Well, thanks for the reviews. And as promised, the more I get, the faster I review. So here is chapter 3. Revan's character, and attitude are still moderately hidden, but you can see a little more of him here.
Chapter 2 – Punishment.
Revan kept his expression still as he entered the room, nodding once to Master Zhar, who stood watching two young Padawans spar. Revan let his eyes fall on them for a moment before dismissing them, neither seemed to have any true passion for the spar, and though there was no passion for a Jedi. Having no desire to improve yourself? To push yourself further? Useless.
"How fares young Bastila, Knight Revan?" The master asked after a moment of silence. Revan stared at the Padawans until they stopped listening in to the conversation, and returned to their bout.
"She is serving her punishment at this moment." Revan responded, keeping his eyes on the two combatants. Both had holes in their stances and yet it seemed neither of them sought to take advantage of them. Had he ever been so incompetent, he wondered to himself. If so, he would not have stopped until he had improved himself. It was the reason he was where he was now.
"Punishment, Revan? What had she done to displease you so quickly?" The master's gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly. "I do hope you did not allow your … frustration... at the situation to weigh upon her."
"Not entirely." Revan replied, frowning as a sliver of guilt wormed its way through his being. No doubt the Master's intent. "I gave her a task where time was limited, and the stress high. I hope to teach her the importance of making quick, but intelligent, decisions. This will serve her well, if this battle meditation, is to be utilised fully."
"I see then... you intend to teach her to react in battle situations. Still, please try not to be so hard on her. Bastila is a strong child. But very fragile as well. She does not have any real friends in the Order." Revan nodded to show he understood, though he couldn't see why Master Zhar would tell him this. The social life of his Padawan was not generally something he should be interested in. Unless she was doing something wrong, of course. Still, the words made him pause. Perhaps he had been too harsh on her. Normally, to see a young girl cry... it would have upset him. Yet in his current situation, the weakness had only angered him.
Not a desirable trait in a Jedi. He sighed to himself. He'd been totally unfair on her, expecting her to instantly grasp his lessons, and then damaging her self esteem when she failed to meet his expectations. Still... it wasn't all his fault.
"Has the Council re-considered my words. Or was this apprentice the cynical attempt to ground me, that I thought it was."
"The council here on Dantooine can make no decisions like that Revan. The Mandalorians are only raiding a few worlds on the outer rim at this time. The Republic should be able to handle it." The same empty platitudes that had been handed to him for days now. What if the Republic couldn't handle it? What then. That was the question the councils refused to answer. Mobilising a force took an inordinate amount of time and work. There was no point deciding to help at the last moment, only to find they lacked the resources to even engage the enemy.
"And if it escalates? How many must die?" He hissed, unwittingly using the same words he had on young Bastila. And yet, she was but a child, and this was a Jedi master, who could make a difference. The guilt that he had berated her so unfairly, settled on his shoulders. He didn't need this. Not the apprentice, nor the guilt he felt if he mistreated her, it was stressing him out at a time when he was already stretched to breaking point.
Could no one understand this? Giving him an apprentice was unfair to both of them.
"The Force wills, such a situation will not occur Revan. Giving you an apprentice, was an attempt to balance you. To give you reason. Not to bind you to Dantooine. In fact, you may have more opportunity to leave with her." Left unspoken was that this would only happen if Revan seriously trained her. Even if he could get her to a level which she could start accepting tasks outside the Enclave, and off Dantooine, the council would likely veto any that brought him near Mandalorian space.
"Perhaps I should find her then. I'm sure the embarrassment has been punishment enough."
"I will accompany you, Revan." Master Zhar didn't precisely state that he didn't trust Revan to do well by the girl, but the implication was there. Perhaps he deserved that, after letting his anger at the council, for refusing to step in against the Mandalorians, effect how he treated a young and lonely girl. Perhaps he should actually apologise to her, and fix their broken relationship.
Perhaps.
I hate him. She repeated in her mind for the thousandth time. An hour she had spent, on hands and knees, now cleaning one of the hallways. Her Padawan robes covered in dirt as if to mock her rank. So many people had given her strange looks. Others, knowing ones. It infuriated her, to have them building their own assumptions. No doubt rumours were already spreading about proud Bastila Shan. What stupidity must she have done to earn the ire of her master, on day one, no less.
It was worse when people she knew, passed her by. Young boys and girls, they would look at her and smile, not in a friendly manner. Sickeningly smug smiles, of those who hated her. So her attitude had not helped her make friends? Who needed them? She was a Jedi. Really, she had first wished to make friends. She'd clung to those who would speak with her, followed them in everything they did. But it had apparently never been enough. Be it her accent, or the amount of time she spent studying... even beating them in training was enough to alienate herself.
In an Order which based itself on calm and serenity, it was almost ironic how much pride and jealousy was going round. Bastila almost expected this was on purpose, to better show them the danger of such emotions. That, or the council assumed they would just grow out of it.
