As you can see, this is also changed. Things will progress from this point.

Sister: Red

Nikita lounged on a couch in Carth's apartment in Citadel Station, staring at the pale cream walls in utter lethargy. She felt incredibly useless. It had been almost two weeks since she had arrived on the station and she had done absolutely nothing. All she had done was watch Carth reunite with the old crew of the Hawk and have some awkward, maybe mildly entertaining conversation with them.

Bastila, Juhani, and Jolee had arrived first, seeing as they were right below on the surface. From what Nikita could tell, they had escaped Darth Nihilus' attention by only using the Force in extreme emergencies, otherwise utterly abandoning their connection to it. The total devastation and death of Telos' surface had masked them from his ravenous hunger.

Juhani was very nice to her, though she held Atton in some contempt. According to Nikita's obnoxious pilot, she thought him, 'the exact same thing as Carth, only with a much worse attitude.' When asked why she disliked Carth, she only gave Nikita a very long, sad look. However, she was helpful whenever Nikita asked and amiable despite the younger Jedi's closeness to the pilot. The Cathar, apparently, owed a debt to Revan and in connection, her younger sister.

Jolee, in contrast, looked pained whenever he looked at her. For almost four days, she couldn't figure out why. Finally, she cornered the old man and blew up at him.

"Why do you look at me so oddly!?" she shrieked one day when he gave her yet another indecipherable glance. "What have I done!?" She had stared at him, green eyes wild with frustration and confusion. She was distinctly aware, suddenly, that this Jedi might not approve of her practice of embracing emotion for good rather than rejecting it. However, Jolee had looked levelly at her, and had said in a voice as measured as his stare, "You are so like Revan, in everything you do – the way you give looks, your mannerisms, everything. And I have this guilt from telling her to try to remember you. I know she would have left anyway… but it's not a thought that lets me sleep well at night, lass. Nor does it make it better to know that if she had stayed here, you would have come to her, soon enough."

Nikita stopped questioning Jolee's quirks after that.

The third Jedi to arrive in that group had, of course, been Bastila. Nikita had been sitting on a chair in the other room as Carth greeted her, dredging up Academy memories. She remembered Bastila well enough – the question was if Bastila remembered her. She sincerely hoped so, as one of Nikita's favorite pastimes had been messing with the trying-too-hard-to-be-perfect Jedi.

"Nikita Vaas…" she heard Bastila saying. "The name should ring a bell, but I can't…" That was when she entered the room and saw the blonde Jedi smirking at her from her position on the chair. Bastila's eyes seemed to pop out of her head. "YOU!" she yelled loudly, enough to make Carth start.

Nikita examined her nails. "Me," she said uninterestedly, remembering exactly how to get under Bastila's skin. Bastila glared daggers at her. "YOU, you… the girl who was disobedient in everything she did, left the Academy to go be a soldier and got herself exiled, YOU stopped Darth Traya, YOU are Revan's sister?"

Nikita ignored Bastila for several more seconds to let the other woman's anger hit a peak. Then she looked up, and said boredly, "That was a really long sentence, you know that?"

She watched with glee as Bastila turned red. Bao-Dur had always said that was one of her talents, getting under people's skin. Bastila, with her rigidness to the Code, was especially easy to drive up the wall. It was the most fun she had had in days, and she tried to ignore the sorrow that ripped through her as Bao's name came to mind.

As Bastila attempted to compose herself – Nikita could practically hear there is no emotion, there is peace from Bastila's mind – she went in for one last blow. "Hey, rumor on the Outer Rim was you fell to the Dark Side for a bit." She saw the blush, and knew she had hit the right button. She finished, "I never believed it – you were too much of a priss to ever kill anyone, even if you were as red as Malak."

Bastila's jaw dropped. A muffled snort came from Carth, who had watched the whole scene with interest and was obviously trying not the burst into laughter. While Bastila mouthed at her wordlessly, Nikita rose, and strode towards the door. In the frame, she paused, and said over her shoulder, "We're going to be great friends, I can feel it. Just like old times, huh?" and ran out of the room before she burst into hysterical laughter.

