-1Chapter 2: Every Planet We Reach is Dead
HK-47 looked up from his scanner as he saw the Master storm by him. The Master's wench was launching the ship so soon after having just landed. The insane little tin bucket had been surreptitiously meandering about the ship, presenting very little conversation during HK's horrendously boring stint aboard the Hawk. In fact, HK had to admit that he seemed to be doing little other than occupying space. Apart from the Master telling him to guard over the Jedi witch, he had no real assignments. Of course the same could be said of the Astrometric droid, but the faulty little trash compactor was, oh so, easily amused and occupied. He had no higher functions that were wasting away from disuse. He was unable to understand the significance of glorious decimation and death.
Though his programming had reservations about badgering the Master, who had become strangely introverted and silent, he could of course bother the witch. His metal body marched forward to the cockpit to reveal the female, eyes closed in meditation, while the ship was drifting in orbit around Korriban. HK inwardly joyed at the thought of interrupting her clichéd Jedi trance.
"Observation: It has come to my attention that you and the Master have forged a relationship in spite of the current set of mawkish Jedi beliefs."
Keeping her composure an trying to maintain focus an inarticulate growl escaped her meditation.
"Observation: It has come to my attention that the Master has become silent and ineffective as of late. One might call him impotent as a source for adventure and violence."
Again no response as HK tested Bastila's strength of focus and command of her senses. Observing the lack of entertaining responses, HK decided to push something more volatile.
"Threat: If I find evidence that you, yourself, are behind this pattern of distressing behavior in the Master, then my programming would demand nothing less than the removal of your life."
Bastila, forcing a calm exterior, replied in a soft unthreatening voice. She knew better than to answer HK with another threat. If she did that she would ultimately have to fight the pinnacle of droid combat software and hardware.
"I have noticed his behavior and I choose to interpret your 'threat' as the voice of concern. And for what it is worth, I do not know why he is acting this way."
HK felt disgusted by the sleek and slimy diplomatic response. It was so Jedi-like in it's non-responsive passivity. No counter threat was offered by the witch! HK could not name any other species or member of any meatbag society that was quite so repulsive, certainly no group that would have left a threat unanswered.
"Ultimatum: Either you use your current standing relationship to fix the Master in the next standard week or I will voice my concern with a repeating carbine."
Having felt that she had borne enough upon oneness of mind and calmness, Bastila whirled up from the pilot seat.
"If your concern is so deep seated why don't you investigate yourself. And in the future you will leave our…relationship out of discussions."
HK, feeling gratified at having finally prodded the witch to action, couldn't let it stop yet, besides he had hit a sensitive subject.
"Consoling Statement: It must be so hard for a Jedi witch to fall in meatbag love."
Bastila caught herself on the edge of sending HK flinging through the corridor to the Astrogation chamber. Summing up her anger and discarding it, she responded.
"I give you leave to go talk with your 'Master'. Maybe you can find something useful to do."
HK having explored conversation with the witch as long as he could tolerate, pranced away towards the West Dormitory. Ostensibly, it was the Master's personal quarters, however, he got the impression that the Master occasionally shared it with the witch. Upon entering, he noticed the Master kneeling on the floor. HK had to disapprove; any wanton renegade assassin who infiltrated through the vast smuggling components and storage spaces on the ship would have a clear uninterrupted shot at the Master now. Before HK was able to speak, the voice of the Master called out slightly annoyed.
"Yes, HK?"
The droid clattered closer to the Master to avoid being overheard by wandering ears.
"Concerned Observation: It has come to the witch's and my attention that you have exhibited unusual behavior patterns for the typical organic." HK allowed himself to say the distasteful word 'organic' out of respect. 'Organic' was such a horrendous misnomer whereas 'meatbag' was unfalteringly perfect and fitting. Revan ceased his meditation to look up at HK with some amusement.
"I am merely encountering the failings of being a meatbag, as you would put it."
HK nodded, as if in understanding and agreement.
"Inquiry: Is there anyone I can assassinate to help you master?"
Revan shoved himself off the floor so he could sit on the edge of one of the beds.
"If all life's problem's could be solved by such simple violent actions then you would undoubtedly be the greatest achievement ever. However, I am beginning to think you would have been more efficient had I programmed you with other capabilities."
HK felt greatly injured. The Master had implied not only that not every problem could be solved by violence, but also that his own programming was incomplete. Something was wrong indeed with the Master. Even at his own admission, the Master was suffering failures at his own inept design.
"Inquiry: What problem is it that cannot be solved with blasters, Master?"
