turnings of the Coruscanti sun. One of so many lives snuffed out for the glory of megalomania-

They're not alive. But they can't be dead, not truly dead, not one with the Force-

My senses screamed a warning. A surge of Force at my back-

I veered hard to the side, my off-hand gripping the railing as I heaved myself over. My other arm, snapping hard behind me, fingers flexing as I pitched Karon's 'saber on a tight trajectory back at Malak.

Turning as I fell, I landed back on my heels to see the dazzle of sparks as red smashed cyan away.

"You think I would leave them open to Force attacks?" Malak mocked. My hand rose, calling Karon's 'saber back home to my waiting grasp. Up high, I could see the armoured figure tense, muscles bunching for another chase. "You always underestimated me, Revan. And that will, once more, be your downfall!"

"You haven't let them die." The censure dropped from my lips without thought, and it was enough to startle him, to jolt him into abrupt laughter. Loud, mocking derision, once more edging out the ferocity of his hate. Such wild shifts from howling rage to deathly amusement and back again, more blatant than the sigils of corruption etched into his cheeks, or the yellow poison that spat from his eyes.

The Dark Side, in the end, was Malak's true master.

We all bore signs of corruption after a time. Some swifter than others. This was the path I gambled on, the path I led them down. The path I thought was worth the risk.

And yet, the flat thought beckoned: if Malak could draw on this unbalanced cataclysm of might, then so could I. I'd always been more powerful than him. I could use these seven living corpses first; use them to destroy Malak and the Star Forge both, and hope I retained the fortitude to turn back before I lost myself.

Roll the dice once more- and this time, I had a failsafe should I truly fall-

"You think to reprimand me?" Glowing golden eyes glared down at me. The Force turned watchful, ready, as the cascade of black-and-white billowed around him, once more picking up velocity and strength.

Somehow, I knew he was waiting for me to run, waiting to intercept me mid-flight.

"Or perhaps you expect me to monologue the entirety of my plans?" Shadows rippled over Malak's face, his form, his soul. "Oh Revan," he mocked. "I think not."

With a wrench of Force almost casual in its application, he hopped upwards, so his boots landed atop the railing, so he towered even higher than before. A pause, then, for him to check I had not moved. Then he hurtled down-

At the last instant, I jerked forward, underneath him, spinning around to stab hard at his turning back. My 'saber skittered off the back-plate of his armour- I needed to get in close to his side again-

The Force curled like a whip as he spun, slamming into my own shields like a breaker breaching a dam. I kept my footing, barely, sliding back unsteadily as he lunged forward with a sweeping right-hander. His classic lunge that always left him open-

A split-second's moment of thought: I could duck in close while his guard was down, aim for the same weak spot- but my stance was unbalanced-

I lurched to the side instead, pale blue plasma held high in defense.

Malak's 'saber scythed down abruptly, before it snapped into a tight guard as he twisted to face me. Dark brows slammed down in unchecked acrimony. I knew, then, that he'd banked on my counterattack: that had I drawn in close, things would not have gone my way.

"They're all Force sensitive, aren't they?" I growled. "And you haven't let them become one with the Force."

"You never stop trying, do you?" he murmured, head tilting, as though he were considering his next assault. "I suppose that was a facet of what made you great, once. A shame you never used that tenacity to uncover the true power of the Star Forge. You might have been the invincible one, had you not been so blind."

And where would that have left me now? I knew the answer, for all of my doubts and temptations. Just as mad as him. Certainly, with no thought left to my original intent. The Dark Side wins. The Dark Side always wins.

"There's a separation between life and death, Malak." He knew that. Of course he did. Ghosts, ripples, Force visions of the past, echoes of the dead – they touched the living but only insubstantially. Whatever Malak was doing, here, was wrong. This went beyond the Dark Side- I didn't know why I thought that, only that I did. "A separation that shouldn't be tampered with."

The builders have upset the balance. I swallowed back the dryness in my throat. Would that I'd had Jen's observational skills the first time around.

The balance between life and death.

"Spoken like a true victim," Malak jeered.

"Ever wondered why the Rakatan died out, Mal?" I whispered. The exact same words echoed in my mind, but said in Malak's voice, pleading for me to change course. My eyes stung. I could see the Lehon pyramid again: Malak, annoyed, disapproving, but still blindly faithful. Begging me to turn back before it was too late for us both. "Ever thought they might have played around with powers beyond their control?"

"You dare?" The roar was as unexpected as his explosion of Force, an earthquake of compression that erupted with his temper. A volatile shockwave smashing through my shields and punching me into the air.

No time to react before I crashed hard into something- the kaiburr, the face of the kaiburr- the unforgiving mineral was at my back as I slipped down. I was drowning in a sea of roiling Force as an invisible hand crushed around my throat.

"You dare mock me with my own words?"

The iron grip squeezed tight. Somewhere, I'd dropped my 'saber. I was gasping- choking- my fingers needed to scrabble at my throat- but I wouldn't let them-

-instead, I forced my hands down, down, flat against the jagged crystal that pulsed tempting power beneath my palms.

xXx

Jolee Bindo:

There was an irritating rasping sound that just wouldn't quit. Regular, every two seconds, like the shallow breath of a sick man struggling to fill his lungs.

Snoring. That was it. Snoring was one of the few things I could leave about Wookiees. They weren't exactly the quietest of beings. And with the lot of us cramped into that tiny room on the 'Hawk, I'd just about had my fill of listening to Zaalbar's nightly wheezes.

I was just conscious enough to want to throw something at Zaalbar's head, and yet so darn exhausted that I knew I didn't have the energy to move.

"It's a horizontal chute. For, like, moving factory bits of starship or something. I dunno. But the chute cuts through the centre of this place, and Teethree reckons it's your only chance of catching up to the others."

Ach, and if it wasn't bad enough having the Wookiee interrupt my slumber, his pet Twi'lek had to be nattering at the top of her voice somewhere nearby.

::The conveyor's not moving, and this tunnel is dark except for emergency strip-lighting.:: That was Onasi Senior's voice. Loud. Worried about something. And showing absolutely no consideration for an old man trying to catch a few winks. ::You sure this is the quickest way?::

That whistling noise – it was in sync with my own breathing, and that just made it even more annoying-

"Yeah. It's a shortcut, Carth. Unless Dee decides to hop in a lift or change direction, 'cause then we're really stuffed. It'd be easier if he answered his freaking comm, y'know."

Ugh, I was so tired. Couldn't remember feeling this wretched in a long while. And my bedroll felt like a blasted grill of durasteel, hard and unforgiving on my old back.

Onasi sighed. Sounded like the blighted man was breathing straight in my ear. ::Alright, Mission, I'm going in. Get Teethree to poll the cam-feeds further ahead – they can't all be fried. I'd feel happier if we had some eyes out there.::

There was nothing for it. I was going to have to rouse myself, and then give that lot such a roasting for disturbing an old man's kip that their ears would be burning into next week.

"On it!" the girl chirped, far too loudly.

I reached out to the Force, tried to wrest my eyes open and push myself up-

"Mnghgh," I groaned, instead, as my body completely failed to obey.

"Jolee?" Something pressed gently on my shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

It took everything I had just to force my eyes open. Fuzzy blue wavered in front of me, slowly resolving into Mission. Above her was the overhang of the 'Hawk – I appeared to be bedded down on the blighted loading ramp-

"Ungh," I said, as my demand to know what happened completely failed to coalesce into sense.

::Is that the old man?:: Ordo snapped in my ear. ::Shoot him with another stim, ad'ika, and get him on his feet.::

I blinked. The whistling noise had subsided, now, as I became aware of an all-too-fast beating inside my chest. Kid Twi'lek was already holding a 'derm in her hand-

"Stop," I croaked, as the Force trickled into my desperate grasp. I was cold – damp with sweat that had chilled through to my bones. Heart thumping fast and irregular, like it wanted to jerry-jig out of my chest. Head spinning and vision not entirely clear. How many darn stims have they shot me with? "No- no stims."

"Can you sit?" Mission whispered. "'Cause, like, Canderous ain't convinced in Teethree's tracking, so he's all antsy 'bout that Sith sleemo coming back-"

I managed to raise a wavering hand, enough to forestall the lass before she started in on everyone's grooming habits or something. The Force pulled in tight – but it was sluggish, weak, and slow to obey. Like a Czerka-branded therm blanket, taking an age to knock up one's core temperature – but getting there. Eventually.

::Jolee?:: Onasi, now, jumping in on the action. ::Uh, how are you doing- uh, can you- can you sense Dustil?::

Nothing made sense. Onasi, Ordo, Mission, all yabbering in my ear when I felt weak as a day-old ash-rabbit.

I got hit. The realization should have felt more like a shock, not this mire of exhausted apathy. A disruptor bolt to the chest. On the roof of the 'Hawk. I made it down, but then- then that Dark Jedi-

I remembered tentacles, suddenly, aiming for my face. Life draining out of me as I didn't bother to struggle. Everything fading rapidly, along with my own desire to live.

