Chapter Two: Dantooine
Bastila could not hide a sigh of relief as the streaks of stars which heralded hyperspace slowed and Dantooine became visible, like a giant emerald in space. Even though she could not see the Enclave, she could feel its presence. Dantooine was home for a Jedi.
It was night on Dantooine when the Ebon Hawk landed. Mission, Bastila knew, had grabbed a bunk in the starboard dormitory. Zaalbar had followed soon after. Canderous and Revan had continued talking long after, but she had seen Revan heading for the other dormitory later and assumed he'd gone to sleep as well.
And with Revan not prowling around, she felt it was safe enough to sleep before trying to bring him before the council; she couldn't imagine him doing that willingly.
Carth blearily eyed the contents of his cup of java as he began to feel the first trappings of sleep edge away. He was not a morning person – only years of active duty had ingrained in him the routine of getting up hours before noon.
A bloodcurdling, animalistic scream rattled the metal rafters of the ship and Carth jumped, cup nearly slipping from his fingers, and half of the java falling to the floor. As he steadied himself, he realized that was no woman's scream.
He heard feet pounding towards him from the cockpit and Bastila hurried by him without a word, her face whiter than a sheet and almost translucent in a fright that Carth had never seen a Jedi wear. Only seconds later, heavier, more even footsteps marched toward him from the [portside] dormitory and Mars entered, his eyes ablaze.
He, too, ignored Carth and stalked toward the cockpit. Seconds later Carth heard a snarl and Mars returned.
"Where is Bastila?" the words oozed like poison, and the voice was horse – as if he'd been screaming.
"She left." Carth nodded toward the exit hatch.
Mars snarled and stalked towards the exit.
"You going to follow him?"
Carth looked up to see Canderous leaning on the doorframe to the garage, Mission poking her head around his body as if to see if it was safe.
"That would probably be a good idea, wouldn't it?" Carth sighed and placed the unfinished java on the counter. He was as awake as he'd ever be.
Mars was moving at a startlingly fast pace for a stalk. And he seemed to know exactly where he was going, pushing unsuspecting Jedi and Padawans out of his way if they got within three feet of him with a Force power that Carth was sure Bastila had said Mars shouldn't have at this point.
Mars' destination was the Council chamber, and he barged into the room with a shriek of rage.
"BASTILA!"
"I knew he would come," an older Jedi in red remarked, his tone smug.
Mars ignored him, stalking up to Bastila. "How dare you! How DARE you bind yourself to me!"
The ominous electric cackle of the bracelet on Mars' wrist was the only warning the Jedi masters got, as Mars' arm shot out in the direction of the male Twi'lek of the group and the Jedi's lightsaber flew to his hand. It ignited in an angry hum as Mars brought it arching towards Bastila's body – poised to cut her in two – too fast even for even eyes to follow.
"You'll die too!"
The blade stopped a hair's breath away from her torso.
"You know I speak true." Bastila's voice was steady, although shaded by fear.
"Fickle things, Force bonds are," the little green Jedi master said slowly. "Willing, are you, to take the chance?"
Mars winced as the bracelet sent out more sparks and slowly lowered the lightsaber. "I said I would never underestimate you again, Bastila. It appears I was wrong. Again, your cunning and trickery fool me."
"I had no more control over this bond forming than you, Mars!" Bastila huffed. "You of all people should know that these things form on their own! And if it was an ability I possessed, do you think I would allow myself to be bonded to you?!"
"Of course you would, if your Council demanded it," Mars hissed.
"I'm lost," Mission said in a very small voice, like the lost child she refused normally to be. "Isn't Mars a Jedi? Isn't the Jedi Council his Council too?"
"I think there's more to Mars than the Jedi want us to know," Canderous' grin was feral and Carth didn't like it. "I've seen Jedi before, but none like Mars."
"You think he's a Sith?" Mission squeaked.
"That's exactly what I think."
The Twi'lek had retrieved his lightsaber from Mars' limp fingers and the little green Jedi master, Master Vandar, looked at Mars with a calculating expression. "Now, Bastila, telling us of your dream, I think you were."
"You will tell them nothing!" Mars hissed.
"I think not. She will tell us everything, Mars Almasy," the Jedi master in red, Master Vrook, replied instantly.
"I – we – saw a ruin. Malak and Re-" Bastila faltered over the name of the Sith Lord as Mars' glare intensified. "-Revan were there. Malak was talking about whether the Dark Side power they felt from inside was worth some risk, but Revan seemed to ignore him and unsealed an archway. And then they entered and saw this… well, I couldn't see much of it. A black apparatus of some sort."
"I see. Great power, this contraption has, does it?"
The question was aimed at Mars, who refused to answer, glaring at Bastila who could not meet his gaze.
"And here on Dantooine it is. Contributed to Revan and Malak's fall I believe it did. What think you, Mars?"
"I think I'm not going to tell you anything."
"So loyal to Malak, are you?"
"He is a Sith!" Mission squeaked, and Carth felt something turn sour in his stomach. Of course Mars was a Sith. How could he have been so blind?
Mars hissed, taking a menacing step towards Master Vandar, only to be blocked by two of the Masters. "Never insinuate that I am loyal to Malak – or ever was!"
"Not loyal to Malak… so then loyal to Revan," Canderous mused. "One of Revan's Sith. He would have fought in the Mandalorian Wars."
"Then why not tell what you know?" Bastila demanded. "If it will tell us how to defeat Malak, why not tell us?"
"Because it is not something Jedi should know." Mars' lips curled in a sneer as he turned to pin her with his gaze.
But Bastila had recovered some of her Jedi spirit and seemed unfazed by the glare that, only minutes ago, had made her unable to look off the floor. "So it's a Sith secret. Then I think, Masters, that it should be investigated. I think I can find the ruins from what I remember in the dream."
"No!" Mars snarled, again advancing on Bastila. "No Jedi will make it through the ruins. And I refuse to have my life cut short because of your stupidity and Jedi recklessness."
"Then you will have to come with me." Bastila said primly. "In fact, I think you will have to follow what I say from now on as well."
"Be assured, that will not happen."
"Oh won't it? Then what's to stop me from taking my lightsaber and offing myself as you tried to do minutes ago?"
"Bastila!"
The reprimand of the masters went unheard as Mars bore down on Bastila. "You wouldn't kill yourself," he scoffed.
"Oh wouldn't I? You underestimate a Jedi's resolve. If this is the only way to convince you to work with the Jedi, then this is what it takes. I would gladly sacrifice my life to ensure that Malak and the Sith are defeated."
Mars drew himself up to his full height and sneered down at her. "Jedi hypocrisy, little Bastila. They, too-" he jerked his head to the side, indicating the Jedi Masters, "-would have no problem sacrificing your life to destroy Malak and his Sith."
And Mars stalked from the room, leaving the Jedi council members to converse with Bastila.
"He's coming this way!" Mission hissed, as she backed behind Canderous.
"And he already knew we were here, if he's one of Revan's Sith," Canderous remarked.
Carth was silent as Mars approached them – as the Sith approached them.
"Now, now, is it a custom in the Republic fleet to listen in on private conversations?" Mars' voice purred as he neared them. Seeing the look on Carth's face, an eyebrow rose. "And what could you be thinking to have such a look?" Mars seemed only now to notice the presence of Canderous and Mission.
"Canderous. Mission." Mars inclined his head toward both of them before turning back to Carth as if they'd been having a conversation before that small interruption. "Is it really that bad? I thought you would have figured it out by now." He paused, thinking. "In fact, I would have bet Bastila told you – considering you tracked me down on Taris."
"You're a Sith."
An amused smile played on Mars' lips. "Yes."
"You fought in the Mandalorian Wars."
The smile grew feral for a moment, then wistful. "Yes."
"And then you and all the other Sith turned on the Republic."