It had been ugly for a bit, the 5th day of their arrival. Together, they had deemed only Jedi should go on the mission to cut their losses (plus, according to Carth, the more people who got hurt, the more Revan's temper would explode, which was an apparently ugly experience that made her entire first crew wince). However, Revan's old crew flat-out refused to not come. On top of that, after testing each of Nikita's students, Bastila had decided that they were simply not strong enough to go. With waves and waves of opposition, they finally decided on a crew; Carth, who was a given; Atton, because Nikita flat-out refused to leave him on Telos; Mical, because Bastila wanted to 'train him properly'; Mission, who pointed out she would stow away anyhow; Nikita; Bastila; Juhani; Jolee; Canderous, who seemed to have some sort of debt to Revan; and HK, who actually seemed excited at finding his old master. ("Statement: Do you think Master Revan will let me blast the meatbags who have kept her away for so long?" "Yeah, pretty sure." "Excited Reply: Excellent! I will prepare my various weaponry for meatbag extermination!")

Besides Bastila, who still nursed the Academy grudge of Nikita daring to be so rebellious, and Mical disliking Atton and vice versa, the new crew meshed nicely. Carth and Atton agreed on a plan to split piloting hours so each of them could actually get some sleep on this journey ("Wow, what an improvement!" said Atton sarcastically). Mical could actually tolerate Jolee's endless stories about destiny and love, and so Jolee was once again occupied by someone who he could prattle to for hours on end. Juhani took on Mical as her protégé, though with much more grace to Nikita than Bastila had done. Mission and Nikita had clicked like long-lost twins; the easily distractible, hyper, goofy young Twi'lek was practically Nikita's soul sister.

There had, of course, been issues about what to do with Mira and Bao. After yet another effort had been made to heal them, this time with three additional Jedi, and the attempt failed, it was determined they couldn't possibly remain on the ship and that they would be transferred to the Citadel Station medical center. Nikita, though, was in paralyzing terror that Mira or Bao would die before their return, alone with strangers. That was part of the reason T3 and Visas were not going. The Miraluka had graciously offered to stay behind to care for them, and T3 had agreed to broadcast to the Hawk if Nikita wanted to check up on them or if there was an emergency. Still, she worried. None of them could diagnose Mira's condition, or explain why Bao's wound would not heal. What if even Revan couldn't fix them? A shudder of terror shot through her every time she thought about it, and Nikita stubbornly shoved it from her mind.

With the newest crew of the Hawk assembled, they met in Carth's office to plot their course. When Nikita and Atton arrived late from visiting their two injured comrades, the others were arguing over the meaning of Revan's little rhyming clue.

"Well, it's really common sense," pointed out Juhani. "Where would any long term space traveler go to get cheap food and weapons in abundance?"

Atton let out a loud 'HA' which earned him stares from the others, who had just noticed he and Nikita's appearance. He looked at them like they were insane, then sighed, "Come on, are you really all such goody-goodies?" Bastila glared at him, and replied sourly, "Not all of us have such… risqué pasts." Nikita shot daggers with her eyes at the annoying prim Jedi, but Atton brushed it off and continued, "The one place where anyone who wanted cheap crap would go is Nar Shaddaa."

Bastila's jaw dropped. "NO!" she cried. "Surely no proper Jedi has set foot on that scum world in decades!" Nikita leaded forward in her chair to look Bastila right in the eyes. "I did," she said dangerously, "and my crew, and we found a Jedi Master there. Aren't we proper Jedi, or do you want us all to be just like you? Because that worked out so well with the destruction of the Order."

Before Bastila could say anything, Jolee cut in, "And the lass never exactly fit the 'proper Jedi' mold, now did she?" Nikita smiled grimly at his words, thinking, way to break the mold, Rev. Maybe you haven't changed.

Carth, as unofficial head of the whole operation, nodded in consent. "Nar Shaddaa it is. We'll try to find a trail there." Mission squealed happily. "YES! They'll actually sell dangerous weapons to me there!" Before anyone could protest, she had raced out of the room to find her credit stash. Carth dashed after her, shouting, "Don't you dare! If you blast off a lekku or something Dustil will KILL me!" Dustil, Carth's son from his first marriage, was Mission's boyfriend and a fledgling Jedi under Bastila who would be helping Visas care for Mira and Bao.

The others filed out one by one, Nikita last of all. Carth walked by in the opposite direction, heading for his apartments after he failed to catch Mission. He didn't look at her, but Nikita could have sworn she heard him murmur, "Hang on, beautiful, we're coming."

---

Nikita and Bastila stood nose to nose in the women's dormitories, frustration burning in each one's eyes. Bastila had barged in, demanding to know why Nikita had trained her apprentices to let emotion help them, instead of suppressing it entirely. Apparently Bastila had an issue with Nikita's blatant violation of the Jedi Code.