The small part of me still cognizant at the end noted the nature of the beast. It wasn't the dark, or at least not the dark as I'd ever known it. More like a need. An ever-reaching need, feeding off me and burning brighter and brighter until there was nothing left but someone else's hunger-

"Someone tell me what happened," I managed. Mission's hand was under my elbow, slowly guiding me skyward. My head told me I shouldn't be alive, that I was nothing but an appetizer to be consumed by something much, much greater.

Compulsion. My head was still fuzzy. Enthrallment. Gotta- gotta shake it loose-

"Dee distracted the Sith guy and ran off." Mission was hovering next to me, still with that darn stim clutched tight. "He- he followed, and we think we're tracking them through the station but-"

Nerves pricked into being, and slowly, slowly, my head began to clear. A stabbing pain in my chest made itself known, and I made the mistake of looking down.

It had hard not to grimace at the mess beneath the bandages and the kolto patches.

::But we ain't sure the tracking's accurate,:: Ordo's rough voice cut in over the airwaves. ::So that Sith shabuir might turn up here any minute. The other lot have rescued the princess, so she should be knocking some ships together now. And Revan's on her way to Malak..::

One thing I liked about the Mandalorian: he was clear and straight to the point.

"Jolee? Can you- um, d'ya think-" The girl was biting her lip. I knew what she was going to ask before she did. "It's just that Dee's out there, alone, and Carth's gone after him, and stupid Rosh has turned his comm off as well, so now I don't even know what Big Z is doing-"

"I can barely sit up under my own strength, lass, never mind anything else," I grumped, and felt immediately guilty at her crestfallen expression. I sighed, and my chest ached in sympathy. "Give me a minute, Mission. Let me work out what's going on first."

::Stay with the 'Hawk, Jolee,:: Carth ordered.

Fine thing for him to say, already gallivanting off after his son the way he was. Still, I could see the sense in his command, and not just from a logistical view. I was a mess. My arms where shaking, and sweat pooled beneath my tattered robes. Someone had patched up my chest, but it still hurt like buggery. And I'd never known the Force to be so thin and wavery in my grasp.

Ach, I wasn't moving for awhile yet.

"Can you at least, like, find Dee through the Force?" Mission whispered. "Or Jen?"

I closed my eyes, half in exhaustion, and reached out.

Even as drained as I was, the faint ripple of Force was enough to dull the edge of pain from my side. I couldn't hear the eerie murmur of the kaiburr – and whether that was my own weakness or the roaring crescendo bellowing from the heart of the Forge, I didn't know.

"Revan and Malak," I murmured. Thunder drowning out the sound of everything else. "That's all I'm sensing."

::Revan, is she, is she...:: Carth's voice trailed into static. Mission, at my side, leaned close, wide brown eyes asking the same question.

I patted her hand absently. "She's alive," I told them both. "We can't do anything for her but keep ourselves safe." I drew in a breath, steeling myself for the stab of pain in my side. When it came, it wasn't as bad as I feared. "And make sure the lass has a ride outta here. Any progress on the airlocks?"

"No." The kid's headtails slumped low over her shoulders. Even our sanguine teenager was beginning to show the signs of despair. "Teethree can't break the encryption. I mean, he's still trying, but the airlocks won't respond. It's like they're faulty. Every single one of 'em in this stupid place."

There was something odd about that-

::Airlocks will open when the Forge goes into evac mode, ad'ika,:: Ordo said gruffly. ::We'll get out of here when we need to.::

"Yeah?" Mission muttered into her wrist, glaring. "Do you really see Darth Poodoo issuing evac orders so his underlings can escape while he's getting smacked about by Jen?"

::This cargo conveyor is shut down, Mission,:: Carth chimed in. ::That means alarms. And that means the Fleet's doing damage out there. Evacuation mode is automatic once something critical like life-support or power generation is affected. So stay by the ship. The airlocks will open, sooner or later, and then we can all fly back out.::

There were enough assumptions in that statement for me to accuse the man of perjury, but I rather thought a seasoned officer like Carth Onasi knew that. Still, the words seemed to have an effect on the kid, with the way her shoulders straightened – and likely that was the only thing the man intended.

"Focus on what you can do," I added. And right now, that was safeguarding the 'Hawk – faulty airlocks or not. "For instance, you can help an old man get to his feet instead of mooching around here wasting time."

Mission's gaze snapped to mine, sparking with a faint echo of her usual sass. "Fine," she groused, as she offered me a hand up. "Suppose it'd be inhumane to leave an old geezer stranded on his wrinkly backside. Far out, between you and Canderous, we could just about turn the ship into a nursing home."

I chuckled as I accepted the help. It was hard to stifle the groan that followed my ascension upward. "Doesn't sound so bad if you're bringing me food and washing my clothes, lass," I wheezed.

I spotted a blaster back in Mission's hand as she faced the direction of the hangar exit, her face tightening with a watchful readiness that I hated to see in one so young. Still, the girl was nothing if not resilient. Provided she made it out of here alive, I rather thought she'd be alright.

I drew marginally deeper on the Force, and moved to flank her as we waited for whatever came next.

xXx

Revan Freeflight:

There are times when a moment can stretch out for an eternity.

When the weight of a decision trembles on a knife-edge, and either side has its own ruination. When the roar of a nemesis bellows through the air, compelling the choice to be cast, bleeding corruption through the Force and damning the only option that has a reasonable chance of victory.

When time slows to a crawl-

For I was not winning, not like this. I could keep fighting, struggling, grit my soul and trust my 'saber to find a path through Malak's guard once more.

Or, I could take out his power source first.

And as my fingers dug hard into the kaiburr at my back and his Force dug deep into my throat, I thought I knew best how to accomplish that-

Have you learnt nothing? The castigation whipped through my mind. My own conscience lambasting me in a voice that sounded remarkably like my borrowed memory of Vrook Lamar. There is a reason Jedi stand back from the dark, no matter if inaction leads to failure or death. Because there are worse things-

Time choked to a standstill.

And this time, this time, I had an anchor in Bastila – brittle, flawed and fragile – but she might be enough, maybe, to withstand one final stumble. I could reach out to her, demand she hold me steady while I tempted mastery of the kaiburr once more-

-and take mastery back-

-and trust myself to keep my eye on the endgame. The portals, the portals- I would have enough power to destroy them through the kaiburr. As long as my endgame didn't change, didn't corrupt. It was such a slight risk, really, when balanced against the superior might of Malak.

Just another roll of the dice.

Motes of dust glinted motionless in the air. The jagged crystal pulsed beneath my palm. The Force, oh, the Force, calling to me and promising salvation. It sang like a flock in flight, like the united will of a cattle-beast herd, like the symbiosis of a Paaerduag living in twin harmony. Brighter and brighter, ice and fire, not warring together but instead building on the innate strength of each. A life-storm of power, all blooding higher in my uncertain grasp.

The noose around my neck vanished. Beyond, in slow-motion, I saw Malak's legs bend in the infancy of a Force-enhanced leap.

Then the flipside called. The flock dove, senses honed, claws aiming for the kill. The herd of cattle-beast turned, sloughing their weak and their old to appease the predator on their tail. The symbiotic creature unbalanced, as the simple humilis-Paaerduag slipped into subordination, into no more than a mute carry-beast to the mentally-dominant altum-Paaerduag.

Because, always, there was a master.

-you are the master-

I had believed that once. But it wasn't true, was it? The Dark Side had mastered me in the end, just as it now did Malak. The sheer hubris – of myself, and every other being who had dared wager their soul against the dark – defied logic. My own arrogance, in believing I could take such a step and walk away with my objectives unchanged; or my soul, untainted.

What is victory against Malak, if I fall again?

The kaiburr trilled a sweet song of temptation. Promising more and wanting more- as the Dark Side always did and always would-

-the Force will free you-

In the end, the one thing I had learned was when it was time to stop rolling the dice.

With a final wrench of will, I called to the Force- not from the veins of corruption firing through the mineral at my back, but instead from the raw lifeblood of the galaxy itself.

From the motes drifting slowly through the stagnant air around us. From the flecks of mites and bugs that burrowed beneath floor grills and between walls. From the constant creep of electricity as it fired a matrix of charge through every cable and into every machine.

Pure Force, as it twined through every particle that was but a part of the whole.

I straightened, pushing off from the kaiburr-

-and time snapped back to normality.

Malak was there, suddenly, red plasma raised high in a killing blow. Faster than should have been possible, Karon's 'saber came flying to my grasp, hissing to life and slamming home against his.

Red snarled and sparked against blue, as his yellow eyes spat fury into mine.

Find another way. A better way. There's always another solution-

Power heaved and roiled in our grasp, torn between the two of us, our 'sabers held impotent as our wills wrestled with one another. The unbalanced Force flowing from the portals fed into Malak, amplified by the kaiburr, lending him superior strength as his weapon inched forward.