A simplistic tone. "Yes."
"And then when Malak turned on Revan-"
"I was captured by the Jedi in that battle, yes." The snarl again tinged his voice. "But this really isn't a good conversation to be having in the hallway. Jedi are the worst gossips, you know."
"No, I wouldn't." Carth replied blithely before turning and walking away – obviously not wanting to be followed.
Mars shrugged. "He'll come around," he told no one in particular. "I'm going for a walk."
"You sure the Jedi want you to go for a walk?" Canderous sneered.
Mars' smile would have been beautiful if not for the malice it failed to hide. "I'm sure they'll hate me for it." His head tilted to the side as if in thought, "But Jedi can't hate, can't they?" He shrugged. "Their loss." Mars meandered down the hallway in the opposite direction that Carth had taken.
Mission yawned as she returned to the Ebon Hawk. Canderous had slowly followed after Mars, but she needed more sleep.
Zaalbar was waiting for her, his worried growl assaulting her ears the minute she entered. At his question, she looked towards the cockpit, which was sealed shut.
"Naw, I don't think we should disturb him, Big Z," Mission told the Wookie as she headed for the nearest bed. "It's been a big morning."
Zaalbar questioned her, chiding her for not waking him up.
"Hey, if you could sleep through that scream, you deserve to sleep in. But I'll tell you what happened-" her words were covered by a yawn, "-if I can stay awake long enough."
Mars was leaning against the outer wall of the enclave when Canderous was finally allowed outside by the protocol droid entry guard.
"You could have told me you were one of Revan's Sith," Canderous shot at him immediately.
"Would it have really changed your perception of me?" Mars mused, walking away from the Enclave.
"Revan defeated us, not Malak. Of course it makes a difference."
Mars smiled a secret-laden, content, smile, which did not go unnoticed by Canderous. Yet before Mars could respond, they were interrupted.
"Excuse me. Are you a Jedi?"
"No." Mars sneered at the man before looking down at his robes. "I forget I'm wearing these sometimes."
"But you came from the Enclave!" the man sputtered, "You must have contacts with the Jedi! Please – please help me!" Mars rolled his eyes but the man continued. "I petitioned the Council, but they won't see me!"
Mars snorted. "I'm not surprised. That sounds like the Jedi Council."
"Yet they should listen to me!" the man wailed. "I told them the Mandalorians were threatening my family, but they sent no one to protect us!"
"If you cannot protect yourself, you do not deserve protection," Canderous scoffed.
The man eyed the visible Mandalorian clan marking on Canderous' arm and turned, quailing, to Mars.
"So what did your family do to get on their nerves?" Mars was unimpressed.
"They came to the farm demanding credits and supplies. But Elsa – my Elsa – said no. So they killed her. Please – my daughter was murdered – help me! I seek vengeance! I'll even pay you to do it, if that's what it takes!"
Mars shared a look with Canderous before turning back to the man, eyebrow raised. "How much are we talking?"
The man sighed in relief. "You can name your price when it's done, Master Jedi."
Mars growled as he passed the man, "I'm not a Jedi; no Jedi would seek vengeance for you."
The man was quiet as Mars stalked out of the Enclave courtyard. Canderous easily caught up with Mars' irate strides.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but what those Mandalorians did was against the Mandalorian code of honor, was it not?"
"The types of Mandalorians who settle on places like this are scavengers. They shouldn't even call themselves Mandalorians."
"Good. I'd have hated for my respect – gained in the Wars – to be diminished now." A feral grin split his face with maniac glee. "It's been a long time since I went hunting. Feel up to a day of sport, Canderous?"
Canderous hefted his repeating rifle. "Always."
Mission was again awoken from her sleep by a loud shriek. This one, however, was high and piercing. It wasn't Mars this time. She followed Zaalbar, rubbing sleep from her eyes, to the main room of the ship.
"You haven't seen him since this morning?!"
Bastila's voice, Mission thought.
"Do I look like his keeper, Bastila?"
Carth's voice, Mission identified again. Guess that identifies who the 'he' is that they're talking about.
Carth was staring down Bastila as they entered. Canderous, Mission noticed, was nowhere to be seen.
"He didn't tell you anything? Like where he would be going?" Bastila's voice was pleading.
"I haven't talked to him since he left the Council room," Carth replied flatly.
"That means Mars is off on his own." Bastila sounded lost, as if something terrible had happened.
"I think he's with Canderous," Mission told Bastila helpfully, as she stretched, "So it's not like he's out on his own."
That didn't seem to reassure Bastila as much as Mission thought it would. She turned back to Carth pleadingly. "Please help me look for him, Carth. If he's gotten off-planet somehow-"
"Why is he so important, Bastila?" Carth demanded angrily. "Why does he know so much? I'm sick of being left out of the loop!"
"I can't tell you all of that, Carth." Bastila looked shaken. "He's our only real weapon against Malak-"
"He's a Sith!"
"Yes, he is. And, as such, also our prisoner."
"Why is he so important?" Carth repeated. "What can he do against Malak that no one else can?"
Bastila sighed. "He was captured during the battle when Revan was betrayed by Malak. He was right there when it happened."
"But so were you."
"So was I," Bastila agreed. "But I am no Sith. Mars is. And if there is one thing he wants, it's to avenge Revan."
"So let him!" Carth raged.
"We can't let him go off on his own," Bastila replied calmly, "because he's too powerful a Sith. As you said, he knows too much. And what he knows, Carth, is Revan's way of the Sith. You've fought against those kind of Sith; can we risk that there might be enough Sith who still remember and prefer Revan's way to unite?"
Carth deflated. "We can't. It would destroy the Republic."
"So we have to find him before he gets off the planet and reunites with Revan-sympathetic Sith!"
"You're talking about me, I assume," a voice drawled from the entry hatch. Bastila whirled around as Mars meandered into the room. Mission jumped out of his way as he passed her and raised her hand to her nose to try and block the pungent smell of blood of which Mars now reeked.
"What have you done?!" Bastila gasped as Mars' body came into full view.
Mars' robes were streaked with fresh blood. His face and hair were spattered with dried blood. In one hand he held a red Mandalorian helmet with was steadily oozing blood in huge drips onto the floor. His eyes were lit with a joyous light as he smiled.
"Why, Bastila, Canderous and I were engaged in a gentlemanly hunting expedition today," he drawled lightly. "Dishonored Mandalorian is in season right now."
Canderous appeared over Mars' shoulder, looking tired and elated at the same time. Bastila took another appraising look at the two of them and huffed.
"What possessed you to go kill Mandalorians?"
Mars grinned sinisterly at the Jedi. "We were just helping out the locals."
"Cut the innocent act, Mars," Bastila snapped, "It doesn't suit you."
Mars shrugged, unfazed. "If you say so. I'm heading for the 'fresher." He proceeded to do so, but stopped abruptly when Carth got in his way.
"And what are you going to do with that?" The pilot eyed the helmet-incased head in Mars' hand.
Mars 'hmm'ed thoughtfully. "Haven't thought of specifics yet. Maybe I'll hang it on a wall somewhere."
Carth groaned in disgust. "We all have to co-exist for a little while longer at least, Mars, and I'm guessing you're the only one not feeling a little sick right now because of that. Get rid of it."
Bastila's quick gasp of breath was audible in the silence after Carth's quiet order. Mission shifted behind Big Z – just in case she needed a shield, though. Carth was crazy, she decided, if he was going to order a Sith around – especially one who looked as Mars did right now.
But Mars' features smoothed out into an abiding smile. "All right," he agreed easily, tossing the head to Canderous. "Get rid of that for me, will you?" He didn't wait for an answer before sliding past Carth toward the refresher.
Canderous headed back out of the ship with the dripping helmet as Bastila stared at Carth in disbelief. After a few moments, Carth looked over at her. "What?"