"Bastila, I'll train Atton and Mical as I see fit – they're MY students!" Nikita yelled. "If I say emotion helps them, it helps them!" Bastila snorted, infuriating the hotheaded blonde all the more. "Yes, of course," Bastila said acidly. "We all want them to be trained by a woman kicked out of Order by the Council."

SLAP! The sound of Nikita's palm hitting Bastila's cheek shattered the heated air. "I had. No. CHOICE!" she yelled, and stormed out of the room.

With tears stinging at her eyes, Nikita ran to the cargo hold. She had a secret place there, hidden behind the 'boxes' in the netted walls. One didn't really hold boxes – it was a hologram, with a large hollow space she had filled with pillows behind it. At one point, it probably had been a smuggler's hiding space. Now, though, it was her own personal hideaway for when she needed to get away from the rest of the universe.

Now she crawled in there, stuffed her face in a lavender pillow, and began to cry. She had worked hard, so very hard, to reconnect with the Force and be a Jedi again. And now this bratty little princess who had fallen, for Force's sake, was accusing her of corrupting her students? Nikita had never gone over to the Dark Side – she at least had that going for her. And look what the Jedi Code had done for the council! They were all dead now; maybe that was a sign that new teachings were needed.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded on the floor of the cargo hold. Nikita quieted her sobs, and held perfectly still. Only one other person knew of this place, and she would prefer to keep it that way.

"Master Nikita?" Inwardly, she groaned. It was Mical.

"Are you in here?" he called. "I wanted to make sure you were ok… I saw you running by and you looked upset…" When he received no answer, he added, "I'm here, if you want me," and left.

Nikita lay flat on her back and stared at the low ceiling. Mical was a sweet kid, and not half bad looking. But she already had a problem with having closer connections than a Jedi should, and she didn't want to lead the boy on with false hope. It wasn't fair to him, since her heart belonged to someone else.

She stifled a sudden scream as a face appeared overhead. Atton grinned down at her as she made a face. "How did you get in here so quietly?" she whisper-shouted. "Hey, I was a scoundrel. Sneaking's a part of the job!" he informed her cockily.

She sat upright so Atton could squeeze in next to her. The pilot-turned-Jedi Sentinel clambered in and made himself comfortable. "So why'd you slap Bastila, huh?" he inquired. "It's usually Mira who loses her temper on idiots. I thought you weren't supposed to do that as a Jedi." Nikita flinched at Mira's name, her haunted wide eyes shimmering in Nikita's mind.

Nikita sighed in sorrow. "She…" she took a deep breath to stop the tears that pricked in her green eyes, failed miserably, and said in a rush, "ShesaidIwasahorribleteachertoyouandMicalbecauseIgotkickedoutoftheOrderandnowI'mwonderingifshe'srightandifIshouldbeteachingyouatall!"

With that, she shoved her face back into the pillow and cried again. Screw looking weak, she hurt.

Atton stayed silent as she got herself under control, and then said softly, "Don't listen to her. She's just getting under your skin because she doesn't want to believe you're better than her, the Jedi princess. If it helps, I think you're a great teacher just because you know what it's like to get kicked out."

She raised her head a little. His face was close to hers. Much too close. So close she could kiss him…

No. Bastila already doubted her, she couldn't trust herself with love and where she was going she could lose Atton – or he could lose her. "I have to see Jolee, I forgot," she said quickly and pulled away from him. As she clambered out of the hidey-hole, she missed the look of disappointment on Atton's face as he contemplated what he had done wrong.

---

As Nikita wandered through the ship, she saw bits and pieces of what Revan's life on this very vessel must have been like. HK, the familiar old psychobot, could be regularly found arguing the merits of what he called 'wanton slaughter of the finest degree' with Jolee as opposed to mercy. Mandalore – or Canderous, as she had began to call him after hearing everyone else doing so – was often wherever Carth was, swapping Revan stories or talking about old battles. Juhani, Bastila, and Mical usually could be found in the medbay, discussing the Force and the history of the Jedi (boring, Nikita thought). Mission, the happy little ball of life on the ship, bounced between Nikita and Atton for girl talk and games of pazaak where she regularly lost credits just to steal them back.

The reactions to returning to the ship had been varied. Bastila and Juhani had looked like they would have gladly taken another vessel, whereas the rest of Revan's old crew dashed around, pointing out places of memory and objects of importance.