Keep searching-

I had to destroy the portals. Direct attack on the capsules wouldn't work- Malak had protected them well. But the capsules housed sentient bodies, held helpless in charged kolto jelly, which must mean that somewhere else there had to be-

My senses unravelled outward. It was intrinsically difficult to feel anything beyond the almighty vortex of Force burning from Malak and the kaiburr both, but I had to keep trying. Through the air, into the pillars, below the walls. Karon's 'saber was forced close, a diagonal guard slowly slanting back at me, near enough to feel the threat of heat simmer through to my skin. I couldn't hold Malak at bay for long.

All I needed was one more moment. A moment, to find what I was searching for.

The Force twitched over a flux of electrons. A power source, a life-support system, hidden beneath the chrome floor under my boots. Connected through the pillars-

-and sometimes, I knew, a moment could be over in the blink of an eye.

Malak leaned forward. I lurched sideways. His 'saber unbalanced, skidding off mine. Stabbing into the kaiburr. Something alien shrieked-

I was already leaping clear, but the scream blasted through the Force, a sonic screech of mineral disjunction that dug deep into my head. I stumbled on landing, ears ringing, barely staying on my feet-

But I had to act while I still had the chance-

My maimed hand, aiming at the floor, fired a weak spear of ionization. No more than a ripple, really, only enough to impede the power core of the hidden life-support system.

Only enough to manipulate the device into standby mode.

Malak was yelling in shock, jerking his 'saber clear and spinning to face me. A crimson fissure gaped in the rock behind him, still whimpering a discordant, eerie murmur through the air.

"You- you think you can destroy the kaiburr?" Malak roared. His eyes were pinched and his head shook in irritation – and I knew, then, that the crystal's defacement had affected him too.

Let him believe the kaiburr was my target. It was a minor scratch on the mineral surface, already closing under the kaiburr's own power. Even a hundred lightsabers would do nothing more than rend the air with alien screams.

Beneath the flooring, the hidden life-support system stuttered into deactivation. How long, before seven bodies gasped into extinction? How long, before the seven portals closed this unholy gateway into the realm of death?

A minute. Maybe two.

Through the Force, I tasted Malak's wrath as he called on the septagram of power that obeyed his will. Directed from the kaiburr but sourced from the dying bodies: dark-edged chaos churned once more into a crescendo of annihilation I could not block.

I only needed a minute, maybe two-

With a sharp wrest of inversion, I twisted the weaves around me and vanished.

Pain.

Without the Force, I could not push the crippling sensation down, or blank it out, or rise above the spasms radiating from the lightsaber wound in my side. I was running hard to the wall, forcing tight muscles to move, and I didn't remember the last time everything felt so frelling hard-

Even my jaw ached, where Malak's armoured fist had smacked into it earlier. My back- deadened skin, chafing against tattered mesh, a warning sign of a different sort-

I kept running, and could only hope that Malak wasn't listening for the pound of my invisible feet darting away.

"What?" Malak bellowed in furious astonishment. The crackle of death and lightning scored through the chamber behind me. "You think you can hide from me?"

I changed course- I couldn't leap to the railing without the Force, but if I could put something between us, like, say, the kaiburr-

"You will not run from me any longer, Revan!" Malak's voice roared, dissonant and grating, as his voder struggled to match his fury with volume. "Not if I have to fill this entire chamber with devastation!"

The seconds ticked over desperately in my mind as I neared the far side of the monolithic crystal. Without the Force, I wouldn't be able to sense when the trapped souls met their final death, and when the portals became nothing more than kolto-filled coffins.

I had to rely on Malak's reaction, when he sensed what I had done.

I needed a minute, maybe less-

Thud of boots, nearby- I stilled on the spot, glancing over a shoulder. Malak was there- right there- less than five metres away- having followed with speed I could no longer match. His pale, Sith-marked face now mottled with rage, as his unseeing gaze scanned the room.

Too close! Sithspit, he'll hear me if I move- or if I sodding breathe-

Power crackled around him. A lattice of black lightning, ready to stream from his fists. If he blindly unleashed it here, I'd be right in his firing line.

Malak punched a gauntlet into the air-

He froze, suddenly, before his head jerked up to stare at the nearest pillar.

"What?!" Shock, widening those fallen yellow eyes, as they moved to the next pillar. "No- no- stop!"

The shards of electricity guttered. Malak spun on a foot, his gaze tracking all of the doomed portals, one by one, in mounting desperation.

It was time.

I dropped the weaves. Clean Force flooded me, my sword-arm snapped upright, and I lunged forward to make an end of things.

xXx

Dustil Onasi:

Lord Arseface passed me mere minutes ago.

I'd been tight against the wall, teeth gritting so hard I could swear they were about to pulverize. Pain in my frakked arm near unbearable without the Force. Heart thumping so loud I was sure the bastard would notice as he sailed past, sickly eyes pinched into deathly slits.

I'd thought he would hear me, smell me, somehow sense me out; for it hadn't taken Master Uthar long, and as far as the Sith pecking order went those two seemed to be more or less crapping from the same rotten branch.

But Sharlan Nox strode by without pause.

I let myself breathe only after he'd gone a full minute. Lungs burning as I allowed myself shallow, silent gulps of sweet air. Limbs shaking, and mind racing like a swooper on shot.

I could double-back: take the comm off mute and reach out to the others. Lord Arseface was ahead of me, now. Further away from the 'Hawk, from Dad and Mission. But if I turned tail and ran to supposed safety, how did I know the frakkwad wouldn't do the same?

And then I'll be right back to where I started. A bloodbath in the hangar.

Not to mention... I grimaced as I flexed my empty off-hand. I had no weapon. I had one working arm. And... I was pretty sure I was frakking lost, now.

What a bleeding mess. Here I was, a half-trained Adept too scared to use the Force, thinking I could take on a frakking Sith Lord with one hand and no 'saber. The deadliest thing I had in my pockets was an expired protein bar.

Mex would call me a frakking tool.

I pushed off the wall, suddenly disgusted with myself and my pointless bitching. I knew what I had to do. I had to stop Sharlan Nox getting bored and heading back to the Ebon Hawk.

I had to find a way to kill the bastard.

"Where'd you go, arseface?" I hollered. "Are you too frakking stupid to realize when you've overshot your prey?"

And for a moment – for a sweet, delicious moment – I let the Force weaves drop.

The jagged stab in my arm dulled. A welcome rush seared through my limbs, surged through my senses, promised me anything-

-glimpses of the truth can be found here. the truth of real power, more than you have ever tasted-

Nearby, an oily miasma of something that felt more rotting than living stopped moving away.

And turned back to me.

-the Force is stronger here. you can be stronger here. all you need do is draw deep, and you will be a match for the parasite-

I clenched my jaw. And even though it felt damn hard – maybe even harder than turning on Master Uthar and seeing the disbelief pale his opaque, fatherly, corrupted, eyes – I pulled the Force in tight and flipped it invert once more.

The whispery voice quenched into silence. The spectre of Sharlan Nox vanished from my now-mundane senses. The throb of pain returned with a vengeance.

And further down the passage I saw a service corridor lead away on an angle.

I ran. Again. Like vermin scrabbling through a maze, with every shiny tunnel the same, no viewports or signage or anything to give me a clue to where I was running. Steps echoing as I darted down another side-entrance, and I wasn't sure if the echo was the reverberation of my own footfalls, or the Sith Lord closing in on me.

If Lord Arseface augmented his hearing, he'd have no trouble pinpointing the sound of my boots, shooting a little speed under his slimy heels and closing in for the kill. I had to find something-

The light cut out.

I skidded to a halt, vision dead as shock froze my limbs. I couldn't see- there'd been a cross-junction of three circular exits ahead of me- but now I couldn't see a damn thing! Heart leaping, palms sweaty, every instinct screaming that my only recourse left was to reach out-

With a flutter, at first, the lighting returned.

What the frakk?

I turned to stare wildly over my shoulder, but the corridor behind was as empty as the three in front.

Did he blitz the lights? What, does he think I'll flip out at a freaking power surge?

That made no sense. Surely, screwing around with the electrical infrastructure of No-Jaw's palace was more likely to land Lord Arseface in trouble with his dear boss, rather than panic me into doing something retarded.

So far, anyway-

::Sssheghs achalss tah. Nil daritha chalss tah.::

I took a slow, silent step flush against the wall, as a foreign voice spat out through invisible speakers, bouncing incomprehensible sounds into the air.

::Sssheghs achalss tah. Nil daritha chalss tah.::

A repeat of the same message, I thought, as the same guttural hisses ran through a third time. Sounded like a robotic voice, but the dialect was almost Selkath with all that sibilant slithering-

Not Selkath. My hold on the fish lingo wasn't that shaky. Though it didn't really matter what the language was – only what it was saying. And maybe it had nothing to do with Sharlan Nox-

The lights flickered again, but stayed on this time. The automated voice cinched into silence.