Revan looked down in embarrassment. He felt embarrassed at the idea that he had created HK, such a simple-minded single-minded tool. Apart from being horribly childishly violent, he was useless. Granted that HK could plot out amazingly complex webs of violence that rivaled even his own ingenuity, he was by no means versatile.
"Do you remember when I found you on Tatooine?"
"Affirmation: Yes, Master. I did not recognize you due to the restraints in my programming."
Revan stared at the cold android in front of him. How similar they were. He too had been as cold a killer, if not, then colder, and yet had lost his memory due to programming.
"My memory, too, has been so restrained." Revan brought his hand up to rub his head in an attempt, it seemed, to massage the memories back. "I cannot recall so much, and it was all so important. Do you recall being on Mygeeto?"
"Affirmation: I have a partial memory of being there when I was first activated. In a sense, Mygeeto would have been my birthworld, to use the meatbag term."
"Partial memory." Revan thought. He knew that he had never truly confided in HK with details because they could be so easily retrieved by others. "I do not even have a partial memory… I merely have what I have seen in a-a waking vision. I did not recall the incident until yesterday."
"Suggestion: There was one instance on Phragmoghra VI that you had enjoyed immensely before you had committed yourself to the Republic. I believe you said the various indigenous fruits were spectacular. Various species of fruit including local drupes and pomes were your favorite along with an aquatic fruit called the Moghra Emerald. Also on Yeala you enjoyed hunting the native fleeha. Admission: I confess, though, that I cannot distinguish any single event of any importance to you or that would contribute to your self-identity."
'Phragmoghra.' He thought. There was a familiarity in that name that shocked him. The name was the next destination of the Hawk.
Not even bothering to continue the conversation with the puzzled droid, he raced to the cockpit to find Bastila who was meditating in her chair. Upon his entering, she called out of her trance.
"Master Vandar claims ignorance about Deralia by saying it was the world you were found on by the local Enclave and that you had said it was your home."
Revan laid his hand on Bastila's shoulder.
"We're going to Phragmoghra VI."
Phragmoghra VI was the sixth and sole life-supporting planet in a system with a blue sun according to the charts. From Koriban, the distance to close was relatively short. It wasn't long before Bastila was bringing the ship to a shaky descent into the lush atmosphere and landing it the spot that Revan had specified. It was not hard to see why Revan had selected it, because of the entire surface in the particular hemisphere it was the only patch of dry land.
The landing ramp lowered to reveal Bastila and Revan holding hands. Inside the Ebon Hawk, when the ramp lowered it revealed a multicolored shimmering watery paradise of emerald greens and sapphire blues. The vegetation seemed almost jeweled and the brackish swamp in front of them looked like a gigantic series of teal splotches against the gold, green and blue flora. There were no trees visible, so the swamp seemed to extend forever.
Bastila rubbed her eyes. It was gorgeous and yet somehow fake looking. Or Perhaps it's not that it looked fake, maybe it was only that her brain refused to comprehend something so bright and beautiful as real.
"If my memories serve, then this place has no native sentient lifeforms. It has a complicated system of predators, though. The only people on this planet are refugees, explorers and people looking to profit from the vast resources here.
Bastila and Revan walked down from the landing pad and observed their surroundings. The Ebon Hawk had been landed on one of the few visible patches of totally dry land which was surrounded by great gray boulders covered in veins of some yellow mineral.
Of in the distance you could see large dangerous-looking aquatic reptiles looping through the marshes searching for food. Revan pointed them out and spoke to Bastila like a teacher to a student, or a parent to a child.
"Greater Morphidios. Don't worry they only eat ectothermic creatures like themselves." Revan pointed to the surrounding plant life which was a dark orange and grew like a tall submerged plant would with a long woody stalk. "Promisstensus reeds, they make a spicy tea if you know how to get their roots without being bitten."
"Bitten?"
"Certainly. This is a wetland area. There all sorts of hidden venomous predators that will attack if provoked."
Bastila stared at Revan in an appraising fashion, but Revan didn't notice as he was overlooking the vast marsh. In his mind, he was asking himself the very same question that Bastila was asking herself. 'Why did he know this area so well?' Snapping out of his introspection, Revan turned to meet Bastila's stare. His eyes were bright and his voice came out excited.
"Are you hungry?"
Revan walked to the edge of the dry land and reached out into a green plant that had run along the land. He walked back with three fruits in his hands. The fruits were green and transparently filled with nothing but a liquid.