"You gave him an order and he did it. Without complaint, without trying to refuse – without even a sarcastic comment! No one's been able to do that."
Carth shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is, Bastila. If an order makes sense, normally people follow it."
"Mars is anything except a normal person, Carth. That man even insulted the Jedi Council on Coruscant after his capture! And he just obeyed you like you were a senior officer! He's up to something," Bastila warned, "Be careful, Carth."
"Maybe Carth's right, Bastila," Mission piped up. "I mean – he didn't even know what he was gonna do with it. Maybe it just made sense the way Carth explained it. He can go get another… dripping, bloody, Mandalorian head… once we're not sharing a ship."
Bastila frowned. "It does make sense, Mission, I know. But Mars is a Sith – nothing he does is for a simple, sensible, reason." She turned back to Carth with worried eyes. "Just be careful."
His hair still wet from the 'fresher, Revan sighed and streched as he finished clearing a spot in the cargo hold's floor. Dropping easily into a kneeling position, his scope dwindled to the slight twinge of the Force he could feel flickering around him.
The bracelet sparked painfully as he drew on the Force. Yet, as the pain mounted, so did his connection with the Dark Side.
He missed it's sinful whispering in his ear. The same way a child misses a toy when it is broken beyond repair, the same way an addict missies his drug of choice when he runs out. In the same way a lover would miss his beloved, he surmised, he craved it, and its absence was an ache he could not ignore any longer.
The Force trickled back to him slowly as he began to loose feeling in the fingers on his left hand. It entwined around him – welcoming, enthralling – murmuring its undecipherable language.
And for a moment, Malak's betrayal had never happened. For an instant, he was still the undisputed ruler of the Sith.
"Mars! What are you doing?!"
Revan's eyes shot open, the Force slipping away beyond his reach, as he looked up at Carth standing in the doorway. Carth was staring at him. Revan frowned. What was wrong?
"Can you even feel pain?" Carth asked as he crossed the room to where Revan sat.
Revan raised an eyebrow, then looked down at where Carth was pointing expectantly.
His wrist was banded with a blistering ring where the bracelet had touched the skin.
Force, that hurt! Revan winced as the pain came roaring back with no Dark Side to distract him. "I didn't notice."
"Obviously."
Carth's tone was still hostile. Revan ignored the throbbing pain in his left wrist and calmly looked up at Carth. "I take it you had some other business to discuss with me other than my apparent ability to ignore injury?"
"Bastila is going to go find a ruin tomorrow. She has asked me to go with her. She said you would also be going." Carth's voice was emotionless, but tight. Revan didn't like it. It was really too bad that he couldn't use Force Persuade. Then he wouldn't have to deal with this.
"And you don't want me to go?"
"I understand that you have to. You have to protect Bastila for your own sake."
"Hmm. You don't trust me."
"I don't."
Revan shrugged. What exactly did Carth want from this conversation? He was truly a fascinating man. "Good. Then we understand each other." He stood and brushed by Carth, heading for the med unit, aware of both the spike in Carth's anger and that Carth was following him.
"Understand each other?! Whatever makes you say that?"
"I'm a Sith and you don't trust me. That's very smart of you. That kind of attitude could save your life someday." Words delivered blandly, but Revan had to hide his glee at another spike of anger from Carth. What had happened to this man to make him react so? Now Revan wished to know. "Why do I suddenly make you so angry?" he asked bemusedly. "You didn't trust me before, you don't trust me now – there is no net change that I can see." He fished in a drawer for a kolto pack.
"I trusted you to get this ship, didn't I?"
Carth's voice was dead and smoldering and absolutely glorious. Revan basked in the anger as he located the kolto pack and slit it open with his teeth in the practiced ease of a soldier.
"Ah, but then your anger is misplaced, Carth. I did not change between when I left with Canderous and now. Only your perception of me has changed. And you have only the Jedi to thank for that."
"You always blame everything on the Jedi."
"As the Jedi blame everything on the Sith. Think about it, Carth. Do my actions really seem so different to you?" Revan paused to apply the kolto to his wrist. "Or is it just that the adjectives describing me have worsened in the Republic's view over time?" A sinister smile played about his lips and Carth found himself wondering exactly when he had lost control of this conversation. "Truthfully, Carth, the Jedi have reduced me to nothing. I am a Sith in belief only. Have you seen any Force Lightning? Or a red 'saber? Of course not. I've been stripped of my weapons, stripped of my will, stripped of the Force. You fire at me with the blasters you like so much and, at this moment, I could not deflect the blaster bolts."
He marched past Carth again, now intent on leaving Carth behind for some solitude. "All I have left are my beliefs and my anger. Do me a favor for the time we have left to share the same ship, and leave me to them."
"They cause you to mutilate yourself…" Carth's voice trailed off meaningfully but Revan merely grinned.
"Peace is a lie; there is only Passion. Through Passion, I gain Strength. Through Strength, I gain Power. Through Power, I gain Victory. Through Victory, my Chains are Broken. The Force shall free me."
"You're reciting Sith code as a reason to harm yourself?"
"Is that not what the Jedi do when asked a question they cannot explain – defer to the code?"
Revan's amused chuckled lingered in the corridor long after he'd disappeared into the cargo hold again.
Canderous Ordo was not a man to feel vibes – of the negative or positive variety – but even he could tell there was something downright wrong the next morning; a wrongness centered around Mars, Bastila, and Carth. The very room in which all three of them existed held a sour note.
The Republic pilot was both nervous and lost in thought. Bastila was as far from Jedi serenity as Canderous had ever seen. And Mars seemed to be soaking it in like a plant soaks in sunlight – which only served to aggravate the other two more.
And the Jedi were sending these three to some ruin that Mars thought dangerous enough to kill a Jedi? That was one of the worst tactical errors Canderous had ever heard of the Council making.
And he'd heard of a lot of those in the Mandalorian Wars.
In their current state, Canderous was willing to bet only Mars came back. Something had to give, and Canderous would only speculate on what eventually would.
That something came in the form of Mission Vao, though the poor Twi'lek had no idea what she was starting when she demanded to be allowed to go to the ruins.
From the start it had been a disaster in the making, Carth mused. And much like a horrid flight accident, he could only watch it unfold.
The life-debt that Zaalbar felt was owed Bastila was the problem. Zaalbar thought he should go along to protect Bastila. Mission didn't want to be left behind and said she would come along as well. Bastila said it was too dangerous for Mission. Mars quipped that it was too dangerous for all but a Sith. Bastila rounded on Mars to tell him to be quiet-
-and the shyrank next that was Mars' sarcastic tongue descended upon them all. Mars was bitter, and he aimed all of that anger at the nearest Jedi: Bastila.
Unbidden, Mars' words from the night before came pouring back into his mind. The Jedi had ripped away his weapon and his Force. Yet, Carth reasoned, Mars was a Sith. He followed Sith code and possessed the same lack of morals all Sith lacked. He abused the Force – didn't he?
Yet the look on his face when he told him how helpless he was… such a raw look, so open and unbound. That was no fake look.
How could a man as decent as he'd thought Mars Almasy to be miss the very thing that tied him to the depravity and corruption – the evil – of the Sith?
But miss it Mars did, and he hated those who took it from him. This rage ruled him to lash out at whomever he could at every opportunity. As he was doing now.
Mars stormed out of the ship, guttural curses spilling from his lips – only a few that Carth recognized.
Bastila's face instantly took on the look of thinly-veiled worry that appeared whenever Mars was out on his own, and she raced after him, calling over her shoulder that the ruins were Jedi work and for Mission and Zaalbar to stay behind.
Mission, crestfallen, adopted a stubborn look Carth knew well already from the short time on Taris. "I'm not a kid," she growled, "I can take care of myself."