It's a system message, I realized. A warning. Some sort of alarm, if the lights are choking – maybe an evac order-

The burn of hope lanced through me. Sharp and bright, almost like the Force. Has... has Revan actually done it? Has she toppled Malak?

Or... or maybe it was the Fleet. Maybe, now that we had Miss Battle Meditation on our side, Dad's Fleet were blasting through and...

...and about to blow up the Star Forge. That I'm standing on. Along with Dad and Mission and the frakking others.

I swallowed. I had no clue where I was, but I'd only risk comming home and heading back after I'd dealt with Lord Arseface.

And ahead of me, just at that very moment, a figure stumbled into view.

Again, I held my breath and flattened myself tight against the smooth wall, and it wasn't until the guy actually ran past me that I realized he was nothing more than a Sith foot-soldier. A lieutenant – judging by the insignia on the his shoulder – with the bulk of a blaster clipped at his waist-

I pushed silently off from the wall, and fell in behind. But the guy was sprinting, veering left, faster than me without the Force, and I just made the call to risk dropping the weaves when the soldier abruptly stopped and slammed a hand against a door-print I hadn't even seen.

Further down the corridor, a full-sized double-hatch opened with a pneumatic hiss.

"Ruark!" the guy bellowed, slowing to a stride as he cleared the threshold.

I scrabbled to enter before the damn door closed, hoping the mark wouldn't catch the sound of someone following-

"Yeah?" a sent echoed back, deeper in the room, and it was only then that I really took in where I'd stumbled into.

"-did you see the friggin' alerts? Can't understand a cracked word of that friggin' voiceover, but my visor pinged me back the station stats-"

This place looked exactly the same.

"Cool your jets, Jeb, and just keep the damn snubs warm."

Minus the 'Hawk and the crew, of course, but otherwise I could almost believe I'd fumbled my way back to the start.

"That's a critical transformer failure, Ruark!" The man I was shadowing paced over to the nearest snub, an Aurek-class like the ones that were sitting pretty back in our hangar. My feet automatically followed; slow and silent. "You really wanna stay up here in Restricted with nothing but dead battle-droids for company, and airlocks that won't open-"

"Airlocks are shut down in Factory too, twonk head."

I couldn't spot the second speaker, but his reply back was faint. My wide eyes roved over three Aurek birds and one of those curvy Sith ones, along with a handful of empty bays.

This was just like our dock. Another officer's one. Space for about a dozen starfighters, but less than half-full. Manned by barebones staff and labelled on the plans as some sort of exhaust duct. Ordo and Psycho-Droid had said that before, when they'd been poking at the schematics back on the 'Hawk, pointing out these hidden docks that were apparently some sort of stealth exit for the higher ranked Sith. Which meant...

"...and you'd be better off gutting yerself than breathin' if you don't keep these compressors humming," the faraway Ruark continued. He sounded muffled, like he was bent over a refuelling gig or something. The soldier called Jeb hunched his shoulders and threw a half-hearted kick at an errant clean-bot as the other guy kept spouting off. "The general ain't got no time for incompetence. And you know the higher-ups are even worse."

...it meant- it meant that I might not even have to get back to the others. I was no flyboy like Dad, but I knew the frakking basics. I could get a bird in the sky – and if the Forge was starting to bleat out station-wide alarms then I could comm the others, tell them to get the frakk out, and do the same myself.

Leave Lord Arseface behind to get blown up, along with ole No-Jaw if Revan hadn't done the deed yet.

Assuming, of course, that Mission could find a way to get the airlocks open.

I reached out to the Force. I wouldn't think twice, not here, not against the scum I was standing behind. It's us or them, Dee, Mex'd whispered to me back in the early days. Us against everyone in this chivhole. No time to be a blubbering chump if you wanna survive.

And as my fist clenched, and strength buzzed in my ears and kissed against my soul, the Sith foot-soldier named Jeb choked. From behind him, I could see his hands scrabbling, flailing out to reach desperately around his throat.

-take what you need to survive-

I stepped forward, ripped the blaster from the twitching man's waist with a jerk of power, and strode around face him. Fired twice. Once to shatter his visor, twice to make sure he stopped kicking.

"Jeb?" Soldier Two yelled in alarm. "What the frig are you shooting at?"

And then I realized I would have to kill that one, too.

-there is great power here. you can protect them all-

Quenching the susurrating promises of the Star Forge, I slipped back into invisibility and turned away from the corpse with the melted face. Held the new weapon tight, and considered my next move with a grimness borne of necessity.

I used to say the names in my head. Drex Voona, Talal Born, Tushka, Belaya Linn. But after the Leviathan, when kills became direct by my hand and anonymous in nature, I'd stopped counting. It seemed more important to count the ones still standing – the ones I would fight for.

Dad. Mekel. Mission. Even the others I'd been travelling with- frakk, even Revan.

No time to be a blubbering chump about it. Mex was right on that one.

I took a step-

-and behind me, I heard the soul-sinking sound of the hatch opening once more.

"I sensed you in here, little snack."

Soldier Two squawked in the distance. I turned slowly on one silent, invisible heel, and saw again the wraith of my past come to challenge my future.

Sharlan Nox was staring curiously at the warm corpse by my feet. "I thought I tasted blood on the air. Looks like you've been busy."

A faint chuckle as Lord Arseface raised his hands.

But the bastard couldn't see me, and now I had a frakking blaster-

xXx

Revan Freeflight:

I charged, he turned, and it all narrowed down to this:

The hiss of 'sabers crashing.

The roar of Force in my blood.

The scuff of boots as we both moved; weaving and dodging and charging each other again and again.

No words, not anymore; just the frenetic byplay of weapons and limbs – an exchange of power that bore the synchronous taste of home and death.

So familiar to me, this dance. My muscles remembered these steps. Training with this man, fighting by this man, striking against this man. My body and soul knew, even if my mind did not. We had learned together, side by side, from the same masters. Grown together, forged together, fought together. And now-

I darted close, 'saber raised in an off-balance parry that I knew he would knock aside with ease. He followed with a hard kick at my knee, but met empty air instead- for I was diving to the side, tucked in a fast roll with my 'saber outstretched, coming up behind him with a furious rope of Force lashed around his ankles.

He almost stumbled. Almost.

A brutal surge of power shattered my psychic grip instead, just as scarlet vengeance came sweeping at my face.

I leapt back a metre. Found my feet, and raised my guard.

One fist dropped from his hilt, clenching tight. I sensed the crackle of death as it sparked back into existence- and lunged forward before he had a chance to unleash it.

He dodged back, only just avoiding my swipe, returning both hands to his 'saber in response. I pressed hard, but he met the next attack with a solid block. And predicted my subsequent strike with a step to the side – before attaining the offensive once more.

He loosed a flurry of jabs at my injured side; I danced back, as he edged forward in exploration. He had to be desperate, now, to end me – just as I was him. We were both waiting for an opening, waiting to capitalize on a mistake.

He no longer had an endless supply of Force to draw on, but the kaiburr bolstered still him. He was stronger – physically, at least. And I was the more wounded party.

But I knew- oh, I knew- that all it took was a moment. A moment for the scales to tip, to unbalance. And if that moment wasn't going to appear by itself, I'd just have to mould it into existence.

I allowed my knee to cave- just a little- just enough to affect my stance. Clenched tight on the Force to steady my balance. Dropped my blade an inch; let it waver slightly in the air.

His eyes pinched tight in calculation. One hand flung hard from his hilt, snapping outward, firing a quick punch of compression straight at my gut.

I let the fist of power hit. It hurt, even with the Force tight around me. Air, gasping from my lungs, as my legs wobbled and threatened to topple.

Him in attack, advancing fast, both hands on his weapon again as he raised it high in the sweeping right-hander I knew was coming-

I flew forward before his 'saber began to drop. Cyan plasma rocketed onward in a stab powered by all the raw Force thundering through my veins.

My hilt trembled as the strike connected: I felt his armour hold for a shaky instant, before it splintered and gave way. Momentum drove my blow further, and then my old master's lightsaber sank inches deep in my old lover's chest.

A freeze, a pause, a moment's stutter- my gaze dashed upwards to meet his: sickly, yellow eyes widening with stark disbelief.

I was bodily ripped away, then, by a recoil of his Force. Thrown back hard as his scream of pain tore through the air.

My body slammed into the ground, but I was back on my feet a second later, ready to react-

The man stood still metres away. One gauntlet pressed tight against his cracked chest plate. Something dark and wet dribbled through his armoured fist.

His other hand clutched a lightsaber that now shook in a weak grasp. Fingers unfurled, and then that hilt dropped, slowly, slowly, before clanking on the chrome and winking out.

xXx

Carth Onasi:

::We think Dee's about to enter another officer's dock,:: Mission whispered in my ear. "And Teethree's got access to the cams in there.::

I swallowed. I was stumbling through a darkened cargo chute, trusting that a droid's predictive algorithm would get me out somewhere near my son. If Teethree was wrong-

It didn't bear thinking about. I cleared my throat, striding between two large crates lit up in ghastly red from the strip-lighting above me. The lights were down due to the alarms, no doubt. And the alarms had to be the same reason for the stationary travellator beneath my feet.