As for herself, she often thought about her sister's life on board. Had they slept in the same bunk? Had she too found the cargo hold hideaway? Had the copilot's chair been her favorite spot, too? It had been so long since she had spoken to Revan, and yet she felt as close to her as she had before the Wars.

It was horrible for Nikita that the Wars had torn their family apart as surely as it had torn Carth's. Their parents had died in a bombing conducted by Malak soon after Revan's fall, she knew. And the fall itself had torn an uncrossable hole between the sisters. Consumed by a need for power, Revan had no use for a powerless Exile with no touch of the Force – not that Nikita would have joined the Sith anyhow.

But despite the fall that killed their parents and separated them for almost a decade, Nikita missed Revan. She missed the feeling of being protected by her indomitable big sister. She missed the loud, happy laugh and the cheerful voice. She missed the whip of the black ponytail, the warmth of the deep brown eyes. If this journey held one personal thing for her, it was that Nikita wanted to see her sister again so badly it hurt.

---

The Hawk touched down on Nar Shaddaa almost a week after their departure. The dock owner recognized her (or at least he recognized her lightsabers), and let her pass. She was flanked by Atton, her trustee, and Carth, who she knew she wouldn't detach from her side until Revan was found. Atton had discarded his Jedi robes for the familiar ribbed jacket for purpose of blending in. Nikita had followed suit, donning a beige tunic and leggings characteristic of an average citizen. Carth, on the other hand, had whipped out an appallingly hideous orange jacket.

"What IS that?!" she had asked in horror upon seeing it. Carth had looked rather offended, holding the jacket close and answering, "It's a jacket. See the sleeves and the zipper?" She gasped, "That's the most hideous thing I have ever SEEN!" Now Carth really did look offended. "Well, your sister likes it!" he snapped, as if that justified the unbearable ugliness of the thing he was by this point wearing. "Is she color blind!?" Nikita threw up her hands and left the cockpit.

Now they walked together, a decidedly odd trio. She noted Atton stood a little farther from her than normal, obviously remembering her rejection a few days earlier. Shefelt a pang of guilt over hurting him that really had no business in her head. She brushed it away and tried to focus on her mission. Remember, it will only hurt you both. Don't give in.

Suddenly, a man with short-cropped blonde hair and ice blue eyes ran up to them. "Excuse me," he asked them desperately. "My sister, Lashowe, she was a Jedi like you, have you seen her? Is she alive?" His pale gaze searched their faces. The eyes alighted on Carth as the Republic admiral spoke. "Lashowe?" he asked perplexedly. "I know that name, but she was no Jedi. She was a Sith I once saw years ago."

The panic in the man's eyes was suddenly replaced by recognition. "You passed the test," he informed a very confused Nikita. "Come with me – my wife and I have a message for you." She took a tiny step back. "And why should I trust you again?" she asked icily. The man stared at Carth's disgusting jacket. "Because a Jedi woman told me to look for a man in an orange coat who knew who Lashowe was. Because this Jedi woman left a datapad for this man."

Carth sucked in a breath. "Lead on," he said eagerly, the hope flaming in his eyes once again.

They followed the mysterious man to an apartment deep within the city. It was well-sized, and spotless, probably due to the wife mentioned, Nikita reasoned. Overall, it was a very nice apartment for a couple living so deep within Nar Shaddaa. But why live here if they can afford such a nice place? hissed the little voice of suspicion in Nikita's mind. Unless they're hiding something… or from something…

As soon as all four were inside, the man locked his door and drew the shades. "Hurry, please," he urged. "I'd rather not have the Exchange coming down on me for harboring two Jedi." He sat them on a couch, them lowered himself into a chair.

"My name is Tomo," he explained. "Lashowe is –was – actually my sister, and I had been looking for information about what happened to her, since she disappeared after the Mandalorian Wars. Five years ago a Jedi woman approached me with an offer. She said that she knew exactly what happened to my sister, and could prove it, but I had to do something in return. All I had to do was walk past the docks once daily and look for a man in an orange jacket. I had to ask him if he knew Lashowe the Jedi. If he said she was a Sith," here Tomo winced, obviously unhappy with the revelation Revan had given him, "I was to take him here, tell him the story, and give him this."

From a drawer in a table next to him, he drew a red datapad. He held it out to Carth, who snatched and read it hungrily, as though by reading it he could see Revan again, hear her, anything.