Carth sighed, walking over to her. "Mission," he told her, "sometimes proving that you can take care of yourself is realizing that something is too powerful for you."
"But you're going!" Mission complained.
"Yes, and my every part of my being continues to tell me that I shouldn't be going, that I should leave it to Bastila and Mars."
Mission's grin was worth the little white lie.
Mars was already headed out of the Enclave courtyard when Carth caught up to Bastila.
"We have to catch up with him before he runs into any Kath Hounds," Bastila panted.
"Kath Hounds?"
"The Council told me there's a fallen Jedi who's aggravating the Kath Hounds in the area. I'd prefer to run into as few packs of them as possible."
"Mars doesn't seem to care," Carth replied as the figure passed over a grassy hill and out of sight.
By the time they'd gotten to the top of the hill, Mars was plowing through the valley below. "What does he think he's doing?" Bastila gasped as he continued on a course that would bring him in direct conflict with a pack of Kath Hounds. "Is he suicidal?"
Remembering the wound from the night before, Carth shuddered. "I think he just doesn't see pain the way we do."
"Come on, let's get to him before he gets himself killed." Bastila started down the hill but slowed as Mars reached the Kath Hounds.
Carth watched in astonishment as Mars walked right through the pack of dozing Kath Hounds under the watchful eye of the Kath Hound bull. "How did he do that?"
Bastila shook her head. "I don't know. He shouldn't be able to calm beasts without the Force. And even if he had, these Kath Hounds are so overwhelmed by the Dark Side already that it shouldn't have an effect."
"Maybe they just sense a kindred spirit," Carth guessed.
"I don't know, but he's getting too far away for comfort."
And indeed, Mars was almost already over the next hill.
Being inside the Jedi Enclave library was unsettling to a man like Canderous. This place, this huge room with its domed ceiling and overbearing statues, was silent. Quieter than a tomb, yet alive in a way Canderous couldn't quite describe.
Trust the Jedi to have a freaky library, Canderous griped. Sure, it's open to all, but no common people want to go inside. As he settled at an unused terminal, a few Jedi – or were they just apprentices? – gave him disapproving looks as they passed. Of course they would, he thought as he glared back at them. Even if what he was doing was perfectly legal.
For once.
After all, the Jedi records were open to the public, and he would enjoy reminding anyone of that vehemently if they dared disturb him.
The Jedi archived everything, Canderous noted after a few minutes. The number of Jedi apprentices entered into the enclave, the number who became Padawans, the number who didn't, and so on and so forth. All of it useless to Canderous, yet he had to wade through it to find what he wanted.
Personal profiles.
All of the Jedi apprentices had profiles. Their exam grades, both theoretical and practical, their birthing date, familial status, hair color, eye color, weight and height graphed over time – all of it was recorded up until the point where they became a Padawan.
Canderous was searching for one apprentice in particular: Mars Almasy. He hadn't thought to do this before, but watching Mars calmly ripping off the head of that Mandalorian had changed his mind.
He had felt no remorse for the other Mandalorian, the fool deserved his death, but it had raised his respect for Mars. And with such a level of respect, came a level of wariness. Mars was dangerous, even without his Force powers. Canderous was no fool – he knew it was only a matter of time before Mars got that back. When he did, Mars' will would have to be catered to.
After Mandalore's and Revan's deaths, Mars was the first person Canderous had found who might be worthy of following.
Yet, when he searched for Mars Almasy in the records, the search came up with no results.
That was odd. Perhaps Mars hadn't gone to the Dantooine Enclave?
Canderous linked with search to the Coruscant archives and waited.
Nothing. There was no 'Mars Almasy' in the entire Jedi archives.
There were three listed with the last name of 'Almasy' and fourteen listed with the first name 'Mars', but no 'Mars Almasy'. Would he like to refine his search?
Canderous stared at the little question box. How was that possible? Why would Mars not have a profile? Mars had to have grown up in some Enclave somewhere. He had told Carth he'd fought in the Wars and then betrayed the Republic, so he had to have been a Jedi before becoming one of Revan's Sith.
Now there was a thought. Perhaps the Jedi removed the profiles of 'fallen Jedi'. Well there was an easy way to figure that out.
It only took a few minutes for the computer to locate Revan's profile. There was only one profile with the name 'Revan' in it. Canderous's eyes locked on the heading for a few seconds before forcing himself to look at the rest of the page.
'Revan Almasy'.
Well, the Jedi had sure tampered with Revan's profile. The picture had been removed, the recording of practical tests had been erased from the archive. But they had not destroyed it. And if they hadn't destroyed Revan's profile, why bother destroying that of one of his followers?
The Jedi were hiding something about Mars.
Canderous stared at Revan's profile, wondering what Mars had done to be erased from the archive.
Hmm… Revan was actually a few inches shorter than he was at the last recorded height. Weighed almost half his weight. Brown eyes. Purple hair.
Canderous's mind slowed to a stop as the words glared out at him from the screen. He blinked. They didn't change.
Purple hair.
Purple hair.
Revan Almasy.
The screen couldn't scroll up fast enough to satisfy his curiosity.
Born on Coruscant, father deceased before birth, some name of a mother – recorded dead a few years after the date of Revan's entry to the Coruscant Enclave.
No siblings.
Canderous shut off the console viciously. He was jumping to conclusions, wasn't he? Mars could easily not be related to Revan – could easily not be Revan. There were bound to be people with the same last name of 'Almasy', there were bound to be hundreds – millions – of people with purple hair, and the eye color did not match at all.
But still, Mandalorian instinct was screaming at him to investigate; the fact that Mars Almasy did not exist to the Jedi while Revan Almasy did boded for secrets and scandal. And he had learned long ago to always listen to his Mandalorian instinct.
Leaving the library lifted the weighted air that the inside of the Enclave held and Canderous found it easier to muse.
Could Mars be Revan? It seemed impossible, but yet it made sense. What if Revan wasn't killed, but captured? What greater victory could the Jedi feel, then to have their own enemy serving them? But Revan was too powerful for the Jedi; he'd rebelled and it had been all the Jedi could do to reign him in.
Canderous was sure the Force must be involved in some way as well – everything both the Jedi and the Sith did revolved around the Force. So perhaps a few details were off, but it was still a plausible theory.
Or it could be a strange fiction of his mind's creation. He had to find a way to prove – or disprove – the idea. But where to start? He didn't know what Revan looked like, and there'd never been a trademark that Revan had claimed during the Wars. No fighting style, no battle plan, no preferred Force power. Revan was as changeable as shadow, and it had given him strength. Yet now that hid him with equal strength.
Revan had already been wearing full robes and a mask when he joined the Mandalorian Wars, and there had been no battle where he'd been wounded enough that it was removed. The Jedi had, for their own reasons that Canderous could only begin to suspect, removed all recorded videos and pictures of him from their archive.
He could always just suggest the possibility to Mars and see how the Sith took his accusation. But Mars had mastered lying; if he wanted to hide that he was Revan, for whatever reason, Mars would do so and he would be none the wiser.
Bastila wouldn't tell him, in fact she'd probably only see it as a threat that he suspected.
He would have to be sneaky, which was something that left a foul taste in his mouth. Hiding was not Canderous' way, but he would do it for this.
Just the thought that Revan was alive awoke something he hadn't felt since the start of the Jedi Civil War. Revan was a purpose, a reason, for all Mandalorians to continue onward as warriors. He'd slain the last Mandalore in honorable combat; he'd proven himself more worthy than the best of the Mandalorians. But he'd been killed before they could reorganize and Canderous had felt Revan's loss as keenly as he had felt Mandalore's.
If Mars was Revan, just if it could be true, then Canderous had a purpose again. He had a duty to stand by Revan as he again ascended to glory – and Mars would, if he was Revan. The Mandalorians would rise from their ashes just as the Sith would.