::Shall I get Teethree to cast the feed to our comm-links?:: Mission asked.

::No,:: Ordo grunted, a split-second before I had a chance to. ::Keep your eye on your surroundings. Bad enough you're yakking to that bucket droid over the air. 'Cause it'd be an embarrassing way to die, kid – gawping down at your wrist while the enemy shoots you in the head.::

In front of me, the stacked crates were blocky outlines containing mysterious goods sent from the inner workings of the Forge – or so our droid's interpretation of the schematics read. The unmoving line of crates carried on and on, lit up further ahead by what appeared to be a pale white glow.

"Verbal reports only, Mission," I said, frowning at the white light. "But make sure Teethree's keeping tabs on the hatches near you. Until he gets visual, there's still the chance he's wrong- that the Sith bastard might be doubling-back-"

Suddenly, I was a lot less sure that I'd made the right call in leaving the hangar. Mission was left behind with Canderous, Tobards and Jolee – all three of whom were somewhere between moderately and heavily injured.

I was running on an adrenastim Ordo had slipped me when I'd left, but it didn't entirely dull the ache of the bruising knotted down my back. And I knew I was in much better shape than the others.

::Sheesh, Carth, I'm not that simple,:: Mission complained. ::Y'know Teethree can keep track of more than one thing at a time, right? I mean, I know multi-tasking is hard for you guys an' all-::

"Okay, okay," I muttered grimly. Mission's ever-ebullient spirit had bounced back – and I was glad of that – but now was not the time. "I think the chute has an exit close by. What's ahead?"

It was artificial lighting I'd spotted; the whites of halogen bulbs indicating the end of enclosed space. The light was coming from the right of the tunnel, like the chute opened on one side only.

I kept moving, weaving quickly between towers of cargo that stretched high to a darkened ceiling. My footsteps, fast and loud, echoed in the stagnant air around me.

::You're close to a tech room the conveyor goes through. Jump out there, and head to-::

A screed of Binary beeps and whistles cut through Mission's words. My stride faltered as I neared the opening.

::Carth! Tee's found him on the cams! He's- he's entered that dock- no, wait, it's a Sith guy-::

"The Dark Jedi?" I demanded in a hoarse whisper. I was right by the exit, now; pressing hard against the curve of the tunnel as I raised my blaster at the harsh light beyond.

What I could see was empty and still. Weapon and gaze locked on the room, I took a step full into view, swinging the barrel around in a sweep.

The room was mercifully clear.

::No, don't think so- sheesh, Teethree, slow down!:: Mission was gasping in my ear, her words peppered with astromech trills. ::Just a foot soldier? Tee says there's two- and he can see Dustil now-::

My heart kicked. Ahead, the cargo chute ran through the room at ground level before continuing on into encroaching darkness. As I stepped from the motionless conveyor onto chrome flooring, my blaster travelled over barren consoles and inactive tech bots alike.

A repair room, by the looks. Maybe it served as a maintenance check on factory parts travelling through this blasted place.

"Directions," I hissed, keeping my voice low. I hadn't encountered anyone – yet. But it sounded like Dustil had. "Get me to my son."

There was a hatch set into the far wall. I was there in a blink, hand mashing down on the door control.

::Go left outta the room, you'll be in a-:: Mission's voice transmuted into static as the damn droid spat something further in my ear. I was tight against the inner wall as the hatch opened, my gun pointing down the corridor beyond. A sidestep across the threshold, as I spun on my heel, sighting the other direction.

Empty.

::-down... go further... Dee's killed a...::

Another series of beeps. Fast, and frantic.

::No! No- Teethree's spotted the Dark Jedi- Carth- run!::

I was running. Left down the corridor, running blindly. "Directions!" I growled again, for now I had no idea what was around the next bend. The hardened military focus I relied on in situations like this was cracking, fracturing- all I knew was that I had to find Dustil now-

::Follow the corridor left. Hatch at the end-:: Another break of static, as I turned hard left at an intersection, and the astromech screeched again. ::Dustil's... the Sith- the Sith's got... soldier-::

The corridor ended in a large double-hatch, marked only by a door-print console inset into the wall a good few metres before.

::Whaddaya mean, he's eating him?:: Mission shrieked.

"Mission, the hatch!" I was next to the door-print, staring down at the biometric device that certainly wouldn't open for me. Beyond the oblique half-moon exit had to be the dock.

My son, and that Sith bastard, had to be through there.

::Eating- how can he be-::

"Mission!" I hissed frantically. "I can't get the blasted door open!"

::Carth... careful-::

Barrel aimed at the door, legs apart and trigger finger ready- careful meant nothing against the weight of my son's life-

"Get the damn hatch open!"

A pause, a pneumatic hiss, and then the half-moon double-hatch began to separate.

In the gap of sight beyond, the first thing I saw was grey. The grey titaplate hull of a snubfighter. The backdrop of a hangar. Then- a red-robed figure- his back to me, a lifeless body in his arms-

I opened fire.

Double-tap, triple- a scream as the first bolt hit him dead-centre, scorching a black bulls-eye on the crimson cloth covering his back. I was still firing- but sprinting, now- and then the robed figure blurred-

Bolts streamed from the barrel of my gun. I kept hard to the wall, and there was cover nearby behind a stack of cargo crates-

Everything froze before I reached it. My muscles locked. Limbs ground to a standstill, mired in invisible ferracrete. One arm, still outstretched, wielding a primed gun that refused to fire-

No. No!

My head, still turned, sighting my target-

And the robed bastard turned slowly to face me.

Move! Damn it, Onasi, move!

I thrashed and flailed – or tried to – but nothing happened. Desperation was hot and acrid as I mentally ordered my body to obey- to fire that damn weapon again or at least keep running-

But my body wouldn't – or couldn't – move. Not even an inch.

::Carth!:: Mission shrieked, and the worst sound in the galaxy was the frantic beeps of the astromech I couldn't understand. Detailing events in cold Binary to a girl who had already seen and lost far too much.

"Another crumb." An insouciant drawl of Galactic Basic hit my ears. That Sith bastard, strolling towards me. Behind him lay a lifeless body – not Dustil, thank the stars, not Dustil – of a Sith-clad soldier. A few metres back, beneath the shadow of the snub, lay another corpse garbed the same.

"Truly, you nulls are barely worth the bother." A crimson-gloved hand rose to brush at his shoulder- a blackened, exposed limb displaying the edge of a flesh wound that should've hurt him. Felled him, for I'd got the bastard in the back, too-

::Carth!:: Mission's screams were painful, now. ::Dee! Rosh! Jen! If anyone... listening...! Help!::

I jerked desperately, frantically, uselessly- I'd heard Force stasis could be broken, dependent on the will of the victim and the strength of the villain-

Nothing. Still, nothing.

"But your sting is annoying enough," the bastard droned on. "If I had not just fed, I might now be facing an ignominious end, indeed."

Beneath the tattered flaps of crimson cloth, his burnt shoulder shifted- pulsed- shone- my gaze was as frozen as my limbs, so I had a straight view of the unthinkable.

Butchered flesh regenerating into unmarked skin.

I'd be the first to admit I knew little of the Force- but I'd picked up a few things around my lover and my son. Healing, I'd thought, was one of the few skills that was all but impossible when embroiled in the Dark Side.

How in the blazes can anyone kill this sort of evil?

I strived, I struggled, I forced everything I could in trying to move. Mission was sobbing incoherently, now, and I couldn't bear the thought of her as a witness to my end.

The pale bastard sauntered closer as my attempts came to nothing. Eyes, slits of gleaming yellow, crinkled in detached amusement. From his cheeks, thin tendrils of... something that looked a lot like flesh... curled beneath his chin.

And behind him, against the backdrop of the nearest snubfighter, a figure blurred into existence.

The ping of a blaster firing-

The bonds around me shook- I was moving, stumbling, boots tripping over one another as I caught my balance. My arm jerked upright to aim in desperation-

::DEE!::

A wild shot, the sound of another, and a fierce scream-

But then I was flying. Thrown back, hard, slamming against the wall, and my body froze again-

And a second scream- but from someone else- a terrified sound that turned my blood to ice-

Dustil.

I was immobile against the wall, but I could see everything. My son, his throat clasped tight in the Dark Jedi's fist, as the bastard's other hand was raised back at me. Holding me incarcerated as I was forced to watch my worst nightmare unfold.

Smoke wafted from the melted mess of Sith's head- where there'd been a tail of black hair, there was now molten flesh and abraded bone. Another blaster wound- Dustil had fired a blaster- right at the back of his head-

But it didn't stop him as he jerked my son close.