They waited in silence as he read and reread the words. Eventually, he handed it to Nikita, who read;

Dear Carth and whoever he dragged with him,

I miss you, and I have only been gone a few weeks by this point. I write this as I prepare to leave Nar Shaddaa for the first world that may have clues. If you are reading this, then it's several years after the fact and you are finally coming after me.

As you can see, this datapad is red. There is a reason for this, I don't just like colors. I actually want to be found if I have been gone five years, because that means I am most likely in a lot of danger, and the galaxy is in even more. So, I have left a trail of datapads for you to follow my trail. This one is red, the next orange, and the succeeding ones yellow, green, blue, violet, pink, and white. The first was black, marking the start of the journey. When you find the white one (or whatever color has a cut off sentence, meaning I was caught), I can no longer help you. But those should get you on the right path after me.

Hopefully, my sister has shown up with you, because if she hasn't, it means she is a. dead, b. captured, or c. working for the enemy (pray to God it's not the last one, or you will all shortly be dead). Also hopefully, if what little precognition I have is not wrong, someone here should help you more than you know.

I love you. I promise I won't fall to the Dark Side. If you got Bastila to come and she's still a priss, tell her I say to get the stick out of her ass.

Yours forever and ever,

REVAN

Nikita stared at the little red box. Amazing how something so simple could be the start of a trail that could undoubtedly lead them all over the galaxy and beyond.

She dragged her gaze down to one line of text beneath the signature:

P.S. Here's your second clue – I once saved some people here, an ancient lover lost one dear.

She wrinkled her brow at it, but was distracted by the tinkling of ice cubes in glasses.

An incredibly pale, redheaded woman glided in with drinks for them all. She was very tiny and thin, but had a look of intelligence around her delicate face. She was captivatingly beautiful, to boot. Tomo raised a hand to rest on her shoulder. "May I introduce my wife, Mir'ren," he said with obvious pride. Atton and Carth inclined their heads to her.

Mir'ren smiled at them, though Nikita noticed it looked a bit forced. It dawned on her that she knew that face from somewhere, she just couldn't remember where. The woman moved around the small room, giving glasses to the other guests. As she walked, Nikita suddenly recalled words Kreia (that name hurt to think of too) had spoken to her weeks ago on Peragus. "Your stance, you walk tells me you are a Jedi." Nikita saw her own walk reflected in the smaller woman's.

Finally, it hit her who this woman was. She looked at Tomo, and asked sweetly, "Oh, when did you two meet?" He said happily, "Just about two years ago. We married a year past."

Nikita widened her false grin; the dates had confirmedher suspicions. She turned to Mir'ren, and said in a sugar-coasted voice, "I see. And when were you planning on telling your husband you are a Jedi?"

---

The woman knew she was locked in. She cursed herself for the hundredth time for being so stupid as to chase the Shadow into the building. Of course it was a trap. Of course you fell for it, you idiot.

She hunched her shoulders, concentrating on healing the various cuts and bruises all over her body before they became infected. While she worked, she mused on what kind of building this could be. It was black like all the others, but it was windowless, which was very different. She cursed herself another time for not noticing more details but one: a large rinren painted on the red door.

At least that helped her some. It was obvious she was in an important building. But what important building has no windows? she thought to herself. She knew these people liked to look at their own vast realm, so a lack of windows was highly unusual.

Though the door had disappeared as soon as she had run through it and the walls were much too thick to break through, she could still reach out with the Force. Part of her was utterly terrified of doing so (what is they tried to get into her mind?), but reason told her she must to assess the situation.

So the woman sent one sole tendril of the Force snaking through the building. She caught traces of Occupants, obviously, and a couple Shadows. But it wasn't until her tendril traveled up maybe thirty feet that she realized why there were no windows.

She expanded the tendril, hoping what she sensed was wrong. But it wasn't. There were dozens of sentients held there, some she knew but most she didn't. Some were like her, in utter fear, and many were weeping. But a few of them, set farther away, were flanked by Occupants and one or two Shadows. These ones were screaming for mercy and salvation, and the Shadows were so close it was almost like the victims and Shadows were one.

The woman pulled back her Force to her, feeling sick. Of course there were no windows. Of course a Shadow would come here.

Revan was a prisoner in an occupation facility.

Oho, so the plot thickens. Meet Mir'ren, a Jedi with secrets that are bigger than most… Let's not forget Revan. Where is she? What are Shadows and Occupants? An occupation facility? Yup, read and hopefully review.

Michaela