And the galaxy would tremble in their wake.
Mars obviously knew exactly where he was going, Carth decided as the first time-worn pillars of a ruin came into view. "Bastila, how does Mars know this ruin so well? I thought only Revan and Malak had been here."
"That is true," Bastila replied. "Revan and Malak were the only Jedi to explore this ruin before us, but we have no way of knowing what they told their Sith followers about the ruin. Revan, at least, seems to have told them where it is and what some of the dangers are inside it, if I am interpreting Mars' actions correctly."
"How close was Mars to Revan anyway? I don't remember any Mars Almasy in the list of those in Revan's high chain of command. There was only Malak and his General – and I know the General was female."
Bastila shook her head. "I don't know where Mars fell in the hierarchy of the Sith. It is one of the things he's successfully hidden from us since his capture. I do know he was right there with Revan on the bridge of Revan's ship when we captured Revan." She paused as if thinking. "Though he always seemed too devoted to Revan to be a mere acolyte, and I do know that Revan always preferred the male gender over the female one." She shrugged, flippantly. "But I guess we'll only know when Mars decides to tell us."
Carth stared at her. She'd said that so flippantly, so casually that he didn't have a clue whether she'd been serious in that… highly strange musing or not.
"If you're here to have a picnic for two," Mars' voice drawled loudly from up ahead, "then I could have suggested at least a dozen places nearer to the Enclave."
"Come on." Bastila scowled, "Let's not keep him waiting."
The Force was still as strong inside the ruin as it had been when he and Malak had first come upon the Dark Side aura of the map the ruin hid inside.
A map to the Star Forge, a piece of the puzzle, hidden on worlds teeming with the Force so they could slowly rebuild themselves in the hopes someone—some Sith—would arrive and bring the ancient Sith Empire back to its former glory.
How the ancient Sith would weep to see a Jedi enter the ruin. How Revan wished he could let Bastila blunder to her death, as would any Jedi who tried to get the map. Yet he could not, and he must be careful not to give Bastila the information she hoped to glean from this.
Revan almost smiled as the overseer droid greeted them as they entered. It spoke the language of the ancient Sith, and Revan felt a twinge of nostalgia.
"Greetings human. You have returned again to this place, yet you bring a slave and an enemy with you. The slave is of no importance, but the enemy will not be allowed further."
"Do you recognize the language?" Bastila asked
Revan ignored her. "Greetings overseer." The ancient Sith language, a millennia of past power and conquest, rolled forth from his lips – harsh and guttural, more snarl and hiss than speak.
"You speak that?" Carth gasped.
"I do not willingly bring this enemy into this resting place of the Star Map. She will soon cease to be a threat, but for this to happen I must show her the map. As I have proven my self worthy long ago, I demand this from the Star Map."
"It shall be done," the droid spoke before falling silent.
"You wanted to see the Star Map, there it is." Revan pointed into the chamber ahead.
"A Star Map? Is that what Revan and Malak found here?" Bastila questioned.
"An incomplete Map," Revan intoned.
"A map to what?"
Revan was silent, his words stuck in his throat. Bastila could see the Star Map, she could go find its sibling maps on other worlds, but she could not know the purpose of the maps. He would not allow it.
"Mars!" The voice was threatening but Revan was unmoved.
"Bastila, why don't we look at the map first before you try and make him explain it," Carth's voice was laced with derision towards Revan, but Revan noted that Carth had seen his discomfort and was trying to alleviate it – no matter what Carth was rationalizing his actions as.
He followed the two of them into the inner chamber of the ruin, listened as Bastila identified Korriban – and from Korriban – Tatooine, Kashyyyk, and Manaan. But that was all the map would tell her and she returned to him with her questions.
"What is this a map for, Mars?" Bastila demanded.
Revan remained silent.
"Tell me, Mars. Or do you really want to test the strength of this bond so much?" Her lightsaber was hefted and Revan winced. How pitiful, to be brought so low by a Jedi's threats.
"Maybe he doesn't know, Bastila," Carth interceded tentatively, "Perhaps Revan didn't tell him."
How interesting that you still try to defend me, when it's obvious you don't like me, Carth, Revan mused.
"Oh, he knows, Carth," Bastila glared at Revan. "Don't you? Do you doubt my resolve that much?"
"No," Revan answered, "Though you doubt the extent of my loyalty."
"The Sith have no loyalty," Bastila snapped.
"You have this Star Map," Revan gestured violently at the map behind her. "You know it's incomplete. You know where the other pieces are. When you've found them all, you'll have your complete map. You don't need me to explain anything."
"What is this a map for?" Bastila calmly demanded, lightsaber igniting. Reflected in its light in her eyes, Revan could see her determination. She really would kill herself.
"Malak's Star Forge." The words were dead and cold.
Bastila smiled triumphantly. "And what is this Star Forge?"
"The seed of his power, from which sprouts the tree of his empire. You ask me what Malak does; I know only what Revan did."
Bastila glared at him, but it was a hopeless glare. She did not know enough about the Star Forge to catch his lie. She sighed, turning off the lightsaber. "Then let us return to the Council and tell them what we found."
Crossing back through the grove, Bastila tensed and stopped suddenly, so suddenly in fact that Carth nearly walked into her.
"What is it?"
"The dark energy in this grove is centered right around here. We shouldn't have come back this way." Her gaze strayed to Mars, who stood by looking bored.
"So which Jedi messed up and embraced the Dark Side for the wrong reasons this time?" he drawled.
"I will be your doom!" a voice yelled down from above them.
Red light flashed above Carth before he was pushed out of its way. The light arched down and around, toward Bastila. It clashed with yellow in an electrical hiss, as Bastila lit her lightsaber. Only then did Carth realize that the red light had also been a lightsaber, that he could only now see their attacker, and that Mars was sprawled out on top of him.
Mars, who had pushed him out of the way of the attack.
That thought lingered only a moment, as Mars was back on is feet in an instant. He seemed to have forgotten Carth entirely as he eyes the duel in front of them, a hungry, yearning look on his face.
Carth did not see the appeal. Bastila and the other Jedi – if she was even truly called a 'Jedi' anymore – were evenly matched, trading blows and parries at a speed faster than the eye could truly make out. The blades of their lightsabers looked like colored swirls of yellow and red, even though Carth knew how dangerous those 'colors' truly were. This was no lightshow; this was a duel where the slightest mistake could loose you a limb or your life. Carth certainly didn't envy the two fighters their duel.
"It's over," Mars muttered.
Carth blinked. What?
But the red 'saber deactivated and Bastila's opponent dropped to the ground. Bastila also stilled, watching the other suspiciously as she also switched off her 'saber.
That Cathar, for Carth could now clearly see that the attacker was a Cathar female, looked up in surprise. "Why do you not finish it?"
"Why indeed?" Mars drawled. "Why kill a fallen Jedi?"
The Cathar turned a hateful glare at Mars. He merely smiled and nodded in return.
"Not bad, for a novice Sith or a recently fallen Jedi, but it's not nearly hateful enough to give you enough power to be a real threat. The Dark Side responds more to pure undiluted loathing and rage, not this miasma of self-pity and sorrow that you're using."
The Cathar glared at Mars. "How dare you tell me I am not worthy of being a Dark Jedi!"
"Oh, I dare," Mars replied as if he was commenting on the weather.
The Cathar bristled. "You have no idea-"
"Try me."
"I killed my Master!"
Mars raised an eyebrow as if this were no strange occurrence. On the other side of the Cathar, Bastila was watching Mars intently, as if she was stuck between wanting to stop him and wanting to see what he said next.
"How?"
"I struck Master Quatra while training and killed her!"
"And you're upset about this?"
"Of course I'm upset! I murdered her!"