My frozen vision blurred. All I could see was shredded scarlet robes covering the Sith's back as his skull began to glow. His entire body, illuminated and damned- and I couldn't see Dustil anymore, I didn't know what was going on, except that this Sith bastard had Dustil and I couldn't move-

I had to move- but, try as I might, nothing worked. And the shrivelled black skin on the Dark Jedi's head slowly stretched over to cover his exposed skull, before morphing into healthy pink.

A Mandalorian curse cut through Mission's sobs, and then the comm clicked into silence.

Carving into my gut was a horror I'd only ever felt the likes of once before. When I'd found pale, lifeless limbs, surrounded by the ashes of a planet's devastation.

Morgana. I was gasping, barely breathing. Morgana. I did my best, but it wasn't enough. I didn't save Dustil. All we had was a handful of weeks together, after everything-

A dull groan, a whimper, and suddenly Dustil was in my line of sight again, held aloft by the Sith's outstretched hand. My son, struggling so feebly now, like he had almost no fight left.

Renewed vigour coursed through my veins, and I felt my limbs budge-

"Oh no you don't!" the Sith snapped, whipping his head back to me and flexing his raised hand. The air tightened, constricted, crucifying me with impotency. His bare skull gleamed with stolen health, a shiny contrast to the wisps of shrivelled hair still clinging to the back of his neck. The bastard's body was almost glowing, and his eyes-

-his eyes were burning with the depths of a nether-hell he had somehow sucked out of my son.

"Dad," Dustil gasped, his voice thready and weak, as he twitched like a tach caught in the jaws of a loth-cat.

"Dad?" the Sith echoed, black-rimmed eyes blinking in surprise. "Dad? Oh, what fun!"

My gaze was forcibly fixed on the cursed man's hand, still raised in my direction, slim and pale and bearing ridiculously long black nails. But I could see the bastard's head tilt as he leaned over my son once more.

"Oh," he repeated, a soft sound of surprise murmuring from him. "Oh. Do I recognize you, little snack?" He drew Dustil in tight so I could barely see my son again- and there was something even worse about the delight cresting in his voice-

"Telos?" The word lilted, high-pitched and sharp, as it slipped from the depraved monster. "Yes, yes, I am sure of it! I found you on Telos, all those years ago! You were mine, little morsel, before dear, dead Nisotsa so rudely interrupted us. Lucky for me you have no Dark Jedi to vouchsafe your life this time, hm?"

The bastard's head slowly turned my way. "And you are stronger, now, I sense," he murmured, facing me, but his words were directed at Dustil. "Strong enough that I might keep you as a pet for a good while. But I'm afraid your darling father is too annoying for my tastes. Shall we watch him shoot himself first?"

My stomach dropped. No. Not like this, not in front of Dustil, not so he has to watch-

The blaster was still in my hand. My hand, not immobile anymore, but slowly being forced up and around.

Dustil moaned, weak and whimpering like a starved child, and the sound etched cruelly into my soul. And as the barrel of my own gun slowly rotated around to face me, all I could think of was the son I was failing, the wife I had already lost, and the lover I would be leaving alone in a galaxy that cursed her name.

xXx

Revan Freeflight:

My limbs froze. For some reason, I couldn't move. The smart thing to do would be to press forward, finish it, for Mal was still standing-

His black-and-grey exoskeleton slowly stained crimson with his life. A mortal wound, that. When plasma gouged deep enough, even cauterization couldn't stem the flow. Karon's lightsaber might've even breached his heart.

I was beset, suddenly, with the inane deliberation on whether he recognized the weapon I had run through his chest.

Malak's gaze held mine. The poisoned depths of his eyes had lost that unbridled rage; darkening, instead, into grim resolution.

"You're dead," I whispered. My lips felt numb. I should- I should feel something-

"Am I?" he breathed, unmoving. "And yet, here I stand."

The kaiburr was behind me. Thrumming deep, as if in reaction. I could feel flurries of compression pull sharp around Mal; tightening, tightening, until I sensed what he was doing and why he was still standing-

"That's a mortal wound." I blinked over dry eyes. My senses traced the path of Force cording frantically through his flesh; binding muscle and sinew together in a futile attempt to hold back the inevitable. Holding him upright, keeping him alive. "First time you fumble the Force, you'll be out cold."

And dead.

His brow twitched, as if he'd intercepted my thought. "In many ways I am more alive than you, Revan." Mal's voice cracked, broke, wheezing hoarsely through his voder. "I look at you, and I cannot see a glimmer of the lord I once betrayed, or even the woman I once followed."

She's still there, Mal. I swallowed. I'm still here.

And a thought, then, horrifying and tragic, ran through my mind with soul-destroying ease.

What if... what if our positions had been reversed? What if fate had decreed Mal to be the one captured by the Jedi? And then the second chance had been thrust upon him, willingly or not, as he was painted with a false backstory and forced to navigate between sacrifice, objectivity, and the greater good?

Could Mal have chosen redemption, given another life?

Would he have?

"I sense the shape of your thoughts, Revan," Malak rasped. The Force pulsed through him, twining into a mesh of energy as it weaved through his charred flesh and forced his heart to keep beating. "How long did the Jedi masters spend with their fingers dabbling in your blackened soul?"

I was still, damnably, frozen. And if not for the gauntlet clutched at his ribs, and the Force clutching at his life, I would've thought Mal was almost relaxed.

"Have they reprogrammed you with bleatings of the light?" he whispered. "Do you dream of redemption, Revan? For yourself? For-" his voice dropped, "-for me?"

Something sharp and shameful sliced me to my core, as I realized- no. In all of my travels and travails, and with all the lost or fallen sentients I had encountered and dared to judge, the one person I had never considered saving was the man I had once, by all accounts, loved as fiercely as the stars.

Now, etched with evil as he bled out before me, there was no one left to mourn him but an amnesiac ex-lover who had already moved on.

"Anyone can turn back, Mal." My words were weak, useless, a sop to my own short-comings. I said them anyway. "Even in death. You know- you must still know- there is no death-"

"You, of all people, spouting the wisdom of the Jedi?" A laugh, as nasty as it was bitter, scraped from his voder. "Your utter gall remains unchanged, I see. You are ever the hypocrite."

My throat clenched tight with emotion. I felt numb- and yet, so exposed.

"You emptied Korriban. Is that how you live with yourself now, Revan?" Malak jeered in a low voice. His gaze was the burning of suns, as the Force climbed higher in his dying grasp. "You redeemed Yudan Rosh. Reclaimed Bastila Shan. And now, what? You think to add your old lover to the mix?"

My head said it was a fool's errand. But what sort of person am I, if I don't even try?

"Mal-"

"Oh no, Revan, I will not be relegated to nothing more than the ultimate notch on your forsaken pillar of atonement." His voice dropped, and his eyes narrowed to slits. Behind me, the kaiburr pulsed at my back. "You started this. You led us all down this path. You cannot just wave a hand to undo it all."

"This is not for myself," I whispered. "You were great, once. Righteous. Just. Surely, you remember better than I. Surely you recall the man you once were-"

Malak's head shook, the smallest amount. His metal jaw glinted, taunting me with my own crimes. "And now I am reminded of your weaknesses, Revan," he growled. "You shed them as Dark Lord – but you are no Dark Lord now."

There was a bud of urgency, flaring in my gut, imploring me to act. With the Force as a crutch for his dwindling life, Mal could not win- but he was not yet beaten, either.

"How much really has changed?" he hissed. "You were once so reckless and driven when it came to those you cared about, Revan. You do not remember, but I do. That escape from Chandrila. The gamble on Vanquo, to recover Talvon. That absurd Fett infiltration you hid from me, risking it all to save Yudan-"

I flinched.

A sound between a growl and a laugh choked from him. "Oh, why am I not surprised?" he sneered. "Of all the things to remember... and you have others now, don't you, Revan? Others who follow you blindly like him? I saw a soldier in Bastila's mind. Would you risk yourself for a common grunt?"

There was a roaring in my ears. And the urgency grew, as the kaiburr hummed loudly behind me.

"I sense your crew, Revan." Fingers of Force pushed out from Malak, through the chamber and beyond, spanning across the breadth of the Star Forge. "Scrabbling like vermin. I sense Sharlan Nox. He's caught someone. Is that one of yours? It must be, for your pet Twi'lek is there too-"

What? My gut lurched. No. Yudan is with Bastila. Malak had taunted me earlier with this Sharlan Nox, saying he was out hunting my crew- I hadn't stopped to consider or believe it, for I simply couldn't afford to-

The Force flared, deepening in my grasp. Shielding bright around me, for whether Mal spoke truth or not, his purpose was still distraction.

"You always did risk too much for your friends," Malak whispered. Something moved – his lightsaber, lifting, spinning slowly in the air by itself, hissing back to life under his psychic grasp.