"Moghra Emerald. The seeds are microscopic but are kept suspended in a sugar-rich liquid. They only activate when in contact with the salt marshes which they drop into when fully mature."
Bastila took the fruit and brought it to her mouth and bit in to it. The fruit exploded, splashing her with a perfuming juice. Revan chuckled as he pulled part of his robe up and wiped the stuff off.
"Here, you have to make an incision because the skin is too tight and thin."
Revan stooped to the ground and picked a sharp rock. Using the rock, he slit the skin of the fruit in his hand. Putting the fruit to his lips he sucked the juice out until all that was left was the empty skin.
"The Goreign ferment this with Felucian yeast and sell it as Emerald Wine. I prefer it in it's natural state, but then I was never one for spirits."
Revan handed her a fruit which he had opened. She took it and looked into it's deep green center.
"Revan, why are we here?"
Revan laid his hand against one of the rocks. It was scarred with a burnt X. He knew on simple instinct it was the mark of a lightsaber. Someone had barely singed the rock with the mark, presumably to indicate something. But it meant nothing to him. Returning from his thoughts he called back in answer.
"I do not know, but I feel the pull of the force…or…something else pulling through the force. Using it."
Bastila put the open cut on the fruit to her lips and sucked. It had a light syrupy sugary taste that was tart with citrus. It tasted…green. The very flavor embodiment of green. She felt herself groan with the taste, it was the single most pleasing taste she had experienced. Her eyes closed as she nursed on the fruit. Noticing her state, Revan smiled and launched back into lecture mode.
"It's laced with laudacea, a mild euphoric drug that affects how you taste it, to the mood it leaves you." His voice began to trail off. "It's slightly addictive…she would only let me consume two in a day, and only two days a week." Bastila's eyes shot open to see a surprised look on Revan's face.
"Who?"
Revan's eyes dropped and he shook his head.
"I do not…know." He paused for a second and gazed back across the landscape. "No. I do remember. It was my mother. It was just us two. We lived here for a time before…"
Revan grabbed his head in frustration. He felt the building urge to slam his head against something that would set it in order. Perhaps if he could turn Bastila to the dark side and climb aboard a ship and let her shoot him down as the Jedi came to the rescue. Maybe some complex combination of head traumas would return his memory, if only some restorative drug somewhere could…
"It's gone. I'm not even sure if I've ever been here before. This is just a waste of time." Bastila wrapped her arms around him from behind. He could feel her squeeze just slightly.
"You may not remember the answers, but you've already proven you know where to look to find them. Just keep looking."
Revan's head lowered as he caressed Bastila's hand affectionately.
"You have shown the patience of a thousand Jedi Masters, Bastila. You've granted me grace, patience and privacy to discover these secrets. Long ago on some other quest I may have been your strength, but you've been my very pillar. I owe you much more then what I have given you for your trouble."
Bastila spun Revan around and lifted herself up by his shoulders till their lips met. Perhaps some woman a thousand lightyears away was kissing a man that she loved half as much as Bastila loved Revan. Perhaps their kiss was second to this one, but not nearly as delayed nor as passionately executed. It was not a violent smashing of lips that some vulgar barbarians practiced on so many solar systems across the galaxy. It was a soft heartfelt kiss that was placed with the pure gentle love from lovers who were fairly knew to the experience. Yet there was a sad wisdom in the kiss, a knowing of an underlying futility and a darker foreshadowing of a tragic unfulfilled love. A love that this kiss nor a thousand as passionate could not bring to fruition because destiny would eventually push the lips apart. When this was realized Bastila whispered a shuddery 'I love you'. That only made Revan hug her tighter.
"Interuption: Master this is the world where you once revealed to me was your home for a time."
Bastila lowered down and Revan's eyes glanced up, slightly annoyed.
"I had pieced that together, yes."
HK-47's programming had never included the sort of tact that he professed to use, nor any sort of subtlety or grace becoming of a supposed protocol droid.
"Announcement: Then I shall leave you with the witch to continue your gross display. I shall be in the astrogation chamber, until I am needed."
Revan wandered back to the scar upon the boulder. He ran his finger through the mark. Something about the landscape, the colors and the strong salty smell told him that a quintessential element of the planet was missing. The scenery he saw as he stood there was different then his half-memory recalled. The planet felt empty and as he stared into the pool only a foot from his position he could see a face appear. It was shapely molded and sleek with eyes that seemed pulled back and sharp. Black hair rained down from it's head and pursed slightly smiling lips beamed from it's face.