Mars sighed. "Now here is your problem. You're sorry you killed your master. You want her forgiveness. No true Sith would want that. A true Sith would revel in the glory of surpassing his master, no matter how he did it. Only a Jedi would seek atonement for such a thing. You were training; your master would have known the risk of injury and chose to take that risk. All masters open themselves to that the second they give their students lightsabers. You have been no Dark Jedi; you have been no Sith. You have merely been stupid. Go back to your Council, apprentice Jedi; you don't belong out here."
Mars turned and stalked off. The Cathar stared after him with a strange muted look of contemplation. Bastila, too, looked after Mars with a strange look on her face, but it was there only for an instant before her attention returned to the apprentice.
She placed a gentle hand on the other's shoulder. "I would not have said the same things he did, but I agree that you do not belong to the Dark Side."
"He is a Sith, isn't he?" the Cathar murmured.
Bastila nodded.
"I knew it. I could feel his scorn… his hate… in his words. I am nothing like him.
"Come then; we will take you home."
Canderous told himself that he was not going to wait for Mars when he left the Ebon Hawk. Being alone in the ship with only his thoughts about Revan for company was driving him stir crazy, that was all. Being in the Jedi Encalve was driving him stir crazy.
But, no matter what he told himself, he did wait until Mars showed up. Bastila and Carth had long since passed him with some other Jedi whom Canderous had never seen before, when Mars arrived, laden down with swoop bike parts.
Mars noticed him immediately, where Bastila had not an hour before. "Had enough of the Jedi for one day, Canderous?" he asked, his tone humorous.
"You're in a good mood," Canderous remarked, "What happened?"
Mars shrugged, "I bought the swoop bike parts I wanted. That's one less list to keep track of."
With the way he said that, Canderous had to wonder just how many mental lists Mars was keeping. He didn't offer to help carry the parts back to the ship, and Mars didn't ask him to. They fell into a companionable silence until they reached the garage of the Ebon Hawk.
"So what's on your mind?" Mars asked as he dropped the parts next to the swoop bike.
"What makes you think there's something on my mind?" Canderous asked.
"I'm a Sith, remember?"
Canderous snorted, but didn't respond to that statement. Whether Mars had actually used the Force or just guessed didn't matter, he was right. And now was a good enough time as any to bring up Revan. After all, he didn't know when he'd be alone with Mars again to ask.
"I want to know what you did during the Mandalorian Wars," Canderous started. "You were obviously there, and fought in a lot of the same battles I did, but you haven't said much about your stories from the Wars. What position were you in the Republic army? What rank? What battle was your triumph?"
Mars didn't respond. The silence stretched on into an incurable gap and Canderous wondered if he had pushed too far. Finally Mars moved, and picked up the chalk they'd used before to draw the Basilisk war droid. Deliberately, he turned and made sure Canderous was watching.
"Why do you want to know?" his voice was very, very, quiet as he held the chalk over the pilot's seat of the swoop bike.
"Because I have a guess," Canderous replied, "And if I'm right, it would mean a great deal to me."
Mars nodded and began to write slowly on the chair as he spoke. "I left for the Mandalorian Wars early, after Revan had begun recruiting Jedi to his army, but before most of them decided to go to war. When I arrived, I, and those with me, were only a little more than grunts because we were Jedi Padawans. By the time the Wars ended, I was a commander of a division in Muraki's third of the army – by then it was split between Revan, Malak, and Revan's General Muraki. Then, when Muraki went back to the Jedi, I was shifted to Revan's half. By the time he was betrayed, I was a lieutenant on his ship. That's all there is to tell, really."
He shrugged and dropped the chalk on the chair, soundlessly. He'd barely wiped off the chalk from his hands and turned so he was leaning against the speeder in a manner that Canderous was by now familiar with, before Bastila entered the garage. She seemed pleased about something and Canderous realized that she must have also been listening for Mars' answer as Mars fixed her with a petulant glare.
"Mars, the Council wants to see you."
Mars said nothing and followed her out, casting a meaningful glance back at the swoop bike and Canderous.
Canderous waited a few minutes before walking over to the swoop bike. Written on the seat were the words:
Revan Almasy, Admiral of the Republic Fleet
Canderous grinned as he obscured the words.
The Dantooine Jedi Council seemed not to have moved since the last time Revan had seen them. "What do you want?"
The Jedi Master in red snorted. "How he puts on airs."
"If you were me, you would have the skills needed to match that arrogance of yours." Revan grinned darkly at the man. This was that Jedi Master Muraki had spoken of… what was his name? Oh well, he'd think of it sooner or later. Whoever he was, he hadn't liked Muraki much.
And Revan had always watched over his General; something which had infuriated Malak to no end.
Revan forcefully cut off that thread of thought. Now was not the time to be indulging in memories.
The Jedi Council had been talking to Bastila while Revan reminisced. Probably about going after the Star Maps. How predictable of them, Revan thought snidely.
"Those who have accompanied you from Taris will go with you," one of the Jedi Masters assured Bastila. "Juhani has also expressed a desire to accompany you."
The Jedi in red glared at Revan and spoke up as the other Council member finished. "You, too, will accompany Bastila."
Revan rolled his eyes skyward. "You dragged me all the way here to explain that? I would have thought that obvious." The Council bristled at his disrespect; only the little green Jedi Master seemed able to completely hold his calm connection to the Force. "If that's all you have to say, send Bastila with a message next time – not a summons."
"Bastila is not your courier," Vrook—that was his name!—snapped.
Revan's features melted into a look of surprise. "Oh, really? That's all she's good for, so I just assumed… " he trailed off as he swept from the Council chamber.
That had been one of his best retorts to a Jedi Master yet, Revan prided himself.
Revan had begun an earnest mental list of modifications to the Ebon Hawk, which were needed if he were to travel in the ship for a prolonged period of time, when Mission entered, bristling with anger.
"What's wrong?" he asked, loud enough to break through whatever it was Mission was muttering to herself. His features dropped from a look of contemplation to a look of concern, so earnest she couldn't possibly tell it was fake without a connection to the Force.
Mission's small surprise at there being someone else in the Ebon Hawk's main room was very short lived. "That – that… Cantina Rat!"
Revan guided her to the couch where he'd just been lounging. "Why don't you tell me about it." Soothing, placating. "Unless, of course, you'd rather not." Concerned. Utterly fake.
He crossed to the very small liquor cabinet – item four on his list of things to fix on this ship! – and poured two glasses of Aderanian brandy. One he placed in Mission's clenched hands, before chugging the other and pouring himself a new glass. The haze of alcohol descended quickly. That was good. He couldn't continue pretending to be this concerned without some help.
Mission was staring at him as he returned to the couch and sat next to her. "This is alcoholic."
"Aderanian brandy," Revan agreed. "Good stuff, even if you're supposed to sip it." As a demonstration, he sipped his own.
"I'm underage," Mission replied flatly.
Revan forced a small thread of shock to travel across his features. It had to be small, or else she would know it was forced. "You're no child, Mission. A little brandy is soothing, which I thought would be good for this situation you appear to be in."
They were the magic words as Mission shot him a tearful grin before sipping tentatively at the brandy. Her eyes lit up. "This is good!"
"Most alcohol is. It's one of the reasons we drink it." Revan leaned back on the couch, eyes closed. "Except that Tarisian Ale… that had no character at all." He opened one eye. "Stick with me and I'll steer you towards the good stuff. A lady such as yourself shouldn't have to sift through the mediocre drinks."
Mission would have blushed had she been a human female, Revan was sure of it. Returning to a more contemplative position, he schooled his features into another expression. Serious concern this time. "So what is bothering you?"
Mission's face fell, and she took another sip of brandy before answering. "It's about my brother."
"I didn't know you had a brother." Soft tone, probing but not forceful.