My own hands tightened in response, drawing the guard of my old master up high. Malak couldn't duel me, not anymore. He couldn't best me like this, and yet in that second I knew he was about to try-

His 'saber launched like a spear, with the wrath of his kaiburr-laced Force behind it. I was ready, shield firm and weapon crossed, but at the last minute his 'saber weaved hard left-

A crash, as it gouged deep into crystal. A sonic shriek; the tearing of rock screaming into my head-

My eyesight blanked and my ears rang, but the Force- the Force wrapped around me still and safe. I was grounded, shielded, protected, even as the alien song of pain cried out through the air.

But I was safe- I would sense Malak the instant he stepped close, and if he tried anything more gruelling than a Force throw, the weaves holding his chest together would surely slip-

The scream of sonic dulled to a bleat as my vision returned. And Malak-

And Malak-

I glanced wildly around the now-empty chamber. A faint hiss, barely audible beneath the kaiburr's whimpering, as a faraway hatch closed.

Malak had gone.

xXx

Yudan Rosh:

I ran, power-induced celerity speeding me on, as I ignored the eerie whispers and whimpers that called out to all Force-users who dared step foot on this perfidious ruin.

In the air, shockwaves of Force rippled and surged; emanating from the titans of my past. Revan, and her Malak, clashing together in one last terrible wrestle of wills.

Chrome blurred and corridors vanished as I ran from the woman Revan begged me to either protect or vanquish, and instead toward the man whose death might cause her to fall again.

Oh, Revan. The things I do for you. Even now, after everything.

Ahead, a pair of rogue battle-droids. My hand waved, and they were hurled away: smashing into a wall, sparking impotently as I turned a corner and left them for dust.

Ancient Rakatan spat through the station. It was not the first time, and I barely took note as the lighting flickered as it had done earlier. For I was focused on my quarry.

I could sense him. Beneath the cyclonic storm of Revan and Malak, and amidst the tantalising temptation of the kaiburr. Sharlan Nox was the faint scent of decomposition, of flesh gone to rot, of Force that hadn't turned dark so much as mindless.

There has always been something slightly off about Sharlan. Cowardice, the likes of Bandon Stone and Arran Da'klor would mutter with a sneer, even as they bowed in submission to whichever Dark Lord had mastered us at the time. Apathy, I had thought, and found myself unable to castigate him for it without making myself a hypocrite.

For after Revan's death, nothing had truly mattered to me bar the twisted addiction of the Dark Side.

Or so I had thought, until Nisotsa had dropped the bombshell of Revan's resurrection.

But this residue, this malefaction upon on the air... I had sensed it before, from Sharlan, with no ready answer to its origin – other than as one more paradigm of Dark Side corruption.

We all fell, but the fall affected us all in different ways.

Now, Sharlan was easy to detect and track. With the maelstrom of Force churning all around me, I had expected Sharlan's signature to be almost indiscernible. But his trail was clear, burgeoning with unexpected strength- and close, too.

I ran down one last corridor-

At the end a dual-hatch beckoned, and the Force rallied sweet in my grasp before wrenching the doors open.

And in the hangar beyond-

A familiar figure stood, his back to me, garbed in the same scarlet-and-rubescent as always. He stood motionless as time elongated around me.

Force punched out from my grasp: a tight, compressive grip that coalesced around the man, thrusting him in the air like a rag-doll, dropping a limp body from his arms to the ground with a thud.

I charged. Burning green erupted from my hands as I closed in on my target.

My hold on him shattered a good metre before my strike could connect. Sharlan Nox landed, free, feet barely kissing the ground before he leaped clean back, bounding away from my onslaught.

He vaulted again, this time powerful and high, and cleared the snubfighter at his back before disappearing from immediate view.

The need to hunt fired in my blood: to chase down my prey and vanquish him while he was on the run. But a murmur of sanity held me in check, implored me to glance down at the body by my feet.

The boy. Breathing, and barely conscious. His eyes were wide and unseeing as he twitched on the floor. He was in poor shape-

The scuff of a boot had me whipping around, lightsaber raised high in reaction.

Carth Onasi stood metres away, by the wall, staring down in horror at the blaster in his hands. His chin jerked, then, before his gaze darted to his son.

"Dustil," he whispered.

I leaned down to grab the boy's arm, lugging him roughly to his feet. There was a whimper and a stumble, but the boy kept his footing, and I took that as a good sign while my attention snapped back to the rest of the room.

Sharlan had retreated, for now. I could sense him, like a pollutant thick on the air, ebbing in wait some distance ahead.

Waiting for an opening, a pause, a chance to retaliate.

"Dustil?" For a Force-blind, Carth Onasi was surprisingly quick. He was already next to me, shaking his son's arm, as the boy slumped uselessly at my side.

"Compulsion," I hissed through gritted teeth, recognizing the vacant stare of the enthralled. How had Sharlan dug so deep so quickly into the boy's mind? And the boy was drained- not to completion, but Dustil Onasi's signature flailed like a weak Initiate barely open to the Force.

There was a growl of discontent from his father. "We have to get out-"

"No," I broke in. "Sharlan Nox is stronger than I have ever sensed him to be. I will finish him." I turned a hard-edge stare on the stalwart soldier Revan had claimed for her own. "You must take your son to safety. Now."

The man's brows creased in immediate concern as he eye-balled his son. "I'll have to drag Dustil-"

And ahead, I felt a surge in the Force as Sharlan began to creep forward.

"I have no time to undo what is wrong with him." I thumbed off my lightsaber and clipped it to my belt in one swift movement. My now-free hand rose to cup the boy's chin.

Dazed brown eyes blinked at me, frowning in vague recognition.

"You will take your father back to the Ebon Hawk," I murmured, threading my words deep with power. It was harsh, quick, and the only salvation I could offer. The compulsion would wear off on its own soon enough – as, I had to hope, would the noose of Sharlan's coercion around the boy's will. "You will take your father back to your allies. Now."

"Rosh-" Carth Onasi snapped, angry, even as his son wrenched free from my grasp and pulled instead on his father's.

"Dad, we have to go back to the 'Hawk!" Dustil demanded. His voice was hollow, and one arm hung askew at his side.

"Go!" I hissed, for I sensed the drum of power as Sharlan darted closer. Carth Onasi's face twisted in dislike – as much at the concept of deserting as to what I had done, I surmised. "Both of you are nothing but liabilities, here – surely you perceive that!"

The soldier's expression hardened as his son wrenched on his arm. The man nodded, short and sharp, before finally allowing himself to be dragged away.

The single lightsaber was instantly back in my grasp. Behind me, I heard the brainless pound of fists against the now-closed exit hatch.

Inwardly, I sighed.

Compelled beings are not the sharpest of thinkers.

"Comm the others!" I called back, but my gaze stayed fixed on the silent trio of snubfighters that filled the hangar. I loosed a wrench of Force behind me – enough to open the cursed double-hatch once more. "Do you not have an astromech to overcome such obstacles?"

"Yudan Rosh!" a drawling voice declared from behind the closest snubfighter. My eyes narrowed. "Fancy meeting you here!"

The sound of disappearing footsteps eased something within me, but also distracted me from the object whistling through the air-

A cargo crate, flying sideways at my head-

I cursed, lurching back just in time, only to be sideswiped by a thrown barrel from the opposing direction.

I stumbled, off-balance and slightly winded. Instinct had me converting the stumble into a backspring, landing some metres back with my blade at the ready. Sighting a tech-bot as it hurtled through the air-

The Force rushed to my furious command, striking the bleating droid clean through with my weapon.

"Enough parlour tricks!" I growled, dropping one hand from my weapon's hilt to drive away a second crate with an upsurge of Force. "Come out and face me, Sharlan!"

"Why would I do that?" The man's voice seemed to saunter through the air, like everything was naught but a lark. "It is the height of foolishness to face a superior foe head-on, is it not?"

I sensed a billow of power, then; followed by the sound of thudding boots. I glanced up, to see the comrade who had never particularly impressed me, perching calmly on the roof of the closest snubfighter.

"Or, perhaps, the balance of power has changed," Sharlan intoned. His thin black lips curved. And the effluvium of Force stinking around him was great; great enough that I would be a fool to underestimate him.

But he was not my equal. He never had been.

"I see you are sporting a change of hairstyle," I mocked. Sharlan Nox was not one to fall victim to temper easily, but I knew my advantage would be to lure him into outright duelling. "Seems most unlike you, Sharlan. While Malak can do justice to a bald pate, I have to admit it is somewhat ridiculous on you."

Even with the distance between us, I could see the man's eyes narrow. "You have cost me a most tantalising appetizer, Yudan. Still, I suppose I am not surprised you are here, sniffing after Revan again. Even second best, you never could keep away from her, could you?"

The taunt burned, the more so because of its inherent truth. But Sharlan was fishing, testing – and I would not fall for the bait. "I am true to the one I swore fealty to first, Sharlan. What of you? You were not part of Deralia, and yet you remain at Malak's side. Do you truly believe your master will live through today?"