A chill ran down Revan's spine as he turned away towards Bastila.
"Let's leave, there is nothing here. This planet is empty."
A soft pricking of the wind rose as he walked toward the landing ramp. A cold feeling in his heart reminded him of that daunting ghostly presence of his mother. In that instance he remembered a shard of the old woman. She was cold and aloof in her manner but was motherly in that she had taught and cared for him; though, it was something other than love in her heart. Something much more devious and…quietly scheming.
Revan risked a last glance behind him as the ramp rose back into the ship carrying him with it. He looked askance at Bastila.
"Take us out into orbit for a spell. We will be going to Deralia soon enough but I want a moment's rest. You should rest too."
Bastila walked away to the cockpit. Revan turned to the left to the east dormitory. Sleep, he needed sleep. He needed his mind to turn from shattered memories. He reminded himself how long it had been since he had slept. Space travel could be so disorienting and deceiving; it seemed it had been only ten or so hours, but he could feel exhaustion.
He slipped underneath the thin bed sheet after having removed his boots. He felt the aching relief as he closed his eyes and stretched. He felt for the panel on the underside of the bed and switched the lights off. He let the drone of the ship wash out the silence of the room. He focused on the undulating flexing noise of a small freighter rising to orbit drown out the bothersome thoughts cluttering his mind. It was those very same thoughts that could stall him forever if he focused on them. The questions that leapt at him. He couldn't defend himself from the massive gaps and deficiencies in answers. They were great vulnerabilities and chinks in his armor. With Jedi ease he rinsed his mind of thoughts and relaxed his muscles. Sleep was gracious for such a tired person.
Revan saw before him a throng of hate uniformed in gray. Their eyes were as cold as dead blades. They awaited something as told by the hunger in the air. Revan felt enclosed. He raised his gloved hand and inspected it. He felt the trappings of boots around his ankles, of a heavy suit decorated with invented awards, of a thick shadowy cloak with a hood, of a shielding mask.
Their was a rising chant among the horde. Revan. They were waiting on him to lead them. Advisors and guards were posted around him. Banners hung behind him with the symbol of a gloved fist over a red background. Next to him stood a jawless Malak who oversaw the masses with a covetous jealousy. Independently of his will, his fist rose to the air calling for silence. A black echo carried over the heads of the Sith army before him. His echo.
"I have beneath me, slain Mandalorian corpses." He gestured to the army. "Corpses you have made. Before me, I have the Republic. Corpses that made themselves. Their weakness and impotence was grotesque. You witnessed it. It hindered you in battle, you could feel it holding you back. Trying to snatch victory from your hands and gift it to your foes as if they, not you, were worthy of it. We cannot let democratic weakness threaten us any longer; they must be destroyed. Slaughtered to the last Senator, ripped from every position of power and replaced with you. The rot of complacency and pacifism has destabilized the galaxy. That fetid rot could only stem from the heart of the Republic, the soul of dormancy, the seed of Jedi weakness. I saw this weakness and overcame it, the Galaxy must do the same. Death! Death! Death!" The crowd took up the call of death, the vibrations carrying through their bones. Revan could feel the chant in his heartbeat. With every fiber of his body he felt murder.
Revan's woke with his hand latched to his hair which was wet with sweat. It was only now that he remembered why he had avoided sleep. He rose and walked to the panel at the end of the row of beds. Touching a spot on the wall, it shifted back to reveal a shower stall, which began spray steamy water.
He removed his belt, unfolded his robes and shrugged them off into his right hand. He opened a receptacle next to the shower stall and stuffed them in it. He squeezed into the stall which was, even for one as lean as himself, small. It became only smaller when the panel slid back shut. The water felt cool to his skin, but not cold. The sweat washed away and his hair was washed by the water which was saturated with a cleansing agent and an emulsifier, the same chemicals that were now washing his robes. Feeling through his bond with Bastila, he could feel her entering the room.
Bastila saw the unmade bed with the belt thrown onto it. The sound of the shower behind the panel sounded so tempting she thought about taking one in the other dormitory. She called out to the panel.
"We've reached Deralia, I've obtained permission to land."
A reply was made, but she could not understand it. Her hand touched the panel and the stall divider slid open to reveal a soaked Revan. He exited the shower and touched the command pad on the wall. It issued a towel which he grabbed and used to quickly scrub himself dry. A chime sounded and his robe issued from the panel which he donned slightly quicker than normal.
Bastila had to admit to herself that she was slightly impressed at Revan's rather muscular build and physical makeup. Shaking the remaining water from his head, he called out through his hands as he wiped his face.