"Griff was all I had. He… well I guess you couldn't he was the best of guys, but he always did right by me. He taught me how to pick a lock and how to sneak by a guard without being seen-"
"Very useful skills." Honesty. Revan had seen where those skills meant a life and death difference.
"Yeah! He got me to Taris and he raised me. He was always trying to find a way to get rich quick, but credits were hard to come by. Even so, he never stopped trying. Then he met Lena. She was a dancer at a cantina. Within a month she had Griff wrapped completely around her little finger! The last time I saw him, he was leaving Taris with Lena. Said that she didn't want me around, and that he would send for me when he got rich. I haven't seen him since."
Mission gulped at the brandy again. "But I saw her. Lena came up to me just outside. Said that Griff left her when her money ran out and that he was the one who didn't want me along. She's such a liar! I know my brother, he wouldn't do that!"
Revan placed a hand on Mission's shoulder. "Well, there are two possibilities here, Mission. Either your brother was lying, or Lena was lying. You'll have to ask Griff himself to find out the truth."
"Yeah, I know. Lena said the last time she saw him he was going to Tatooine, to work for Czerka. But I can't get to Tatooine."
As Mission looked down at her drink mournfully, Revan's lips curved into a sinful smile. "I'm sure you'll find a way Mission. And I'll help you."
Mission seemed to stiffen slightly, and Revan could tell she was reminding herself that she'd just spilled all her thoughts to a Sith. Too late now, little Twi'lek, he thought, dark in intent even if his outside expression didn't show it.
"What can you do?"
"I'm a Sith. We have our ways." Revan nodded to the drink she held in her hands, as if in guilty conscience. "You keep quiet about me giving drinks to a minor, and I'll get you to Tatooine."
Mission smiled at him and finished her drink. She'd regret that quickness later, Revan mused to himself, if this was her first real drink. "I'm not a kid. I know how to keep quiet."
"I'm sure you do, Mission." Revan purred. He was counting on it.
Revan had barely put away the two glasses when more steps sounded on the entrance ramp. Bastila entered, followed by that Cathar that he'd maneuvered away from the Dark Side of the Force. Juhani, he remembered she'd been referred to.
"Mars. I want to speak with you." Bastila's tone was imperious. Obviously she'd forgotten that she wasn't really in control of anything. Pity. Though, Revan had to admit, she was good at that. It could have served her well as a Sith, but as a Jedi it was just annoying.
Revan peeled himself off the couch, giving Mission's hand a squeeze as he brushed by her. Outwardly, she gave no indication that he'd done anything. The kid would be perfect, he thought to himself in satisfaction, even if he wasn't exactly sure how he would use her yet.
Bastila headed again for the dormitory where she'd spoken to him only a few days earlier when he'd been discussing the Mandalorian Wars with Canderous. The look on her face was not very different from what it had been then. She obviously had something she wanted to say. Pity. He didn't feel like listening.
"I want to set the rules of this relationship," Bastila stated immediately as Revan closed the door behind him.
His face immediately took on a disgusted look. "Not my type, Jedi. Take that up with Canderous if you want to-"
"Not-" Bastila's face took on an interesting shade of red. "-not like that! I meant the terms of our working together to locate these Star Maps."
Revan leaned against the door. "Talk then. I have no choice but to listen."
"Look-" a sigh, "Fine, just let me be frank with you. Malak needs to be stopped. Whether it's the Jedi who stop him because he's trying to destroy the Republic or whether you kill him for your own personal gain – he's a menace and a threat. If you have some way of dealing with that threat now, then you should speak up and let us work on it. But since you don't know where he is and you don't know where his stronghold is, or at least won't tell me, then the only lead we have are these Star Maps. So I am going to go find them and, because you want to make sure that I'm not killed in the process, you'll come with me. You attack me, and it's all over. I won't try stopping you again so you'll have to deal with the chance of your own fatality. Another thing: I will not allow you to hurt the crew."
"And what do I get in return? Other then knowing that my life is secured since you won't kill yourself?"
Bastila frowned. "Well… I – the Jedi council doesn't want me to do this, but I'm prepared to give you your lightsaber back. And take off the inhibitor."
Revan's smile was both feral and gleeful.
"But the rules still apply, and I count using any of your dark Force powers on the crew as harming them. No lightning, no choke hold, no persuasion, nothing!"
"Very well. Give me my toys but don't let me play with them. I see."
"Also, you cannot tell the crew members who you are. That's very important."
"What? Afraid of what they might do if they knew they had a Dark Lord of the Sith on their ship with them?"
"The less they know, the safer they are if they are captured and interrogated."
Revan scoffed. "Malak won't care if they really know something or not. He'll torture them until they die, once he knows I'm alive – just for sport because they traveled with me."
"Be that… as it may. It is still safest for them if they know as little as possible. We can't stop them from guessing on their own, but we can keep suspicion to a minimum if they just think you're a Sith and nothing more. So no tales of you growing up, and no tales of the Mandalorian Wars -"
"I'll talk about the Mandalorian Wars if I want to," Revan hissed.
"Fine, fine – talk about the Wars if you have to. But make sure that you do so in a way that they will not suspect who you are!"
"Fine. It's a deal then."
"I want your word."
"What worth can the word of a Sith Lord possibly have?"
"It means something to me. And I give you my word that if you break any rules we have talked about here, then we will find out exactly how connected our lives are."
Revan stared down at her and resolutely held out the wrist on which lay the sparking inhibitor. "You have the word of Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith. Now get this off me."
"Very well." Bastila thumbed the side of the bracelet. There was a little click, and it fell to the floor.
Revan arched back away from her with a groan of pleasure, one hand going to grasp where the bracelet had been.
"Force, that feels so good," he sighed as he fell sideways and collapsed on the nearest bunk.
Bastila edged slowly around him and opened the door. Casting one look back at him, she couldn't help smiling at the look of ecstasy on his face. With his eyes closed like that, he could have easily been a Padawan in training who had just mastered a new skill in the Force.
She shook herself and continued out the door. "I'll give you your lightsaber back later." As she closed the door behind her, she wasn't sure if he'd really heard her; he'd been so wrapped up in the Force she doubted he heard anything.
Revan emerged from the dormitory like a prisoner being released from prison. His first thought was to lock himself in the cargo hold for at least a week and bask in the beauty of the Dark Side, but its sinful whispers told him that everyone was gathered in the main room of the Ebon Hawk. He mentally waved away the whispers of how easy this proximity made killing them, even though he admitted ruefully that - as always - the Dark Side was absolutely right.
Everyone stiffened as he sauntered into the room. Ah, he'd missed that reaction. The feeling of the Dark Side suddenly blooming into an oppressive miasma around those near him, seeing even those not sensitive to the Force know that something was going on.
The Cathar – Juhani, he reminded himself again – turned accusingly to Bastila. "You removed the Force inhibitor! The Council said not to!"
"The Council gave me permission to do so if the situation warranted it. They did not leave me any directions as to what kind of situation would warrant it's removal. Therefore, I used my judgment."
"I hope you know what you are doing," Juhani murmured.
Revan flopped gracefully next to Mission, purposefully ignoring the space next to Carth. "So what were you discussing that has everyone so tense?" he purred.
Bastila waved her hand at a projection of the four planets on which there were Star Maps. "We are trying to decide which path to take." Before Revan could take a breath to speak, she added, "We are not going to Korriban yet."
"There is a large Republic presence on Manaan," Juhani pointed out. "It will probably be easiest to find the Star Map there."
"You forget the large Sith presence on Manaan," Carth objected. "We'll have to be even more careful there that word doesn't get to Malak of what we're doing."
"Carth has a point," Bastila conceded.
Revan caught Mission staring at Tatooine out of the corner of his eye. He felt the smile he refused to allow on his face blossom in his mind as the Dark Side purred its agreement. "How about Tatooine first?"