Sharlan trilled a laugh, still standing at ease atop the starship. I could rush him, leap forward to intercept- but I suspected the man would simply slither back deeper into the hangar unless I caught him by surprise.

"My master is safe enough," he drawled. "Although, really, what is a master but a stepping stone to greater heights?"

Sharlan had spoken with such blatant self-interest before – and I had to admit the sentiment did resonate with the damned hierarchy of the Sith. Still, I could not hold back a grimace of distaste. "Perhaps that was the first indication of Revan's impaired judgment – when she discovered you and trained you in the Force."

The first time I had seen Sharlan was shortly after Malachor, emerging in Revan's ranks right at the inception of her calamitous war against the Republic. Sharlan had never divulged his origins – and neither had Revan – but I had always wondered, even then, how she could so blithely ignore the disregard of a subordinate so indifferent.

"Found? You believe Revan was my first master?" He was delighted, warbling a chuckle as a single blade of scarlet fired to life in one limp wrist. "I suppose it was never a secret, per say; more that the both of us deplored speaking of such a barren cripple from our past."

My focus sharpened on the ground Sharlan stood upon, as I paid his words little heed. "I care little of your masters, present or otherwise," I returned, eyeing over the snubfighter's cockpit that was little more than a metre from his booted feet. His stance, casual and relaxed, was a nonchalance I knew was all for show.

"Well that surprises me," Sharlan murmured. "Considering you were almost as close to Em as you were to Revan."

That snatched my attention; and it was contrived to, I realized, as the detached hose of a refuelling gig came whipping through the air. I jumped high, flinging my 'saber down to scythe the airborne snake in two.

A second later, and I was landing- and throwing back Sharlan's follow-up barrage of what looked like the robotic arm from a cargo-lift machine.

Throwing it straight back at him-

Sharlan flung one arm out sharply, and the mechanical limb went careening into the shadows.

I could feel my brows lowering. "You expect me to believe that Meetra was your master?" I knew it was foolish to continue this distraction of verbiage, but it was difficult to let such a ridiculous notion lie.

The man shrugged, standing once more at ease on the sleek snubfighter's nose.

"Believe what you want," he returned. "Consider me Mandalore's lovechild if you like. After all, Mandalore's war was the crucible for so many of us. I had been alive for eons already, but it was on a scorched battleground where Em first found me and taught me to truly live."

"You speak rot," I said coldly. "I would have known had Meetra been training an apprentice-"

"In the middle of war? Towards the end, when she was so often called groundside?" Sharlan snorted in overt disparagement. "Would you expect her to broadcast such a heresy – training an unsanctioned padawan – when you were all teetering on expulsion from your precious Order?"

No- had anyone been training an apprentice, they would have kept it under wraps until the close of the War. Back then, some of us still harboured hopes of a return to the Order, even amidst the bitterness of their inaction.

"And then, what?" I clipped out in impatience – for I did not put any credence to his words. It was beguilement, distraction, no more than a means to draw my attention away. Truly, the man would have done better continuing to taunt me about Revan. "Then you deserted Meetra after Malachor to bend knee to Revan?"

"Oh no," Sharlan said softly – but I was aware of the Force as it built slowly in his still grasp. He probably thought he was being subtle about it. "Em was the one who sent me to Revan, to complete my training. A final gift, if you will, from a broken master to a bereaved student – but Em had no way of knowing that Malachor affected me, also. And Revan, I suppose. I daresay if Em lived long enough to know of Darth Revan's reign, she would have rued the day she sent me to her." He sighed in overt mockery. "Em was always so stupidly soft-hearted."

The ridicule present in his tone was enough to smart, on the behalf of a friend I still thought of dearly. And I surmised, then, that perhaps Sharlan was better at this game than I-

But it would not matter. Whatever his words, preposterous or blasphemous or aimed at my own weaknesses – I would not be foolish enough to let down my guard.

Keep your eye on your foe. His weaknesses, his intentions, his environs-

"I suppose you will claim you were at Malachor, too," I drawled, my eyes landing again on the closed cockpit hatch resting close to his boots. "Allow me to anticipate your rejoinder: you brought down Cassus Fett whilst everyone else had their eye on Mandalore."

Sharlan laughed, a sound both high-pitched and discordant. "I had forgotten how truly amusing you are, Yudan. No, you foolish dunce. I was with Em and Xaset. At the centre of it all. Back then, I was no more than an idiotic apprentice, refusing to abandon his master and her lover."

"Sure," I snapped in disbelief. Although Meetra and Xaset together would not have surprised me- for all that my friend had been well-regarded by the masses, there had been so few who dared draw close to an empath. Xaset had been one of them. "And the Force was not burned out of you because you are special-"

"Perhaps that is down to no more than physiology," Sharlan cut in, shrugging. "Humans are so short-lived and fragile, after all."

On another day, I would have questioned the implication- unless Sharlan Nox had the same ability as that strange shapeshifter we had encountered earlier, I did not see how he could claim to be anything but Human. In the now, I simply kept my focus tight on the man as he continued meandering. "I like to think I was born during the Wars. But Malachor- Malachor was where I was truly forged."

I struck, before he could.

A spear of Force lashed out from my grasp, aiming straight for the cockpit's transparisteel. Glass shattered in a fountain of shards, and the man jerked in surprise-

I was already flying through the air, lightsaber raised.

His scarlet blade lifted just in time, slamming against mine in a block that was more solid than I would have expected from him, once. A snarl twisted his gaudy black lips, and the gleaming pink skin on his scalp speckled with fragments of embedded glass.

He sidestepped, swift and abrupt, before thrusting out in a wild riposte I had to dodge backward to avoid.

Sharlan had more power and speed than I'd realized- but the art of duelling was my game. And this game, I knew, as I batted aside another lunge, was now on.

xXx

Revan Freeflight:

Bastila!

I was running to the exit, mind still hazy from that cursed sonic blast. He couldn't be far ahead, not even with the kaiburr, not with the ticking time-bomb of his own wounds drawing on his Force.

Bastila?

Hatch, refusing to open. Another second gone, before a brief pulse of ionization cleared the barrier. Senses, still shaky, but if Malak was going after my crew-

BASTILA!

Revan? She was faint, faraway, but slowly turning at my call.

Yudan, I gasped at her frantically, as I ran from the nexus of this cursed place. Is he still with you?

A pause, long and incriminating. No. He- we- Sharlan Nox is after- he has gone to protect the others, Revan-

The others-

She tried to hold back the thought, but my bond-sister was tired, and the faintest glimpse of a man seeped through-

Carth. No-

Malak was after them, he was headed to Sharlan and Yudan- and Carth was there-

"I sense Sharlan Nox," Malak's voice sneered in my head again. "He's caught someone. Is that one of yours?"

I had to get back to the hangar. Running, sprinting, tearing through corridors- I had to descend, get to my crew before Malak could-

Revan, you must focus on Malak!

He's gone, Bastila! Perched at the top of a circular stairwell, I could leap into the centre shaft and clear a dozen floors in one hit. He's gone after them! I have to get to the 'Hawk!

I jumped.

A flurry of surprise from her. I do not believe they are by the Ebon Hawk, Revan.

Even falling at enhanced speed, so many floors took more than a second. What? Where? Where are they?

She was focused wholly on me, now. Turning her energy to our bond, and retreating from the stars. I'd have to send her back to help the Fleet, if she hadn't done enough to tip the scales already-

All I know is that Sharlan Nox is hunting Carth's son. Push your senses out, Revan. Do not fall victim to panic. There is no emotion-

The Force cushioned my landing as I fell silently on the balls of my feet. Senses, straining out in desperation, for I was near the 'Hawk now, but if Malak had gone further afield-

Bastila retreated; I had the sense she was relinquishing all responsibility of this situation to me, for Bastila had the Fleet to protect, still. That had been my orders, after all – ensure Bastila win the true battle, out there in the stars, while I held Malak at bay.

The kaiburr's energy susurrated thick through the place, as if it knew its greatest ally was on his last legs. But it was in the throes of his final moments that Malak could truly wound me.

There. The Force honed in on a faint spark: Jolee's, fainter than it should be. Next to the slumbering speck of Juhani, still nestled within the 'Hawk.

Further afield: Dustil, running. Yudan, blazing in the Force next to a sickly taint that was not Malak-

Fear punched hard in my gut.

Malak- he was striving for a last act of vengeance, I knew this. But even he would have understood he was not quick enough to hold me at bay. Not wounded, not if I was following the same path-

Panic was swift, acrid, and heart-stopping. Time froze. And my own voice whispered in my mind-

I'd always been more powerful than him-

My head, turning back up, to gaze in horror at the ceiling some dozen floors above. Back, towards the upper meditation chambers.

-but he'd always been able to surprise me.

xXx

Author's Note:
Coming up next: the depths of Force bonds are explored.

A showdown's worth of thanks to kosiah for the beta.