"Have you made contact with Enclave?"
Bastila snapped back and nodded.
"No. There is no longer an Enclave. I made contact with the old man who keeps the only landing pad in the area."
Revan buckled his belt and then turned full attention to Bastila.
"What happened to the Enclave?"
"The Enclave was pillaged by some of the former students, apparently. No hostiles."
Revan focused on what Bastila was saying to him. It sounded ominous to him, and he was beginning to tire of things looking ominous.
"Students?"
Bastila nodded as she laid down a datapad she had been carrying.
"According to Master Vandar the main damage was done by a novice named Aero-Kerre Rokaine, who had a sense of 'Renegade Justice'."
The name meant nothing to Revan. But then it sounded like it was significantly before his time and the Masters at Dantooine were never in the habit of discussing much in the way of their own affairs with Padawans.
"Renegade Justice?" Revan asked with a bemused expression.
Bastila cleared her throat.
"That was Master Vandar's phrase. He did not say anymore."
Revan smiled roguishly and rubbed his chin.
"Very well, we shall have to see for ourselves, which was undoubtedly Master Vandar's intent."
Revan touched a panel on the far wall to reveal his meager wardrobe. He grabbed his old black overcloak and tucked himself in it and closed the panel. The cloak was old, big and a little stiff from disuse; but it carried away the effect he desired, as it made him seem like a wavy shadowy giant. It was, by far, not a garment constructed or worn by Jedi. Some garments were meant to build off of camouflage and allow a consular or guardian to walk unnoticed and most Jedi prized these garments as an incredible use of a tailor's power. Still there were garments meant to capitalize off of intimidation and make the wearer imposing. The old cloak was the latter. Revan couldn't truly remember where or when he had received it, but he did know that, owning his reputation, he was far more likely to inspire fear than to go unnoticed.
"What are you doing?" Bastila asked indicating, with distaste, the old cloak.
"It's raining where we are going to land, which is about four kilometres southwest of the old Enclave, if you would be so kind."
Bastila's face turned stony and with a slight harrumph, she left, presumably to land the ship. Revan saw fit to lie to her about the cloak, but he loved the feel of it around him. Revan smirked to himself, 'After all,' He thought. 'It is raining.'
He felt better now that he was far away from Korriban. He felt playful, energetic and perhaps a little relieved. The worrying puzzles seemed faded and distant.
Closing and securing the fearsome cloak around himself, he assembled the rest of his gear and made his way to the cockpit.
Deralia was one of those nondescript green worlds teeming with average life choked with great vines and trees. Water cascaded down, sifting through the great trees above and soaked the soil making it light, soggy and impossible to traverse cleanly. Large finger sized worms wriggled and gasped in the wet leaves and top sod, tricked by the rain into thinking there to be a few more layers of dirt that there was. Odd ringing birdcalls softly echoed through the woods ahead.
The landing pad for the Enclave was embedded in the woods. It was little more than a great abandoned slab of durasteel with black scars and dents on it. All the paint had long since disappeared along with any landing lights that it might have had. It looked equipped to tend to several ships at a time but seemed as though it hadn't seen a single one in an age.
Revan felt the water in the air latch to him and cling to his face. He could smell the water in the air. None of it was the slightest bit familiar and he couldn't help think that if he had been born here he would've known. It felt connected though. As if only a few degrees of separation were between him and this empty place.
He felt Bastila's hand grasp his right shoulder.
"The compound is four kilometers down that over there."
She pointed to an old beaten wooden bridge that continued on into the dense forest. It was only a good two years from collapsing, from what Revan could see.
"If you would come with me?"
Bastila eyes met his in a warning glance that told him little.
"I have a bad feeling and have an agenda of my own. I will stay here. If anything should happen I will take the speeder and…"
She trailed off looking into the woods. It was the sort of woods, she figured, where predators stayed just out of sight until the last moment. To say that the Order was no longer present on this world was slightly understating the matter. Her eyes returned to Revan's curious face.
"Just be careful. If you need me. I will know and I will come in a hurry."
Revan nodded. He felt what Bastila had felt and like her he let it go unnoticed. Something was disturbing about how utterly the Order had abandoned this planet. It would take a powerful student to have driven the Order away.
He started towards the bridge when he heard the loading ramp retract and latch. It reminded him of her odd words. His minds slowly grinding as he made his way down to the bridge.
'What is she planning. It has to do with something Vandar told her.' His mouth sneered and he thought on Vandar with dislike. 'How much more interfering can he become?'