How could the council of given her to such a cruel man? She had learned under Master Vrook, and while his words stung, and his action was demeaning. He at least gave credit where it was due. This... this bastard. He tore apart all her defences and humiliated her, not only in private. But now before all her peers as well.
"Stupid Master... arrogant bastard... cruel idiot..." Her whispered monologue was interrupted as a bunch of booted feet came to a stop before her face. Irritated, she looked up to see who it was, only to let out a sigh of frustration.
"Well look what we have here?" A young male laughed, nodding down at her as though she were an insect on the floor. Behind him stood a girl and two other boys, giggling to themselves. "If it isn't miss high and mighty. Scrubbing the floors like a little youngling." She knew them by name and face. They'd once been her friends, until she outperformed them in academics. They too were Padawans now, and they'd taken no small pleasure in making her wait on them.
"What do you fools want? I'm busy." She demanded condescendingly. Trying to look unconcerned with them and superior. A difficult task when she was on her knees before them.
"Oh, us? Well we just wanted to make sure you were doing your job properly, that's all. Right guys?"
"Yeah, maybe you can clean my room after you're done." This time it was the girl who chipped in, looking down on Bastila with a cruel smile. Inwardly she seethed. These four were nothing compared to her Master, but they'd certainly do for venting her anger on.
"Your room needs cleaning Cynthia? Did you wet yourself again?" The laughing girl suddenly became an angry cat. Practically raising her hackles at Bastila's words. For a moment it looked like she might attack her, but the first man put an arm across her chest.
"Leave it Cynthia. I'm sure Bastila has enough menial work to do without our help, right brat?"
"You're giving me more work by standing here, and stinking up the air." She snapped, not willing to let her irritation go. "When was the last time you even bathed?" She added for good measure. Now it was the other three holding him back, and Bastila allowed herself to smile at her victory.
"You think you're so high and mighty? Little miss Padawan, the only reason you even got promoted was because of how much ass-kissing you did. I bet your parents would be so prou-" He didn't manage to get any further as Bastila had already leapt to her feet and struck him across the face with her palm. The loud sound echoing down the corridor even as the four of them leapt towards her.
"What is the meaning of this!" A quiet, but powerful voice demanded, causing them all to freeze in fear. At the end of the corridor, Master Zhar stood with his hands on his hips, a dangerous frown on his face. And next to him, to her horror, was her very own Master. Revan. How she wished she could die right now.
"Master Zhar I-" One of the boys began, before Revan stepped forward and silenced him with a wave.
"You." He commanded, pointing to Cynthia and looking into her eyes. "You will tell me what occurred here." The words sounded heavy and pronounced, and to Bastila's surprise, Cynthia immediately answered.
"We began teasing Bastila about being forced to clean the corridors. We do not get on. She argued back, and we started getting angry. When Sanders insulted her last, she stood up and hit him." They all looked down at the explanation, unwilling to look either of the older men in the eyes.
"Bastila. Do you dispute this?" Her master questioned. Her small fists clenched at her side as she wondered what she could do. Should she mention that he had insulted her parents? And how touchy she was about them? But really, what justification would that be?
"No, master..." She was going to be in trouble either way, she could tell... She might as well be truthful about things.
"I am very disappointed in you all, you-" Master Zhar began, before Revan placed a hand on his arm.
"If you will allow me, Master Zhar? I believe a lesson would be useful here." He seemed to wait for The Twilek to nod, before he continued. "All of you. Follow me." Bastila kept herself near Master Zhar as they made their way down the corridor. She didn't know what her own master was planning, but she was sure it would be bad for her. After all, she had been told to clean the hallways, and instead started fighting.
Could he force her to become a youngling again? Demote her from being a Padawan... The very thought terrified her. She'd worked too hard to get where she was. To her mounting concern, he took them into a medium sized, round room. A sparring room.
"Beginning a fight is poor conduct for a Jedi." The tall man began, walking over to a wall and leaning on it. "However, sometimes confrontation is inevitable. At those times, you need to carefully consider words and actions. As well as consequences."
"Knight Revan, surely you do not-" Master Zhar began before pausing. The two of them seemed to have a conversation between themselves, simply by eye contact. Before the Twilek nodded his head. Bastila felt the claw of fear grab at her stomach again. The consequences of starting a fight? She could tell this was to be her next punishment...
"Set your lightsabres to a low power. This will cause pain, but no permanent injury. Bastila. You will face all four of these Padawans. In this situation, you started the physical fight, and so must finish it." Despite the situation, the hopelessness. The fear in her stomach was replaced with a heavy weight of acceptance, and anger against her master raged within her. How dare he? He wanted to set her up to be torn down, and there was not a thing she could do about it.
"Ha, this will be easy." Sanders taunted, activating his blue sabre and turning some dials on it. The light became a little dimmer, but it still hummed with power. The others seemed to agree, as they two activated their blades, swinging them to loosen their muscles. Bastila on the other hand looked to Master Zhar in concern. She held no illusions. These were all Padawans, Sanders could likely beat her on his own. Cynthia was about equal to her... against all four. This wasn't a spar... it would be a massacre.