Bastila was immediately suspicious about something, he knew, as Mission sat straighter beside him, and he felt hope bloom within her through the Force.
"It's out of the way of both the Sith and the Republic. No one cares to question others as long as you stay out of their way." He shrugged. "It seems the planet that would be the least complicated to deal with."
Bastila's eyes narrowed, feeling the subtle pulse of Force persuade behind his words. He couldn't help it – it was more than a habit by now. "Why do you really want to go to Tatooine?"
He gave Mission a slow wink, and the Twi'lek hid a smile. Bastila watched the exchange warily. "I have pressing business there, you might say," Revan smiled beatifically at the Jedi.
"Then I don't think-" Bastila started but Canderous cut her off.
"You're just upset you didn't think of it first. All of the planets have advantages and disadvantages. Mars is right; Tatooine has the most advantages at this point."
Revan felt Bastila searching for the effects of Force Persuade on Canderous. Keep looking, Jedi, he goaded, you'll find nothing. Canderous is helping me of his own will.
Bastila deflated when she realized that Canderous wasn't backing Revan by Revan's will, but by his own. In fact, as she perused the minds of her companions with the Force, the small pulse of Force Persuade had only been directed at her.
She turned to Carth, who was studying the planets carefully. "I would say that Korriban and Manaan will be the most challenging, from what I know right now." Carth stated. "Either Tatooine or Kashyyyk would be better to start with."
Zaalbar's input came unexpectedly to Bastila. "Tatooine would be safer than Kashyyyk," he growled softly. Again, there were no traces of the Force used to prompt him to say such, though Bastila immediately wondered what he knew to make him say that.
"Very well, then we go to Tatooine."
Bastila could feel Revan's triumph through the Force, and she had expected that. But she had not expected Mission to be so happy. She would have to talk to Mission later.
Carth nodded and walked toward the cockpit, presumably to set their course. There was no reason for them to stay on Dantooine any longer.
Revan watched him go as the Dark Side informed him that everyone leaving to prepare for the jump to hyperspace. Surely, it added, there was some time for a bit of fun before then.
Yes, there was.
He waited until Bastila followed Mission out of the room before he crept after Carth.
"Mission, can I talk to you?"
"Sure, Bastila. What's up?"
Bastila wasn't sure how to proceed. Of course she couldn't come out and say that she thought there was something up between Mission and Mars. Mission was a good girl – young and inexperienced, but good – she wouldn't willingly plan anything with Revan. Revan had to be maneuvering her into a position so he could use her.
"I noticed you were happy to be going to Tatooine. Do you mind telling me why?"
"My brother's on Tatooine. I wanted to see him again."
Oh, that was all. Bastila felt relief like a cold water bath. "Oh, I'm sorry to pry then. Of course you can see your brother while we're on Tatooine, Mission."
But something tugged at her perception as she felt a spark of annoyance from Mission. So at the doorway she turned, "Did you plan to do something with Mars?"
"He's going to take me to see my brother." Mission's statement was firm, and unlike how she'd previously talked to Bastila. Revan did do something, Bastila thought.
She'd have to try and stop whatever Revan was planning to do with Mission. "Be careful, Mission. Remember that Mars is a Sith."
"I know, Bastila," Mission said frostily. "He seemed genuinely interested in making me feel better, so I talked with him. You might want to try doing that too, he's much more understanding when you don't try to order him around."
Bastila knew when she had to retreat for the moment, and this was one of those times. Revan had done something, somehow gotten Mission to forget how bad the Sith were. She would have to make sure Mission was reminded of that, but she was unsure how to do so. As she left Mission, she decided she would talk to Juhani. Perhaps they could come up with something.
As Mission fell into the bunk she'd claimed as hers, she glared at the spot where Bastila had been. Giving her permission to see her brother. Mission hadn't asked for that. Perhaps Mars was right about some things. Sure, the Sith weren't good. They'd destroyed Taris. They'd probably done even worse things. She'd seen Mars walk into the Ebon Hawk carrying a dead Mandalorian's head! But he seemed to really want to help her.
Maybe Sith were like real people, she thought as she lay back and prepared for the kick into hyperspace. They care about some things and don't care about others. They just have a more violent – and wrong – way of showing when they don't care. She would have to think more on it, she knew, but right now Mars had promised to get her to Tatooine and he had done just that.
Carth hadn't expected anyone to follow him into the cockpit, and if someone did, he would have guessed it would be Bastila. But the red eyes which had been following his movements as he'd guided the Hawk off Dantooine and prepared for the jump to hyperspace were not Bastila's eyes. And the body they belonged to was draped over the co-pilot's chair in a way that Bastila would never sit.
Mars was decidedly not Bastila. Where Bastila would have realized Carth didn't feel like talking to her – had she been in Mars' place – Mars either didn't realize it or didn't care. Carth bet on the latter.
"Strange that you didn't request a new assignment from the Republic."
Carth shot him a look as if to say, 'Why do you care?'
"Surely there are other things that the Republic needs you for."
"Defeating Malak is the most important thing the Republic needs right now." Straight, to the fact. Perhaps if he satisfied whatever strange curiosity Mars was feeling, Mars would go away. "I was given orders to assist Bastila in whatever way I can. Right now the Jedi have the best chance of defeating Malak."
The transition into hyperspace was a bit more vicious than Carth would have normally flown, but it felt like a good accent to his statement, nevertheless.
Mars uncoiled from the chair in the manner of a reptile. "You really don't enjoy having me around, do you?" His tone was playful, chiding, as if he knew the answer and yet asked it anyway.
"I don't like Sith."
"Well, see that's a problem Carth," the sinful, sinuous voice purred in his ears. "Because I seem to like you a lot. And it would be such a shame if my feelings were unrequited."
Carth bristled, preparing to tell that Sith exactly what he thought about those feelings of his, when he found himself pushed back against the navigational map, Mars' sinful smile too close for comfort.
"Even Sith don't get what they want all the time," he growled.
Mars didn't respond right away, choosing instead to lean closer to him. "That's a strange notion. Especially since that's why so many join the Sith. They come seeking something which they wish they had. They learn very quickly that if they want something, it has to be taken."
And Mars crushed his lips to Carth's. As Carth struggled to throw him off, he realized absently that Mars seemed to find this a rather playful action, nipping at Carth's lower lip and pressing him firmly back against the map.
"Mars Almasy!"
Carth nearly sighed with relief at hearing Bastila's outraged voice. He couldn't actually sigh, considering Mars still hadn't detached himself from his mouth, but it was still a near thing.
Slowly – too slowly in Carth's mind – Mars pulled away, and turned to face Bastila with a rather petulant look on his face. "What? You said no Force powers and not to harm the crew." His smile was flippant. "See? No Force powers and he's not hurt. So leave me alone."
"What about psychological harm, Mars?" Bastila's voice seemed to reach new octaves when she was this disturbed.
Mars seemed to pause to think. "Hmm… Nope. You didn't say anything about psychological harm. Just that I couldn't use Force Persuade. Which I didn't."
"Don't twist my words, Mars. You knew I wouldn't approve and you did it anyway!"
Mars blinked. "I've never cared for your approval."
"When I hold both of our lives in my hands, you should care!"
Mars shrugged, slowly peeling himself completely off Carth. "Which only means I'll have to time things better, dear Bastila. That's all."
Carth sank weekly into the pilot's chair as Bastila watched Mars saunter down the corridor.
"I'm sorry about that," Bastila said quietly. "I should have figured he'd try something to unravel me."
Carth didn't know if he should be insulted that it had just been implied that Mars had made advances on him only to make Bastila unsettled. The uncertainty didn't surprise him. He didn't know what to think of Mars anymore, much less Mars' actions.
The only thing he seemed to be able to think, as he watched the stars streak by, was Bastila's statement from before about Mars and Revan – about how close they could have been.
to be continued