The bridge was a rope bridge that connected the edge of the landing pad with a path of crushed rocks that wandered far into the woods. He reminded himself of the Twi'lek proverb Zhar had him recite when he was told of the dreaded Darth Revan.
"Amende de vahight exo gamizan zuchen tans." (In healing a scar, take into account what was the wound.) Now Vandar was the scar. It was clear to Revan that this planet was not totally abandoned. Something remained. Another scar.
Revan walked the path for a good half-hour, using large quick strides, before he came to both the path and the forest's end.
Beyond the forest was a rolling plain with a blasted Jedi Academy that had been sacked and forgotten years upon years ago. It's suave mushroom-shaped Coruscant architecture was cracked and crumbling. But to tell the truth the place wasn't decaying, it was decayed. But even from the forest's edge he could spy people loitering and wandering around inside the ruins. They were wearing rags.
Following a well worn path in the soggy grass he made his way to the gate and passed through it's remains. He was noticed immediately and several figures scattered to hide under rubble and dive into alleyways.
Choosing to ignore them for the moment, Revan proceeded past the courtyard to the Enclave entrance. There was no door to open, just a hole. The reception hall was bare marble floors and leaning walls. All furniture had been plundered. Revan continued into what must have been a meditation chamber. A large spire-like fountain stood as only a dry monument. Nothing else was in the room except piles of torn rags that must've been beds. Continuing on, Revan came to the Enclave Counsel-minori. The circle of chairs showed no evidence that they had ever been used. Through the door on the other side, Revan came to the Archives. He was taken aback when he found this room occupied with twenty people or so. They were hidden in the alcoves of the library and bundled in shredded clothes. At the end of the room, where once was the archivist's desk, was pedestal that held what Revan would've called a throne. On it, sat a young woman attired in an immodest robe of green and purple fleece. Her features were fresh and clean and held a certain base appeal. Her golden hair hung behind her in a long royal ponytail. Her eyes were indifferently fixed upon Revan.
All eyes were on Revan as he approached her as if he were a king to her queen. When nearing arms length she rose from her throne. Her voice rose in a musical laugh.
"Alleine zu zweit fen, as the locals say. What is the name of this brave handsome Sith before me?"
Revan's eyes roamed over her and the room, confusedly.
"Brave? Handsome? Sith? You judge quickly."
Another lighthearted laugh echoed through the room.
"You are a Sith because you wear that robe, you are brave because you have come here and I'm a quite capable of judging handsomeness."
Revan decided to grab the situation.
"My name is Revan. I am here by the wishes of the Jedi Order to reclaim this compound."
Her eyes smiled in disbelief.
"Revan a Jedi? I must truly be behind on the times. So you are no Sith?"
Revan pulled the hood of his cloak back to reveal sincere eyes. The eyes seemed to offend the woman.
"I wear this as a-"
"An insult to the memory of Duron Qel Dromo? He was twice the Jedi you were, if slightly less handsome. The force sang with his successes where as it blistered and died in your presence. You wearing his robe is sickening irony. Do not waltz into my Enclave to tell me what is what and say you come from the Order."
Her smile reappeared. "You've come to end this place, or perhaps," She grabbed Revan by his shoulders and pulled him against her and whispered into his ear. "To help me rule."
Revan pried the woman away.
"I do not even know who you are!"
She backed off, stunned.
"My name? How does that matter? What does it change?"
"I may know of you."
"No one knew of me until now. I am Linda Tru. I am the Chief Archivist, The Council, and the leader of this Enclave. And as of right now you are my prisoner or slave."
Revan had his fill of this situation. He backed out and drew his saber, igniting it with a flick of his thumb. The crowd that huddled in the corners cried and hid deeper in the archive isles. Revan's voice boomed in a deadly tone.
"What have you done to this Enclave and it's students?"
Linda smiled and sat back down upon the throne and waived dismissively with her hand.
"You will not use that against me, Revan. You are not a Sith or you would've already. You are no Jedi, otherwise you would not have drawn it. You are in my world now."
She motioned with her hands and the hidden throng slowly appeared each drawing a lightsaber of a different color. An odd twenty-five lightsabers were drawn, itching to attack. She produced her own from her robe and ignited it. She inclined it to where it was mere inches from Revan's nose.
"You are mine or you are dead."
Revan began to feel a tinge of fear back up his throat and tighten his jaw. How had such an innocent situation corroded into this? Where was Bastila, and could she have helped him even if she were here?