"Just do your best Bastila." Zhar whispered to her, almost seeming upset that he could do little else for her. For one horrible moment, she even looked to her master, Revan. For help. He met her eyes and then nodded to the side, gesturing for her to begin. Feeling her breath quicken in fear, she stepped up to the matt.
"As the aggressor. Bastila has the first move on her side." Revan explained. "You cannot move, until she attacks. This is when the spar begins." She wondered if this could be a way out for her, if she walked away now, could they technically attack her? On the other hand, if she walked away from this, everyone would know her as a coward.
Deciding the best bet was for her to catch them off-guard and attempt to remove some from the fight early, she threw herself forward, striking harshly at the one boy who was still looking at Revan. Against all her expectations, the boy screamed out as the blade struck him, burning his skin and sending him to the floor. One down, three to go.
"Don't think that will work on the rest of us." Sanders gritted out, probing her defences with a quick lunge. She easily deflected the blow, but had to leap back as Cynthia slashed in from the other side. Timing her blow to coincide with when Sanders had already struck. The third circled round her out of her view. She tried to calm herself down so she could sense his attack, but she just couldn't feel the force like that... she couldn't concentrate, with the two in front of her also attacking.
Their sabres crashed for a few moments, Bastila constantly moving backwards in an attempt to get the rogue element before her, and in her vision. But he continued stay out of her sight as they fought. It wasn't until Sanders locked blades with her, something she should have known was foolish, that he struck.
Something hard and hot crashed into her shoulder from behind, making her skin cry out in protest even as her arms weakened. To her horror Sanders broke through her lack of concentration and brought his own sabre down across her breasts, making her yelp out in pain. Already defeated, and yet through the tears burning in her eyes. She wasn't even surprised to see Cynthia strike towards her unprotected face. A blow that would not only knock her out, but likely break her nose.
She didn't even have a chance to yell out as it hit, the hot pain flaring across her face as her neck snapped back. Her body span through the air and slammed into the matt floor. Her consciousness had fled mid-flight.
"Bastila can no longer fight, this match is over!" Revan shouted, interposing himself between his apprentice and the three victors. His purple sabre activated. His mouth was a firm tight line, all the better to hide the snarl behind. He hadn't foreseen that blow coming, and would have stepped in if he had. How stupid of him to have expected these children to stick to the rules. In a lightsabre spar, you continued until someone was struck. Damn it. Now his apprentice was injured, and he, angry.
"You fought well Bastila." He whispered uselessly as he knelt down, picking her up. She weighed very little and was sprawled listlessly across his arms, her head lolling back as some blood streamed from her nose. The feeling of her, the sight of her, made his arms shake in rage. How dare they?
"Master Zhar, please take her to the infirmary. I will continue the lesson here." The master was only too happy to take Bastila from him, cradling her across his chest as he hurried out. Revan idly wondered had it been another injured Padawan, if Zhar would have stayed to demand what Revan's lesson would entail. Their order certainly was a hypocritical one, to show such favouritism.
"You need to consider words, especially if they lead to violence." Revan began again, loudly to the now worried children. "Often it's best to diffuse the situation. If you are outnumbered, you can be beaten down easily." He wasn't angry that she had started such a fight... no... In fact, had she been able to defeat them, he would have considered her methods apt. As it was, she needed to learn only to resort to violence if it was unavoidable, and only if she would win. The ends justified the means, this would teach her that starting fights based on pride, or a short temper, did not lead to good results. A Jedi knew when to feign weakness, and back away.
"On the other hand... even when a person is alone. You need to think of who they might know, if they have friends nearby. Or who might simply step in to aid them." He drew a second sabre from his robes. Playing with them for a moment before igniting them both. One was purple, now dimmed from lower power. The other was a dull green.
"Hypothetically you provoked a single girl to combat. Consider me the older brother who angrily came to defend her honour. It will happen more often than you might expect on many lawless worlds. Many will not even confront you such as I. But might come with gangs, ambushes, blasters... You could even find a bomb stowed on your ship." He stood before the now nervous three Padawans. The fourth still unconscious where she had struck him down.
"You may attack first." Revan offered. Standing straight with both sabres held loosely at his side. A Knight was generally beyond the skill of a single Padawan. And yet Padawans did spar against Knights, and it wasn't that unusual for them to win some of those bouts. Usually against newer Knights, of course... but it did happen. Three on one, was surprisingly good odds for the Padawans, against a Knight who looked quite young.
Revan knew these thoughts would be running through their minds. And as the three youths spread out and began to circle him, he let the first small smile in a long time, come to his lips.
Hm well. I wrote this twice. Once with Bastila not being knocked out, and him carrying her. But it felt a little too love-dovey for so early on. So Bastila gets to suffer. Rawr!
If you liked it, please review. It makes me update faster. :D
